Read The Dove of Death for Free Online Page B

line of white showing where the waves were breaking, whispered and chattered over the rocks before sliding silently shoreward. Many people were crowded round the fires. Brother Metellus had told them that there were only about a hundred or so islanders, and it seemed every one of them was there.
    ‘Remember that the lives of these people are harsh,’ he explained, ‘so they seize any opportunity to celebrate and make merry.’
    A few men were playing instruments, providing a musical background for a young man who was singing and amusing some of the younger folk who clapped their hands to the rhythm. The instruments were similar to those that Fidelma had seen in her own land, although one man was playing a set of pipes which had a higher pitch than those native to Muman.
    There was a smell of cooking permeating the area, and many pots were steaming on the small fires while on others, various types of fish were being roasted on sticks. Brother Metellus led them to a table, erected on the sandy shore, on which plates with various vegetables and salads were set out, beside jugs of what they quickly discovered was cider. They were seated next to Lowenen and his wife Onenn.
    The feasting, the songs, the drinking and the merrymaking went on into the night. Eadulf could see that, although she did her best to disguise her feelings, Fidelma was still reeling from the shock of the death of her cousin and from the events that had occurred on the Barnacle Goose . He attempted to help her by taking much of the conversation on himself. Having studiedherbs as part of a medical training, he was interested in some of the salad that was presented to him; it contained some silver-green leaves that gave it a very strong flavour. Brother Metellus told him that they were from a plant that grew all over the land, in dry sandy soil; its spiky leaves did not vanish with the seasons but kept evergreen. Only at the height of summer did it produce yellow flowers, from which the islanders often made an infusion to cleanse their stomachs. Not knowing the plant and never having seen it in his own land, nor in Éireann for that matter, Eadulf could not speculate on its properties.
    After an interminable round of toasting and the consumption of much cider, for wine from the mainland was scarce, it was Brother Metellus who eventually rose and suggested that they ought to retire as they would have a taxing sea journey to the mainland at dawn.
    To Eadulf, it seemed that Fidelma looked relieved and rose with alacrity. They walked slowly back to Lowenen’s house where Brother Metellus left them, saying he would come for them just after first light. They retired to the tiny chamber they had been given by Onenn and her husband Lowenen. The noise of the music and the people still at the feasting came faintly to their ears as they prepared for bed. Fidelma sat on the side of the mattress, holding the white hazel wand of office that she had managed to save in their escape; her Cousin Bressal’s wand of office as an envoy. She turned it over in her hands in moody contemplation and then placed it by the side of the bed.
    ‘I think that symbol of the dove meant something to Brother Metellus,’ she said to Eadulf without preamble.
    When he expressed surprise, Fidelma described the expression that she had seen for a fleeting moment on the Roman’s face.
    ‘Are you sure?’ asked Eadulf, not convinced.
    ‘You realise that I cannot go back to Cashel until I havetracked down the murderer of my cousin and brought him to justice,’ she said, not responding to his question. ‘Nor can I abandon Murchad’s crew on the Barnacle Goose – young Wenbrit and the others who have been taken as prisoners or worse.’
    Eadulf regarded her solemnly. He had suspected the thoughts that had been passing through her mind.
    ‘Do you not think it more important to get home – home to Alchú, our son, and to your brother, who has more power to pursue this matter? He could send a