Elen nodded unhappily.
‘Who do you think would want to kill you and why?’
‘There is an outlaw in these parts called--’
‘Clydog?’ interrupted Eadulf. ‘Clydog Cacynen?’
‘You know of him?’ asked the girl in wonder.
Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘We have had the pleasure of his company. Why would he kill you?’
‘Last week I was riding in those woods to the south of here. My horse picked up a stone in his hoof and I dismounted to remove it. As I was bending down, I heard voices raised in anger not far away. I left my horse and moved closer. I . . .’ She paused and then gestured slightly defensively. ‘I am of a curious nature and wondered what the argument was about.’
There was a brief silence while she gathered her thoughts.
‘There were three men in a small clearing away from the track which I was following. They were so busy with their argument that I was able to come up behind some bushes to observe them closely. One of them was a religieux, a broad-shouldered man. I felt that he was somehow familiar, but I could not recognise him.’
‘Why did you think that he was familiar?’ interrupted Eadulf with interest.
The girl pouted as she gave the question some consideration. ‘I can’t say. Perhaps I was mistaken. It was simply a feeling.’
‘Continue,’ invited Fidelma. ‘Did you recognise the others?’
‘I knew only one of them. That was Clydog Cacynen.’
‘How did you know him?’
‘Because once, some months ago, I was returning with a companion to Llanwnda and we had stopped for refreshment at the hostel of Goff the smith.’
‘I know the place,’ Fidelma said.
‘While we were there, Clydog and his men rode in and demanded that Goff shoe one of their horses. They were in too much of a hurry to notice two young girls. I saw Clydog then. That’s how I recognised him in the forest.’
‘What about the third man?’ asked Eadulf.
Elen shook her head. ‘I did not know him at all. He was a warrior.’
‘One of Clydog’s men?’
She gave a negative movement of her head. ‘Perhaps.’
‘Was he wearing a war helmet, blue-eyed?’
‘He was not wearing a helmet. I think that he had sandy hair but as for the colour of his eyes . . . I am not sure.’
‘And this argument, what was it about?’
‘Little that made sense. The curious thing . . .’ She hesitated. ‘The curious thing was that the religieux seemed to be issuing orders to Clydog and to the other man.’
‘Can you recall exactly what was said?’
‘Not really. I remember Clydog was saying something about the plan being . . . what was the word? . . . convoluted, that’s it. Convoluted and without guarantee of success.’
‘What plan?’ demanded Eadulf.
Elen shrugged. ‘That I do not know. The religieux turned to Clydog and said something like he must obey his instructions or it would not go well with him. Something like that, anyway.’
Fidelma looked thoughtful. ‘What did Clydog say to that?’
‘He was defiant, but he seemed to show some deference to the religieux.’
‘That does not sound like the Clydog we saw,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘He seemed to have no respect for members of the Faith.’
Elen smiled wanly at him. ‘You are right, Saxon. Clydog is no respecter of the Faith. The stories about him are legion . . . he is said to be a very cruel and evil man. The king himself sent warriors to flush him out of the woods, but without success.’
‘But he was deferential to this religieux?’ mused Fidelma. ‘Well, continue, Elen. What then?’
‘The other man, the warrior, seemed to be siding with the religieux. He said something like “The king has worked out this plan himself” - I remember that. And that it would succeed if it were followed to the letter.’
Eadulf glanced at Fidelma. ‘The king? Gwlyddien?’
Elen shrugged. ‘He just said “the king”. Gwlyddien is certainly king of Dyfed. Clydog was dismissive. He said something about seizing power at the point of a sword. The religieux said that it would put all the kingdoms against them unless it was seen to be a legal claim. It was then that my horse became fretful, snorted and stamped.
‘Clydog and the warrior rose, startled. They looked directly towards me. I turned and ran. I heard them shouting and running after me. I leapt for my horse and galloped away down the track. They must have left their horses elsewhere for they did not pursue me.’
