Smoke in the Wind (25 page)

‘Elen, you have absolutely no idea who this man was?’ demanded Eadulf.

Elen shook her head firmly.

‘Think carefully,’ he pressed. ‘This might be the very man who killed her if, as you claim, your friend Idwal did not.’

‘I do not think Mair’s lover killed her.’

Eadulf was sardonic. ‘Another emotional deduction, I presume?’

‘Not so,’ replied the girl with some spirit. ‘You see, I believe that I was supposed to be the victim that day.’

There was a moment of utter silence. Even as Fidelma was about to form the question that Elen’s statement obviously demanded, there was a noise outside the room. Gwnda came through the door and paused. He looked anxious.

‘They have--’ he began, saw Elen and stopped abruptly. Then he said: ‘Elen, please leave us.’

‘But, father, what--’ the girl began to protest.

Gwnda stamped his foot on the floor, a strangely petulant action which caused Fidelma some amused surprise. She had heard of people stamping their feet in annoyance but this was the first time she had actually observed such a demonstration of emotion.

‘Go to your room, at once!’

Reluctantly, the girl rose, glanced at Fidelma with a look which seemed to indicate that she wanted to continue the conversation with her, and withdrew.

Gwnda waited until she had gone. ‘I didn’t want the girl to hear,’ he explained brusquely.

‘That much was obvious,’ Fidelma assured him dryly. ‘What is it that Elen should not hear?’

‘The boy--’

‘Do you mean Idwal?’ Eadulf interrupted.

‘Idwal. He has been found.’

Fidelma rose immediately. ‘Then we need to ask him some questions immediately,’ she said decisively.

Eadulf was also rising when Gwnda made a negative gesture.

‘It is too late for questions. I said that the people would be angry when they heard of Brother Meurig’s death. Iorwerth and Iestyn led the crowd. They . . . they have lynched the boy.’

‘Is he dead?’ asked Fidelma after a pause. She realised that the question was superfluous as soon as it came to her lips. Of course the boy was dead. Gwnda’s face confirmed it.

‘I have rebuked Iorwerth and Iestyn for what they have done,’ said the lord of Pen Caer. ‘I have accepted that it was not done within the law. But I believe it was a just outcome and will explain as much to King Gwlyddien’s chief
barnwr
. The boy is dead. That ends this sad affair.’

‘Does it?’ Fidelma’s anger was clear in her voice. Eadulf shifted his weight uncomfortably.

‘It is, indeed, a sad story,’ Gwnda went on, oblivious of the glitter in her eyes. ‘I am only sorry that the matter resulted in the death of such a learned
barnwr
as Brother Meurig.’

‘That is certainly to be regretted.’ Fidelma’s voice was dangerously brittle.

Gwnda clapped his hands and Buddog entered a moment later. He demanded mead be brought.

‘I have had the boy’s body taken to Elisse the apothecary. He will see to it that the boy is buried properly. At least, here is an end to the matter,’ he said, seating himself. ‘My daughter knew Idwal,’ he added, as if by way of explanation. ‘I didn’t want her to hear what happened just yet.’

‘She will soon find out,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘Indeed, but I will find a gentler way of telling her. I needed to tell you both immediately.’

‘It is outrageous that people have taken the law into their own hands,’ Fidelma said, her anger a little more under control now. Eadulf had thought she was going to explode in fury but she seemed to be fighting the emotion. ‘Do you still intend to prohibit me from making inquiries about the death of Mair and Brother Meurig?’

Gwnda seemed astonished. ‘Inquiries? But we have resolved this matter. Not in accordance with law, but it is resolved.’

‘I have not resolved it.’

Gwnda frowned in irritation. ‘I have already told you that you have no jurisdiction in this. The matter, so far as I am concerned, is now ended. I will send to the abbey of Dewi Sant to inform the court.’

Fidelma stood with head bowed in thought. ‘Very well; yet you have no objection to my pursuing inquiries about Llanpadern.’

Gwnda was suspicious. ‘You know I do not. You have the permission of the king.’

‘Then I shall continue to pursue those inquiries.’ She turned and motioned to Eadulf to accompany her, leaving Gwnda gazing in annoyed perplexity.

Outside Eadulf examined her with a baffled expression. ‘What was that supposed to mean?’ he asked.

Fidelma smiled wanly. ‘I intend to question Iorwerth and Iestyn.’

‘But Gwnda said--’

‘Gwnda said that he had no objection to my pursuing inquiries concerning Llanpadern. You will recall that Idwal passed through Llanpadern on the morning Mair was murdered. What concerns Llanpadern might concern Idwal.’

She turned into the kitchen and sought Buddog. ‘Where can I find the lady Elen?’ she asked.

The blonde woman shook her head. ‘She left the house when her father arrived. I do not know where she has gone.’

Fidelma compressed her lips in annoyance but thanked the woman.

‘A pity,’ she said to Eadulf after they had left the kitchen and stood outside in the yard. ‘I want to hear what she meant by saying Mair was killed in mistake for her. Until we can find her, let us go down to Iorwerth’s forge and have a word with this outraged smith.’

Eadulf moved reluctantly after her. ‘I doubt if Gwnda is going to interpret matters in the same light.’

