‘What do you want?’ Iorwerth demanded gruffly.
‘Let us talk about Idwal.’
Iorwerth blinked rapidly. ‘But Gwnda said . . .’
Fidelma turned icy cold eyes on him.
‘Yes?’ she prompted. ‘What did Gwnda say?’ Iorwerth gave a half-shrug. ‘The matter of my daughter’s murder is closed.’
‘Not so. You heard that I have a commission from King Gwlyddien, didn’t you? Things are closed when I say they are.’
‘Idwal killed my daughter and he killed Brother Meurig . . .’
‘And you killed him?’ ended Fidelma.
At that moment Eadulf entered and took his position just behind her.
‘I did not kill him,’ Iorwerth was protesting. ‘Not the way you imply it. The people killed him.’
‘Ah,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘The people. Tell me how the people killed him.’
‘When Gwnda told us that Brother Meurig had been killed, we all knew that it was Idwal. After all, Idwal had raped and killed my daughter. Had you and Brother Meurig not interfered, justice would have been done before now.’
Fidelma decided to let this pass. ‘You still have not told me what happened.’
‘I knew a likely spot where the boy might hide out, an old oak tree a little way on from the woodsman’s hut.’
Fidelma was curious. ‘How did you know this spot?’
‘The boy was a creature of habit. I knew he used to play there a lot when he was younger. So did Mair and Elen and many of the young ones of the township.’
‘Go on.’
‘We went there, a dozen men of the township . . . Idwal was there. When he saw us he tried to escape. I am not sure who it was but the next thing was that he had been strung up on the oak.’ The smith looked at her defiantly. ‘Vox populi vox Dei.’
‘What was that you said, Iorwerth?’ asked Eadulf in surprise.
‘Vox populi vox Dei,’ repeated the smith. It was clear from the way he pronounced the words that they were not familiar to him.
‘That is an interesting expression. You know what it means?’
‘It is our exoneration,’ replied the smith.
‘The voice of the people is the voice of God,’ translated Fidelma, musingly. ‘The wishes of the people are irresistible, eh? That excuses you from killing Idwal, I suppose?’
Iorwerth was silent.
‘Was Gwnda with you during this madness?’ Fidelma continued.
‘You should ask him.’
‘I suppose that he fed you this little bit of Latin to use as some magic amulet for your defence?’
Iorwerth did not answer.
‘Did you know that your daughter was not a virgin?’ Fidelma asked the question without warning. ‘You made a false claim to seek higher compensation, didn’t you?’
Iorwerth’s face went crimson with rage. He moved a few threatening paces forward but Eadulf placed himself quickly before Fidelma. The smith stood for a moment with large fists balled as if he were going to strike out.
‘You dare slander my daughter’s name?’ he finally gasped.
‘So, you claim that you did not know? Nor did you have any idea of who her elderly lover was?’
Iorwerth was staring at Fidelma in anger but able to control himself now. ‘Were you told that by that simpleton? Did Idwal tell you these lies?’ he snarled.
‘Why are you so sure that they are lies?’
‘Because Idwal would try to protect himself from his accusers. He fooled you, Gwyddel. He fooled you!’
‘But if another witness made the claim and not Idwal? What then?’
Iorwerth’s eyes were suddenly filled with suspicion. ‘What witness? It is a lie. My daughter had no secrets from me.’
‘Even in normal circumstances, a daughter will not often confess to her father when and how she lost her virginity.’
Fidelma examined him carefully now. The phrase vultus est index animi came to her mind. The expression on one’s face is a sign of the soul. Iorwerth’s soul was in anguish.
‘Tell me about Mair,’ Fidelma invited. ‘What sort of daughter was she?’
The brawny smith suddenly sat down and buried his face in his hands. To their surprise a sob racked his big frame.
‘She was not a good daughter. But she was all I had left of her mother. She was the image of her mother. Poor Esyllt. I did her grievous wrong. She died when Mair was young. I tried to make it up . . . to Mair.’
‘I understand,’ Fidelma’s voice was more compassionate. ‘You compensated for the loss of Esyllt by spoiling Mair. In what way was she not a good daughter?’
