‘Did she go off with Iorwerth?’
‘She did not. Iorwerth had vanished and the girl was on her own. It seems that poor Efa took up with an itinerant warrior and had a child by him. Then Efa died.’
‘Did she die in childbirth?’
‘She was found in nearby woods, strangled, when her child was a few months old.’
‘Strangled?’ Fidelma was not often overtly startled but she set down her mead carefully.
‘It was very sad. Poor Gurgust gave up the forge after that. I did hear that he tried to find and claim custody of Efa’s child.’
‘Did he succeed?’
‘Not that I know of. The warrior had already given up the child and vanished in a host that marched on Ceredigion. I left Dinas and moved to the smithy here in Llanferran. It was only some years later that I heard that Gurgust had been killed in one of the border raids. In spite of his actions, he loved his daughter, Efa, and when she was murdered. .’ He ended with a shrug.
‘Did they ever find out who was responsible for Efa’s death?’ asked Fidelma when he paused.
Goff shook his head. ‘There was speculation that the warrior who had befriended her was the murderer. But no one knew who he was nor was he ever caught. There was even some argument that it was none other than Iorwerth himself.’
‘Was Iorwerth ever questioned about it?’
Goff was not surprised at her query. It had doubtless been asked many times over the years.
‘Of course. But Iorwerth had left Dinas as soon as Gurgust had thrown him out. At least no one could find him. It was thought that he had been in one of the hosts which marched on Ceredigion. Then, some years later, it was found that he had set up his own smithy at Llanwnda. Then he married Esyllt, my wife’s friend, and Mair was born. There was nothing to connect him with the death of Efa except rumour. Some felt that a wandering beggar had killed her, because the golden chain that she always wore — a chain of red gold which Gurgust had fashioned for her and which she had prized — was missing. It carried a strangely shaped gold pendant with jewels ending in the likeness of a hare. It was the symbol of Andrasta, the old pagan goddess of my people.’
‘Andrasta?’ queried Fidelma. ‘I have not heard of this goddess.’
‘They say the great queen, Boudicca, invoked her before she drove the Romans out of her kingdom,’ explained Goff.
‘And this gold chain and pendant was missing?’
‘It was. The conclusion was that she had simply been robbed and killed.’
‘Nevertheless, Iorwerth was suspected?’
‘He is an evil man, Sister,’ interrupted Rhonwen. ‘I would not put anything past him.’
Fidelma sat awhile, frowning. ‘Is Dinas far from here?’
‘It is a long way around the coastline. But if you went to the coast a few kilometres north-west of Llanwnda, then took a boat across the great bay there, Dinas is the island on the far side of the bay: a distance of perhaps five kilometres. Often the island is the object of attacks from Ceredigion just along the coast. But Gurgust and his daughter Efa are long forgotten. This happened twenty or more years ago. There is nothing there now.’
‘It seems a curious coincidence that both the daughter of Gurgust and the daughter of Iorwerth should meet their deaths in similar circumstances.’ Fidelma was reflective.
‘How can there be any connection?’ demanded Goff.
‘You said that Gurgust was killed in some border war?’
‘I did.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It is what I heard.’ The smith’s eyes suddenly lightened and he smiled. ‘If Gurgust lived, and believed that Iorwerth had killed his daughter, then he would have sought revenge long ago. Gurgust is long dead.’
Rhonwen leant forward across the table and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Even so, husband, the good sister must have a reason for asking the question. Are you saying that you believe Idwal to be innocent of young Mair’s death? Does Brother Meurig also believe this?’
Goff interrupted before Fidelma could respond.
‘You told us that you had come here to investigate the raid at Llanpadern. What is your interest in the death of Mair of Llanwnda?’ he demanded suspiciously.
Fidelma reassured him. ‘We journeyed to Llanwnda with Brother Meurig. He is there to investigate the killing. It is natural that our curiosity is piqued by the affair, and what help we can render to Brother Meurig we are willing to give.’
‘So you do believe that Idwal is innocent,’ Rhonwen said shrewdly. ‘No barnwr would waste their time on such questions unless they suspected that all was not as it seemed.’
