Behold a Pale Horse Read Online Free PDF Page A

to the followers of Arius?’ Fidelma saw a quick exchange of troubled glances between Brother Faro and Sister Gisa.
    ‘There is no need to worry,’ Magister Ado returned. ‘If you are thinking of the attack on me, I believe it might be retaliation because I have spoken out against the profligate bishops and nobles of this land who claim to be followers of Arius. They use the banner of Arius as an excuse for their attacks on the religious communities.’
    ‘Isn’t that a cause for concern? From what you tell me, you had barely stepped ashore at Genua when you were attacked. How long had you been away?’
    His look was suddenly keen. ‘You have an inquiring mind, Fidelma.’
    ‘It is the nature of my training,’ she admitted. ‘I ask pardon if there is anything amiss in my question.’
    The elderly religieux seemed to relax and smile. ‘Not at all. I was away but a few weeks. I took the journey only to purchase an ancient text in the scriptorium of the abbey at Tolosa. Now we are nearly home. Tomorrow we shall enter the Valley of the Trebbia. There will be nothing to fear there.’
    For someone who had so recently been attacked, Fidelma was surprised at the man’s quiet confidence and dismissal of further dangers.
    The next morning, leaving the main highway, they followed a smaller track across the hills and soon descended into a long winding valley through which a gushing river now flowed.
    ‘The Trebbia,’ announced Brother Faro, who was now riding alongside Fidelma. Magister Ado and Sister Gisa were a little way ahead of them. ‘The river flows all the way past Bobium. We will spend one more night on our journey, near Mount Lésima, and then the following morning we shall see the holy place where Columbanus settled with his followers.’
    The valley was even more reminiscent of some lush green valleys in parts of Fidelma’s native land. It was little wonder that Colm Bán had felt at ease in choosing this country in which to establish his community. Perhaps it had reminded him of his home. On hills on either side of the river, the brilliant green of beech in full leaf, the elder trees with their massive, many-branched domes, were glorious – but little else grew around them, for the dense leaves threw out a protective canopy during the summer, denying light to the shrubs that needed it. The beeches rose on the high slopes. Lower down, the more compact whitebeams grew, now and then catching a breeze causing them to show silver-white as the thick felt of hairs on the underside of their leaves were suddenly displayed. Again, bracken and fern spread along the lower valley slopes where the trees thinned. From some of these trees she saw the thick, climbing stems of wild clematis with their white and greenish flowers, causing an odour of vanilla to permeate the air.
    Brother Faro noticed her interest in her surroundings and unbent further from his usual air of distance.
    ‘You recall the dish we ate last evening?’ He pointed to some tall trees dominating areas of the lower reaches. ‘That was sweet chestnuts, the fruit of those trees there.’
    Fidelma had seen such trees in her journey to the Saxon kingdoms. An old sage had told her that the Romans had brought the tree into the country long ago.
    ‘They are similar to trees I have seen in the lands of the Saxons, but the nuts there do not ripen for eating like they do here,’ she observed.
    Magister Ado and Sister Gisa had halted in order for them to catch up.
    ‘The nuts on these trees are rich and succulent,’ called Sister Gisa over her shoulder, hearing the end of their conversation. ‘You have merely to bend down and gather the spiky husks, split them open and harvest the nuts. They are often used in the dishes here.’
    Magister Ado now dropped back to ride alongside Brother Faro in order that Sister Gisa and Fidelma could continue their conversation on local food. Sister Gisa and Brother Faro rode nearest to the riverbank while Fidelma and Magister