Behold a Pale Horse

‘I’ve found Wamba’s box,’ she replied. ‘I’m coming up. Can you let me have your cincture?’

‘What?’ Brother Eolann sounded puzzled. The word she used in their own language was criós, for the cincture was a ropelike cord encircling the waist which most religious wore.

‘Throw it down, so that I can carry the box up with me.’

The task to secure it did not take long. ‘I’m coming up,’ she called.

She began to climb carefully up again, refusing Brother Eolann’s offer of a helping hand as she scrambled over the edge back to the path they had come by.

‘You had me concerned, lady. Imagine if you had fallen. How would I have been able to report such a matter to the abbot?’

Fidelma pouted. ‘I would have been in no position to have imagined that,’ she replied dryly. ‘And I could not have advisedyou anyway.’ She gazed around before letting her eyes settle back on the cairn. Then she untied the box and returned the cincture to her companion.

‘Well, at least we can replace the box in the cairn. The thief must have dropped it.’

‘Was there anything in it?’ queried Brother Eolann.

She reached into her marsupium and showed him the coin.

‘But Wamba gave the gold piece to Brother Waldipert,’ pointed out Brother Eolann, perplexed. ‘And didn’t Waldipert give it to Abbot Servillius?’

‘This is certainly a very old gold coin, the like of which I have not seen before,’ Fidelma said, while turning it over in her hands. She paused, remembering the words of Brother Ruadán. He had used ‘coins’ in the plural. ‘I wonder …’

‘You wonder?’ prompted Brother Eolann expectantly.

‘Perhaps young Wamba found two coins and decided to keep one hidden until he found out the value of the other. He may have thought they would be taken away from him if he offered both. His mother could not have known of its existence otherwise she would have removed it before she placed the box in the cairn.’

‘That seems logical,’ Brother Eolann agreed.

‘But did the would-be thief know it was there?’

Fidelma examined the gold coin again. It was small, definitely of gold and not a mixture made with any baser metal. It carried the image of a chariot drawn by two horses with a charioteer guiding it, while the small symbols around it seemed to represent stars in the sky.

‘I believe I have seen similar coins before,’ she commented thoughtfully.

‘Venerable Ionas has knowledge about such coins.’

‘I wonder if Abbot Servillius consulted him about the coinWamba brought to the abbey? This is a mystery that I must resolve,’ Fidelma said firmly, trying to recall the last gasping words of Brother Ruadán.

‘Should we not return this to Hawisa?’ protested the scriptor.

‘Eventually. If Brother Ruadán was right, that the boy was killed for the first gold coin, the warrior Wulfoald and Abbot Servillius have some questions to answer.’

She realised, as she said it, that she was in no position to pose those questions. She might be an advocate of the law in her own land, and she might have been invited by King Oswiu of Northumbria to solve the murders at Streonshalh and by Venerable Gelasius to solve the crime in the Lateran Palace, but here — who was she? Just a passing stranger of no local rank. A foreigner without standing. Lord Radoald was the only power in the land and he was hardly likely to grant her any authority to investigate this matter.

She placed the gold coin carefully in her marsupium again.

‘This is turning out to be frustrating. Perhaps I was expecting too much.’

‘How could Brother Ruadán know about the coin?’ demanded Brother Eolann. ‘I do not understand this matter at all.’

‘Those are the questions that I came here seeking the answers to. But it looks as though I will not find them. It is always irritating when one encounters a blank wall.’ She glanced up at the sky. They would not have a great deal of time until the darkening eastern skies were upon them. ‘Perhaps we should continue our climb to this sanctuary?’

‘If we go back to Hawisa’s cabin and continue up the track from there, it will put extra time on the journey, although that is easier and safer,’ mused the scriptor.

‘What do you suggest?’

Brother Eolann thought for a moment. ‘If you don’t mind heights, lady, there is a small footpath along here, where people may pass only in single file. It becomes very steep in places. But after passing a rocky outcrop, it joins the main path, and it is an easy journey to the summit. It would save us considerable time in reaching the sanctuary. Having witnessed your abilities just now, I think you should be able to make the passage with ease.’

‘In that case, let us try this quicker path.’

He led the way, turning up what appeared to be a goat’s track that Fidelma would have missed altogether. Inconspicuous and overgrown, it inclined rapidly, scarcely the width of a foot wide.

‘You seem to know these mountain tracks very well, for a stranger and a scriptor,’ Fidelma said. She had made the remark automatically, but when she began to think about it, it was curious. The suspicious thought had barely crossed her mind when Brother Eolann paused and turned back to her.

‘As you said to Hawisa, I am cursed with a curiosity,’ he said seriously. ‘Confined to a library, one is likely to be without exercise, to grow weak and idle. Now and then I seek permission from the abbot to climb the hills here in order to maintain myself in fitness. Juvenal, in his Satires, exhorted one to maintain mens sana in corpore sano — a sound mind in a sound body. I believe that to keep the mind sound you also need to keep the body sound. Hence, in the two years I have been here, I have come to know many byways and tracks.’

‘Then your knowledge is lucky for me,’ Fidelma replied.

They continued to climb upwards and, at times, Fidelmahad to pause and close her eyes to stop herself becoming dizzy on the often precipitous slopes. But finally, as Brother Eolann had forewarned, they came to a rocky outcrop which seemed to block their path. Next to it was a sheer drop. Brother Eolann turned with an encouraging smile.

‘This is the difficult part,’ he said. ‘There are handholds on the rock and you have to lean almost backwards and rely on the handholds to keep you balanced. Are you happy about this?’

Fidelma glanced down at the fall, shivered slightly as she realised the dangers of the height, and nodded swiftly. ‘Let’s get on with it,’ she muttered. It was better to do this quickly than to stand talking about it.

‘I’ll go first and show the way. Make sure your bag is firmly fixed to your back and that you are balanced.’

He adjusted his own bag on his back and waited while she did the same. Then he set off crawling under the overhang where she could not see a path and yet somehow there must have been. He seemed to be finding handholds to steady him and then … then he had vanished on the other side of the rock.

‘Can you hear me?’ she called anxiously.

A moment passed. Then: ‘Sorry, I was just catching my breath.’ His voice came from a short distance away. ‘Now, can you remember how I crawled under the overhang?’

‘I think so.’

‘You’ll see some places where your hands can take a good hold. You’ll find yourself leaning backwards as if you are going to fall. Keep a good hold with one hand before you move to the next hold.’

Fidelma took a deep breath and began to move slowly forward, almost crouching at first as she came under theoverhang. She saw what he meant almost immediately and found she was in a position to move forward. There were little ledges where she could secure a grasp. Slowly, hand by hand she moved forward. She tried not to think what was behind her, the emptiness and the fall to the rocks below. The worst moment was when she found herself leaning backwards into that frightening space with only her hands clasping at the rocks to prevent her falling.

‘You are nearly there,’ cried Brother Eolann’s voice in encouragement.

She reached forward to grasp the next handhold, missed it and felt herself swinging out. The full weight of