The boy closed his eyes, as if trying to remember. ‘I saw none,’ he said emphatically.
Fidelma glanced at Brother Meurig.
Gwnda had said that the girl was a virgin who had been raped. If so, one would expect blood to make staining on the nether clothing, just as had been reported to them.
‘What did you do then?’ she prompted, deciding not to pursue the matter for the moment.
‘I knelt beside her to see what I could do. I realised that she was dead. I stood up. I felt . . .’ He paused, unable to express his feelings. ‘It was then that I heard angry shouting. People were coming though the bracken. I was scared. I started to run.’
‘Then?’
‘I remember being hit. I was on the ground and there was Gwnda standing over me with his cudgel. Then the others came and started to kick and beat me. I think I lost consciousness for a long time. I do not recall any more until I awoke here and I was bound.’
‘You cannot remember anything else?’
‘I do not know how long I was kept here. I know it was more than a day and a night. Buddog came and gave me water. She said she was sorry for me. I have not eaten for a long while. Then early this evening, Iestyn came with two others and dragged me out. They dragged me towards the tree in the square . . . then you came.’
Fidelma sat back in silence for a while, looking at the youth. She turned to Brother Meurig. The barnwr was frowning. He indicated with his head towards the door.
Fidelma turned back to the youth. ‘All you need do, Idwal, is tell the truth. Do you swear that you have told me the truth?’
Idwal raised his eyes to her. ‘I swear it by the living God, Sister. I swear it. I did not kill her . . . Mair was my friend. My good friend.’
‘And you still will not say what was the message that she wanted to entrust to you?’
‘I have taken an oath to her. I will keep the message a secret. I cannot break my oath.’
Fidelma patted him on the shoulder, rose and followed Brother Meurig and Eadulf to the door.
‘The boy has a ring of sincerity in his voice,’ Brother Meurig observed reluctantly in a quiet tone. ‘But his statement raises as many questions as it answers.’
‘I agree that he is speaking the truth so far as it goes,’ replied Fidelma.
‘Then, like me, you are not sure that he has spoken the whole truth?’
‘What message could the girl have wanted to entrust to him which would cause him to argue with her?’
‘Maybe he was lying about it?’ Eadulf suggested.
‘For what purpose? It is obvious that the youth is immature for his age. I doubt that one so simple could make up such a story,’ replied Fidelma.
‘It seems strange, though. What message could have been important enough for her to make him swear an oath not to mention it?’
They were silent for a moment and then Eadulf spoke thoughtfully. ‘The most puzzling thing is that Idwal claims there was no blood on the girl’s clothes. Gwnda and the apothecary have said that that was what denoted that she had been raped.’
‘That is something we will have to follow up with the apothecary himself. What was his name? Elisse?’ agreed Fidelma.
‘It is clear that Idwal is claiming that he was not the girl’s lover . . . not even a would-be lover,’ Brother Meurig observed. ‘However, the evidence from the apothecary does indicate rape. The position of the blood on her clothes would confirm it.’
‘I would also pursue the matter of this secret message,’ Eadulf suggested. ‘Often such messages are the means by which lovers communicate. Did Mair have such a lover? Was that the reason why Idwal refused to take her message?’
Fidelma stared at Eadulf in surprise for a moment and then her features broke into a smile of approval. ‘Sometimes, Eadulf, you have the ability to see the obvious while we are looking for something else.’
Brother Meurig was intrigued. ‘If the message was to a lover, then Idwal, who has admitted that he loved Mair, even though it seems we are not talking about a physical love, might have been stirred to violence through jealousy. Let us tax the boy immediately.’
Fidelma turned back into the stable. ‘Idwal, one further question arises. About the message--’
The youth’s features were set firmly. ‘I have told you that I will not say anything more.’
Fidelma’s voice was calming but assured. ‘Very well. I suppose, however, you refused to take it because you did not approve of Mair’s lover? Is that it?’
Idwal’s expression told her what she wanted to know.
‘You see, Idwal,’ she went on kindly, ‘truth has a habit of revealing itself. Who was this man?’
