Behold a Pale Horse

‘The abbot felt it appropriate.’

‘And did you give the coin that Wamba found to the abbot?’

‘I promised the boy and so I kept that promise.’

‘And what did the abbot do with it?’

‘He gave Hawisa some goods in exchange. It was an old coin but not that valuable. Anyway, Hawisa was pleased tohave something, for she had lost her only son. I think that Hawisa gave her goats to a nephew, another goatherd, and he now supplies us as Wamba once did. A sad story. But I can’t understand why you are asking all these question about the boy.’

Fidelma forced a smile of assurance. ‘Call it idle curiosity. I was merely interested.’

Once again the words of Brother Ruadán echoed in her mind. ‘He did not deserve to die because he found the coins.’ The coins? Why not ‘a coin’? Suddenly she was confused. She was sure Brother Ruadán had said ‘had the coins’ not ‘found the coins’. Perhaps, after all, Brother Ruadán was not thinking clearly. There was a difference there, but did it mean something? Or was she reading too much into simple words?

She thanked Brother Waldipert and went out into the herbarium. There was still no sign of Brother Lonán so she sat down on a wooden seat in a corner to consider what she knew of the facts.

She had no doubt that Brother Ruadán had been deliberately killed — suffocated, most probably to prevent him saying anything further to her. But no one had known about her visit early on the morning he was killed. No one knew that he had mentioned the coins or the boy, Wamba. According to Sister Gisa, the boy was killed about the same time that Brother Ruadán was severely beaten. What was the link? There must be one. But if the boy had been killed for the value of the coin, it was the abbot himself who had been its ultimate recipient. He had compensated the boy’s mother for it. If the abbot had been part of this affair, would he have done so? Fidelma did not even know what affair she was talking about, except that Brother Ruadán called it ‘evil’. She could hardly go to the abbot for information. What couldshe say? What excuse could she give without revealing what Brother Ruadán had said?

There was a mystery here which centred around the death of the boy Wamba and an ancient coin. But how could she set about resolving it without bringing attention upon herself?

CHAPTER TEN

What would Brehon Morann, in whose famous college Fidelma had studied law, have advised her to do? Consult all the witnesses. But who were the witnesses? Wulfoald had found the boy’s body. The coin had been given to Abbot Servillius. Who else? What was the name of the boy’s mother? Hawisa. She might be worth speaking with. But Fidelma was faced with two problems. The first was finding out where the woman lived. The second was that, even if she did find her, Fidelma did not have any knowledge of the language of the Longobards. She doubted that a goatherd’s mother could speak Latin. She was going to be restricted in what she did unless she could trust someone to be her interpreter.

She considered all her limited choices. Brother Eolann was one of the few in the abbey with whom she had been able to establish an immediate rapport. Moreover, he was of Muman. Belonging to the same country was a bond. If the ascent of the mountain proved difficult, at least he was young and physically fit. With her mind made up, she left the herbarium and made her way back to the scriptorium. She encountered no one before she reached the oak door in the tower. Brother Eolann was once more at his desk.

‘Do you know Hawisa, the mother of the goatherd Wamba who was found dead a week or so ago?’ she asked without preamble.

‘I know of her,’ he said guardedly. ‘But I would think that Brother Waldipert would be able to help you more than I can. Wamba used to supply the abbey with goat’s milk. All I know is that Hawisa lives on the middle reaches of the mountain behind us.’

‘I have spoken with Brother Waldipert, but I need someone to help me. I would rather that no one knew the extent of my interest in this matter.’ Fidelma spoke softly, confidentially. ‘I want to find Hawisa and have a word with her about her son. Presuming that she would speak only the local language, I need someone to act as my interpreter.’

Brother Eolann was astonished. ‘Are you suggesting that I take you to her cabin and translate for you?’

‘That is precisely what I am asking.’

‘There are difficulties.’

‘Which are?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘Getting permission for me to leave the abbey. Aside from the Rule of the community, the abbot would be more strict after what happened to Brother Ruadán and with the stories of rebellion in the land.’

Fidelma thought carefully. ‘You think that he would refuse?’

Brother Eolann chuckled sourly. ‘I am sure he would.’

‘If his permission could be obtained, would you be willing to accompany me?’

‘I think, with all due respect, that I would need to know more. What is the purpose behind this? What is your interest in Hawisa? And why do you approach me, of all the brethren here?’

‘I ask you because you are from Muman. You know thefunction of a dálaigh and the rules connected to that function. And, while I shall tell you that which you ask, before I share that knowledge with you, I must place you under a géis that you must take oath on.’

The young scriptor’s expression was one of surprise. ‘A géis?’ he echoed in astonishment.

Anyone from Hibernia knew the importance of the oath well. It was an ancient sacred bond which, when placed on someone, compelled them to obey the instruction. Any person transgressing or ignoring the géis was exposed to the rejection of society and brought to shame and outlawry.

‘I do not ask this lightly,’ Fidelma assured him.

Brother Eolann was quiet for a while and then slowly nodded his agreement. The words of the ritual were spoken softly and with solemn intent. Afterwards, Fidelma sat back on a stool opposite the scriptor.

‘I will tell you now why I am interested in Wamba’s death, Eolann of Faithleann’s Island, and then you will understand. You see, I believe that Brother Ruadán was murdered …’

Ignoring his shocked expression, Fidelma told Brother Eolann what had transpired when she had seen Brother Ruadán and the nature of the observation which caused her to believe that his death had not been natural.

‘In telling you this, and not keeping my own counsel, I open myself to your trust, for you might argue that the géis has no validity in this land of the Longobards where I am just a stranger.’

Brother Eolann considered what she had said in silence. Then he shrugged in acceptance. ‘I accept the géis in honour and sincerity. If there is murder abroad in this abbey, then it must be stopped.’

‘I need to find this woman, Hawisa, and ask her some questions. You can help me by being my mouth and my ears as to my questions and her responses.’

The door suddenly opened and Brother Wulfila entered, paused and began to back out with an embarrassed look at Fidelma.

‘I am sorry,’ the steward mumbled. ‘I came to collect a book for the abbot and-’

Brother Eolann rose hurriedly. ‘I have it in the copying room, Brother Wulfila,’ he said, in annoyance. ‘Excuse me, Sister, while I deal with this.’

He went through the side door, followed by the steward. Eventually they returned with Brother Wulfila carrying a book, the steward giving a slight bow of acknowledgement to Fidelma as he left.