‘How well do you know Idwal?’
Rhonwen answered with a smile. ‘As Goff said, we are a small community.’
‘What do you make of him?’
‘Make of him?’ Rhonwen was puzzled.
‘Do you think him capable of murder?’
‘Who is and who is not capable of taking a life given the circumstances?’ countered Goff. ‘We are all capable of doing so, I should imagine.’
‘I think Sister Fidelma means, what is your assessment of Idwal? Is he a likeable boy? Would he kill without justification?’
Goff rubbed his nose. ‘He is a half-wit.’
Rhonwen made a tutting sound and shook her head. Fidelma turned to her.
‘You disagree with that assessment?’
‘He isn’t a half-wit. He is merely slow. Almost child-like. He did not have a pleasant childhood after Iolo the shepherd died. Iolo fostered the boy as a baby. He was still a boy when Iolo’s brother, Iestyn, drove him out. Since then Idwal has had to earn a living as an itinerant shepherd.’
‘I’ll not deny that the boy has a fairly gentle nature,’ agreed Goff. ‘There is no denying that. He would weep every time one of his lambs died. But who knows what provoked him? We all have the instinct to kill when presented with the right circumstances, and the boy was deep. He kept his thoughts to himself. Who knew what angers lay beneath his quiet exterior?’
‘So you believe that he is guilty?’ asked Eadulf.
‘I believe what I am told by men whose opinions I respect.’
‘And who is it that you respect who told you Idwal was guilty?’ Fidelma asked sharply.
‘Why, Iestyn of Llanwnda, of course.’
Fidelma saw Rhonwen screw her features into a brief expression of dislike.
‘You do not think much of Iestyn, do you?’
Goff’s wife made her views clear. ‘When I think of him throwing that young boy out to fend for himself. . and now he has the gall to level the finger of blame.’
Goff tried to defend his opinion. ‘Iestyn has been a good friend to me. And perhaps he was right to throw the boy out years ago. Perhaps he saw what was coming.’
‘I know this is a small community, but when did you speak with Iestyn on this matter?’ Fidelma probed.
‘A day or so ago. He came by with a cart that needed a repair.’
‘I thought he was a friend of Iorwerth. Surely Iorwerth was closer at hand and would have been able to mend his cart?’
‘What my husband means,’ sniffed Rhonwen, ‘is that Iestyn was delivering a cartload of hides to a trader near here when his cart broke. Easier to call here than drag it all the way back to Llanwnda.’
‘I understand. So Iestyn was the one who told you what had happened and said that Idwal was guilty.’
‘He was,’ said Goff, rising abruptly. ‘And now, pleasant though it is to gossip, I have my forge to get back to.’
Fidelma stood up and Eadulf followed reluctantly. She knew when she had been dismissed.
‘We have a journey to complete. But let me ask one more question before we depart.’
Goff made a gesture which seemed to indicate the invitation to put the question.
‘You say that this is a small community and everyone knows one another?’
Rhonwen was beginning to clear the remains of the meal from the table. She smiled. ‘Are you se
eking information about someone?’
‘I am. What can you tell me about a man who calls himself Clydog Cacynen or another who goes by the name of Corryn?’
The jug which Rhonwen had been holding fell to the floor and shattered into a number of pieces, allowing the little remaining mead to splash over the wooden boards. Goff moved forward, frowning, as Rhonwen began to apologise nervously and start picking up the pieces.
‘How did you come across the name of Clydog?’ he demanded.
‘We heard that there was an outlaw in this area and were warned to be careful of him,’ she lied easily. ‘I simply wanted to know who he was.’
‘If you want to ask about him, ask Father Clidro. He once tried to negotiate a peace with him.’
‘But Father Clidro-’ began Eadulf.
‘Father Clidro, as you will recall, is no longer at Llanpadern nor is any of his community,’ interrupted Fidelma quickly, with a warning glance at Eadulf.
