Behold a Pale Horse by Peter Tremayne

advice, Radoald of Trebbia. But there is a saying among my people that you cannot have peace longer than your neighbours choose peace.’
    ‘I can see that you are truly a King’s daughter, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ replied Radoald with grudging admiration. ‘But, so far, the neighbouring nobles have not troubled the people of this valley since Grimoald became King.’
    ‘Presumably he was the successor to Perctarit of whom you spoke?’
    ‘He was, and since then there has been peace in this valley.’
    ‘So it is unusual for bandits to make attacks in it?’
    He was silent for a few moments as he regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Do you imply there was something unusual about the attack?’
    ‘I am unable to imply anything for I am a stranger here. I am merely an observer. Magister Ado at first wanted me to believe we were attacked by bandits, quickly confirmed by Wulfoald, and then you ascribed the attack to bandits. However, you did point out that it was unusual for bandits to operate in this valley when the richer merchants do not pass this way. Those are facts. I would not imply anything from them.’
    ‘You have a sharp mind, lady.’ Then Radoald fell silent for the rest of their journey as if in brooding thought.
    The fortress of Radoald dominated a bend of the river, strategically placed on the southern bank where it turned almost at a forty-five-degree angle. From the northern bank a tributary of a smaller stream joined it. Behind that rose a great peak among the mountains which bordered the length of the valley on both banks. It was obvious that no army could attack in strength over the mountains or along the valley in either direction without having to reduce the fortress before they could proceed. It had been built initially, so Fidelma was to learn later, by the Romans when their legions invaded the territories of the peoples of Cisalpine Gaul. At first glance, it seemed dark and ominous, a brooding complex of buildings, its lower walls were covered by creeping moss-like plants which she could not identify. There were two or three farm dwellings set outside the walls and the fortress dominated the area. As they approached, one of Radoald’s men placed a hunting horn to his lips and let forth a series of blasts. Fidelma saw several warriors patrolling the walls and realised that their approach had already been observed.
    She could not help but ask quietly: ‘For a peaceful valley, your warriors seem well prepared?’
    Radoald actually grinned. ‘ Si vis pacem para bellum ,’ he replied. If you want peace, prepare for war. ‘I have found much wisdom in the Epitoma Rei Militaris of Vegetius, an old Roman military philosopher.’
    They entered an inner courtyard where servants came hurrying forward to take their horses and Sister Gisa’s mule to the stables, to remove the carcass of the deer and presumably transport it to the kitchens.
    As Radoald dismounted he called to Sister Gisa, ‘Take Brother Faro to Suidur’s apothecary so that he may be looked after.’ It was obvious that she knew the fortress for she took her companion by the arm and assisted him across the stoneflagged courtyard.
    Radoald himself conducted Magister Ado and Fidelma to what appeared to be the main building, and led them into a great hall. There were fires alight at both ends of the hall while tapestries hung the full length of the high walls. Several men and women rose respectfully as he entered. An elderly man, who proved to be Radoald’s steward, came forward and bowed. The young lord shot a series of instructions at him before turning to them with a smile.
    ‘I have asked for rooms to be made ready for all of you. Baths will be prepared and this evening you will feast and rest with us. And tomorrow you will journey on to Bobium in comfort.’ He turned to the rest of the company and said, ‘Magister Ado has come back to join us and this is Fidelma of Hibernia, a princess of her country, who travels to Bobium.’
    The names of