‘Gwnda was in the forest that morning. It may have been entirely chance that he came across Buddog just after she had strangled Mair. Remember, Gwnda still cared for Buddog. He has just told you so himself. In those few moments he decided to attempt to cover up her guilt. He told Buddog to take the letter and return to Llanwnda and he would deal with things. After she had gone, Fate intervened. Idwal returned to find Mair and apologise to her. Gwnda hid himself. .’
Gwnda was groaning and nodding now. ‘I did not plan anything at first,’ he said. All his strength and authority seemed to have evaporated. He was an old man, hunched and frail. ‘I hid hoping not to be seen. Idwal came to the body and bent down. He could not believe she was dead. He tried to revive her. Then I heard the cries of the people coming. It was then that I knew what I should do.’
‘You caught Idwal and pretended to Iorwerth and Iestyn that you had caught him in the act. You pretended to be the conscientious and honourable lord and told your people to imprison Idwal, sending to the abbey of Dewi Sant for a barnwr. You had to be seen to be above reproach in this matter.’
There was a silence and then Elen said: ‘There is one thing wrong, Sister. There were signs that Mair had been raped. We heard the story of blood showing. .’
Fidelma held up a hand. ‘It occurred to Gwnda that many thought Mair was a virgin. This was the most distasteful part of Gwnda’s cover-up. He took his knife and stabbed the upper inside thigh a couple of times to draw blood and went to pains to point it out to Elisse the apothecary, claiming the girl was a virgin and must have been raped before she was killed. What he did not realise, in his haste to lay a false trail, was that Elisse’s wife, preparing the corpse for burial, would see the wounds.’
Elisse took up in his place and identified himself. ‘I confirm that the blood was made by such wounds, Prince Cathen. When Gwnda tried to tell me it was hymenal blood, I had to inform him that it was not so. Further, as my wife here will observe, Mair was no virgin and sought my wife’s advice as to methods of avoiding pregnancy.’
‘It must have seemed Fate to Gwnda when Idwal came back to make amends to Mair and found her body,’ sighed Fidelma. ‘But Gwnda was too clever by half. When he heard that the apothecary would not support him about the rape, and he realised that the barnwr for whom he had sent might ask too many questions, he decided on the next best course of action. If Idwal was already dead, what need was there of a trial?’
Gwnda straightened up, realising that he should attempt some defence. ‘I was imprisoned in my hall when the mob seized the boy. You know that. I had no part in that.’
‘I know that you, fully armed, were being held by two unarmed young men, whom I see in this hall today.’
Two men stirred uneasily at the back of the hall.
‘Do they deny the charade? I believe that even if you did not persuade Iorwerth to fan the flames of the mob’s emotions to lynch Idwal, you certainly took advantage of the situation and made no attempt to stop them. But you wanted the barnwr to believe that you were not part of that attempted lynching. You wanted to safeguard your reputation and deflect any suspicion from yourself. You allowed Idwal to be taken and thought he would be hanged. Once dead, that would be an end of the matter and no accusation could be levelled at Buddog, or at you for covering up her crime.’
Buddog had remained sitting like a stone statue. Fidelma was regarding Gwnda without pity. ‘As you have told us, Gwnda, in spite of your affair with Mair, you still have feelings for Buddog. That’s the curious part. Your compulsion to protect was such that when poor Brother Meurig came close to the truth, you followed him and Idwal to the woodsman’s hut and killed him.’
Gwnda began to protest his innocence. Fidelma cut him short. ‘When we told you that Brother Meurig had been killed, you feigned surprise. Then, without our telling you where he had been killed, you left us saying that you would take men to the woodsman’s hut to retrieve his body. Isn’t it curious that you knew where the body was when you did not even know that he was dead?’
Gwnda groaned despairingly as he realised his error. He held his head in his hands and rocked back and forth in his seat. It was a few moments before he started to make some articulate sound.
‘He would not listen to reason,’ he muttered. ‘I tried to convince him that the boy was guilty. He argued. We struggled. He cried to the boy to run off, to find you, to tell you what was happening. I broke free. . I swear I did not intend it. . I was only defending myself. The axe. . I just swung it. .’