The youth shook his head. ‘I have given my oath.’
‘Your future might depend on your telling me the man’s name.’
‘I have given my oath.’
Fidelma was a shrewd judge of character and realised that Idwal would not be budged. ‘Very well, Idwal. So be it.’
She rejoined Brother Meurig and Eadulf at the door, shaking her head. ‘Eadulf was right. The youth insists on saying nothing but his face spoke the truth when I put it to him that the message was for Mair’s lover. However, he would not name him.’
‘There is one thing that we are overlooking,’ Brother Meurig pointed out. ‘About this unknown lover - we are talking only of a lover in emotional terms and not physical terms. The evidence confirms she was a virgin. It still gives the boy a motive. Revenge on the girl because she had rejected him for another.’
‘I think it is best to wait until morning before pursuing the matter further,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Tonight, Idwal is determined to keep his oath. He might have reflected on the matter by the morning.’
They left the stable but outside Brother Meurig paused. His face was troubled in the light of the lantern which he held. ‘The boy might be more cunning than we give him credit for. He might be misleading us.’
‘If he is not,’ replied Fidelma, ‘it might not only confirm the reason why Iestyn saw the girl and boy arguing, but, again in the boy’s favour, it might confirm that someone else had a motive for encompassing her death.’
Brother Meurig looked doubtful.
‘At this stage,’ Fidelma reassured him, ‘it is not so much a matter of getting the right answers as of asking the right questions of the right people. You heard Gwnda’s daughter, Elen, say that she was a friend of Mair’s? She was also concerned for Idwal. Perhaps she knows something? However, if I may offer advice, I would ensure that you question her without the presence of Gwnda. He did not seem at all happy at his daughter’s concern.’
Brother Meurig gave her an appreciative look. ‘And there is the servant Buddog,’ he added. ‘She was quite severe about Mair.’
‘I had not forgotten. Let us go and have a word with her before we retire.’
Buddog was in the kitchen. She was in the process of wringing the neck of a chicken. She glanced up dourly as they entered, her large hands giving the final quick twist to the bird’s long neck. Then she pushed it aside. Three more carcasses lay ready to be plucked for the next day’s meal.
‘I will show you to your rooms,’ she said, rising and wiping her hands on a cloth.
Brother Meurig replied by suggesting that food should be taken to the boy and his restriction eased.
‘Food I will take,’ replied the woman woodenly. ‘Ask Gwnda about his bonds.’
‘I shall,’ agreed Brother Meurig. ‘We were wondering what you meant when you said that Mair was deserving of death?’
Buddog’s features distorted with a little grimace. ‘I gave you my opinion,’ she said, volunteering no further information.
‘But on what is that opinion based?’ demanded Fidelma.
Buddog hesitated. Her lips thinned, and she pulled a disdainful grimace. ‘It is known throughout this township that the girl liked to flirt, to tease any man she thought she could provoke and make gain from.’
‘Are you saying that she was promis
cuous?’ Fidelma asked.
‘I thought I had spoken plainly.’
‘A promiscuous virgin? It sounds like a contradiction in terms,’ muttered Brother Meurig.
‘Virgin?’ Buddog gave a harsh laugh.
‘You do not think she was a virgin?’
‘I only have an opinion,’ replied the servant. ‘I am not a physician.’
‘What men did she provoke?’ queried Fidelma. ‘You said that she would tease and provoke them.’
Buddog pursed her lips, perhaps regretting that she had made the comment. Then she said: ‘Why not ask Iestyn? I once saw him coming through the woods with a smile on his face. I heard that he had just seen Mair.’
‘When was this?’ demanded Brother Meurig.
‘A few days ago . . . oh, the very day she met her death.’
‘And what were you doing in the woods at that time?’ Fidelma asked quickly.
‘I was picking mushrooms that morning for a meal I was preparing.’
‘Buddog!’ It was the sharp voice of Gwnda, who had appeared in the doorway. ‘What are you doing here chattering? Take our guests to their rooms immediately. Can’t you see that they are tired, woman?’
