Behold a Pale Horse

you find interesting?’

‘It was just a passage about someone called Caepio that caught my attention.’

She was not prepared for the effect of the name. A suspicious look came into his eyes and then Grasulf threw back his head and uttered a false-sounding chuckle.

‘Caepio?’ he said. ‘You surely don’t give credence to thatsilly tale! What stories have you been filling your compatriot’s head with, Brother Eolann?’

Fidelma turned quickly to find that Brother Eolann had coloured in embarrassment.

‘What stories would you have been filling my head with?’ she asked quietly in their own language.

The scriptor replied almost violently. ‘I have no idea, lady. Truly, I don’t know what he is talking about.’

Fidelma turned back to Grasulf. ‘I alighted on the page by chance,’ she said cautiously. ‘What story should I have been aware of?’

‘By chance? Why, it has even become part of the Latin language.’

‘I still don’t follow your meaning.’

‘What does one say when one has achieved some ill-gotten wealth — wealth that brings a curse with it?’

Fidelma had not learned a colloquial form of Latin and looked to Brother Eolann for some guidance. The scriptor still seemed embarrassed and shook his head. So she turned back to Grasulf.

‘It is said that the person has the gold of Tolosa — Aurum Tolosa habet,’ explained the Lord of Vars.

‘And how does that relate to this man Caepio?’

‘He was the governor of this very territory in ancient times and marched his army into Gaul. The story is that he seized a fabulous treasure in the town of Tolosa. He sent this wealth of gold back here to his villa in Placentia meaning to keep it, but it disappeared. Some will even tell you that he hid the gold in these very mountains. Every now and then, some fool claims they have found Caepio’s gold.’

‘But the passage in Livinius merely says that his stupidity caused several Roman legions to be annihilated.’

‘The story also says that before that battle, his legions had sacked Tolosa and carried away forty-six wagons of gold and treasure and sent them here.’

‘And these wagons disappeared?’

‘They vanished,’ agreed Grasulf. ‘Anyway, it is not mythical gold we want, eh, Brother Eolann? Many lords in these valleys would bring their men rushing like wolves from the hills down on Grimoald and his supporters for a bag of Frankish gold.’

Brother Eolann was looking uncomfortable. ‘I would not know,’ he muttered.

‘The story of the gold is local gossip,’ said Grasulf, picking up his goblet of wine again. It was clear that he had dismissed the topic.

Fidelma waited a few moments and then raised another topic that had crossed her mind.

‘I saw a rider come into the fortress not so long ago. He had clearly arrived here after a hard and hasty ride. I presume he brings important news about the dangers that beset this country?’

The Lord of Vars looked at her speculatively over the rim of his goblet. ‘You have a sharp eye, lady.’ Was there a dangerous tone in his voice?

‘It is my training to observe.’

‘Well, the news is interesting. Lupus of Friuli, Grimoald’s Regent in these northern lands, and his army have been defeated.’

‘I heard that this Lupus had turned against Grimoald.’

‘That is true. You have a good memory as well as a sharp ear, eh?’

‘I repeat, it is my training to observe and remember.’

‘How was he defeated?’ intervened Brother Eolann. He sounded concerned.

‘Lupus, as you know, had decided to stand against Grimoald. He declared for Perctarit. Grimoald signed a treaty with the Khagan, the Khan Kubrat …’

‘These names mean nothing to me,’ Fidelma pointed out irritably.

‘The Khagan rules the Avars who dwell to the north and east of our lands, in what used to be called Illyria. They attacked into our lands to overthrow Lupus. The rider you saw brought the news that Lupus and his army held out in Friuli for four days against the Avars. Lupus is now dead, his army slaughtered or scattered.’

‘Surely that is good for Grimoald?’ Fidelma commented.

‘Only if the Khan respects the treaty. At the moment the entire Valley of the Padus is open to invasion by the Avars. In that, Grimoald might have made a mistake. Grimoald had marched to the Meridies, south of this land, to fight the Byzantines. So he is still marching back northwards. The other news is that Perctarit and his Frankish allies are already in the lands just north of Mailand not far from here. Blood, fire and pillage sweep across the land. We must be vigilant. That is why strangers are stopped and questioned.’

‘But this has nothing to do with me, nor does it present any reason for holding me or my compatriot as prisoners in your fortress. You should allow us to return in peace and safety to Bobium.’

‘You are persistent in that matter, lady. But I have not yet satisfied myself that you do not present a threat to me or to my people.’

Kakko reappeared with two servants who began to clear away the plates under his supervision.

Grasulf rose to his feet, smiling thinly. ‘It is my hope that we will have many more of these stimulating exchanges.’

‘But it is my hope that this will be the only such exchange,’ replied Fidelma, also rising.

The Lord of Vars chuckled sardonically. ‘I fear your hope will be a vain one. You have a refreshing boldness, lady. We say that there is no sharper blade than the tongue of a woman. But I think you will find that I am a match for you.’

‘We also have a saying among my people. “A cur is bold in the place where he is well known”.’

His face darkened and he turned to Kakko. ‘Our guests may return to their quarters.’

The big steward came forward, led the way to the doors and swung them open.

A tall man, clad in a long black robe, stood outside, about to enter. His hair was snow-white. He had a nose that was prominent and thin bloodless lips, and his eyes were dark, almost without pupils.

He started as he caught sight of Fidelma and stepped back in surprise.

The recognition was mutual.

Kakko was unaware of the recognition that passed between them as he turned to give a gentle shove to Brother Eolann. Fidelma and the scriptor followed him through the door, neither of them speaking to the newcomer; nor did he speak to them.

They passed Suidur the Wise, physician to Radoald, Lord of Trebbia, without a word.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Outside the hall, as Kakko signalled to a bored-looking warrior to escort them back to their prison chamber, Fidelma took the opportunity to ask Eolann in their own language: ‘Did you see who that was?’

‘I did not recognise the man, why?’

‘That was the physician of Radoald, Lord of Trebbia.’

‘I didn’t notice. I have never met him but only seen him once from a distance.’ Brother Eolann sounded surprised. ‘What is he doing here? I would not have thought that Radoald had much in common with this Grasulf.’

Fidelma was thinking of the group that she had seen in the courtyard at Radoald’s fortress and of Suidur talking with the two tall men in black cloaks who might have been the attackers of Magister Ado. Now Suidur had