Smoke in the Wind (9 page)

‘I am he,’ the man responded, not lowering his sword. Then his eyes narrowed suddenly as he recognised the robes of the religieux.

‘I am Brother Meurig of the abbey of Dewi Sant, the
barnwr
for whom you have sent. These are my companions, Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf. They travel under special commission of Gwlyddien of Dyfed.’

Gwnda looked startled for a moment. Then he saw Iorwerth and the two men holding the boy. He rested the point of his sword lightly on the step before him, hands on the pommel. His features relaxed but it was hardly a smile of greeting.

‘I wish I could bid you welcome to my hall in happier circumstances.’

Brother Meurig swung down from his horse. ‘These circumstances will suffice, Gwnda, providing that they are explained to us.’

Gwnda regarded Iorwerth with a sour expression. ‘Does this mean that your rebellion is over, Iorwerth?’ he asked.

‘It was never meant as rebellion,’ replied the man, defensively. ‘My aim was justice.’

‘Revenge was your aim and rebellion it was; rebellion against your lord. Yet I am kindly disposed to you and will forgive your transgression against the law because you let your emotions misguide you. Get to your home and we will discuss reparation for your act later.’ Gwnda turned to Brother Meurig as an afterthought: ‘That is, if this has your permission?’

‘You appear to be a man of liberal judgment, Gwnda,’ said Brother Meurig. ‘I see no reason to object until I have an explanation. And if everyone has now come to their senses, perhaps these two men will remove this boy to some secure place where he may be confined until I can question him?’

Gwnda turned to the two men and his voice was sharp: ‘Return Idwal to my stables. When you have done that, you may take the horses of our guests here and see that they are well cared for.’ He smiled briefly to encompass them all. ‘Come into my hall, my friends, and I will do my best to explain the sorrow of this evening.’

‘Lord Gwnda . . .’ One of the two men still stood hesitating.

‘Well?’ snapped Gwnda.

‘Shall I . . . shall we be punished?’

Gwnda nodded towards Brother Meurig. ‘You will have the opportunity to present your defence. I shall leave the subject of punishment to the judgment of the
barnwr
here.’

‘But it was Iorwerth the smith. He told us . . . told everyone . . . that we should support him. He said it was justice.’

‘Everyone?’ jeered Gwnda. ‘Enough. You will have time to justify yourself later. Now get about the task that I have set you, unless you wish to compound your rebellion?’

The two men, heads hung morosely, moved off with the youth while Meurig, Fidelma and Eadulf dismounted and hooked their reins to a nearby post. Gwnda was ushering them into his hall. Inside, some women, looking apprehensively at the newcomers, were huddled in the corner.

‘Have no fear,’ called Gwnda cheerfully as he hung up his sword. ‘This is the
barnwr
and his companions. They come directly from the court of Gwlyddien.’

A young girl, about seventeen years old, dark-haired and attractive, came forward with an eager look on her face.

‘This is my daughter, Elen,’ Gwnda announced.

The girl spoke immediately to Brother Meurig. ‘Is the boy, Idwal, safe?’ she asked. Fidelma registered the concern in her voice.

‘He is. Are you a friend of his?’ asked the
barnwr.

Gwnda snorted indignantly. ‘My daughter is no friend of the boy!’

Brother Meurig continued to look at the girl. He made no comment but simply raised his eyebrows in interrogation.

‘I was a friend of Mair,’ the girl said hesitantly, the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘Everyone here knew Idwal.’

‘You should be more concerned with Mair’s fate and in seeking justice for her,’ muttered Gwnda sourly. ‘Now, you may leave us to discuss matters.’ He turned, raising his voice. ‘Buddog! Where is Buddog?’

A handsome, blonde-haired woman of middle years, her features still bearing what must have been the stunning beauty of her youth, came forward.

‘Bring refreshments for the
barnwr
and his companions. Quickly now!’ Gwnda’s tone was one of an arrogant master to a servant.

The woman, Buddog, stood for a moment, glaring at Gwnda. Fidelma noticed the intensity of her stare, which seemed to her to be one of malignancy, and realised that her companions had not observed it. Neither had Gwnda, who was occupied in showing Brother Meurig to a comfortable seat. Only then did he notice that Buddog had not obeyed him. He frowned, momentarily puzzled that his order had not been obeyed.

