Behold a Pale Horse

‘I have also been in search of Brother Eolann. I saw him briefly after Abbot Servillius returned. In fact, he said he was going to make confession to the abbot but he has not been seen in the scriptorium since then. I was told that he had a bad fall this morning and perhaps he is still suffering from the shock of it.’

Venerable Ionas told them the location of Brother Eolann’s chamber but they had no luck there. The scriptor believed in living frugally for there was hardly anything that could be described as personal belongings in the room, only a spare set of sandals, some clothing and personal toilet articles. There was not even a book nor a set of scribal implements to mark his profession.

Fidelma turned to Wulfoald with a look of resignation.

‘There is little more that we can do until we find Brother Eolann’s whereabouts.’

‘I agree. This matter is becoming curious, lady. Unfortunately, I have the security of the valley to occupy me and so must return to Radoald’s fortress to discuss these matters with him.’

‘You believe warfare is imminent?’

‘That is one thing that is sure. And another thing that is also sure is the fact that Grasulf of Vars will be part of it. But he will go with the side that pays him the most. That’s why Suidur went to see him, to find out what Perctarit was offering him.’

They had made their way back down to the courtyard and Wulfoald called for his horse to be brought out.

Fidelma waited a moment before making up her mind to bathe after her journey. Later, she lay down in her chamber and dozed for a while. It was growing late when she opened her eyes. Time had passed quickly. Her feelings of unease began to increase. She must not delay in questioning Abbot Servillius about his visit to Hawisa. When she went down to the main hall and found Brother Wulfila, she was informed that the abbot had not yet emerged. His strict instruction was that he should not be disturbed before the bell for the evening meal.

In response to her question, the steward declared that he had not seen Brother Eolann since midday. There was no further news of Sister Gisa, but Brother Faro had returned — although on being told of Sister Gisa’s absence, he insisted on leaving the abbey again to see if he could find his companion. The steward seemed distressed that no one appeared to be obeying the rules of the abbey any more.

Annoyed at what she saw as timewasting, Fidelma decided to seek out Venerable Ionas again to see if his scholarship could shed light on those matters that were worrying her. She retraced her steps to the scriptorium and then found his chamber. A few seconds after tapping on the door, the elderly scholar’s voice invited her to enter. He was sitting at his desk with some manuscript books laid out in front of him and a quill in his hand.

‘Venerable Ionas, may I bother you for a moment?’

The old man sat back from his desk with a frown and laid down the quill. ‘If you are still looking for Brother Eolann, he has not been seen yet. It is very vexatious.’

‘I have heard as much from Brother Wulfila,’ she replied, entering and shutting the door behind her. ‘But it is about another matter I have come to seek your advice.’

‘Then how can I be of help, Sister Fidelma?’ he asked with interest.

‘I hear that you know something about ancient coins.’

‘I know a little, for in the study of history, coins can sometimes be useful.’

‘Can you tell me what this is?’ She had taken the gold coin from her ciorr bholg, or comb bag, and placed it in his hand, before sitting by his desk on a small stool.

Venerable Ionas peered at it shortsightedly, turning it over in his frail hands. Then he nodded slowly. ‘A gold piece from ancient Gaul. It looks quite old. Where did you find it?’

‘Oh, it was given to me.’ Fidelma glossed over its provenance. ‘But are you sure it is from Gaul, not a local coin?’

‘See the charioteer on it, the horses with stars above them?’ Venerable Ionas held up the coin to the light of his lamp. ‘And see those letters on the obverse? That is a gold coin of the Tectosages of Gaul. Their capital was the city of Tolosa.’

Fidelma tried not to reveal that Tolosa meant anything to her. She was about to thank the old scholar when a thought struck her.

‘You have been here many years, Venerable Ionas?’ It was a question rather than a comment.

‘I came here a few years after the death of our dearly beloved Columbanus, and met and spoke with those who had known him in life,’ he replied. ‘That was when I began writing mylife of our founder. After that I wandered in several parts of Christendom, even among the Franks and then to Rome. That is where I picked up my knowledge of Gaulish coins, so I can identify the one you hold.’

‘Brother Eolann mentioned you had such knowledge.’

‘He is a good scriptor.’

‘Do you know much about him?’

The old man was surprised. ‘I thought that he came from the same part of the world as you do?’

‘He does,’ agreed Fidelma quickly. ‘I meant, since he came to this abbey.’

‘Oh, he has only been here two or three years. I am told that he first went to the Abbey of Gallen, an Hibernian whom you called Gall. Then he crossed the high peaks and spent some time in Mailand. That was about the time when Perctarit still ruled from there, before he was driven into exile. Brother Eolann then came here, seeking peace and solitude. He had talent and soon rose to become scriptor of the abbey.’

‘But he was sad at being criticised when some of his books were needlessly ruined. Some of their pages were cut off and disappeared.’

‘I do not remember mention of that,’ said the old scholar. ‘I was not told and I use the library every day.’

‘I see,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘It is a great crime to destroy books,’ he went on.

‘Brother Eolann and I managed to ascertain that the pages had been cut from books by Livy and Pliny. We identified the pages from Livy. They had been removed from one of the books containing a passage about a Roman Proconsul named Caepio. His legions were destroyed in Gaul.’

Venerable Ionas looked at her with quick interest.

‘Caepio? Yes, he was the Proconsul and Governor of thisvery territory in the days of the old Empire. He was the great-grandfather of Marcus Brutus, one of the assassins of the General Julius Caesar.’

‘I have heard of Julius Caesar,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘But that must have been in very ancient times then? I had a feeling that Caepio had some more immediate connection with this area — some legacy.’

‘Caepio?’ Venerable Ionas shook his head. ‘No, he lived a long time before Julius Caesar — many years, in fact, before the Coming of the Christ. Caepio’s legacy was reviled throughout the Empire. There is a good reason why his life was not considered worthy. His arrogance destroyed two Roman armies, tens of thousands of men, but he escaped with his life. He was taken before the Roman Senate, tried and found guilty of the destruction of his army and of embezzlement of money. Being a patrician he was stripped of his citizenship and ordered into exile. No one was allowed to provide him with fire or water within eight hundred Roman miles of the Senate House, and he was fined fifteen thousand gold talents. He was not allowed to speak to friends or family from the moment of his sentence. The story is that he managed to reach a Greek city in the east and died there in exile.’

Fidelma was quiet. Venerable Ionas’ account more or less confirmed and expanded the few words that she had seen in the book in the library at Vars.

‘Why would pages relating to Caepio be cut out of the books in the abbey library?’ asked Venerable Ionas.

‘I was told there was some legend connected with gold from Tolosa,’ she said.

The elderly scholar looked at the coin and grimaced. ‘The same old dream. Aurum Tolosa, eh?’

‘Then you know of it?’ Fidelma asked quickly.

‘The people of these valleys often talk about it. It is more or less the gold of fools. A myth. It doesn’t exist.’

‘But tell me about it.’