Smoke in the Wind (23 page)

‘You are my guests until you depart again for the abbey of Dewi Sant,’ the chieftain acknowledged without enthusiasm.

‘Then we . . .’ began Eadulf, and then paused, suddenly catching sight of Fidelma’s warning look. She was not sure what he was about to say but the look expressed her alarm in case he mentioned the finding of Meurig before she was ready. ‘. . . we accept,’ he finished lamely.

They followed Gwnda into the hall and he clapped his hands for attention. The tall blonde woman entered and her eyes narrowed a little as she beheld them.

‘Buddog, Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf are once more our guests. See that baths are prepared and refreshment brought. Also see that their horses are cared for and fed.’

The woman inclined her head slightly. ‘It shall be done.’

While Gwnda was issuing his instructions, Fidelma managed to whisper to Eadulf: ‘Let me do the talking about Meurig.’

They were seated before the fire when Buddog brought in their drinks and announced that the bathing preparations were being made. When Gwnda had seated himself and taken his drink, Fidelma said quietly: ‘Father Clidro is dead.’

The lord of Pen Caer stared at her for a moment. ‘So it was a Saxon raid, after all? How many of the brethren have died?’ There was a note of triumph in his voice.

‘Some seven others, so far as we can deduce, and then there is Father Clidro. He was hanged in a barn at Llanpadern while the others were, as was reported to you, slain on the beach near Llanferran.’

Gwnda sighed deeply. ‘Our coastline is vulnerable to Saxon raids.’

‘Do you know of an outlaw called Clydog?’

Gwnda actually started so much that some of his drink spilled on his hand.

Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘It is obvious that you do know of him,’ she observed before the chieftain could compose himself.

‘Most people around Pen Caer know that name and many are acquainted with him to their cost,’ conceded the chieftain, recovering his poise.

‘What do you know of him?’

Gwnda examined them both thoughtfully. ‘Why bring Clydog into this?’ he said slowly.

‘I merely want you to share with me what you know of this Clydog the Wasp.’

Gwnda paused thoughtfully. ‘Clydog Cacynen.’ He almost sneered the name. ‘Six months ago we had reports of wayfarers being robbed in the forests around Ffynnon Druidion. At first, none of them were killed, merely robbed and sent on their way. They spoke of an outlaw named Clydog, who seemed quite cultured and who robbed them with a laugh. He had a small band of warriors, presumably adventurers, thieves and murderers escaping justice. A dozen or so men who took to the forests with Clydog.’

Fidelma was a little impatient. She felt that he was not telling her anything that she did not know. ‘You said that none of his victims were killed at first. That implies that others were killed later.’

Gwnda nodded in confirmation. ‘That is so, Sister. Several people have been killed as Clydog’s raids have become more reckless. King Gwlyddien once sent a band of warriors to scour the woods to destroy Clydog, but without success. Clydog knows the forests of Ffynnon Druidion like the back of his hand.’

‘Gwlyddien had to send warriors? You are lord of Pen Caer. Why couldn’t you raise your own band of warriors to flush him out?’

Gwnda chuckled without humour. ‘If I searched all Pen Caer I doubt whether I could find a dozen trained warriors. Most of the young menfolk are already serving with the Lord Rhodri to protect our borders with Ceredigion.’

‘So, apart from this one attempt, nothing has been done about Clydog since?’

‘So long as Clydog does not strike at any of the major settlements of Pen Caer and confines himself to the highways, he is no great threat to the peace of the area.’

‘So your policy is to let Clydog alone and hope he lets you alone?’ Fidelma was disapproving. ‘What if he were responsible for Llanpadern?’

Gwnda started in astonishment. ‘Are you saying that it was not a Saxon raid? Are you saying Clydog was responsible for killing Father Clidro and the others? That is nonsense. What purpose would it serve?’

‘I am asking, what if he were responsible?’ she pressed.

‘Then I suppose that King Gwlyddien would have to raise men to go against him. Send warriors in such numbers that he would be flushed out. But it would take a fair number to comb the woods of Ffynnon Druidion, and the kingdom cannot spare many trained warriors. Not at this time.’

‘Cannot?’ Fidelma emphasised the word.

