‘And I am sure that will not be long, once my father has returned,’ replied Macliau in good spirits.
‘One thing,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘We need to send a message back to Aourken, with whom we were staying, to inform her where we are.’
‘Aourken?’ Trifina frowned. ‘I know the name. She used to teach me Latin grammar when I was young.’
It was Bleidbara, still waiting to be dismissed, who answered Fidelma.
‘I will tell Boric that when he recovers the bodies of Biscam and his men, he should inform Aourken that you are guests at Brilhag. He can bring your belongings here.’
‘They will not amount to much as we fled ship in nothing more than what we stood up in,’ replied Eadulf.
‘See that the old lady is well compensated for foregoing their company, Bleidbara,’ added Macliau.
The young warrior raised a hand in salute and left.
Fidelma turned to Trifina, saying, ‘This fortress stands, I believe, on the edge of what you call the Little Sea?’
‘That is true,’ replied the girl languidly.
‘Do you not fear attack from the sea?’
The girl did not answer but Macliau roared with laughter. ‘Impossible. It was a natural fortification for our ancestors, the Veneti, in ancient times.’
‘Could not these brigands be hiding out on these islands? There is room for a ship to anchor by them.’
‘Impossible!’
They all turned to Trifina with some surprise at the vehemence in her voice.
‘Impossible, lady?’ Fidelma said quietly. ‘Why so?’
‘We have a fortified dwelling on Govihan, the island of the smithy’s forge,’ Macliau explained hurriedly, glancing in annoyance at his sister. ‘From there our men maintain a watch along this coast. We are seafarers ourselves and have our own ships. If there were any strange movements, our men would know and inform us. It is the duty of the Lord of Brilhag to offer protection to our people in this area.’
‘I have just returned from Govihan,’ Trifina added, as if to justify her vehemence. ‘That is why I have said it is impossible.’
‘Where is this island exactly?’
‘Govihan?’ asked the girl. ‘It is the first large island off the headland here.’
Macliau suddenly stood up with a smile.
‘Come,’ he invited, ‘it is still light. Let me take you up the tower and you can see it for yourself. The tower also provides a good view of the Little Sea. And you will see why we do not fear attack.’
Trifina spread herself on her chair with a yawn. ‘I will remain here. I have had enough exercise today,’ she drawled.
Just as they rose to follow him, a girl came down the stairway. She paused at the bottom, caught sight of Macliau and smiled happily before moving towards him. She was young and of a fleshy build. ‘Voluptuous’ was the word that came into Fidelma’s mind; this was a girl who knew her ability to attract certain types of men and was not above using it. She had dark hair, brown eyes and rosy cheeks, and full red lips. Seeing Macliau, she moved seductively across the floor to him, showing off the whiteness of her teeth in a proprietorial smile. Her clothing seemed to match her personality; it was bright and verging on the gaudy.
For a moment, Macliau looked rather embarrassed. Then he introduced her.
‘This is Argantken. She does not speak Latin, but there is little need for you to talk with her.’
He turned without further ado and addressed the girl in a sharp tone. She pouted and said something in reply, then with a frown of displeasure at the company, but still without acknowledging them, she left the room with the same flouncing motion as that with which she had entered it.
Eadulf looked at Brother Metellus but the monk’s face was impassive.
‘To the tower.’ Macliau began to lead the way, with the little dog trotting close at his heels. They followed him to a door at the base of a square tower, then up a narrow wooden stairway swung around the inner wall, intricately worked in oak beams; every five metres or so, it supported a floor, each floor given over to stores of various kinds. The upper floor held implements of war, bows and stacks of arrows. Fidelma commented on the fact and bent to examine one of the sheaths of arrows that hung from the walls.
‘I am glad to see you are prepared,’ she said. ‘You say that attack from the sea on your fortress is impossible. The sea is a good road to the world, but the traffic is not all outward-going. Sometimes the sea brings guests whom we do not want.’
Macliau shrugged. ‘So it was in the time of our ancestors when it brought the fleet of Julius Caesar within sight of these very shores. Of late it has brought the warships of the Franks and even of the raiding Saxons to our southern coasts, but they have not infiltrated into the Morbihan. Brother Metellus, wasn’t it your writer Seneca who underscored the lesson by saying that it will not always be summer?’
‘Non semper erit aesta,’ repeated Brother Metellus, solemnly nodding.
‘We are prepared for winter. But these recent raiders obviously have no wish to attack those who can defend themselves — just harmless merchant ships and isolated travellers.’
They emerged at the top of the tower, some twenty metres above ground. It commanded a magnificent panoramic view in all directions, the hills and forests on the landward side, and the great inland sea to the north with its multitude of islands stretching away as far as the eye could see. Many of the islands appeared forested.
‘There, that is Govihan,’ said Macliau, pointing to a stretch of land beyond the headland. They had elevation enough to see that it was shaped like a kidney bean with a long strip of white sand on its eastern side and a little stretch of sand on the west. It was thickly wooded at the southern end and they could also see a tall wooden tower beyond. ‘That is the watchtower which rises from the little fortified dwelling we have there. Rather, it is an ancient villa given by my father to Trifina as her own house. As you see, between this tower and that, there is little that can move in this part of Morbihan, without being noticed.’
Fidelma agreed that the towers did command a clear view of the area.
‘But how would you warn one another of danger?’ she asked.
‘Watchfires,’ replied the young man immediately. ‘And, on a clear day, we can use our banners.’ He pointed to the pole attached to the tower, from the top of which hung a large rectangle of white silk. Now and then the wind lifted it, fluttering in the breeze so that the image of it could be clearly seen. It was the same bird image as on the torn piece of silk that now reposed in Eadulf’s marsupium.
Fidelma regarded it innocently. ‘Surely that is a strange emblem to have on your banner? It looks like a dove.’
Macliau chuckled in amusement, which caused the little dog to glance up at his master and whine slightly.
‘It is a dove indeed, and when I am head of this family, I shall have it changed back.’
‘Changed back?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Our ancestors were of the Veneti, as I have said. We dominated the seas in all directions. Even the Romans praised our skills. Our emblem was the osprey, the great sea hunter, the eagle of the sea.’
His voice had risen with pride and for a moment or two Fidelma allowed him to contemplate some inner vision he seemed to be experiencing.
‘That doesn’t explain why your flag now bears a dove on it. It is a symbol of peace,’ she prompted.
A bitter expression appeared on the young man’s face.
‘It became a symbol of my family’s shame,’ he muttered.
‘Shame? I don’t understand.’
‘When my ancestor, Canao, who was the second of his name to rule as King of Bro-Erech, was killed, Judicael of Domnonia took over the kingdom. He claimed descent from another King of this land called Waroch, and from then on we were told the land would be called Bro-Waroch. It was Judicael who ordered my family to surrender their battle-flag to him and to cease using the image of the royal eagle of the seas. My family had no choice, but in protest they adopted the image of the dove…an image of humility and peace. One day, God willing, we will demand our ancient rights again and-’