Free The Dove of Death by Peter Tremayne

a moment. He knew that Fidelma would not be so intense if she was anything but sure and the evidence of the pitch was damning.
    ‘But how…?’ he began.
    ‘Don’t ask me how it came here!’ she snapped. ‘Maybe the Barnacle Goose had to put into harbour here and the cat escaped.’
    ‘There is no harbour near here,’ protested Eadulf. ‘You sawthat the beaches are long and sloping. A ship would have to stand off some way out to sea, and no cat could swim that distance to shore.’
    ‘Then we must examine the coast round here. If Luchtigern is here then so are those who have survived the attack on the Barnacle Goose . The animal could not have travelled far on its own.’
    ‘Don’t male cats wander?’ hazarded Eadulf. ‘The ship could be miles away.’
    Fidelma’s expression indicated what she thought of his comment. She glanced around with a frown.
    ‘We’ll have to be careful about what we say until we know who we can trust.’
    ‘Surely we can trust Brother Metellus? After all, he saved us.’
    ‘It’s true that he saved us,’ she agreed. ‘But I am sure the dove emblem meant something to him when you mentioned it. Also, he did not seem keen about us going to see this local lord.’
    There was no time to say any more because Brother Metellus had reappeared, in the company of an elderly man. The latter was stocky in appearance, with a fleshy moon face and red cheeks. His hair, while bearing the tonsure of Peter, was a silver-grey and with thick curls at its ends. The eyes were dark, and there was some unfathomable quality to them as if they were a mask rather than expressive of the personality of the man. He wore black robes and around his neck was a golden chain with a crucifix denoting that he held the rank of Abbot.
    His lips parted in what was meant as a smile of welcome but his features held no warmth behind the greeting.
    ‘ Pax vobiscum . Greetings, my children. You are welcome to our little community.’ He spoke in Latin.
    ‘ Pax tecum ,’ they replied almost in unison.
    ‘Brother Metellus has told me of your adventure but, Deo iuvante , you have survived.’
    ‘Indeed, with God’s help,’ muttered Eadulf.
    ‘Brother Metellus also tells me that you have been rendered without means of support. You may be in luck – we are expecting a merchant, called Biscam, to arrive here shortly. Biscam comes regularly to our community and he will be returning to Naoned within a few days. I am sure that he would offer you his protection and a place among his wagons as far as the port. Brother Metellus tells me that ships from many quarters of the world use the port, including those from your own land. I am sure you will be able to find a safe passage back.’
    The man spoke firmly as if there would be no questioning of what he had decided.
    ‘You are most kind…’ began Fidelma.
    The Abbot barely heard her before cutting in: ‘But until the merchant arrives…well, we must secure you some shelter. Beyond the abbey is a little village of fisherfolk.’ He paused and made a curious gesture with a motion of his hand. ‘You see, we are a community of monks, those who have taken vows of chastity in accordance with what we believe is the true path to God. There is no place, no facilities, for a woman here.’
    ‘I was told that a local chieftain has his fortress nearby and perhaps, out of respect for my brother, the King of Muman, he might give us hospitality and ensure our safe passage home,’ interposed Fidelma.
    A frown of annoyance crossed Abbot Maelcar’s features. He clearly did not like to have his own plans questioned.
    ‘The Lord of Brilhag is not resident in his fortress. In fact, I believe he is presently in Naoned with the King. Best that you travel there as soon as Biscam, the merchant, departs.’
    ‘I have no wish to impose on your community,’ Fidelma said coldly.
    ‘Neither shall you,’ replied the Abbot with equanimity. ‘Brother Metellus will take you to the village and