Just then, Iuna re-entered with refreshments.
‘Your attendant, Ceingar, has seen to the unpacking of your baggage and is preparing your bedchamber, lady. I presume that you and your entourage will be staying until the King arrives?’ Her words were deferential, not so her tone.
‘Your presumption is correct, Iuna.’ Riwanon smiled as she spoke, but Fidelma sensed the antagonism between the stewardess and the newcomers. It was curious, but Iuna’s attitude seemed to be less that of a servant and more that of someone of authority. However, she then proceeded to ensure that everyone had what refreshments were needed before leaving the hall.
Riwanon returned her gaze to Fidelma with a bright smile as if nothing was amiss.
‘So, Fidelma of Hibernia, tell me something more of this curious adventure that has brought you here.’
‘There is little more to say, lady,’ Fidelma replied stiffly, ‘except that I am determined to find these pirates who attacked our ship and killed my cousin. Bressal was envoy from my brother to your husband and had negotiated a trade treaty between our kingdom and this one.’
Riwanon suddenly started. Her eyes widened. ‘Your cousin? Bressal?’
Fidelma, puzzled, affirmed it.
‘What must I have been thinking of?’ Riwanon sighed softly. ‘That is why the names seem familiar. You should have reminded me, Budic,’ she rebuked her bodyguard. ‘I met your cousin twice, Fidelma, when he came to present himself to my husband, the King, and indeed, sought a trading treaty between your brother’s kingdom and our land. He was given leave to take a cargo of salt from the salt marshes of Gwenrann. And, you say that it was his ship that was attacked and Bressal himself who was killed?’
‘And the ship’s captain, Murchad,’ added Fidelma grimly, ‘and at least two of his crew. All killed in cold blood, lady, by the leader of these sea raiders.’
‘We are sisters in rank, Fidelma,’ reproved the woman, in a friendly tone. ‘You do not have to call me anything but Riwanon.’
‘That I will do gladly,’ Fidelma replied.
‘You have my condolences,’ Riwanon continued sadly. ‘I can assure you that my husband will leave no stone unturned in a search for the culprits.’
‘But it may be that they have fled from these waters,’ pointed out Budic, without enthusiasm. ‘Alas, we have a plague of sea raiders along these coasts. They are like buzzing insects feeding on our prosperous ports. The Franks not only press our eastern borders on land but they raid along our shores. And then there are Saxon pirates from the north…’
Budic paused and glanced slyly at Eadulf; Fidelma could tell that the words had been deliberately chosen to provoke. Eadulf, a red dash on his cheeks, appeared to be studying the floor industriously and was not rising to the bait.
‘Eadulf is my husband and has long lived in my land and helped me with my duties,’ Fidelma felt moved to explain. ‘He is what is called a gerefa in his own land. A magistrate of the minor nobility of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
Budic’s grin broadened. He made to speak, but Riwanon cut in sharply. ‘I hope Budic’s words do not cause you offence, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
‘Lady, I am well aware that we are not all angels,’ Eadulf replied. ‘There is good and bad in all peoples.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Fidelma interrupted, wanting to return to the subject of the pirates, for she felt that she should solicit the help of the Queen and, if possible, the King, ‘I believe that these murderers may be of this country and not from elsewhere.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Riwanon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘I have some evidence which, alas, it might not be prudent for me to state publicly at this time. That is no disrespect to you, Riwanon, for you would be the first I should tell, were it discreet to do so. One piece of it I can state, and that is that we have cause to believe that the attack on those merchants carrying goods to the abbey of Gildas was carried out by the same brigands. The merchants were slain without mercy.’
‘You believe the attacks were committed by the same people?’ demanded Budic with a frown.
‘I do.’
Riwanon suddenly smiled broadly, then confided, ‘I have been bored these last few days. Hunting is not a pastime that appeals to me, though it is my husband’s passion. But, good sister from Hibernia, I do think that you may stimulate my wits to wrestle with these mysteries. So you think these sea raiders are from Armorica? That they might even be in this territory?’
‘I do, indeed.’
‘Then, once you have entrusted us with your evidence, they shall be tracked down and be punished as they deserve. Budic, here, shall personally lead the search for them. And if there be want of a vessel to transport you back to your own land, and none suitable entering our ports, my husband shall fit out such a vessel to take you and your companion to Hibernia with our condolences and with all proper reparation to your brother.’
‘You are too kind, Riwanon,’ Fidelma replied, warming towards this woman who did not seem to stand behind rank or ceremony. She sensed a person of her own temperament and thoughts. ‘Brother Metellus has served us well; not only do we owe him our lives but he has been invaluable as our guide and interpreter during this troubled time. I sense that his Abbot may chastise him for the service he has performed for us. The Abbot is a person of rigid ideas.’
‘His Abbot? Do you mean Maelcar?’ Riwanon seemed amused at something.
‘It was Abbot Maelcar of whom I spoke,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Then you know him, lady?’
‘I shall make my wishes known to Maelcar,’ she replied without answering. ‘Rest assured you will have no problems from him. Have you been at the abbey long, Brother Metellus?’
Brother Metellus shook his head. ‘My duties lay on the island of Hoedig where I was able to render these folk some service. It was my duty as a Brother in Christ to do what I could for these strangers, lady, so I brought them to the mainland.’
‘You have done well, Brother. Not everyone recognises their duty, let alone fulfils it,’ sighed Riwanon.
There came the sound of a brief trumpet call from the gates of the fortress and she glanced up.
‘Ah, this may be our host Macliau or his sister Trifina returning.’
Brother Metellus, who knew something of the protocol, shook his head.
‘It does not announce the arrival of one of such rank.’ He rose and went to the door of the great hall and peered outside. They could hear his sharp intake of breath across the hall and he performed the sign of the cross. ‘Lupus in fabula,’ he muttered. The wolf in the fable. Eadulf frowned, trying to understand the colloquialism and then realised that it would be translated in his tongue as: speak of the Devil and he will appear.
‘What is it, Brother Metellus?’ he asked.
‘Abbot Maelcar. He comes in the company of another Brother.’
A moment later, the elderly Abbot was admitted into the great hall. His dark eyes swept the company, widening in puzzlement as they fell on Brother Metellus and then on Fidelma and Eadulf. Then his gaze came to rest on Riwanon and his expression changed to one of relief. He crossed to her quickly, halting with a slight bow.
‘Sister, I am here.’ He spoke in his native language but now Fidelma had enough familiarity to understand some simple phrases.
A look of irritation crossed the Queen’s features.
‘Abbot Maelcar,’ she replied, but in Latin, ‘I can observe the fact that you are here. We are in the company of those who better understand this language,’ she added by way of rebuke. ‘We shall continue to speak in it.’
‘I came as soon as I could,’ the Abbot continued.
‘Indeed. And why would that be?’
There was no disguising the bewilderment that moulded the Abbot’s dark features.
‘I came in answer to the summons of your husband, the King.’
There was a silence.
‘My husband is not here, Abbot Maelcar,’ Riwanon finally said. ‘He is still two or three days’ ride from here and still pursuing the boar hunt with his companions. Who sent you such a summons?’