‘Our guests need refreshment now, not tomorrow!’ he snapped sharply.

Buddog paused for a fraction of a second before she dropped her gaze and moved away without saying anything.

Fidelma then noticed that Elen was also standing at the door, observing the scene. As Buddog brushed by her, the two seemed to exchange a meaningful look, and then Elen turned and closed the door behind them. Fidelma was intrigued by the veiled drama. There was tension in the household of the lord of Pen Caer and its mystery drew her like a moth to a candle.

Gwnda indicated that Fidelma and Eadulf should join Brother Meurig before the roaring log fire. One of the serving girls, not the woman Buddog, entered bearing a jug of local mead, which she served to them.

‘We seemed to have arrived at an opportune moment,’ Fidelma said, as she sipped the honey-sweet mead. ‘It appears that you were a prisoner of your own people.’

Gwnda gave her a swift glance of appraisal and then nodded slowly. ‘Rebellion, no less,’ he confirmed with irritation. ‘I can understand why some have allowed anger to mislead them. Feelings are running high on this matter.’

Brother Meurig regarded him with a serious expression. ‘Your understanding is most commendable, Gwnda. But rebellion is still a grave matter. How did this revolt manifest itself?’

Gwnda gestured with one hand, a curious motion as if dismissing matters. ‘My own people, stupid and misguided, imprisoned me and my household here. Then they seized the prisoner and intended to execute him.’

Brother Meurig’s expression was bleak. ‘That is outrageous. They imprisoned you and your family and took the boy from your custody by force? It is unheard of.’

The lord of Pen Caer’s features formed into a grim smile.

‘If it was unheard of, then I fear that it will now be a chronicler’s historical note. Iorwerth, who led this stupid attempt, was the father of the girl whom the boy, Idwal, raped and murdered. It is understandable that vengeance was his motivation. I cannot be harsh on him.’

‘Then you are most charitable,’ observed Brother Meurig.

Fidelma intervened, however, her voice sharp. ‘It sounds as though you have already judged the youth’s guilt, Gwnda. What need did you have of a
barnwr
?’

Gwnda turned a patronising smile on her. ‘I observe that you are a stranger to our country, Sister. I should be most happy to explain the law later. Law is a complicated business.’

Brother Meurig coughed dryly as if embarrassed for Fidelma. ‘Lord Gwnda, Sister Fidelma is not only blood sister to the king of Cashel, but she is also a qualified
dálaigh
, of equivalent rank to me in her own country. It is to her that Gwlyddien, our king, has turned with his personal commission to seek a solution to the mystery of what transpired at Llanpadern.’

Gwnda flushed and made a non-committal sound.

‘You have not answered my question,’ pressed Fidelma without mercy. ‘It seems, from what you have said, that you have already concluded that the boy is guilty.’

The lord of Pen Caer appeared uncomfortable for a moment. ‘I sent for the
barnwr
because I believe that one should follow the law. However, my opinion is that the boy is guilty.’

One of the women interrupted by bringing in a tray of refreshments, which she placed on the table. Gwnda took the opportunity to motion them to take seats there. There were cuts of meat, cheeses, savoury cakes and oat bread among the dishes. Jugs of mead and fresh water were added to the meal.

Fidelma took the opportunity of this distraction to ask Eadulf if he were able to follow the conversation well enough. Eadulf was able to understand the general flow, but he confessed that he was too unsure of his knowledge to actually take part in any more tangible form than as a listener.

Gwnda had restarted the conversation. ‘So you have been sent to solve the riddle of the disappearing community? ’ he said, addressing Fidelma.

‘You have been told about it?’ asked Brother Meurig. ‘Llanpadern is only three kilometres from here. We saw and heard nothing until one of our shepherds came by and told us the news.’ He was suddenly thoughtful. ‘In fact,’ he confided, ‘it was Idwal who came through the township and told my servant that the community had disappeared. That was on the very morning that he killed Mair.’

‘Did you send anyone there to confirm his story?’

Gwnda shook his head. ‘By the time Buddog, my servant, told me what Idwal had told her, the murder of Mair had taken place. Idwal was a prisoner. Our concerns were about him and that was when I sent to the abbey for a judge. It was not until this morning that I was reminded about Llanpadern. Of course, it was then too late.’