Fidelma sat back thoughtfully. ‘So what brings you to the conclusion that you were the intended victim of the murder and not Mair?’
‘Mair and I were of the same age, build and colouring. We were sometimes taken for sisters, looking much alike. It was only after I began to think about Mair’s death, and knowing that poor Idwal was incapable of it, that I began to realise.’
‘Realise what?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘That Clydog must have had a glimpse of me as I fled. He must have thought that I had overheard something that was important; something secret which they had been discussing. I think that Clydog came upon Mair in the woods and mistook her for me. I think Clydog killed her.’
Fidelma digested the claim in silence before asking her next question. ‘Did you tell anyone about overhearing this conversation?’
Elen shook her head slowly.
‘Surely, you told your father? As lord of Pen Caer he is the local authority. He should know of any conspiracy within his lands.’
The girl shook her head defensively. ‘I thought it was best to keep this to myself. I was fearful of Clydog’s vengeance and, as it later proved, with good reason.’
‘But after Mair was killed,’ Eadulf suggested, ‘did you not think it wise to tell your father?’
‘I did not. Perhaps I was being selfish, perhaps callous. I felt . . .’ She suddenly gave a sob and her face creased in anguish. It took a few moments for her to regain control. ‘I could only feel relief. When I realised that Mair might have been killed instead of me. I thought that there was an end to it. That Clydog would not come after me. That I was safe. That was all I thought. May God forgive me.’
Fidelma leant forward and patted the girl on the arm. ‘It was a natural reaction, Elen. So you have kept your secret until now?’
Elen wiped her eyes and nodded.
‘Why now?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘Why do you feel that you can tell us now?’
The girl looked disconcerted for a moment, and Fidelma smiled encouragingly at her.
‘It is a good point,’ she said. ‘You could have continued to remain silent about this. You did not have to tell anyone.’
Elen was silent, lips compressed, head bowed.
‘Come, there must be a reason?’ Fidelma coaxed.
The flash of lightning created such a brilliant white glitter that they were blinded by its intensity for a moment; a fraction of a second. Then the crack of thunder almost deafened them. Nearby, a crash and a splutter of flame showed where a tall tree had been struck.
There came a chorus of frightened whinnies from the horses and a thud as one of the animals reared up and caught its front hooves against the side of the woodsman’s hut.
The girl had sprung up in panic.
‘Be calm. It is just the storm breaking,’ Fidelma said. Unruffled, she went to the door of the hut. The rain was a torrent, pouring straight down, churning the ground around them into a river of mud. It cascaded on the roof of the hut like a shower of stones, cracking and hissing. As she looked up at the sky, another bright flash caused her to blink rapidly. This time there was a more discernible pause between the flash and the accompanying crack of thunder. ‘I’d better attend to the horses.’
Eadulf moved forward. ‘You can’t go out there,’ he protested. ‘I’ll do it.’
He was met by an amused look. ‘Eadulf, you are the first to confess that you are not the best of horsemen. I know the beasts
. I will go and calm them.’
As she turned back to the door, another flash came and Eadulf mentally counted the seconds between it and the crack of thunder.
‘It is moving away,’ he announced, more in hope than certainty.
Fidelma drew her heavy woollen cloak around her head and went out to where the horses were tethered. It was difficult to hear in the pounding rain but Elen thought she could make out her voice calming the beasts. It was some time before she returned, thoroughly drenched. Eadulf had examined the hut and found some bundles of dry wood. With the aid of the tinderbox he carried, he had started a fire. Fidelma shook off her cloak and stood before the leaping flames to dry her clothing. The thunder was distant now, the rain easing to a fine trickle. The storm had raced in from the sea to the west and was rapidly heading inland.
‘Now,’ Fidelma said, after a few moments, as the steam began to rise from her sodden clothing, ‘perhaps we can get back to our discussion.’
‘I was asking why Elen had decided to tell us at this point when she could have remained silent about the matter and no one the wiser,’ Eadulf prompted.