‘Artglys, the king of Ceredigion, is pressing on our borders, searching for weaknesses in the hope of taking over this land. Our borders are long and our warriors stretched to maintain the peace along them.’

Fidelma sat for a moment considering the information. ‘We know what Clydog is, but I would like to know who he is.’

Gwnda was puzzled. ‘Who?’

‘Surely this outlaw did not suddenly appear from nowhere?’

The lord of Pen Caer surprised them by nodding slowly. ‘That is precisely what he did.’

‘You mean that he is not a local man?’

‘Not so far as we know.’

‘If he is not from the area, how does he have such a good local knowledge that he can avoid the warriors of the king when they search for him?’ Eadulf asked.

Gwnda sniffed deprecatingly. ‘A good point, Brother Saxon. A good point. But no one who has seen Clydog has been able to identify him as being related to anyone in this area. Perhaps it is one of his men who has the local knowledge.’

Fidelma was disappointed. She had been sure that Clydog must have some local connection; a connection which she was hoping would link him to the mystery.

Buddog re-entered. ‘The baths are ready for our guests, lord,’ she announced. ‘Alas, we have no robes suitable for religious. However, if the sister and the brother will consent to put on ordinary garments for a day, we will wash their own robes and return them.’

Fidelma slowly rose. ‘That will be acceptable. Your hospitality is most welcome, Gwnda.’

As Buddog left the chieftain also rose, along with Eadulf. ‘It is my earnest hope that the affairs that have brought you here are speedily resolved,’ he said.

‘It is our hope also, Gwnda,’ Fidelma replied with the same solemnity. ‘However, it may take some time. You see . . . Brother Meurig has been murdered.’

Eadulf had been waiting to see what dramatic moment Fidelma would choose to reveal the find in the forest.

The expression on Gwnda’s face changed only slowly. Then he shook himself like a shaggy dog. ‘Are you saying that Brother Meurig is dead?’

‘His body lies in the forest,’ confirmed Fidelma.

Gwnda let out a long, whistling sigh. ‘Murdered, you say? Why did you not tell me immediately?’

‘You said that you did not know where Brother Meurig had gone or when he would return. What could you have told me if you had known before?’

‘Nothing, but . . .’

‘But?’

‘Only that his death hangs heavily on my conscience. Perhaps I should have warned him more insistently before he left. I might have prevented this catastrophe.’

Fidelma exchanged a quick glance with Eadulf. ‘Warned him? Prevented his murder? It sounds as though you knew far more than you have revealed to us about where Brother Meurig’s investigation was leading?’

‘It’s not that.’

‘Not that? You maintain that you did not know where he was going but that you could have warned him not to go and thus prevented his murder?’ There was a cynical tone in Fidelma’s voice.

Gwnda’s expression was defensive. ‘I might have prevented it,’ he insisted. ‘I’d better take some men to the woodsman’s hut and retrieve Brother Meurig’s body.’

‘Before you go, I think that you should explain,’ Fidelma said quietly.

‘Explain? When Brother Meurig left here, I could have demanded that he go alone, that’s all.’

‘Go alone?’ Fidelma frowned quickly. ‘You mean he left here in the company of someone else?’

‘Isn’t that what I am telling you?’

Fidelma let out a sharp breath of exasperation. ‘In the name of the Holy Saints, man, tell us in whose company Brother Meurig left and why you think that person was responsible for his death?’

‘He left with Mair’s killer, that’s who.’

‘Mair’s killer?’ echoed Eadulf.

‘The young boy, Idwal. He left with Idwal.’

 

An hour later Fidelma and Eadulf had emerged from their baths both refreshed and wearing more comfortable clothing. Buddog informed them that Gwnda was waiting in the main hall and a meal had been prepared for them.

It was gloomy and dark now and Fidelma realised that it would soon be evening, for autumnal darkness descended early.

Gwnda was, indeed, waiting for them.

‘I have sent two of my best huntsmen and trackers to see if they can pick up signs of Idwal,’ he reported. ‘But he will have most of this day’s start on us and we will not be able to set out in pursuit before tomorrow’s first light. In death, it seems, Brother Meurig has proved the guilt of the boy, at least.’

Fidelma admonished him with a look. ‘That the boy left with Brother Meurig is not certain proof of his guilt either in Mair’s case or in the death of Meurig.’