Buddog shot him a resentful glance but said nothing. Gwnda started to apologise to them but Brother Meurig cut him short.
‘It is we who were asking questions, Gwnda.’
The lord of Pen Caer frowned. ‘Then you should address your questions to me and not to my servants,’ he said stiffly.
‘That would be futile, for it is the answers of Buddog that we wanted,’ Fidelma said. She disliked the overbearing lord of Pen Caer, especially the way he seemed to treat the women of his household. ‘I think Brother Meurig does have a request for you.’
Thus prompted, Brother Meurig told him that he expected food to be taken to Idwal and that his bonds should be removed except for the ankle chain. Gwnda grunted and turned away. Brother Meurig took it as an affirmative response and did not pursue him.
‘A pity,’ the barnwr said a short time later as he, Fidelma and Eadulf stood in the corridor outside the rooms to which a now taciturn Buddog had shown them.
‘Perhaps you can resume your questions tomorrow?’ Fidelma suggested. ‘However, it might well be that Buddog was making conjectures about Iestyn. Certainly she seems to dislike Mair. Anyway, we should retire now.’
‘Thank you for allowing me to observe your method of interrogation,’ smiled Brother Meurig. ‘I can see why you have won your reputation.’ Then he hesitated and glanced towards Eadulf. ‘I mean, why you both share the reputation.’
Eadulf did not bother to respond to Meurig’s belated inclusion of him.
‘Eadulf and I need to make an early start for Llanpadern in the morning,’ said Fidelma.
‘Will you not stay and see this matter through before you go? I thought you were interested in this case?’ Brother Meurig was surprised.
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I am very interested, for I fear the youth is innocent and that something deeper lies behind this. But our commission from King Gwlyddien is to find out what happened at Llanpadern and to his son Brother Rhun. That is our main task. We will ride on to Llanpadern first thing tomorrow. But I will look forward to hearing your news on this matter when we return.’
Brother Meurig’s face softened a little. Eadulf realised that Fidelma’s announcement probably came as a relief to the barnwr. Fidelma’s natural authority seemed to have almost taken over his investigation. Nevertheless, the barnwr was gracious.
‘I am most grateful for the help given by Brother Eadulf and yourself. It appears that our methods of investigation are similar.’ He paused and then added almost reluctantly: ‘But won’t you need a guide in the morning - an interpreter?’
Fidelma smiled. ‘I don’t think so. If Llanpadern is just a few kilometres in the direction of the hill which you pointed out to me earlier, then it will not be difficult to find. And as for an interpreter, though it is a few years since I spoke the language of the Cymry, I find that I seem to have retained a fair portion of what I learnt.’ She smiled at Eadulf. ‘Eadulf, too, appears to understand enough to get by.’
‘I understand more than I speak,’ confirmed Eadulf.
Brother Meurig certainly appeared relieved that they were no longer calling on his service as guide and interpreter. ‘Then I shall remain here and continue the investigation.’
Fidelma smiled. ‘We shall look forward to hearing your resolution when we return after our inquiries at Llanpadern.’
Chapter Seven
It was a bright, crisp autumnal day, with a pale blue sky and no clouds to block the tepid warmth of the early morning sun. Fidelma and Eadulf had bidden farewell to Brother Meurig and to Gwnda, the lord of Pen Caer, and begun their journey south-west towards the distant peak of Carn Gelli. The countryside was a mixture of moorland and crags, and isolated farmland surrounded by wooded valleys into which gushing streams, too small to be called rivers, cascaded from the surrounding hills.
It was an ancient landscape with a variety of cairns, cromlechs, standing stones and abandoned hillforts. Fidelma had noticed that there were also a fair number of burial chambers where only chieftains or men and women of high rank would be laid to rest. It was a landscape that showed signs of a wealth of wild flowers amidst the gorse and various species of ferns and heather. At the moment there were only a few patches of white blossoms, such as shepherd’s purse and white deadnettle, which displayed any relief against the green. Generally the countryside was sinking into its drab, almost colourless winter appearance.