‘Too late? What do you mean?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘You do not know?’ Gwnda seemed surprised. ‘Young Dewi, son of Goff the smith at Llanferran, came to the township this morning and told us that the community had been carried off by sea-raiders. Some of their bodies had been left on the shore nearby. They were probably slain while trying to escape.’

The news silenced them.

Brother Meurig asked quietly: ‘Was Brother Rhun among those who were slain?’

‘I don’t know. Young Dewi said that the folk at Llanferran buried the corpses of the dead brothers. If Brother Rhun had been among them, I am sure that he would have said.’

‘And did this Dewi of Llanferran identify who these sea-raiders were?’ Fidelma quietly asked.

‘Oh yes. They were Saxons.’

The ensuing silence was broken only by Eadulf’s stirring uncomfortably. He had been able to follow the conversation clearly. He avoided Fidelma’s eyes.

‘This lad called Dewi, is he a reliable witness?’ Gwnda inclined his head in affirmation. ‘His father, Goff, is well respected. His forge, at Llanferran, is not far from here should you wish to confirm the story.’

‘Did you have much contact with the community at Llanpadern?’

‘Not really. I knew the Father Superior, Father Clidro, fairly well. He was a charitable man, a holy man and a good scholar. But we did not trade much with the brethren.’

‘You say that it was Idwal who first brought you the news?’ Fidelma finally asked reflectively. ‘That must have been two days ago?’

‘He told my servant Buddog that the community had vanished.’

‘I shall need to speak with Idwal about what he saw.’

‘He is not a reliable witness,’ Gwnda said sarcastically.

Fidelma’s eyebrows rose a little at the assertion. ‘On what do you base that statement? His present predicament? ’

‘Not at all. Idwal claimed that the community had simply vanished. Puff! Like smoke in the wind. That there were no signs of violence. If the Saxons raided Llanpadern, as Dewi reported, then there would be some sign of their attack.’

Fidelma considered the matter. She did not refer to the fact that Idwal’s story was the same as that told by Brother Cyngar.

‘Is it unusual that Idwal would be at Llanpadern that morning?’ she asked.

‘Unusual? No, the boy is an itinerant shepherd and is often wandering the hills.’

‘Are you sure, forgive me for asking again, that he brought the news on the same morning that he is supposed to have raped and killed this girl?’ Eadulf interposed for the first time in the conversation. It was also the first time that he had spoken in the language of Dyfed. It was harsh and accented, the grammar not quite polished. But it was understandable. Gwnda regarded him in surprise.

‘Ah, and I thought you were dumb, Saxon. Yet you do speak. Not well, but you speak nevertheless.’

‘Brother Eadulf is an emissary of the Archbishop of Canterbury,’ Fidelma pointed out sharply. ‘And my trusted companion. He speaks several languages.’

Gwnda smirked in a patronising manner. ‘I had heard that there was a new archbishop among the Jutes of Canterbury. A Greek, isn’t he?’

‘Perhaps we should continue with the investigation first before exchanging gossip,’ said Fidelma. ‘I believe Brother Eadulf asked a question.’

The lord of Pen Caer shrugged indifferently. ‘Indeed, Brother Saxon. It was on the same morning on which Idwal raped and killed Mair.’

‘A coincidence?’ pressed Eadulf.

‘What else, my Saxon friend? What else?’

Brother Meurig cleared his throat noisily. ‘There is time enough to attend to the mystery at Llanpadern tomorrow,’ he said in a censorial tone. ‘I have a more pressing matter to pursue, and would like to hear more of this murder. Perhaps, Gwnda, you would outline the story as you know it?’

‘As I know it?’

‘The facts, as you know them. In the first place, who was murdered?’

Gwnda sat back in his chair, his hands folded before him. ‘A girl called Mair was murdered. As you now know, she was the daughter of Iorwerth, our local smith. She was his only daughter. In fact, his only child. She meant much to Iowerth as his wife is also dead. Mair was young, sixteen years old. And she was a virgin.’

Brother Meurig clicked his tongue several times. When he saw that Fidelma was frowning slightly he offered an explanation.

‘I believe that we share the same system of honour prices with you, Sister. A young girl’s honour price, the
sarhaed
as we call it, would be high. Indeed, a share of that honour price would also be vested in the king himself for, as a virgin, her safety is his responsibility. It is called his
nawdd
.’