‘Ah yes,’ Fidelma said, turning to the girl, who had now reseated herself on the bench. ‘And why tell the story to us when you could have told it to your father?’
‘I did tell my father.’ Elen’s voice was soft.
‘Does he know that you are now telling us?’
She gave an affirmative gesture. ‘I told him so.’
‘So Gwnda knows that you are meeting us and telling us these facts?’ Eadulf could not keep the incredulous note from his voice.
‘I have said so.’
‘You have not answered the question as to why you have now decided to tell your story when you might have remained silent,’ Fidelma insisted.
Elen turned frightened eyes upon her. ‘I have seen the warrior again, the one who was with Clydog. I think he recognised me.’
‘When?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘This afternoon, when I returned from Cilau.’
‘Where?’
‘In Llanwnda. Don’t you understand?’ Her voice rose desperately. ‘He was in Llanwnda. I am sure, sure that he recognised me. My life is in danger. He will tell Clydog and Clydog will realise that he killed the wrong person.’ She ended with a gasping sob.
‘Very well, Elen,’ Fidelma said calmly. ‘But where in Llanwnda did you see this warrior?’
‘It was at Iorwerth’s forge.’
Fidelma glanced quickly at Eadulf. ‘Iorwerth’s forge, you say?’
‘I was passing by, returning from Cilau as I said. The warrior was there, seated near the forge drinking mead. Iorwerth was examining his horse. He saw me passing by and I am sure he recognised me. I hurried on by but glanced briefly back and I saw that he had risen from his seat and was speaking to Iorwerth. They were both gazing after me.’
‘And all this you told your father?’
‘He said that I should go away for a few days while he tried to sort things out.’
‘Did he?’ murmured Fidelma.
‘I said that I ought to tell you.’
‘And he did not protest?’ demanded Eadulf in astonishment.
‘He thought it the best course of action.’
‘I see,’ mused Fidelma.
‘Do you?’ Elen seemed agitated. Her voice suddenly had an hysterical note. ‘Don’t you realise that Iorwerth is somehow linked to this, to the very people that killed his own daughter? He even allowed himself to be used to cover up the fact by being part of the mob who killed poor Idwal.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘You are only surmising that Iorwerth is involved,’ Fidelma said, seeking to calm her.
Elen shook her head stubbornly.
‘Be logical,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘This warrior could have been there merely having his horse shoed at Iorwerth’s forge. Why do you believe that he and Iorwerth were connected?’
‘Because they were laughing and drinking together when I passed by. What else could that mean other than that they were plotting together? I know he recognised me and asked Iorwerth who I was.’ The girl seemed adamant.
‘Do you know what your father has done about this matter? Is he challenging Iorwerth about it?’
‘I do not know what his plan was. He told me to leave until it was sorted out.’
‘He did not raise any objection at all when you insisted on telling us?’ mused Fidelma. She turned to Eadulf. ‘It is strange that he said nothing to us when we spoke at Iorwerth’s forge.’
‘Perhaps he did not want to alert Iorwerth about the matter,’ Eadulf suggested.
‘Perhaps,’ Fidelma unwillingly agreed. ‘Tell me, Elen, do you think that Iestyn is also involved in this matter?’
‘He is Iorwerth’s friend.’
‘But what manner of man is he?’
The girl was impatient. ‘He is a farmer today but he fought as a warrior in many campaigns. He is old now. Old and bitter because he says the young ones do not pay him enough respect.’
‘Where exactly is his farm?’ Fidelma asked with interest.
‘You know the bridge over the stream into the township . . . where Iorwerth’s forge is?’
‘I do.’
‘Before you cross that bridge, you turn right along the track. Follow it for a kilometre or so along the side of the stream. At the end of the track you will come to his farm.’
‘Is he married?’
‘He was.’
‘Children?’
‘All killed fighting for Gwlyddien in the wars to protect the boundaries of Dyfed. That also is a cause of his bitterness.’ Elen paused and looked from one to another. ‘Time is passing. Have you learnt enough from me?’
