Behold a Pale Horse

‘Before the battle in which the Roman armies were annihilated, Caepio and his legions attacked and sacked the town of Tolosa and carried off a vast amount of gold and silver. Some stories even say that the people had hidden the gold in a great, dark lake, but Caepio managed to recover it …’

‘That which was taken from a watery grave must be returned to it,’ muttered Fidelma.

‘What?’ frowned the old scholar.

‘Forgive me, I was just remembering something that someone said. Go on.’

‘Well, the figures vary, but it is said that the legionnaires filled forty-six wagons with gold and silver. Caepio then sent them back to his villa in Placentia. When the Senate asked him where the gold was, he claimed it had never reached Placentia — that the wagons had been attacked by bandits and looted on the way. The Senate didn’t believe him. They believed that he had appropriated the gold for himself and had buried it somewhere in these very mountains — hence the severity of his sentence. The fact was that it disappeared and over the many centuries since, it has become a myth. So why are you interested in this?’ He held up the coin and examined it. ‘A gold coin of Tolosa … a coin of the Tectosages.’ He began to smile. ‘Ah, don’t tell me that someone is trying to persuade you that this coin is part of the lost gold of Tolosa?’

Fidelma flushed slightly. ‘Not at all,’ she asserted. ‘I was mainly concerned why the pages about Caepio should be removed from the books in the library. Brother Eolann was most upset about this.’

‘Well, I can understand that the destruction of a book would be a great affront. He should have reported the matter. I would not believe that the contents of the pages would be important in themselves. We have far more detailed accounts about Caepio in another book, which I have used recently. There is a little book in the scriptorium on the life of the Proconsul. Brother Eolann was especially proud of it as it was a very rare copy. Apparently it was banned by the curule aediles in Rome.’

‘The what?’ Fidelma asked, puzzled.

‘Curule aediles? Ancient Roman magistrates. For some reason we had one of the copies that escaped destruction. I believe it might have survived because it was written by a Gaul from Narbona — Trogus Pompeius.’

‘Why would the life of Caepio be banned? Because of the subject or the writer?’

‘I would think that Proconsul Caepio was not the most worthy of the Servillius clan.’

Fidelma was about to turn away when the name registered with her. ‘Did you say the Servillius clan?’ she asked.

‘Servillius was a patronymic name. The Proconsul’s full name was Quintus Servillius Caepio. Vitae Quintus Servillius Caepeio is the volume that you are looking for. The Servillius family were an ancient patrician family in the days of the Republic and Empire, and often obtained the consulship. They survived many, many centuries.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. She picked up the coin and went to the door, pausing to say, ‘Thank you for your wisdom, Venerable Ionas. It is of much help to me.’

‘As I recall, you will find the story told by Trogus more in keeping with mythology,’ called Venerable Ionas. ‘He claims that the gold of Tolosa was initially looted from the sacredGreek temples of Delphi. The Tectosages were one of the Gaulish tribes who invaded Greece just after the death of the Great Alexander and sacked the gold and wealth of the temple of the Oracle. Each time the story is told, it becomes more fabulous in the telling. Trogus was a Gaul and a good storyteller. He knew many of the local legends associated with the campaign against the Gauls. So his account might give you further information.’

Fidelma left as the Venerable Ionas bent over his work again. Outside his study, she replaced the gold coin safely back in her comb bag. Her mind turned over the patronymic of Caepio in her mind. An ancient patrician family that had survived many centuries … She made her way into the scriptorium. Now she felt that she was getting nearer to that elusive connection. Brother Eolann was still not there, yet now there was a lamp lit on the table. Beside the lamp was a book opened at the first page. She caught sight of the title.

It was Trogus Pompeius’ Vitae Quintus Servillius Caepeio.

She swung round quickly, glancing into the darkened corners of the library. Was she being set up for some purpose? The book did not get there on its own just when she needed it. With tightened jaw she leaned towards the book. She began to turn the pages — and then stopped with a gasp.

The book was a thin volume — but when opened, it was obvious why. Several of the pages had been cut from it.

Now she knew whom she had to confront, but she also knew that she could not do it alone. She retraced her steps to Venerable Ionas’ study. He looked up in surprise as she entered, without knocking this time, and sat down. She held out the copy of the book to him. He saw the section where the pages had been cut and turned a frowning glance to Fidelma.

‘I think it is time I had a word with Abbot Servillius.’ She laid a heavy stress on the last name.

‘Abbot Servillius?’ asked Venerable Ionas. ‘Why?’

‘You told me that Servillius was a nomen, a patronymic name. Quintus Servillius Caepio.’ She laid stress on the middle name.

Abbot Ionas regarded her with some amusement. ‘I cannot quite see how your mind is working, my child. You comment on the similarity of the name.’

‘I seem to have stumbled on a series of matters that relate to this fabled gold hoard of Quintus Servillius Caepio. I believe a boy was killed because he stumbled on the hoard or the route to it. The killer wanted it kept secret. But it became known that the boy had spoken to someone in this abbey who might be able to work out what it was all about. Therefore the killer decided to eliminate all the clues that he could. Cutting pages from the books in the scriptorium which linked to the story of this fabulous treasure was one way.’

‘You mean the references to what Caepio did? His sack of Tolosa, his appropriation of the gold and silver; the story that he brought the treasure back to this land, where he was Proconsul and Governor; that he hid it, before his final disgrace in Rome.’ Venerable Ionas was still smiling. ‘That seems somewhat far-fetched.’

‘The killer tried to expunge any route that might have led to Caepio’s gold — Servillius’ gold.’

Venerable Ionas sat back, chuckling softly. ‘You are arguing that our abbot is a descendant of the Servillius family. That may well be. Servillius has always been proud that he is descended from an old and local patrician family. But are you arguing that he also holds the secret of Caepio’s gold — that he has tried to prevent others from finding it?’

‘Or indeed that he or some other discovered the hiding place and then the boy Wamba stumbled on it and …’

Now the old scholar’s eyes widened. ‘You seriously contend that Abbot Servillius had the boy Wamba killed to keep the secret of where the fabled Aurum Tolosa might be found? Impossible! Even if it did exist, to suggest that my old friend Servillius …’

‘ … had him killed or killed the boy himself,’ Fidelma said steadily.

Venerable Ionas sat for a while in silence, his bright eyes keenly searching her face.

‘I have perceived you to be an intelligent person, Sister,’ he finally said, like a father sadly chastising an erring child. ‘I know that you have trained in the law of your land. I know, too, that Venerable Gelasius of the Lateran Palace holds you in high esteem, as does the Holy Father himself, because you tracked down the killer of the Archbishop Wighard. But this is an incredible accusation that you lay at the door of poor Servillius. Why, I have known him since the day he came to this abbey.’

‘I do not make my accusations lightly,’ Fidelma replied.

‘Then I suggest that you tell me your story and your evidence before you go any further.’

‘It is a long one and starts with the murder of Brother Ruadán.’

The eyes of Venerable Ionas widened again. ‘Murder?’ His tone was incredulous.

Fidelma began the story, slowly and carefully, and gradually the disbelief of the old scholar’s expression began to change into one of serious attention. He did not interrupt her once. When she had finished he sat with head bowed, saying nothing. Then he exhaled deeply.

‘And such things have happened to you, my child, since you came to our peaceful Abbey of Bobium? You should have come to me sooner.’

‘How could I trust you?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘I do not know if I can trust you now, only that I desperately need to trust someone.’