As she lay there, she began to hear the distant sound of people whispering. It encroached on her thoughts. She sat up with a frown of annoyance. It was coming from outside, beyond the open window and balcony that overlooked the small courtyard below. The balcony was only shielded from her room by a thick curtain to keep out the swarming insects, especially the little flies that could bite one during the sultry nights and cause illness.
Fidelma swung off the bed and moved to the curtain, pausing to listen. The sounds made no sense at all and she would have been prepared to ignore things altogether, had she not wondered why people should stand whispering in the middle of the night.
Carefully, she eased the curtain aside and stepped on to the balcony. The night was now dark, for clouds had spread across the sky obscuring the moon. She peered down. The courtyard was in shadows, and it was not until her eyesight grew used to the darkness that she could discern a group of five figures. Three of them were tall, one with white hair, while the other two were short. Of the two shorter figures, one wasslight, obviously a woman, and the other, a man, seemed elderly, for he too had white hair, just discernible in the darkness. They were whispering together in a language Fidelma guessed was that of the Longobards. The conversation seemed intense, and as if the man of short stature with white hair was scolding the others. One of the taller men seemed to be protesting.
Well, it was none of her business. She was about to turn back into her chamber and try once more to get some rest before the onward journey when the clouds parted briefly and the bright moon pierced the gloom. It was only for a moment but Fidelma saw the white hair of the tall physician, Suidur. The shorter elderly man and the woman remained in the darkness. She did not see the faces of the others, but their long black robes seemed familiar. Then the woman turned her face so that the moonlight caught it for an instant. Her voice was clear and she suddenly lapsed into Latin.
‘The gold must already be here. That means it will happen soon.’
The short, elderly man snapped something at her.
Fidelma gave a gasp and drew back behind the curtain. Whether it was the sound of her withdrawn breath or just a reaction to the sudden moment of moonlight, there was a pause in the conversation. She waited behind the curtain, unable to breathe for a moment, until she heard the talk resume.
Another voice said something sharply and the conversation continued as before in the Longobard language. She waited until the whispering ceased. The voice she had recognised was that of Sister Gisa. She did not know who the short, elderly man was — but was it just her imagination that they,with Suidur, were in conversation with the same two men who had attacked Magister Ado in Genua? Indeed, the same warriors who had attacked them and wounded Brother Faro as they entered the valley?
CHAPTER FOUR
It was well after first light when Fidelma joined her companions in the hall of the fortress at the first meal of the day. She had finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep and awoken feeling tired and irritable. There was no sign of Suidur but Radoald was there presiding over the meal and indulging in a friendly exchange with Magister Ado. Sister Gisa was seated by Brother Faro who still had his arm in a sling but looked none the worse for his experience. Fidelma wondered whether she should relate her experience of the night to Magister Ado as, after all, he had been the subject of the attacks. She decided that she should do so only when a suitable opportunity arose, for if Suidur and Sister Gisa were part of some plot against him, he should be told. Then she began to have doubts. What exactly was the plot against him? Who was involved and why? Surely she should find out more before becoming involved … Perhaps Brother Ruadán would be able to enlighten her.
‘It seems that we shall have company for the rest of our journey,’ Sister Gisa whispered to her as they were finishing their meal.
‘Oh?’ Fidelma inquired politely.
‘Two farmers are taking goods to trade at the abbey.’
‘Our local hill farmers often take goods to the abbey,’ Radoald intervened, overhearing. ‘You arrived here at a convenient moment. The merchants are already outside. But, after what happened to your party yesterday, I’ll send two of my own men to accompany you.’
Fidelma’s senses were suddenly alert. How convenient for the would-be assassins to travel with them. She could not get the image of the previous night out of her mind. But then she looked at the young, enthusiastic face of Sister Gisa and wondered how the girl could be involved in a conspiracy to murder.
‘Are you well enough to undertake this journey, Brother Faro?’ she asked. It passed through her mind to use the young religieux as an excuse to delay so that she might find out more about whatever was happening. But the young man nodded vigorously.
‘The wound is healing well. I hardly feel it. And the sooner we get to Bobium, the better.’
‘I have already given orders for your horses to be ready. Alas, other matters need my attention,’ Radoald said, ‘otherwise I would gladly offer you my company on the journey.’
Magister Ado seemed content. ‘We shall be safe from here on. Bobium is not far now, Fidelma. We should be able to reach it before midday.’
Fidelma followed the others out into the courtyard and carefully scrutinised those who were to be their companions for the rest of the journey. There were two men with pack mules, and the two warriors. To her relief, none of them appeared to have any features in common with the erstwhile attackers. The two with the pack mules were small, rotund men, looking as she imagined typical farmers might look. The two warriorswere of average height. She noticed, with interest, that Lord Radoald had provided Sister Gisa with a horse, but she insisted on leading their mule. There was no sign of Suidur when they bade their farewell to the young Lord of Trebbia.
The small caravan set off without fuss. One warrior rode at the head. Magister Ado and Fidelma came next, then Brother Faro and Sister Gisa with their mule. Behind them were the two merchants and their mules. The second warrior brought up the rear.
For a while, Fidelma rode in silence, her eyes watchful on the surrounding countryside.
‘You seem pensive, Sister,’ Magister Ado finally commented after they had ridden in silence for a while.
‘Having been ambushed once, I felt that we should be constantly alert,’ she replied apologetically.
Magister Ado grimaced. ‘So you think those bandits will try again to waylay us?’
‘Why not?’ she asked innocently. She did not explain what she had witnessed in the night.
The elderly religieux shook his head. ‘I do not think we shall be in any danger in Lord Radoald’s territory so near to Bobium.’
‘I bow to your knowledge, Magister Ado,’ she replied. ‘But there is a good saying, however: semper paratus.’
Magister Ado was amused. ‘Always prepared? It seems a good maxim, lady. But by midday, or soon after, you will see the great walls of the Abbey of Bobium and your fears will then be proved unfounded.’
Fidelma inclined her head as though in acquiescence. ‘It is hard to accept that there are those prepared to maim or kill because they disagree with the form of Christian creed another has.’
Fidelma had not meant it to sound so belligerent but Magister Ado only chuckled in good humour.
‘You believe that there is something more to it? Some dark secret that I am not telling you? Wait until you have spoken with Brother Ruadán, and you will see that the disagreement runs deep among our people here. Much blood has been scattered in this argument. From what our young friends tell me,’ he glanced briefly behind to where Sister Gisa and Brother Faro were following, ‘Brother Ruadán has suffered more than I have — suffered for his adherence to the Nicene Creed.’