Gwnda stared at her for a moment and then chuckled grimly. ‘Surely, Sister, you can entertain no doubt about the boy’s guilt now?’

‘There are questions to be asked still. But you are right, Idwal must be found. I hope that the men you sent out are instructed not to harm him but to bring him back here if they find him?’

‘They know that they are tracking a killer. They will act accordingly,’ replied Gwnda.

‘Brother Meurig was a
barnwr
. I am a
dálaigh
holding an equivalent legal rank,’ announced Fidelma. ‘Therefore I am going to take charge of this case.’

Gwnda was silent for a moment. The corners of his mouth turned down as he pressed his mouth tight shut for a moment. ‘By the Holy Cross, you are not!’ he finally responded with firmness.

Fidelma returned his look without flinching. ‘Do you challenge my authority?’ Her voice was soft. Eadulf knew that it was when she spoke softly that she was at her most dangerous.

‘You have no authority here. Not in this matter, anyway. ’

Fidelma stiffened. ‘I have the authority of King Gwlyddien of Dyfed,’ she retorted.

‘No you do not.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Brother Meurig told you so when we arrived. You accepted it then.’

Gwnda shook his head. ‘King Gwlyddien authorised you only to investigate the disappearance of the community of Llanpadern. He sent Brother Meurig here to judge the case against Idwal. You have no right to intervene in this matter. I am lord of Pen Caer and I shall be magistrate in this affair.’

Fidelma swallowed sharply. It was true. Gwnda was right under the absolute letter of the law. She had no jurisdiction here. She thought for a moment and then realised that she could do nothing but back away.

‘Then I must plead with you, Gwnda. I believe that an injustice is happening. I should investigate this matter further if justice is to be served.’

‘You have authority to investigate at Llanpadern. That is all.’ Gwnda’s expression was determined. ‘You are welcome to the hospitality of my hall for this night. I presume that you will want to return to the abbey of Dewi Sant tomorrow. Until then I suggest that you do not wander far from the protection of my roof.’

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. ‘That sounds suspiciously like a threat, Gwnda?’ Once more Eadulf heard a dangerously quiet quality to her voice.

Gwnda’s expression was impassive. ‘There is no threat at all in what I say, Sister. I am but warning you for your own safety and the safety of your Saxon companion.’

‘That certainly sounds like a threat to me,’ observed Eadulf sourly.

‘When the news of Brother Meurig’s death has spread, there will be many who will be angered. The fact that Idwal was obviously responsible for Mair’s death was acknowledged by most people in Llanwnda. Now it appears that Brother Meurig has been killed by him. The people will be reminded that you stopped them taking their revenge on Idwal. Had they done so, Meurig would be alive now.’

‘It was not we who prevented the mob from murder,’ corrected Eadulf. ‘Brother Meurig was the one who stopped their foolhardiness.’

Gwnda smiled thinly. ‘Brother Meurig has paid the price for his mistake. However, if you start wandering around Llanwnda, the people might recall that you were with him and bear collectively the responsibility for a further death here.’

‘That is a totally illogical way of thinking,’ snapped Fidelma.

‘I speak not for myself, of course, but for the people,’ Gwnda said evasively. ‘They are notoriously illogical when it comes to curbing feelings of vengeance against any who have wronged them.’ He turned to the door. ‘If you need anything further just ring that hand bell. Buddog will come to attend to your wants.’

They heard his steps retreating outside and a short time later a horse left the stable.

Eadulf was resigned. ‘So that is that! We return to the abbey of Dewi Sant tomorrow. At least we can--’

He was brought up short by Fidelma’s scornful expression. ‘Do you think I would run away now?’

Eadulf gazed into her fiery green eyes and suppressed a sigh of resignation. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Precisely so.’

‘Then what do you intend?’

‘I have never retreated from a mystery that I was pledged to resolve. Nor will I now.’

‘Then you will need to get the authority of King Gwlyddien to overrule the lord of Pen Caer.’

She glanced at him and smiled. As usual, Eadulf had that ability of getting right down to the practicality. Her smile broadened. Eadulf read what was in her mind and groaned inwardly.

‘You want me to ride to the abbey of Dewi Sant and seek authority of King Gwlyddien?’