Fidelma gazed at him dispassionately. ‘When you had killed Brother Meurig you came back to the township. Why didn’t you chase after Idwal?’
Gwnda continued rocking back and forth, moaning softly; a strange, almost frightening behaviour in a man of his years and position.
‘I didn’t know what to do. You and Brother Eadulf had returned and I had to wait to see whether Idwal had spoken to you. Only after I heard that you had no suspicion did I call on Iorwerth. He and some others started to hunt for the boy. He was found and. . you know the rest. You were right that I persuaded them that they would not be punished.’ Gwnda raised an arm and let it fall in a gesture of defeat.
‘Were you there? Did you watch an innocent boy hang when you could have saved him?’ demanded Cathen with loathing.
Gwnda seemed to have retreated in on himself. He made no reply.
Fidelma addressed herself to Cathen. ‘My suspicions about Gwnda were confirmed when I saw that he realised I would not be shaken from my belief that Idwal was innocent. This was the point where coincidence played its hand. Coincidence plays a much stronger part in the progress of our lives than we ever give it credit for. Elen had, by chance, overheard a meeting between the outlaw Clydog and some others. She hid but was discovered and fled. Although she had escaped, she was in fear that she had been seen. Then Mair was killed. Because Mair and Elen superficially looked alike, Elen came to the mistaken belief that Mair had been killed in mistake for her by one of Clydog’s men. Then, by chance, one of the men at the meeting in the forest passed through the township. Elen thought she had been recognised and it would be realised that Mair had been killed by mistake. She told her father and he saw another chance to throw us off the scent. He agreed that she come to me with the story.
‘Since he had been adamant about Idwal’s guilt and even refused me permission to investigate further, this sudden change of heart made me very suspicious. Gwnda’s weakness was this necessity to carry things to excess, to overdo his false trails — the blood on Mair’s body, and then to swing from extreme non-cooperation to an apparent attempt to be helpful.’
She paused and looked slowly round the quiet hall.
‘There, Prince Cathen, is the truth about the deaths of Mair and Brother Meurig to which you must add, as a crime, the death of young Idwal. The self-inflicted death of Iorwerth was but a sad consequence of this tragedy.’
Cathen sat back nodding reflectively. ‘Cadell, place the lord of Pen Caer and the woman Buddog under guard. They will be returning with us to the court of Gwlyddien.’ Then the young prince drew his brows together. ‘But what of the mystery of Llanpadern? You are forgetting that, Sister.’
Fidelma shook her head with a grim smile. ‘That is one thing that I am not forgetting,’ she replied softly.
The court had taken a short recess while Buddog and Gwnda were removed and placed under guard. When the scribe called for order, it was Eadulf who now took the floor in front of Cathen. Fidelma stood ready to support him. They had agreed between them the course of the presentation.
‘Prince Cathen, my knowledge of the speech of the Cymry is not so fluent as that possessed by Sister Fidelma. I trust you will bear with me if I stumble in my search for the right words and phrases.’
Cathen smiled indulgently. ‘I have knowledge of Latin and of the language of Éireann should you wish to explain yourselves in either of those tongues. Have no fear, I am sure that there will be no misunderstanding.’
‘T
hank you. Sister Fidelma has explained one of the two mysteries with which we have been involved at Pen Caer. But the greater mystery was the one which brought us here in the first place. The mystery of the disappearance of the brethren of Llanpadern in whose community your own brother, Rhun, lived and worked. I will now explain how that poor community was taken prisoner, and why most of them are now dead or taken into slavery.’ Eadulf turned to Cadell. ‘Bring forth the prisoner Clydog.’
There was a stir as two guards escorted in the handsome outlaw chief. He wore his usual twisted smile. He glanced about him defiantly as if indifferent to the proceedings. Then he saw Eadulf standing before the court as his prosecutor and sneered openly.
‘Well, well,’ he murmured, ‘it seems the court of Dyfed has placed a Saxon in charge. Is there no talent among the men of Dyfed that you have to appoint your blood enemies to govern your courts?’
‘I am presiding at this court, Clydog,’ snapped Prince Cathen sourly. ‘Whatever happens here, you will answer to me or to my father Gwlyddien. Continue with your presentation, Brother Eadulf.’