‘Probably not,’ agreed Fidelma briefly. ‘That is why I still want you to ride to the abbey of Dewi Sant tomorrow and secure Gwlyddien’s authority for me. Gwnda’s prohibition must be cancelled. In the meantime, let us see what Iorwerth says about Idwal’s death before you leave.’

Eadulf was glum. ‘I do not like to leave you here on your own.’

‘But the permission of Gwlyddien is now necessary and urgent.’

There were several people about in the township as they walked from Gwnda’s hall down to the forge. It was late afternoon and there was a hint of dusk approaching. Many of the people they met now avoided eye contact and hung their heads, scuttling away into their houses.

‘The madness of the lynch mob has been dispelled,’ Eadulf commented cynically. ‘Now they feel their individual guilt at taking a human life.’

‘And that guilt will only last a day or two before they begin to find justification for their actions,’ agreed Fidelma.

As they came upon Iorwerth’s forge they saw a horse tethered outside. A figure that seemed familiar was dismounting and untying a heavy saddle bag. The young man turned at their approach. Fidelma recognised the son of Goff the smith whom they had encountered earlier that morning.

‘Dewi!’

The young man greeted them with a smile. ‘I thought that I might see you here,’ he said.

‘But what are you doing at Iorwerth’s forge?’ asked Eadulf, his eye falling to the heavy saddle bags.

‘My father promised Iorwerth some gold to work with in his forge. I have come to deliver it.’

‘Do you have any objection to that, Gwyddel?’ snapped a voice angrily.

Iorwerth, the thickset smith, was standing at the door of his cabin with his muscular arms flexing, a pair of tongs clenched almost menacingly in one hand.

Fidelma smiled softly. ‘Why should I have any objection?’

Iorwerth looked disconcerted. ‘What are you hanging about my forge for, anyway?’ he demanded ungraciously.

‘We have come to have a talk with you. But we have no objection to you concluding your business with Dewi first.’

Iorwerth looked doubtfully from Fidelma to Dewi and back again. ‘How do you know this Gwyddel, Dewi?’ he demanded gruffly.

‘We met Dewi at his father’s forge this morning,’ Fidelma intervened innocently. ‘Does that worry you? Or is there any other information you would like?’

Iorwerth glowered at her, not sure how he should answer.

‘Can you read, Iorwerth?’ was her next unexpected question.

Iorwerth’s expression was not pretty. ‘I have no call for reading,’ he replied gruffly.

‘A pity. Dyfed is known as a literate kingdom. However, perhaps Dewi here can read . . . ?’

The young man flushed a little in embarrassment. ‘Father Clidro taught me,’ he affirmed.

Solemnly Fidelma took out a piece of vellum from her
marsupium
and handed it to him. ‘Perhaps you could tell Iorwerth what this says. I fear that if I tell him he will not trust me to tell the truth.’

Iorwerth’s eyes narrowed in continued annoyance.

The young man took the vellum and read quickly through it. ‘You showed this to my father. It is a commission from King Gwlyddien.’

‘Saying what?’ prompted Fidelma.

‘Saying that you act on his authority and advising everyone to co-operate with you . . .’

Fidelma reached forward and took the vellum from Dewi’s fingers. ‘Do you understand that, Iorwerth?’ she asked.

Eadulf found himself hiding a smile at her sleight of hand. He knew that she had not allowed the young man to read out that the co-operation related to the specific inquiry about Llanpadern.

The smith’s jaw came up stubbornly.

Dewi was apologetic. ‘It is what the words say, Iorwerth, and I have seen the king’s seal often before at the abbey of Dewi Sant when I have delivered father’s work there.’

The smith remained hesitant but then admitted defeat. ‘If that is what the words say,’ he conceded reluctantly, ‘I will answer your questions.’

‘When you have finished your business with Dewi,’ Fidelma told him, ‘we will go inside your cabin and talk.’

The young man unslung his saddle bag and handed it to Iorwerth. ‘There is little business to conduct, Sister,’ he announced. ‘I merely came to deliver the pieces of gold that my father promised Iorwerth for his forge.’

Iorwerth took the bag and emptied out the pieces of metal, looking more like jagged rocks than precious gold.

‘Excellent,’ Iorwerth said as he examined them. ‘It is as agreed. Give my salutations to your father, Dewi.’

The youth returned the courtesy and turned towards his horse while Iorwerth said to Fidelma: ‘You may enter and tell me what you want of me.’

As Fidelma was about to follow him, Eadulf said: ‘I will join you in a moment. I just want a word with Dewi.’

She raised an eyebrow to show her curiosity. Eadulf caught her gaze and half nodded towards a corner of Iorwerth’s forge. She just had time to control her surprise. In a corner was a figure of a man made of twists of straw. It was not the same but it was similar to the straw man which they had found in the chapel of Llanpadern.

‘Well, Sister?’ Iorwerth was demanding as he stood at the door of his cabin. She recovered from her astonishment and joined him, and he led the way into his small living quarters. The space was claustrophobic and dark. She had to bend slightly, for she was tall and her head almost connected with the low beams. The heat of the fire was almost stifling. Fidelma did not wait for Iorwerth to ask her to be seated, for she knew that she would wait in vain.

‘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.