Behold a Pale Horse

ourselves comfortable during our stay here — for however long that may be.’

Kakko grinned. ‘No harm in that. They will be returned to you.’

He opened a door at the base of a tower in a corner of thecourtyard. Once through the tower door they turned immediately to the left, where dark wooden doors gave access into a large chamber with a long central table. All around the walls was shelving, with books piled everywhere. Fidelma gazed round the library. She had certainly seen larger ones in her own land, where the books were usually hung on pegs in book-satchels rather than stacked on shelves. Brother Eolann was there with his head already buried in one of the scroll books. He looked up, his face smiling and eager.

‘This is truly amazing, lady,’ he greeted her. He remained seated at the table and was tapping a thick scroll before him.

‘I would not call it amazing,’ she replied, her eyes travelling to the high windows which let in a certain amount of light but not sufficient to read by. There were candles and an oil lamp and disused writing materials scattered about. Apart from the door which she had come in by, there was another one at the far end of the room.

‘Through that door you will find a large space which is often used for exercise,’ Kakko said, pointing. ‘I should warn you not to go too near the edge as it is a long way down into the valley below.’ He grinned at them and left, and she heard a key turn in the lock.

‘By amazing, I meant this, lady.’ Ignoring the interruption, Brother Eolann was again tapping the book before him.

‘Why, what is it?’ Fidelma was not particularly interested as she surveyed the confines of the library.

‘Origio Gentis Longobardotum.’

‘The Origin of the Longobards?’ translated Fidelma.

‘Exactly so, lady. I have heard of this book but never seen it before. It tells how their gods Godan and Frea set the Longobards free from their unjust rulers to move south to take over these lands.’

‘It’s an old book then?’ she asked absently.

‘I doubt more than twenty years old. It is said to have been drawn up by King Rothari, who was grandfather of Godepert and Perctarit.’

‘Perctarit again?’

‘The same Perctarit who is trying to regain his throne here. Rothari died twelve years ago and he ordered this book to be written and also the Edictum Rothari which is the first codification of the laws of the Longobards.’

Fidelma sighed impatiently. ‘In truth, Brother Eolann, my head is swimming with all these strange, unpronounceable names. I am longing to return to the sweet sounds of our own language in Muman. Now, first things first. How did they treat you? You weren’t hurt during your questioning?’

‘Hurt? Oh, you mean by Grasulf. No, he did not hurt me. He just asked me questions about what we were doing, and then told me to come here.’ He glanced at the scroll and confided, ‘This was the first book I saw. I have to say, my first thought was whether our abbey library had a copy.’

Fidelma was still walking about the room. ‘Let us take a look at the extent of our prison,’ she said, turning to the door that Kakko had indicated. ‘Have you examined the outside yet?’

Brother Eolann looked embarrassed and shook his head. So she opened it and stepped through. Beyond was a terrace; on three sides, the walls of the fortress towered above it, while the fourth side was opened to a distant vista of mountains and skies beyond. A small protective wall ran along this side as a barrier from the sheer drop. Tubs of earth with plants were placed here and there to relieve the grey paved surface of the terrace.

There was only one other door giving access to the areaapart from the one from the scriptorium. There were no handles on the outside of this door. Fidelma strode across to it and gave it a push. It was as solid as the wall around it, bolted or barred from the inside. Fidelma gazed up. There were a few high windows but it was clear that the area was enclosed and hardly overlooked at all — if anyone could, in fact, peer down from above.

Fidelma then walked across to the small parapet with Brother Eolann following. She halted and gazed down. At first glance it appeared to be a sheer drop down a rockface to the valley below. She was used to mountains and heights but this view made her dizzy. She took a deep breath and stood back.

‘It is estimated to be one hundred and fifty metres to the valley floor,’ came a familiar voice, speaking Latin.

She swung round to see that Grasulf, Lord of Vars, had stepped out through the mysterious door in the central wall.

‘An impressive view,’ conceded Fidelma.

Grasulf ’s features were solemn. ‘It is not the recommended path out of this fortress. At least, not for our guests. It has other usages. Those we find attempting to betray us, or those who commit crimes against us, thieves and murderers, come to know it as a ready means of crossing the Ormet into the arms of our goddess Hel.’

Fidelma was puzzled. ‘It is used as a method of execution,’ explained Brother Eolann. ‘Hel is the goddess who presides over their underworld, Helheim.’

‘I am impressed with your knowledge, Brother Eolann,’ the Lord of Vars said with a smile. ‘That is precisely what I mean. Ormet is the river that separates life from death. And now, how do you like my little library? I have been looking for someone who would appreciate the books here ever sincemy own scriptor died. Perhaps it was the Fates who brought you hither?’

‘Yes — if the Fates are what you call the warriors who abducted us,’ replied Fidelma dryly. ‘But I doubt we shall be here long enough to appreciate your books, Grasulf.’

The Lord of Vars nodded in appreciation. ‘It is a long while since I have met with a person of wit. You shall feast with me this evening. Yes, Brother Eolann as well. You will tell me about your world beyond these valleys. I will send Kakko to escort you. In the meantime, continue to enjoy the scriptorium.’

He turned and exited as he had come. They heard the door being secured on the inside.

Fidelma walked back to the parapet.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Brother Eolann nervously.

‘Just checking to see what the way to the infernal regions looks like,’ she replied without humour.

She spent a few minutes gazing down at the dizzy descent to the valley floor. Then she turned back into the library where Brother Eolann was once again examining the scroll book that he had found so amazing. Fidelma, whose thoughts were on escape, regarded him with disapproval. Then she turned to the shelves and a new thought struck her as she recalled the mystery of the library at Bobium.

‘Do you recall telling me that some of the books in your library had been vandalised?’

‘I do.’ The scriptor looked up with sudden interest. ‘Why?’

‘Do you recall the titles?’

‘Yes, for as I told you, I had to send to other libraries seeking copies to replace the ones whose pages were cut out.’

Fidelma was blessed with a good memory. It was part ofa dálaigh’s training. ‘One of them was Livy’s history, Ab Urbe Condita Libri, as I recall.’

‘It was. Why?’

‘Because I see a copy of it.’ Fidelma pointed to the book. ‘It occurs to me that you might wish to know what was on the pages that were cut out.’

Brother Eolann took the book from the shelf and placed it on the table. ‘This volume appears to be an exact copy. I recall how the next page started after the deleted one.’

‘I don’t suppose you can recall the pages that had been cut out?’

‘I have a pride in my task in life, lady,’ he protested. ‘I would be a poor librarian if I did not know what had been damaged in my own library.’ Brother Eolann began to turn the thick vellum pages. Then he paused and looked carefully at one particular page before reading, ‘Marcus triumphali veste in senatum venit … That is on the page after the one cut out.’

Fidelma translated. ‘Marcus entered the senate in triumphal dress. So what is on the page that was cut out?’

He turned back to the page: ‘Ah, it starts: Caepionis cuis tementate clades accepta erat damnnati bona publicata sunt. Caepio, who had caused the defeat by his rashness, was convicted and