‘That person was Perctarit’s chief agent. The person overseeing the building of the mausoleum for the abbots was …’
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Faro!’ Sister Gisa screamed the name. ‘It cannot be!’ Wulfoald seemed the only one who did not express astonishment. ‘Everyone knew he was in charge of the building of the tombs. Didn’t he complete Abbot Bobolen’s tomb just before you left for Genua to meet Magister Ado?’
‘I refuse to believe it. I will not believe it,’ sobbed the girl.
‘He told us that he had been a warrior during the war between Perctarit and Grimoald,’ Fidelma gently reminded her. ‘A little investigation might have shown that he had served in Perctarit’s army. He came to Bobium two years ago after Perctarit’s exile, about the same time as Brother Eolann came from Mailand. Not only was he supervisor of the building of the mausoleums, but Sister Gisa told me that he had suggested the design of Bobolen’s tomb and secured the workmen to raise it.’
‘A charitable work …’ Sister Gisa began.
‘Not so. His workmen were also Perctarit’s men, and it was there that the gold was brought under cover of the building work. It was stored to await the day when Perctarit was ready to make his move. Even worse, Faro is undoubtedly the man on the pale horse who pursued and slew Lady Gunora andwould have done the same to Prince Romuald. He was the same person who was seen, still in his religieux robes, stealing Wamba’s box from the cairn put up by Hawisa. He climbed down, but someone saw him and he dropped the box, which I later found. He had left his horse on the track below. It was the same breed and colour that I have seen Faro ride. The person who witnessed this event has not been seen recently. Let us hope there is not another death to be accounted to him.’
‘You claim that he also killed the old woman, Hawisa, and set fire to her cabin?’
‘I do.’
‘Are you saying that Faro killed the boy, Wamba, Brother Eolann and Abbot Servillius?’ asked Aistulf.
Fidelma shook her head. ‘He might have killed Wamba — I am sure he did. But I believe there was a third conspirator. Of his identity I have a good idea but cannot say for certain. I believe I can do so only when I return to the abbey. The immediate problem is to safeguard the abbey and the gold from Grasulf’s attack.’
Sister Gisa was still sobbing softly.
‘You must face the facts, daughter,’ Suidur said gently as he placed an arm around her shoulders.
‘I will not believe it until Faro tells me directly,’ cried the girl through her tears.
Fidelma regarded her sympathetically. ‘If it is any consolation, I think he does care for you. Last night he warned me to leave the valley and, if I saw you, to give you that warning as well. He said the storm was coming.’
‘That storm might come sooner than anyone thinks,’ Wulfoald observed dryly.
‘I agree,’ Fidelma said. ‘I believe Grasulf will attack either today or tomorrow.’
‘Then we must protect the abbey and retrieve the gold at once,’ Radoald declared, rising from his seat.
As the others followed his example, Fidelma added: ‘I am now certain that Grasulf will have been informed that the gold is at the abbey and he is on the way to seize it. We must ride back and warn the brethren.’
‘It will take me a while to gather sufficient warriors,’ Radoald said with a frown.
‘We have Grimoald’s two warriors and four of my men who are good bowmen. I could take them and accompany Fidelma,’ Wulfoald suggested. ‘The abbey can be defended. We might be able to hold off any attempt to take the gold until you gather the rest of the men.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Aistulf announced with enthusiasm. ‘Fortes fortuna iuvat.’ Fortune helps the brave.
‘I thought you had renounced warfare?’ Radoald said to his father.
‘There comes a time when one cannot stand by with indifference. This is as much my valley and my people that Grasulf is attacking,’ replied Aistulf. ‘Have no fear, my son, you remain Lord of Trebbia. I am merely a hermit but I have a right to fight for the peace of this valley as much as anyone.’
Sister Gisa also insisted on accompanying them in spite of her distressed state. Wulfoald, with Grimoald’s two black-cloaked warriors, rode ahead with Fidelma and Sister Gisa followed, then four more warriors came behind them with Aistulf at their head. They rode purposefully, without talking. Fidelma was worried. Her mind was still running over all the evidence, since in spite of her assurance of Faro’s guilt and Brother Eolann’s complicity, there was a nagging in her mind about the identity of the third conspirator. She suspectedwho it was but could not be sure. There was something that she was missing.
It was late afternoon when they finally crossed the hump-back bridge. Another of Wulfoald’s warriors had appeared, riding towards them from the direction of Travo. He met them by the bridge. The exchange was rapid and brief.
‘Grasulf and his warriors have already crossed into the valley downstream and are heading in this direction,’ Wulfoald shouted to Fidelma. ‘We have little time to alert the abbey and township.’
The party did not delay but crossed the bridge and galloped up to the gates of the abbey. Brother Bladulf had apparently returned from Mount Pénas, for it was he who opened the gates. Venerable Ionas and Magister Ado were already in the courtyard and came hurrying across to greet them.
‘You are about to be attacked by Grasulf’s men in the name of Perctarit,’ shouted Wulfoald, as he swung down from his horse. ‘I would gather as many people into the abbey as you can for safety, then shut the gates and be ready to receive them.’
Venerable Ionas was about to ask a question when his eyes alighted on Aistulf. He was shocked.
‘My lord Billo,’ he began. ‘What-?’
Aistulf brushed him aside. ‘Explanations can come later. You have no time before Grasulf attacks.’
‘It is so,’ Fidelma said. ‘Brother Faro is behind this conspiracy. Is he here?’
‘He has not returned since this morning,’ gasped Magister Ado. ‘I cannot believe it.’
‘There is no time to debate the matter,’ Fidelma snapped. ‘You must prepare.’
Wulfoald was already ordering his warriors to take positions on the walls above the gates of the abbey.
‘We cannot fight against Grasulf,’ Magister Ado protested. ‘This is a House of God, of peace. Our brethren are sworn to peace.’
‘We will do the fighting for you,’ Wulfoald said tersely. ‘Just pray for us.’
Venerable Ionas stared at them in dismay. ‘How can we defend ourselves with just these few warriors?’ he demanded.
‘Lord Radoald is coming with a larger force,’ replied Wulfoald. ‘They should be here soon. Please, sound the alarm bell of the abbey before it is too late.’
Brother Bladulf was waiting nervously, but when the order was relayed to him, he went to the watch-tower and, untying a rope, began the warning peal on the abbey bell. The courtyard became a sea of confused figures, with members of the brethren running this way and that. Sister Gisa had ridden off to the house of women in the township to rouse the Sisters who, with others, began flooding towards the abbey gates, some of them even herding their livestock with them. Magister Ado had become galvanised into action as he saw the panic of the brethren and the people. He was shouting instructions, trying to make himself heard, commanding, explaining, and trying to create some order in the confusion.
Fidelma now turned towards the pale, anxious figure of Venerable Ionas.
‘Did you do as I asked?’ she said.
He was distracted and she had to ask again before he confirmed it.
‘It is all moved and the lock secured again?’ she pressed.
‘It was done exactly as you suggested.’
‘And no one else has been informed?’
‘No one saw us and I swore those who helped to silence, as you told me.’