‘Then we can answer no more questions,’ Goff said firmly. ‘I would merely add my voice to those you have heard already and urge you to avoid meeting with Clydog. He is a scourge on our people. He has sharp ears and punishes swiftly. We will say no more. I give you God’s speed on your journey.’
His expression was resolute. It was clear that his wife was upset at the mention of Clydog but also clear that Fidelma and Eadulf had outstayed their welcome at Llanferran.
Goff refused payment for the hospitality that he had provided, muttering the usual formula that prayers offered up by the religious on behalf of his wife and himself were worth more than gold or silver. Fidelma and Eadulf responded with the usual blessing. But there was an emptiness about the ritual; it was performed without feeling.
As soon as it was over, Fidelma and Eadulf retrieved their horses from Dewi at the forge and took the trail which the youth indicated as leading to Llanwnda.
‘Curious,’ observed Eadulf, after they had travelled without speaking for a while.
Fidelma, immersed in her own thoughts, glanced absently at him. ‘What?’
‘Remember Rhonwen’s reaction when you asked about Clydog? The smith also seem scared to death of the man.’
‘With cause, no doubt,’ she agreed. ‘Unfortunately, we can no longer ask Father Clidro about him. From the look on Rhonwen’s face, I suspect that Clydog is not beyond rape as well as pillage.’
‘Short of being able to ask Clydog, which I do not propose doing,’ responded Eadulf in grim amusement, ‘I think we will not be able to resolve that mystery. However, so far as the disappearance of the brethren of Llanpadern is concerned, I think we may now offer an explanation to Gwlyddien, as much as I am embarrassed by it.’
Fidelma answered with a short laugh. ‘We may offer an explanation, but is it the right one? Come, let me hear your version.’
Eadulf look slightly pained at her sceptical response. ‘My explanation is the same as I offered before.’
Fidelma was still smiling softly. ‘And that is. .?’
‘I do not make excuses for my people, but you know that many Saxon ships raid the coast for plunder and slaves. A Hwicce ship landed here, raided the community at Llanpadern. In the raid, one of them was killed. . the man we found in the tomb. The raiders then marched their captives back to their ship. Something happened when they reached the cliff overlooking the ship. Perhaps an attempt to escape. Seven were cut down. The evidence of Hwicce weapons and a shield shows who did it.’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf without approval. ‘It is a good theory,’ she admitted.
Eadulf frowned in annoyance. ‘Theory? You do not accept it?’
She smiled softly. ‘Not in the form in which you give it. You forget that Father Clidro was not killed at the time of this attack. His blood was freshly spilt when we found him.’
‘I had forgotten.’ Eadulf looked disappointed.
‘I think you may well be right in certain matters. A Saxon ship. . I would not know whether it was from this strange kingdom you mention — the Who-ekka?’ She forced her tongue over the unfamiliar syllables. ‘But if, as Goff said, a Saxon ship did anchor off shore here, then I suspect they did play a part in whatever happened at Llanpadern.’
‘But the rest must follow,’ protested Eadulf.
‘The facts do not support what you have said. Forget that you are a Saxon.’
Momentarily Eadulf’s features broke into a humorous grin. ‘That is a difficult thing to do in this land where I am constantly reminded of it,’ he observed wryly.
‘In any raid by Saxons on a community — and we have had many such raids in Laigin and Muman so we know of them at first hand — what usually happens?’
Eadulf pursed his lips to give her question some thought.
‘What happens is that Saxons burn and destroy, carrying off plunder,’ went on Fidelma, without waiting for him to answer. ‘They take young men and girls as slaves, and kill the rest. Where is the evidence that such a raid was carried out at Llanpadern?’
‘Father Clidro was-’
‘Father Clidro was flogged, taken to the barn and hanged. He was not struck down by sword or spear. But his body does not appear there until well after the Saxon ship has left. Where has he been during the last few days?’
Eadulf had considered the anomaly. Her reasoning had not been entirely lost on him. He had been worrying about it but had no logical explanation.
‘But what of the slaughter of the seven brothers on the foreshore? What of that?’ he protested.