Eadulf examined the arrogant features of the outlaw for several moments. Then he asked sharply: ‘Prisoner, do you wish to appear before this court of Dyfed as Clydog Cacynen — Clydog the Wasp, a common outlaw and thief? Or is it as Clydog, son of King Artglys of Ceredigion, that you would prefer to be heard?’
The silence in the hall was absolute.
Finally Clydog gave a low musical chuckle. ‘Well, Saxon, it seems that you and your Gwyddel friend have sharp eyes. I will agree to answer as Prince Clydog of Ceredigion.’
Eadulf turned back to Cathen, who was regarding Clydog in astonishment. ‘You were right, my lord, when you first suggested, at our meeting at the abbey of Dewi Sant, that Ceredigion was behind this intrigue. With your permission, I will adopt the same method of presentation as Sister Fidelma in attempting to explain what befell at Llanpadern and what it means. I will tell the story and should we need witnesses or explanations then they will be provided.’
Cathen gave an indication with his hand that Eadulf should proceed. He seemed too surprised to speak.
‘Ceredigion has long cast envious eyes over Dyfed. You told us that. In their plotting, Clydog came here to this heartland of Dyfed to attempt to sow alarm and dissension. It was easy to hide with his men in the forest in the guise of outlaws.
‘What was the plan? A very simple one. If Dyfed could be made to believe that some outrage had been committed against them by the Saxons, an outrage which would cause Gwlyddien and yourself to raise an army and march on the Saxon kingdoms, it would leave Dyfed totally undefended. Once its fighting men had left, the Ceredigion could march in and take over the kingdom. A simple enough strategy.’
Cathen shook his head. ‘Simple but unworkable. The people of Dyfed would rise up and fight the Ceredigion. They would not accept the rule of a Ceredigion prince. Our warriors would march back and fight.’
‘I will come to that problem, for it is one which had been catered for,’ replied Eadulf. ‘However, like all simple plans, it was open to mistakes. It started with two coordinated actions. One of Artglys’s allies, Morgan of Gwent, was to raid the Saxon kingdom of the Hwicce. The plan here was to entice an Hwicce warship to chase Morgan along this coast. The Saxon ship had to be seen and rumours of a Saxon raid spread. That part of the plan succeeded but not in the time it was meant to.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Cathen.
‘The second part of the plan, which Clydog was to fulfil, was where things went badly wrong.’
Clydog, still standing between his guards, interrupted with a sneer. ‘Nothing went wrong except your interference, Saxon!’
Eadulf ignored him. ‘Clydog was to raid one of Dyfed’s religious centres and the news of this and the slaughter of its brothers by Saxon raiders would cause the people of Dyfed to demand swift retribution. Gwlyddien would be forced to march on the Saxons.’
‘But what mistake was made?’ pressed Cathen.
‘As we now know, the community of Llanpadern was chosen for the raid. But Clydog raided the monastic settlement too early. Why? Only Clydog and his men know the answer. Perhaps it was the impatience of his character. Perhaps it was because he had received wrong information and thought the Saxon ship had already arrived. But the Hwicce ship had not yet been sighted off the nearby coast, and it was essential that local people see the ship at the same time that the community was attacked. That was the plan. The raid on Llanpadern worked well. Seeing themselves at the mercy of armed men, the brethren offered no resistance and were not immediately harmed. Clydog looted the valuables in the chapel and also took the livestock, presumably to sell. But the main thing was that Clydog now had prisoners and, according to the plan, had to wait for the Saxon ship to arrive.’
‘I do not see the logic of this,’ intervened Cathen. ‘Why not slaughter the brethren at once? It was a risk to keep prisoners.’
‘A greater risk to slaughter them before it could be shown to the local people that Saxon raiders were present. The entire plan rested on this, as I have said. When no word of the Hwicce ship was brought to Clydog, the prisoners had to be removed from Llanpadern. To keep them there would have been equally foolish. The prisoners were split into two groups; half, with Father Clidro, were taken to Clydog’s forest lair, the other half to Morgan’s ship which lay hidden in a secret cove.’