‘She was strong-willed, like me in some ways. She did what she wanted. She was . . . an individual, strong-headed, like a horse that has not been broken. She would not obey me.’
‘So you would definitely not be told if she had a lover.’
‘She knew how important it was for . . . for both of us, to go through with the marriage that had been arranged with Madog, the goldsmith of Carn Slani.’
‘This was an arranged marriage?’
‘It was.’
‘Did Mair consent?’
‘She knew that we required the money that a union with Madog would bring.’
‘But given free choice she might have wished for another match?’
‘She was headstrong.’
‘Gwnda, as I recall, once told us that she was a dutiful daughter.’
Iorwerth gestured disdainfully. ‘Gwnda would not know more than what he was told.’
‘So he did not know that Mair was headstrong?’
‘Most people knew. Anyway, Gwnda’s daughter Elen was close to Mair, closer than a sister. It would be hard to ignore the fact that Mair was her own person.’
‘So when we are told that you forbade Mair and Idwal to meet one another, you might have been fairly certain that Mair would ignore your orders?’
Iorwerth sniffed irritably. ‘She might. But Idwal certainly feared me. He was a fairly timid creature.’
‘Indeed?’ Fidelma was surprised. ‘Timid, but you claim that he killed your daughter.’
‘He was timid with men, and a coward is often shown to be the most cunning of killers.’
‘Turn your mind back to the morning of the day that Mair was killed. I would like you to tell me something about it - say, from the time you rose in the morning.’
Iorwerth looked bewildered. ‘I don’t understand . . .’
‘Indulge me,’ Fidelma invited.
‘Well, I was up at dawn and started my fire at the forge. Not long afterwards Mair came to say good-bye. ’
‘Goodbye?’ Eadulf questioned.
‘She was going to her cousin at Cilau.’
‘Cilau? Doesn’t Elen have a cousin there?’
Iorwerth inclined his head in agreement.
‘I believe so. She left and I was busying myself when I saw Idwal entering the township. He was running. At the time I thought it was odd. To see him running, I mean.’
‘You say he was entering the township?’
‘He came over the bridge outside--’
‘Just a moment. Which route did Mair take leaving the township?’
‘Across the bridge.’
‘So Idwal must have passed her?’
‘The track, as you know, lies through the forest in which she was found. It leads to the west and also to the south.’
‘But this was early in the morning and not long after you had seen her set off on the path to Cilau?’
Iorwerth nodded.
‘And Idwal came running into the township?’
‘I think that he went straight to Gwnda’s hall.’
‘Do you know what caused him to run to Gwnda?’
‘Gwnda later said that it was Idwal who first reported that the community at Llanpadern had vanished.’
‘What then?’
‘About half an hour later, I saw Idwal returning across the bridge and vanishing into the forest. I simply carried on with my work.
’
‘It was, so far as you were aware, a morning in which nothing was out of the ordinary apart from Idwal’s strange entrance into the township?’
‘That is so. I had worked for an hour or perhaps a little more when my friend Iestyn came to the forge. He was very agitated. He told me that he had seen Mair and Idwal in the forest and they were having a fierce argument. He had hurried directly to inform me.’
Fidelma changed her position in the chair. ‘Why didn’t Iestyn intervene?’
Iorwerth was dismissive. ‘Iestyn knew my daughter. If he had tried to intervene it would not be thanks that he would be getting from her.’
‘So he came directly to you? And you were angry at this news?’
‘Of course I was angry. I was furious that Idwal should disobey me. I meant to teach him a lesson. There were a few friends in the forge and they offered to come with me. I set off with Iestyn to the place where he had seen Idwal with my daughter.
‘We hurried on until . . . until we found the body of my daughter. A short distance away was Gwnda who had captured Idwal. He would not let us harm the boy but sent for a barnwr to judge him. Everyone was angry and finally the people broke into Gwnda’s barn and took the boy. Gwnda was told to remain in the house if he had no stomach for justice. We were about to hang the murderer when . . .’