‘That is a singular event, Eadulf. Consider it. Most of them were killed by a sword blow from behind. A blow to the neck. They were all killed in the same spot, which does not indicate that they were attempting to escape their captors, does it? And, having killed the seven, what warriors do you know who would cast down a shield, a knife and a broken sword by the bodies and leave them?’
Eadulf compressed his lips as he remembered the questions that Fidelma had asked about the broken sword. There had been no blood on it and the broken end was not in any of the bodies.
‘Are you saying that this was deliberately done in order to make people think that Saxons were responsible?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘Are you saying that there is no Saxon connection?’
Fidelma shook her head immediately. ‘The Saxon in the tomb and the Saxon ship anchored off the coast are somehow connected with this mystery. But I am not sure how.’
He regarded her in surprise. ‘But if it was not a Saxon raid, what else would bring a Saxon ship here?’
‘That is the mystery which must be solved. All I know is that the facts are complicated and inexplicable based on the knowledge we currently have.’
Eadulf remained silent for a moment. ‘Then I doubt that we shall produce an answer.’
Fidelma turned a disapproving eye on him. ‘Tempus omnia revelat,’ she said reprovingly.
‘Time may well reveal all things but can we afford to wait?’ he replied sharply.
‘Wait we must,’ she replied calmly. ‘We must be patient.’
‘Have you forgotten the threat from Clydog and his men?’
‘I have not. As I have told you, I think he also provides a key which may unravel this mystery.’
The countryside in which they were riding fell away on their left to a coastline consisting of dramatic cliffs and deep rocky coves. Here and there they could see seal pups cavorting in the water, while mingling with the sea birds were a few buzzards emitting their mewing ‘kiew’ as they scanned the ground for small mammals. Buzzards preferred these open hillsides over which they were now travelling, for it was ideal territory for catching rabbits. The track was now leading by another hill, turning inland. They could see the deserted walls of an ancient hill fortress standing some two hundred metres from them. They followed the contours of the south side of the hill towards the east where Llanwnda lay across the main hill of Pen Caer. Eadulf knew that ‘pen’ meant a head while ‘caer’ was a fort.
‘I’ll be glad of a bath and fresh, dry
clothes,’ observed Eadulf cheerfully as he realised they could not be far away from Llanwnda.
Their clothes had dried on them before they reached Llanferran and left them with an uncomfortable sensation, the linen and wool rough and irritating to the skin. Eadulf, after such a long time in the five kingdoms of Éireann, had grown accustomed to Irish ways. There the people bathed every day, generally in the evening, while in the morning they only washed their face and hands. Eadulf had always considered this toilet rather excessive. In his own land, bathing was often confined to a swim in a nearby river and then only infrequently. But the Irish made a ritual of cleanliness, and used a cake of a fatty substance called sléic to create a lather which washed away the dirt.
Now Eadulf missed the heated bath water, the immersion in the tub called a debach in which were placed sweet-smelling herbs, the vigorous towelling with a linen cloth. He had to admit, after his initial caution, that the ritual made him feel refreshed and invigorated.
Fidelma shared his longing for a bath and clean clothes. The previous night’s adventure, such as it was, had left her with a feeling of besmirchment that she felt it would take many baths to eradicate. But there was another anticipation with which Fidelma was returning to Llanwnda. She had not been able to rid herself of concern for young Idwal. Nor could she shake off the belief, albeit based on pure emotion rather than deduction, that the boy was innocent of the death of Mair. She was looking forward to hearing how Brother Meurig’s inquiry had developed. Perhaps the information she had gathered about Mair’s father, Iorwerth, might be useful.
The track was now leading them down into a thickly wooded valley beyond which the settlement of Llanwnda was situated. Fidelma realised that this was probably the very wood in which the girl had been strangled. She wished that she knew for certain. She would have liked to have examined the spot, even though she knew that no clues would remain there after so long an interval. Fidelma, however, liked to see the places where victims met their deaths, insofar as she was able. It helped her envisage the scene more clearly in her own mind.
Smoke in the Wind sf-11 Page 15