Peter Tremayne - Smoke in the Wind

‘A Gwyddel?’ The smith frowned. ‘The old man said that you were Saxons come to rob and kill us.’

Fidelma smiled reassuringly and slid from her horse, motioning Eadulf to dismount also. ‘My companion is a Saxon. Brother Eadulf. We have come neither to rob nor to kill. We are of the Faith.’

The tension of the group relaxed a little but the smith still stood regarding her mistrustfully.

‘It is unusual to find a Saxon travelling in this country as a religious. Saxons are more likely to travel in raiding parties as we, on this coast, know to our cost. We have lost many loved ones in raids.’

‘We mean no harm here. We are seeking a place called Llanferran.’

‘And so?’

Fidelma was bewildered for a moment. ‘We would also like refreshment and fodder for our horses for they are exhausted. Then if you would direct us to this place, Llanferran, we will be on our way.’

The smith stared at her for a second or two and then shrugged, putting down his weapon.

‘You have found Llanferran. My name is Goff.’

‘Now, what is it you seek here apart from hospitality? It is not often that strangers come here merely to seek food and shelter, least of all Saxons.’ Goff the smith looked suspiciously at Eadulf.

‘We hold a commission from your king, Gwlyddien, to investigate the disappearance of the community of Llanpadern. .’

The smith scowled suddenly. A young man who stood at his side, white-faced and anxious, let out a nervous gasp.

‘We were told by Gwnda, lord of Pen Caer, that someone called Dewi had information on this matter.’

The smith reluctantly indicated the youth. ‘This is my son, Dewi. I named him after the blessed founder of our church.’

Fidelma smiled at the apprehensive boy. ‘Then we have much to discuss. However, can we beg some food and the warmth of your fire while we talk of this matter?’

The smith hesitated before making up his mind. ‘If you are true religious then you are welcome at my hearth. We will go up to the house.’

He turned to one of his companions standing in the sullen, suspicious group about the old man they had first encountered, who was glaring at them with hatred.

‘Take charge of the forge,’ instructed Goff. He was about to turn away when Fidelma stayed him.

‘Can the wants of our horses also be met? They need a good rub down, also water and feed.’

‘See to it,’ Goff ordered.

With murmured thanks, Fidelma and Eadulf followed Goff and Dewi across a yard and up a small rise to the large building which, as Fidelma had guessed, bore all the hallmarks of the hostels kept in her own land, where food, drink and a bed could be purchased.

A round-faced woman was standing before a cooking pot hanging over a roaring fire.

‘Rhonwen!’ called the smith. ‘We have guests. Religious on their travels.’

The round-faced woman came forward, wiping her hands on an apron that hung around her ample girth.

‘This is Rhonwen, my wife,’ Goff said.

‘Have you broken your fast this morning, Sister?’ the pleasant-faced woman asked. ‘Can I get you something to eat and drink?’

Soon fresh-baked bread and dishes of cold meats and cheeses were set before them. The smith and his son, Dewi, joined them in beakers of good mead.

Fidelma had reached into her marsupium and pushed the vellum bearing King Gwlyddien’s seal in front of the smith. He glanced at it and handed it to his son with a shrug.

‘Dewi has been taught to read,’ he muttered apologetically.

‘It is a commission from the king, father. The Gwyddel is a lawyer, like our barnwr .’

‘Very well. What can we tell you about Llanpadern, Sister?’ asked the smith. ‘We know that it was raided.’

‘So Dewi told Gwnda.’ Eadulf entered the conversation for the first time. ‘Tell us about this raid.’

The youth glanced at his father who nodded.

‘We heard that there was a Saxon warship anchored off Penmorfa nearly a week ago,’ Dewi began. ‘Then seven religious were found near the cliffs there. They had all been killed. It was obvious who had caused their deaths.’

Fidelma looked at him inquisitively. ‘Why obvious?’ she demanded.

‘One moment, Sister.’ The smith rose and went to a cupboard at the back of the room. A moment later he had returned bearing a round warrior’s shield, a broken sword and a knife. ‘These were found with the bodies of the religious. Do you need me to identify their markings and their origin?’

Fidelma turned to Eadulf, who was looking at the markings with an uncomfortable expression. She knew what he would answer before she asked the question.

‘They are Hwicce,’ he confirmed.

‘Can you be sure?’ she pressed.

Eadulf nodded. ‘Observe the double lightning stroke on the shield, the symbol of Thunor, god of lightning? If that is not enough, one can see the riveting and construction. .’

‘Indeed!’ interrupted the smith, smiling maliciously. ‘No Briton would do this work. This is a Saxon shield and weapons.’

‘And you say that these were found by the bodies of the religious? Who discovered them?’ The questions came sharply from Fidelma.

‘Some travelling merchants brought us word. Dewi with two companions went down to Penmorfa to confirm their story.’

‘Did you see any Saxons, Dewi?’

The youth shook his head. ‘There were only the bodies of the slain religious.’

‘Did you see any sign of the Saxon ship?’ she asked.

His father, Goff, laughed sourly. ‘Saxons raid swiftly. They come and then are gone. Once they have attacked, they do not wait for retribution.’

‘Tell me more about the bodies you found, Dewi,’ invited Fidelma.

‘What more is there to say?’ The youth frowned uncertainly.

‘Did you recognise them as being religious from Llanpadern? How were they lying? How were they killed?’ Fidelma shot the questions in rapid succession.

Dewi gave the questions some consideration before replying. ‘I have frequently been at Llanpadern, so I was able to recognise two or three of the brothers.’

‘Did you know Brother Rhun?’

‘The son of the king? He served as the steward of the abbey at Llanpadern. He conducted the business of the abbey with traders and merchants. I met him often.’

‘My son drives our cart, transporting the goods I make to those who cannot come to the forge to collect them,’ explained his father.

‘I remember a forge at the abbey,’ Eadulf said reflectively. ‘By the barn.’

‘They had their own smith, but now and then he needed help or materials. Is that not so, father?’

Goff nodded slowly.

‘From what you say, I presume that Brother Rhun was not one of those slain?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘I can name only two of the brothers who were. He was not one of them.’

‘And you are sure they were all of the community?’

‘Positive.’

‘And there were seven bodies?’

‘Seven,’ the young man confirmed.

‘And you were going to tell me how they were killed.’

‘Sword strokes mainly.’

‘In what manner?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Mostly from behind, across the back of the neck.’ The young man apparently understood what was wanted of him. ‘One was stabbed from the front, through the heart, while another had an upward stroke to the stomach. They lay in a small group, as if they had been huddled together for the purpose.’

Fidelma’s brows were drawn together. ‘In a group, you say? Where were the shield and weapons found?’

‘Just by them.’

‘Just by them?’ She turned and took the broken sword. Its blade had been snapped off. ‘This was where, exactly, in relation to the bodies?’