‘When we arrived with Brother Meurig and saved you from your folly,’ finished Eadulf.
‘Knowing you were going to kill Idwal, did Gwnda try to stop you?’
‘Of course not . . .’ Iorwerth hesitated. ‘I mean, we were too many for him. Didn’t you see that we had guards at his hall to watch over him?’
‘There is one thing I am uncertain of,’ Fidelma said reflectively, ignoring his question.
‘Which is?’ demanded Iorwerth.
‘Where was Gwnda when you left the township to go in search of Idwal and Mair? He must have been in the forest already?’
The smith gave a shrug. ‘It was good that he was there to capture Idwal.’
The door suddenly burst open unceremoniously. The lord of Pen Caer stood framed in the opening. Behind him stood two men with swords brandished in their hands. He scowled angrily at Fidelma.
‘So I have been informed correctly. I was told that you were here at Iorwerth’s forge.’
‘As you see.’ Fidelma smiled, with irony.
‘Did I not say that you had no authority to ask questions, Gwyddel? I am lord of Pen Caer and I am the law here. Now you and your Saxon friend will pay the price for ignoring me.’
Chapter Fourteen
Fidelma rose slowly and faced Gwnda. She did not flinch from his angry, threatening stare.
‘Ignoring you, lord of Pen Caer?’ she asked with feigned innocence. ‘But the last words you said to me were that you had no objection to my investigating the affair at Llanpadern. Did you not mean what you said?’
A puzzled frown creased Gwnda’s forehead.
‘I am sure that you would not go against the wishes of King Gwlyddien,’ she added.
‘What tricks are you trying to play with me, Gwyddel?’ Gwnda demanded, but the certainty had left his voice.
‘I am investigating the matter of Llanpadern,’ she said. ‘Idwal was at Llanpadern and he brought the first news of the disappearance of the community here. That is what I was investigating.’
Iorwerth tried to correct her. ‘But you were talking about Idwal and my daughter.’
Gwnda turned triumphantly to Fidelma. ‘I did not expect a religieuse to lie. Perhaps that is the fashion among the Gwyddel?’
‘On the contrary, Gwnda,’ replied Fidelma, an iciness making her eyes glisten. ‘It is not my fault that the matter of Mair’s death overlaps the return of Idwal from Llanpadern. Are you Solomon of the Hebrews that you propose to precisely sever along the border of the two parts?’
Gwnda’s jaw clamped shut, a muscle twitched in his face. He realised the point that she was making. Finally, he said: ‘You are very clever, dálaigh of Éireann.’
‘Utcumque placuerit deo, lord of Pen Caer,’ intoned Fidelma with bowed head. ‘However it shall please God.’
Gwnda sniffed in annoyance. ‘Do not place all your trust in God,’ he replied sourly.
‘Do you still continue to raise objections to my investigation? ’
Gwnda abruptly turned to his companions and dismissed them in disgust. ‘My objections continue as ever,’ he said as the armed men left. ‘You have no authority in the matter of the deaths of Mair and Meurig.’
‘Nor of Idwal’s murder, I presume?’ she added, glancing at Iorwerth, who flushed angrily. ‘But I am investigating what Idwal saw at Llanpadern and what he told people about it on the morning that he returned here.’
Gwnda compressed his lips for a moment as he realised the dilemma. ‘If you keep to that subject, then I shall have no objections.’
‘Then let me ask you some questions,’ Fidelma went on. Her voice rose a little as Gwnda made to leave, compelling the lord of Pen Caer to pause and turn to face her.
‘Idwal was seen running to your hall that morning by Iorwerth.’ She indicated the bewildered smith, who had not really understood much of their exchange. ‘What did Idwal tell you that morning?’
‘Nothing. I was not there. He spoke to Buddog. You will have to see her.’
‘When did Buddog inform you that Idwal had come to the hall?’
‘When?’ Gwnda seemed to have trouble with the question.
‘I was wondering why you did not order a search party to go to Llanpadern.’
Gwnda blinked for a moment. ‘We were busy with the affair of Mair’s death,’ he said defensively.
