Peter Tremayne - Smoke in the Wind

‘Andrasta?’ queried Fidelma. ‘I have not heard of this goddess.’

‘They say the great queen, Boudicca, invoked her before she drove the Romans out of her kingdom,’ explained Goff.

‘And this gold chain and pendant was missing?’

‘It was. The conclusion was that she had simply been robbed and killed.’

‘Nevertheless, Iorwerth was suspected?’

‘He is an evil man, Sister,’ interrupted Rhonwen. ‘I would not put anything past him.’

Fidelma sat awhile, frowning. ‘Is Dinas far from here?’

‘It is a long way around the coastline. But if you went to the coast a few kilometres north-west of Llanwnda, then took a boat across the great bay there, Dinas is the island on the far side of the bay: a distance of perhaps five kilometres. Often the island is the object of attacks from Ceredigion just along the coast. But Gurgust and his daughter Efa are long forgotten. This happened twenty or more years ago. There is nothing there now.’

‘It seems a curious coincidence that both the daughter of Gurgust and the daughter of Iorwerth should meet their deaths in similar circumstances.’ Fidelma was reflective.

‘How can there be any connection?’ demanded Goff.

‘You said that Gurgust was killed in some border war?’

‘I did.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘It is what I heard.’ The smith’s eyes suddenly lightened and he smiled. ‘If Gurgust lived, and believed that Iorwerth had killed his daughter, then he would have sought revenge long ago. Gurgust is long dead.’

Rhonwen leant forward across the table and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Even so, husband, the good sister must have a reason for asking the question. Are you saying that you believe Idwal to be innocent of young Mair’s death? Does Brother Meurig also believe this?’

Goff interrupted before Fidelma could respond.

‘You told us that you had come here to investigate the raid at Llanpadern. What is your interest in the death of Mair of Llanwnda?’ he demanded suspiciously.

Fidelma reassured him. ‘We journeyed to Llanwnda with Brother Meurig. He is there to investigate the killing. It is natural that our curiosity is piqued by the affair, and what help we can render to Brother Meurig we are willing to give.’

‘So you do believe that Idwal is innocent,’ Rhonwen said shrewdly. ‘No barnwr would waste their time on such questions unless they suspected that all was not as it seemed.’

‘How well do you know Idwal?’

Rhonwen answered with a smile. ‘As Goff said, we are a small community.’

‘What do you make of him?’

‘Make of him?’ Rhonwen was puzzled.

‘Do you think him capable of murder?’

‘Who is and who is not capable of taking a life given the circumstances?’ countered Goff. ‘We are all capable of doing so, I should imagine.’

‘I think Sister Fidelma means, what is your assessment of Idwal? Is he a likeable boy? Would he kill without justification?’

Goff rubbed his nose. ‘He is a half-wit.’

Rhonwen made a tutting sound and shook her head. Fidelma turned to her.

‘You disagree with that assessment?’

‘He isn’t a half-wit. He is merely slow. Almost child-like. He did not have a pleasant childhood after Iolo the shepherd died. Iolo fostered the boy as a baby. He was still a boy when Iolo’s brother, Iestyn, drove him out. Since then Idwal has had to earn a living as an itinerant shepherd.’

‘I’ll not deny that the boy has a fairly gentle nature,’ agreed Goff. ‘There is no denying that. He would weep every time one of his lambs died. But who knows what provoked him? We all have the instinct to kill when presented with the right circumstances, and the boy was deep. He kept his thoughts to himself. Who knew what angers lay beneath his quiet exterior?’

‘So you believe that he is guilty?’ asked Eadulf.

‘I believe what I am told by men whose opinions I respect.’

‘And who is it that you respect who told you Idwal was guilty?’ Fidelma asked sharply.

‘Why, Iestyn of Llanwnda, of course.’

Fidelma saw Rhonwen screw her features into a brief expression of dislike.

‘You do not think much of Iestyn, do you?’

Goff’s wife made her views clear. ‘When I think of him throwing that young boy out to fend for himself. . and now he has the gall to level the finger of blame.’

Goff tried to defend his opinion. ‘Iestyn has been a good friend to me. And perhaps he was right to throw the boy out years ago. Perhaps he saw what was coming.’

‘I know this is a small community, but when did you speak with Iestyn on this matter?’ Fidelma probed.

‘A day or so ago. He came by with a cart that needed a repair.’

‘I thought he was a friend of Iorwerth. Surely Iorwerth was closer at hand and would have been able to mend his cart?’

‘What my husband means,’ sniffed Rhonwen, ‘is that Iestyn was delivering a cartload of hides to a trader near here when his cart broke. Easier to call here than drag it all the way back to Llanwnda.’

‘I understand. So Iestyn was the one who told you what had happened and said that Idwal was guilty.’

‘He was,’ said Goff, rising abruptly. ‘And now, pleasant though it is to gossip, I have my forge to get back to.’

Fidelma stood up and Eadulf followed reluctantly. She knew when she had been dismissed.

‘We have a journey to complete. But let me ask one more question before we depart.’

Goff made a gesture which seemed to indicate the invitation to put the question.

‘You say that this is a small community and everyone knows one another?’

Rhonwen was beginning to clear the remains of the meal from the table. She smiled. ‘Are you seeking information about someone?’

‘I am. What can you tell me about a man who calls himself Clydog Cacynen or another who goes by the name of Corryn?’

The jug which Rhonwen had been holding fell to the floor and shattered into a number of pieces, allowing the little remaining mead to splash over the wooden boards. Goff moved forward, frowning, as Rhonwen began to apologise nervously and start picking up the pieces.

‘How did you come across the name of Clydog?’ he demanded.

‘We heard that there was an outlaw in this area and were warned to be careful of him,’ she lied easily. ‘I simply wanted to know who he was.’

‘If you want to ask about him, ask Father Clidro. He once tried to negotiate a peace with him.’

‘But Father Clidro-’ began Eadulf.

‘Father Clidro, as you will recall, is no longer at Llanpadern nor is any of his community,’ interrupted Fidelma quickly, with a warning glance at Eadulf.

‘Then we can answer no more questions,’ Goff said firmly. ‘I would merely add my voice to those you have heard already and urge you to avoid meeting with Clydog. He is a scourge on our people. He has sharp ears and punishes swiftly. We will say no more. I give you God’s speed on your journey.’

His expression was resolute. It was clear that his wife was upset at the mention of Clydog but also clear that Fidelma and Eadulf had outstayed their welcome at Llanferran.

Goff refused payment for the hospitality that he had provided, muttering the usual formula that prayers offered up by the religious on behalf of his wife and himself were worth more than gold or silver. Fidelma and Eadulf responded with the usual blessing. But there was an emptiness about the ritual; it was performed without feeling.

As soon as it was over, Fidelma and Eadulf retrieved their horses from Dewi at the forge and took the trail which the youth indicated as leading to Llanwnda.

‘Curious,’ observed Eadulf, after they had travelled without speaking for a while.

Fidelma, immersed in her own thoughts, glanced absently at him. ‘What?’