Cathen was beginning to look angry now. ‘By the living God! My brother was a member of that community. I did not see eye to eye with him but he was my brother. There’ll be vengeance against Ceredigion for this sacrilege.’
‘Let us wait for talk of vengeance until we have seen what happened,’ Eadulf advised. ‘Morgan’s ship, as I say, had arrived and took half of the brethren on board. All twenty-seven members of the community were alive at this point.’
‘Is my brother still alive?’ demanded Cathen.
‘Let me tell this story as best I can,’ insisted Eadulf. ‘Clydog’s major mistake was raiding too early.’
Prince Cathen was shaking his head. ‘In what way was a mistake made? I am not sure I follow this well.’
‘No sooner had Clydog removed the brethren from Llanpadern than first Brother Cyngar and then Idwal arrived and found Llanpadern deserted. There was no sign of an attack on the community. They went off to relay the news of this mystery disappearance. Clydog did not realise this.
‘It was not until the next night that the Hwicce ship, pursuing Morgan, sought shelter in a nearby bay. Nearby, Clydog’s men were watching for its arrival. They had taken seven of their prisoners down to the shore.’
‘Are you going to be able to prove any of this, Saxon?’ interrupted Clydog.
‘Oh, yes.’ Eadulf turned to him with a quick smile. ‘As the Saxon ship anchored, two men came ashore from her. You and your men attacked them and succeeded in taking one of them prisoner. This was an unexpected bonus. You had a real Saxon warrior in your hands.
‘You and your men waited until dawn, hiding nearby. As you hoped or planned, some local people came along and spotted the Saxon ship which then set sail. It was then, Clydog, that you ordered seven of your prisoners to be slaughtered and left on the foreshore. Proof that they had been killed by Saxons was placed by their bodies. Are we correct so far, Clydog?’
The Ceredigion prince was disdainful. ‘You do not need my approbation, Saxon, for your fanciful tale. Where is your proof?’
‘Prince Cathen,’ Fidelma interrupted, speaking to the prince of Dyfed. ‘I wish to make an unusual request. I would like Clydog taken to the back of the court and gagged so that he cannot interfere until I am ready.’
‘That is not legal. .’ protested Cathen.
‘But necessary, I assure you,’ insisted Fidelma, glancing meaningfully to Eadulf who nodded briefly.
Cathen sighed and gestured to Cadell to cut off the voluble protest that had arisen from Clydog.
‘What now?’ Cathen demanded when Fidelma’s reques
t had been fulfilled. She turned to Eadulf and gestured for him to continue.
‘Bring forth Sualda,’ he called.
A moment later, the thin, pale-faced man whom Eadulf had treated when he had been near death at Clydog’s camp came cautiously into the hall.
‘Give Prince Cathen your name,’ invited Eadulf.
The man was hesitant. ‘I am Sualda, in the service of lord Clydog of Ceredigion.’
‘Do you recognise me?’ asked Eadulf.
‘We spoke last night.’
‘But before that?’
‘I do not recall, except that last night you said you were the man who treated my wound when I was near death in the forest camp.’
‘How did you get that wound?’
‘A Saxon gave it me.’
‘This Saxon was a sailor whom Clydog’s men had captured one night when he came ashore from a Saxon boat near Llanferran?’
The man hesitated and then nodded.
‘We have heard,’ Eadulf said, ‘how Clydog had taken some of the religious from Llanpadern to that spot and had them killed.’ He prayed that Cathen would say nothing to disabuse Sualda of the false impression that the matter had been established.
‘I was not one of those who killed the religious,’ muttered the man quickly. ‘I was guarding the Saxon prisoner when that happened.’
Eadulf exchanged a triumphant glance with Fidelma. The ruse had worked. A confession had been made.
‘So tell us what happened. After the religious were killed, what then?’
‘We were ordered to march back to Llanpadern. Clydog told us that we had to make it look as though the Saxons had attacked the community there.’
‘But you did not. Why?’
‘Lord Corryn was waiting for us and he was angry when he saw us. He said that the bodies of some religious had to be left at Llanpadern. He had the old priest, Father Clidro, with him. We. . that is. . well, he hanged the old man in the barn while Clydog and his men went off to fetch the rest of the prisoners we had left under guard in the forest.’
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