Grim amusement edged Fidelma’s mouth. ‘You will note that I did not bring up the matter of Mair’s death?’
Gwnda’s expression was sullen. ‘It was not until much later in the afternoon that Buddog remembered to tell me about Idwal’s visit.’
‘So,’ said Fidelma, ‘Buddog did not tell you what Idwal had said until after the boy had been brought back to your hall. Having then heard the news, why did you not send a party down to Llanpadern?’
The lord of Pen Caer shrugged. ‘By that time, I had sent a messenger to the abbey of Dewi Sant asking for a barnwr to come here, so I decided to wait and seek his advice on both matters. Then the morning of the day you arrived, Dewi, the son of Goff, came from Llanferran with news of a Saxon raiding ship and the bodies. It would have been dangerous to go to Llanpadern in case of an attack here on the township.’
‘Can you remember what Buddog told you?’
‘Why not ask her?’
‘I shall, but I would like to know what you recall.’
‘Idwal had arrived asking for me. Then he told Buddog that he had been passing Llanpadern. It was early that morning. He thought he saw one of the brethren leaving on the road south . . .’
‘That must have been Brother Cyngar,’ interrupted Eadulf and was silenced by a sharp look from Fidelma.
Gwnda continued: ‘Idwal went to the community expecting to break his fast. There was no sign of anyone and so he came on to tell me.’
Eadulf was about to say something when he caught another warning glance from Fidelma.
‘Which brings me to another question,’ she continued. ‘Just as a matter of clarification, you’ll understand. How was it that you found Mair’s body and Idwal?’
‘I have told you that you have no authority to inquire into the subject of Mair’s death,’ he replied testily.
‘I was talking about Idwal.’
‘The same thing.’
‘Not at all. Idwal called to see you about Llanpadern but you were not here. It is natural to ask, how did you meet up with Idwal?’
‘I was out in the woods, that’s all.’
‘And you came across him purely by chance?’
‘That is so. I think I have answered enough questions.’ From his curt tone, Fidelma realised that she would be able to extract no more information from him. Sh
e smiled with good grace. ‘Thank you for your time, Gwnda. You have been most helpful,’ she said. ‘And you too, Iorwerth.’ She motioned to Eadulf to follow her as she turned to leave.
‘Remember, Gwyddel,’ Gwnda snapped, ‘your authority ends with the matter of Llanpadern.’
‘I shall remember that, lord of Pen Caer,’ she replied softly.
They walked back along the street towards Gwnda’s hall. As soon as they were out of earshot, Eadulf spoke. His voice was almost bubbling with fury.
‘The man is hiding something! Why didn’t you let me press him?’
‘Because it would have done little good except to alert him against us.’
Eadulf’s jaw slackened. ‘You knew he was lying?’
‘I know that he was not telling the whole truth. But it would be pointless to pursue him unless one had solid ground to stand on.
Eadulf considered the matter. ‘I know that Gwnda was involved with the hanging of poor Idwal. He put Iorwerth up to reciting that Latin phrase as a defence.’
‘I realised that Gwnda was not averse to the killing of Idwal even on the evening when we first arrived in this place,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘Iorwerth let the truth slip when he indicated that Gwnda made no effort to protect Idwal.’
Eadulf was startled. ‘You suspected him that first evening?’
‘Do you remember the story that was given to us? That Gwnda was a law-abiding ruler who had sent for the barnwr, and that it was Iorwerth and Iestyn who led the mob who dragged Idwal from his custody by force?’
‘I remember. Gwnda was held prisoner in his own hall by the mob.’
Fidelma smiled dryly. ‘Held prisoner? There were two young men at the door of his hall and both were unarmed. Yet when we arrived, Gwnda came bounding out with a sword in his hand. If Gwnda had been held prisoner, it was effected by two unarmed men against an armed one well versed in the use of weapons.’
Eadulf considered the event, reflecting on the details. ‘He did seem over-anxious to forgive his people for their rebellion against him. By why the subterfuge? These pieces of fact do not seem to fit into a pattern.’
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