The Dove of Death by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online

delegation, warriors, to the King of the Bretons and they would be better placed to track down these murderers.’
    Fidelma shook her head firmly. Her features were controlled.
    ‘I do not make this decision lightly. Of course it is important for us to return home to our son. We have been away too long. But you do not realise the shame that would be upon me if I went back without making any effort to find out who has done this terrible thing. The satirists would bring blotches to my face and, more importantly, to the face of my brother, the King. He could even be forced to abdicate. The line of our dynasty, the Eóghanacht, could be stigmatised for ever.’
    Had Eadulf not spent years among the people of the Five Kingdoms, he would have considered the statement overly dramatic. However, he knew that it was a preoccupation among his wife’s people that their honour, what they called enech or ‘face’, should in no way be besmirched. If they were dishonoured, it was believed that a poet could write a satire that would raise blotches on their face for everyone to see, revealing their dishonour. A satire could even cause people to die of their shame. Eadulf was sure that Fidelma did not believe in the supernatural powers of the poets but, before the coming of the New Faith, it was widely accepted and even now, while some referred to it with half-hearted humour, many peoplefully believed. Indeed, even the laws of which Fidelma was an advocate, dictated that the composing of a wrongful satire was worthy of fine and punishment. Likewise it was illegal to satirise a person after their death. But if the satire was truthful…a king or a noble had to tolerate satire or lose their honour price if they brought the poet to the court and the court found the poet’s words to be truthful.
    Wisely, Eadulf did not rebuke her on the matter of dishonour.
    ‘So what do you intend?’ he asked.
    Fidelma gestured with a slight rise and fall of her shoulder. ‘Someone around these shores must know about that ship that attacked us. When the time is right, I shall ask Brother Metellus what that dove means to him. Someone will know which direction the ships sailed, or where the Barnacle Goose was being led.’
    ‘The sea is a big place.’
    ‘We have searched bigger,’ replied Fidelma. ‘And we have been successful in our searches.’
    Eadulf suppressed a sigh. He realised that no matter what obstacles he pointed out, Fidelma would have none of them. She had made up her mind on a course of action and she was going to take it – in spite of all the obvious difficulties.
    ‘I presume your plan will be to make enquiries at the abbey of this Gildas when we reach the mainland tomorrow?’
    Fidelma could hear the disapproval in his voice.
    ‘That would be a logical assumption!’ she retorted, turning her back on him as she lay down in the bed.
    Eadulf said nothing for a moment or two. Then he shrugged and blew out the candle.
    For some time he lay on his back, hands behind his head, listening to the distant sounds of the music and the voices from the beach where the feasting was continuing. Then sleep caught him unawares.
    It was still dark when he opened his eyes again. No; not quite dark. There was a greying light, that curious pre-dawn twilight, filtering through the window and causing dark shadows in the room. He wondered what had awakened him at this hour. Fidelma lay beside him, still asleep. He could hear her breathing deeply and regularly. It was surely time to rise and get ready to leave with Brother Metellus…Then he suddenly noticed: the wind had changed. Last night, its sound had been soft, almost sibilant, but it was moaning now around the corners of the house, tearing at the sloping roof. Overnight, the soft summer breezes had changed into fierce gusting winds.
    He knew that until the winds abated, they would be forced to remain on this island. He also knew that his wife would not be pleased.

Chapter Three
    Fidelma looked out