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Eadulf, not disguising his nervousness. They had entered a countryside that was heavily wooded and could harbour vagabonds.
    Brother Budnouen chuckled. ‘Why would you want warriors to guard you? Do you carry treasure with you?’
    ‘Of course not,’ snapped Eadulf. ‘It is just that our lives are precious to us.’
    ‘Listen, my friend,’ the Gaul was still smiling, ‘your life is safer when you do not surround yourself with bodyguards, for bodyguards proclaim to bandits that you have something worth guarding. If you have nought but your life, then better not to let them think otherwise. Often I have passed along these highways and only once or twice was I stopped. But these days thieves are not interested in the goods I transport to the brethren in Autun, nor those I return with from Autun to Nebirnum. They want gold, silver, jewels and suchlike. Things for easy profit.’
    ‘We will have to take your word for that,’ Fidelma replied easily. ‘But we will rest easier when we reach Autun.’
    ‘You’ll see it tomorrow,’ Brother Budnouen assured her. ‘Once we traverse this area which still retains its old Gaulish name of Morven–that means the country of black mountains because of the darkness of the green hills and forests here–once through here you will see the city of Autun.’
    He was right. They approached the city about midday from the northwest, coming across the shoulder of a small hill. Enclosed by ancient grey walls, it seemed large to them since, although they had seen Rome, they had little to compare it with. That it was big and impressive was their immediate reaction. Moreover, rising above the red-tiled roofs of the buildings, on the far side of the city, was a massive complex like a castle–the great abbey itself. Part of it rose many storeys high and a massive tower stood at one end.
    They turned their attention to the city ramparts, ancient walls that here and there showed signs of reconstruction. There was no denying that it was a beautiful location, sited among a lush green terrain with vineyards to be seen flourishing here and there around the city walls.
    Brother Budnouen smiled in satisfaction as he glanced at their expressions. People from the western islands were always impressed with the cities of Gaul. As the wagon trundled down the roadway towards the river, he saw that his passengers were examining large square-shaped stone building to the right of the roadside.
    ‘That was originally the Roman Temple of Janus,’ he offered. ‘It is used for other things now, of course. They do say that the Romans built it on one of the sacred sites of the Aeudi so that their god’s power would negate the power of the old Gaulish god. A strange and fearful people, those Romans.’ He chuckled and pointed to the river that they had to cross to enter the walled city. ‘This is the Aturavos. Strange how, in spite of the Romans and then the Burgunds who have settled here, the old rivers, forests and hills retain their original Gaulish names. While our people have been forced to give way, our names survive.’
    ‘Does the name mean anything?’ enquired Eadulf.
    ‘A shame on you for asking, Brother,’ admonished Brother Budnouen. ‘All names mean something. It means “the little river”.’
    The wagon rumbled across a wide wooden bridge towards an imposing stone gateway with a high circular arch and a further construction above it reaching heavenwards. Many people were passing to and fro beneath while armed guards were keeping watch on them.
    ‘This is the main gate of the city on this north side. There are, of course, three other gates,’ Brother Budnouen informed them. ‘That is the style of the Romans. But one of the gates is in bad repair. That’s the one that would have given more easy access to the abbey.’
    ‘The walls are impressive,’ Eadulf observed. ‘I have not seen the like, other than in Rome.’
    ‘The locals call Autun the rival city of Rome,’ agreed the Gaul.