High above them, the occasional kestrel flew in lazy circles, keen eyes watching for prey among the dying brownish bracken and evergreen gorse. A flash of red moved quickly as a fox went dashing for cover, more out of habit than fear of a kestrel, for its size made it quite safe. It was field mice, voles and hatchlings that the bird of prey was seeking.
As they rode along the track, it was the first time that Fidelma and Eadulf had been alone for some days. Eadulf had been watching his companion keenly.
‘You are worried about the youth, Idwal, aren’t you?’ he said finally, breaking the silence.
She glanced at him and smiled briefly. ‘You have a discerning eye.’
‘You believe he is innocent?’
Fidelma pouted thoughtfully. ‘I believe that there are many questions to be answered.’
‘I think that you would have liked to take charge of Brother Meurig’s investigation,’ Eadulf observed in gentle accusation.
‘As the Blessed Ambrose said - Quando hic sum, non ieuiuno Sabbato.’
Eadulf frowned for a moment. ‘You mean . . .’
‘I mean, I follow the local law and custom. I do not have the right to dictate to a barnwr of this country. I have no wish to take over from Brother Meurig.’
Even as she spoke, Fidelma realised, with an inward sense of annoyance, that she was lying. She flushed and hoped that Eadulf did not notice.
‘Well, Brother Meurig seems competent enough.’
‘So long as Brother Meurig asks the right questions, there is an end to it. No one can dictate his interpretation of the answers. We, however, must concentrate on our commission. The sooner we resolve this matter, the sooner we can continue to Canterbury.’
They fell silent for a while.
The road from the township to the community of Llanpadern was an easy one, hardly more than three kilometres. They soon came within sight of the complex of buildings below the hill which Brother Meurig had identified as Carn Gelli. The buildings seemed isolated; even had Fidelma not been informed of the disappearance of the community, she would have felt that something was amiss simply by the atmosphere emanating from the buildings. That inexplicable aura of solitude seemed menacing. Fidelma was sensitive to atmosphere. Perhaps that very intuitiveness was the reason why she excelled in her profession. It gave her the ability to sense liars. She felt the twinge of guilt again. She had wanted to take charge of the investigat
ion into Mair’s death for her instinct made her feel that Idwal was speaking the truth.
They continued to ride along the path to the gates and Eadulf leant forward from his mount and pushed against them. They were not secured from the inside and swung open. The courtyard beyond was deserted. Eadulf halted his horse and the breath hissed between his teeth in a nervous whistle. His eye was immediately caught by the great stack of wood which was clearly laid for a bonfire. Fidelma walked her horse to a tethering pole and dismounted, hitching the animal’s reins to it.
Eadulf found that he could not suppress a shiver as he glanced around at the silent buildings. Fidelma noticed his movement but said nothing. Things unseen did not cause her apprehension. It was things manifest and physical that brought danger. She waited until Eadulf had dismounted before she walked slowly back to the gates and stood looking down. Eadulf joined her. She glanced up at him.
‘There are too many tracks here, too much coming and going, and there has also been rain over the last few days which has obscured anything which might tell us about movements here.’
‘You do not trust Brother Cyngar’s word when he told you that he examined the area for traces which would indicate how the community departed?’ Eadulf asked.
Fidelma was irritated by the question. ‘I accept that he spoke his truth. It is always a good thing to check whether it coincides with your own. We won’t find much in the way of tracks. See the road by which we came from Llanwnda? And that other one to the west? Mostly stone-strewn tracks. We shall not be able to pick up traces on those roads unless we have good luck.’
She swung the gates shut before turning back into the courtyard and examining the scene thoughtfully.
‘If this place was subjected to a raid by Saxons,’ Eadulf said, reading her thoughts, ‘then they were very neat and tidy. Nothing destroyed, nothing burnt, no bodies . . .’
‘Yet this boy Dewi said there were bodies left on the beach where the Saxon ship anchored,’ she pointed out. ‘Now, where shall we start? Somewhere in this deserted place must be a clue to what happened here.’
Eadulf did not appear convinced. ‘What if that which happened here is inexplicable?’ he muttered.
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