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trees, paused and looked around. It had an almost comical face, with hairy eyebrows and a moustache that almost hid its powerful jaws. It seemed to glance around and then, tail wagging, it trotted towards Sister Gisa, with a faint friendly yelp. Brother Faro started nervously.
    ‘It is a hunting dog,’ he warned.
    The young girl reached out and patted the animal’s head. It seemed to have a docile temperament.
    The two warriors had risen to their feet with their hands on their sword hilts. The little dog allowed Sister Gisa to stroke its head before it gave a final yelp, a sniff, and trotted off.
    Fidelma seemed to be the only one who realised what made Brother Faro and the warriors nervous about the appearance of the dog.
    ‘Do you think that there is a hunting party nearby?’ she asked Brother Faro.
    Even before he could answer her, the sound of horses and the cries of men came to their ears. A moment more and the first riders emerged through the trees and halted abruptly as they caught sight of the group. One of the riders led a mule and across its back lay the carcass of a red deer which was, apparently, the fruits of the hunt.
    Then one of Wulfoald’s warriors stepped forward and called out in his own language. Words were quickly exchanged and Fidelma noticed her companions were visibly relaxing. One of the riders, a young man richly attired in embroidered hunting clothes and short cloak, slid from his white stallion. He was handsome, fair-faced with carefully trimmed corn-coloured hair, but cleanshaven. His eyes were a light blue. He came forward with a smile of greeting, his hand held out to Magister Ado.
    ‘You are welcome back from your travels, Magister Ado. It is good to see you back again in our peaceful valley.’
    His Latin was colloquial but spoken with the firmness of one educated and used to command.
    ‘You are kind, Lord Radoald,’ acknowledged the elderly religieux.
    The blue eyes swept over Brother Faro and Sister Gisa.
    ‘Ah, little Sister Gisa … and Brother Faro. You are both more than welcome. And …’ The young man frowned, as he noticed Brother Faro’s bandaged arm and shoulder for the first time. ‘But something is amiss. What has befallen you, my friend?’
    Magister Ado quickly explained and the young lord looked troubled.
    ‘It is rare that bandits haunt this valley,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘They usually lie in wait for rich merchants on the old Salt Road and do not enter the Valley of the Trebbia, for such merchants as they seek are few here and they would have to contend with my warriors.’
    Brother Faro assured him that he suffered no more than a flesh wound and that he would soon be well. Fidelma wondered whether Magister Ado would make any further explanation or mention the attack in Genua but he seemed content to let the matter rest. ‘It was lucky that Wulfoald and his men arrived at the moment the bandits attacked us,’ he said. ‘He gave us these two warriors to escort us to your fortress, my lord, where we would beg hospitality for tonight.’
    ‘Hospitality? Of course.’ The blue eyes alighted on Fidelma. ‘And do we have a newcomer to our valley?’ he asked.
    ‘This is Sister Fidelma of Hibernia.’ Magister Ado performed the introduction. ‘Fidelma, this is Radoald, Lord of Trebbia.’
    ‘Fidelma of Hibernia?’ The young lord gave her a close scrutiny. ‘Indeed, you have the same fiery red hair, fair skin and strange green eyes that I have seen on some of those I have known from Hibernia. Many from your land have come to join the community of the abbey here. Do you mean to stay with us in our little valley?’
    ‘I have come only to visit,’ replied Fidelma.
    ‘Fidelma is a princess from Hibernia,’ Sister Gisa pressed eagerly. ‘Not only that, but she is famous.’
    The young lord turned to Sister Gisa with a smile.
    ‘A princess, and famous, indeed? In what manner famous?’
    ‘Sister Gisa exaggerates,’ Fidelma said hurriedly.
    ‘No, I do