Behold a Pale Horse

attacking us, you made it plain that you knew that it had been deliberately set.’

Odo looked up at him, an expression of anguish on his features as he tried to gather his thoughts.

‘Something awoke me in the night. The alarm of animals and birds, I suppose — the fire must have frightened them. I live not far down the mountain, just over the shoulder of that hill. I could not see what was causing the animals to flee that area of the woods at first. I heard the sound of the fire before I saw the flames and the direction of it. What could I do? I knew from its ferocity that I could not reach my aunt’s cabin. I had the animals and myself to protect as well. Across the hill is a rocky ground with a pool, almost as big as a lake. I took the herd and went there, knowing the stony land and water would create a break for the fire.’

He paused and swallowed hard before resuming. ‘The fire burned long and fiercely. I was there until morning before I dared believe that the heavy rains had dampened it out and there was no chance of it starting again. Then I felt safe to return. By the time I reached the area of the fire, it was too late. My aunt …’ The youth suddenly began to sob again and Fidelma reached forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.

‘The fire seemed confined to your aunt’s cabin and the immediate area,’ Wulfoald observed. ‘It could be that she had an accident. Perhaps a cooking fire became out of control.’

‘But you felt it was deliberate,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘Who did you think had set the fire? In other words, why did you think this was arson?’

‘Just before I started moving the herd to safety, I glanced up towards my aunt’s cabin,’ Odo told her. ‘I couldn’t see much with the flames and smoke, but I saw a man on horseback leaving the area.’

‘I thought your aunt’s cabin is impossible to reach on horseback, ’ Fidelma said.

‘A trained rider on a good horse could make it,’ corrected Wulfoald.

‘I saw him,’ affirmed Odo. ‘He was riding down the mountain but I lost sight of him in the smoke. He was the man who did this, there is no doubt.’

‘Can you describe him?’ Fidelma leaned forward eagerly.

Odo shook his head. ‘He was just a figure in the darkness. All I remember was that the horse was pale. It could have been white or grey.’ He suddenly peered at Wulfoald’s horse and frowned. ‘It was much like that one.’

‘Set deliberately …’ Wulfoald was thoughtful. ‘It is lucky that the fire did not spread further.’

‘There was a heavy rain that swept the area, and other mountain people came to make sure there were fire-breaks in case it restarted. They have all returned to their homes to ensure their herds are well. I was about to leave when I saw people passing up the road to the sanctuary …’

‘That would have been Brother Bladulf and his brethren,’ Wulfoald observed.

‘They passed by on foot along the main track up towards the sanctuary. I waited in case they returned and then I saw you coming directly to Hawisa’s cabin and thought you must have been responsible.’

‘If someone was responsible for the fire, and therefore the death of the old woman, then there are many questions to be answered. By the way,’ Fidelma had a sudden thought, ‘did your aunt tell you about the day Wamba was found?’

‘She had spoken of nothing else since the burial,’ confirmed the goatherd. ‘My cousin was her only child. Why do you ask?’

‘And what did she say? Explain the circumstances.’

‘That day she came to my cabin, which, as I say, is not far away down the mountain. She told me that a warrior had found Wamba where he had apparently fallen from a rockface. He was dead. She asked me to tend to the goats while she went to the abbey where the body was being taken for burial.’

‘Did she say how she knew the warrior had found her boy?’

Odo stared at her in puzzlement. ‘Because the warrior told her so.’

‘She had not gone to the abbey when you saw her. When had the warrior told her about finding the body?’

The young man looked bewildered. ‘I do not understand. He told her when he brought the body to her cabin.’

Fidelma heard Wulfoald’s suppressed exclamation of satisfaction but ignored it.

‘Did she tell you who this warrior was? His name?’

‘Only that he was one of Lord Radoald’s men, that’s all I know. Strangely enough, Abbot Servillius was with her at the time. He had come to give Wamba payment for some old coin that Wamba had been given. Apparently he had taken the money to the abbey.’

‘You did not go to Wamba’s funeral?’

‘I could not. Hawisa asked me to look after the goats. She went.’

Fidelma was sitting back, her mind racing. The story was totally contrary to what Hawisa had told them on their visit to her. This account entirely supported Wulfoald’s version of events. How could such a thing be?

‘Well.’ Wulfoald smiled almost triumphantly. ‘Now you know my story is correct.’

‘So one other thing, Odo. Did you know that your aunt had placed a box belonging to Wamba in the cairn that she had erected?’

The youth nodded sadly. ‘It was stolen almost immediately,’ he replied. ‘One of the goatherds even saw it being taken. He actually saw a man in the robes of a religieux climbing down from where the cairn was, with the box in his hand. He scrambled up to the path to intercept him, but by the time he reached the spot, the thief had escaped on a horse. Curiously enough, yesterday morning my aunt found the box, slightly damaged, but placed back in the cairn.’

Fidelma did not bother to explain but asked, ‘Was the colour of this horse mentioned?’

Odo thought a moment and then he realised the implication. ‘It was pale grey too.’

‘Where would this witness be now?’

‘Gone, lady. He went to Travo soon after the cairn was desecrated and has not returned.’

Fidelma sat back, gazing moodily at the gushing waters of the stream. Not for the first time, questions cascaded in her mind. Why had Hawisa told her and Brother Eolann such a different tale? Why would she lie so blatantly? Then she realised she was asking the wrong question. She had not thought of it before — indeed, had never contemplated it. How did she know what Hawisa had told her? Her story had been relayed through interpretation only. Fidelma had totally relied on her interpreter and that was Brother Eolann. But why should Brother Eolann have misinterpreted what the old woman had said? If Hawisa was not lying at the time, why would the scriptor purposely distort her words? There were other questions. Why did Abbot Servillius climb all the way to Hawisa’s cabin to compensate her for a coin that was not worth much? And why had Brother Ruadán claimed that Wamba had been killed because he found the coins?

Fidelma rose to her feet, turning over the answers she had received and coming up with more questions. Another thought struck her. She turned quickly back to Odo.

‘You said that Abbot Servillius had come to Hawisa’s cabin that day to recompense Wamba for some coins that he had been given and taken to the abbey.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Do you mean Wamba had found the coins or been given these coins by someone else?’

‘Wamba told me that he had been given two coins, not that he found them. He believed they were gold and ancient, but he never showed them to me. He only mentioned one to his mother.’

‘But let me make this absolutely clear. Wamba was given the coins?’

‘That’s what he told me and what he told his mother.’

‘Who gave him the coins?’

‘Some old religieux, one of the Hibernians at the abbey.’

‘Can you remember the name?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Not really. A name that sounded like strong rope.’

The Latin word he used was rudens. Fidelma gave a quick smile of satisfaction.

‘Brother Ruadán?’ she asked.

Odo had no hesitation. ‘That was the name.’

Fidelma heaved a deep sigh. So it had been Brother Ruadán who had given Wamba the coins, coins that the old man considered had brought about the death of the boy.

‘I would be careful, Odo,’ she advised him. ‘There are strange things happening on this mountain. After we