Fidelma told her that they had.
‘What do you plan to do, then?’ Eadulf asked as the girl stood up and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders.
‘I mean to leave here. I have told my father’s servants that I am going back to Cilau to stay with my cousin. But I shall not go there.’
‘Where then?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Do not worry, you may trust us completely. But if I resolve this mystery, which I fully intend to do, then I shall need to know where you are in case you are needed as a witness.’
‘You will not tell anyone?’ the girl pleaded.
‘I will not.’
Elen glanced at Eadulf, who nodded his agreement.
‘To the south-west of here is a community called Llanrhian. I have a friend there. I shall be there.’
‘Do you mean to ride there tonight? In this weather?’
‘Better at night. I know the road well enough and no one will see my passing.’
There was a distant clap of thunder. The girl started nervously. Suddenly she plunged her hand into the folds of her skirt and came out with an object which she handed to Fidelma.
‘I want you to keep this. Idwal gave it to me for safe keeping. It was the only valuable thing that he possessed. He felt that it would be stolen by his gaolers.’
Fidelma took the object. It was a red gold chain from which dangled a bejewelled pendant on which was an image of a hare.
‘When did Idwal give you this?’ asked Fidelma, turning it over in her hands.
‘On the day he was brought back to the hall as a prisoner.’
‘On the day Mair was killed?’
‘The same day. He had not been searched then and he felt that it would be stolen if discovered upon him. You see, he trusted me. He told me that it had belonged to his mother. Iolo, the shepherd who raised him, had given it to him.’
Elen turned to the door and looked out into the darkening night.
‘I have told you what I know. I must be gone. Pray for me, for I realise what wrong I have done by keeping quiet for so long and by actually feeling relief at poor Mair’s death.’
‘We will pray that you come safely to your destination, Elen,’ Fidelma agreed gravely. ‘You alone must come to terms with your conscience about Mair. You may be right, but y
ou may also be wrong. Whether you be right or wrong, there is no blame on you, believe me.’
The girl smiled quickly and left the hut. They heard her mount her horse and ride away.
Eadulf looked at Fidelma as she still stood before the fire drying herself.
‘Well, it seems that the mysteries are being cleared up one by one. You were right about Idwal’s innocence. It was obviously Clydog who killed Mair.’
Fidelma frowned and shook her head. She held up the chain with its glittering piece of jewellery.
‘On the contrary, Eadulf. I think that the mystery is deepening and we can take nothing for granted. I would certainly not accept the idea that Clydog killed Mair in mistake for Elen without more evidence.’
‘But you heard what the girl said? Surely it all fits?’
‘What about the role of Gwnda? You suspected him. He was an accessory to the killing of Idwal. Why? To stop him from speaking? About what? If Gwnda really believed Idwal was guilty, why now agree to his daughter telling us her story? It is all very confusing. Or is it?’
‘Would Gwnda be an accomplice in some plot in which the murder of his own daughter was envisaged? What was that plot? Why prevent her speaking about some chance meeting in a wood about a matter she clearly did not understand? Surely not? I don’t know what path we can take from here.’
‘One obvious place,’ rejoined Fidelma, glancing out of the hut door and observing that the rain was easing still further.
Eadulf raised an eyebrow.
‘We will have to have another word with Iestyn,’ Fidelma said. ‘After that, we’ll go back to Iorwerth and see what he has to say about the strange warrior.’
Eadulf sighed deeply. ‘I had wondered why you were so keen to learn more about Iestyn.’
Fidelma picked up her still sodden cloak and flung it around her shoulders before going out to the horses. Eadulf kicked out the remains of the fire and followed her outside. The drizzle had stopped, but it was still a cold, damp evening.
They rode back towards the bridge in silence, letting their horses walk casually with a loose rein. Just before the bridge, Fidelma turned along the path which Elen had indicated, following the track along the bank of the stream. The dark waters were running on the left side while the trees and undergrowth presented an almost impregnable wall to the right.
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