Peter Tremayne - Smoke in the Wind

Eadulf looked towards the Saxon ship. ‘How long will it take to repair your mast?’

‘We’ll have done within the hour. As soon as the mast is raised I mean to out the oars and row further down the coast just in case the Welisc returns to the attack again. We’ll repair the rigging while we are under way.’ He hesitated. ‘What about you? Surely you are not safe in this kingdom now?’

Eadulf was inclined to agree with him, but he accepted that Fate led him on another path. ‘I must return to Llanwnda. There are things to resolve before I can see my homeland again.’ While he had been speaking, his eyes had been examining the beach and the cliffs behind it. He had spotted several dark openings. ‘Those caves there will be useful,’ he said suddenly.

‘Useful for what?’

‘The bodies of the religious with their carefully planted items of Hwicce origin were tossed overboard for a purpose. That purpose seems obvious: those that discover them are to infer that the men on your ship did the killing. It could be that the Welisc have gone to raise the alarm somewhere along the coast and then will come back and destroy you.’

‘But they don’t need such a justification to do that,’ pointed out Osric.

Eadulf was momentarily dejected. ‘That I also know. But the fact is they did it as justification. At whom that justification is aimed is the mystery; not the justification itself.’

‘Then what are you saying, gerefa ?’

‘Until I can discover that fact, I would rather put some grit in their newly churned butter.’

‘How would you do that?’

‘May I borrow a couple of your men to bring those bodies still floating in the sea to shore, and then use them to help me hide the dead in one of those caves? The fact that they will not be found immediately might destroy whatever plan the Welisc have devised.’

Osric grinned and slapped his thigh. ‘Spoken like a man of action and a true gerefa , Eadulf the Christian. I thought that all you of the new faith spoke of peace and love and honesty. Why, you are a man worthy of service in the company of Tiw, mighty god of war and strategy.’

Eadulf allowed the compliment to pass. After all, it had not been so long ago that he had been content to worship Woden, Tiw, Thunor, Frig and the pantheon of Saxon gods.

Osric began to issue the necessary orders. His two companions launched their boat and rowed towards the bobbing bodies making their slow progress towards the shore line.

Osric turned back to Eadulf. ‘I’ll help you with this one.’

Together they lifted the body and clambered up the shingled beach. At the foot of the cliffs they laid it down while Eadulf went to examine the few cave entrances. He chose one which was deep enough for a cursory examination not to reveal the bodies, and he and Osric carried the first body inside. By the time they returned for the second body Osric’s companions had brought up the third. They returned for the fourth while Eadulf ensured there were no telltale signs that would lead anyone to the cave.

‘What now, Eadulf the Christian?’

‘Now I shall return to Llanwnda to try to sort out this mystery.’

Osric smiled and shook his head. ‘You are a brave man to remain among these barbarians.’

‘Have you ever reflected, Osric,’ Eadulf replied with a grimace, ‘that it is a strange world when two peoples each believe it is the other who are barbarians?’

‘One day I will find time to learn something about your Christian faith, Eadulf. Who knows, perhaps it has something to teach us?’

‘Perhaps it does,’ Eadulf agreed solemnly.

Osric raised a hand in farewell and, with an order to his men, set off down the beach to his boat. Eadulf turned and made his way quickly up the path to the top of the cliff, to the point where he had left his horse tethered. When he looked back, he could see that the new tall mast was already in position. It would not be long before Osric’s ship was moving out of the bay.

He mounted his horse and set off at a quick trot in the direction of Llanwnda.

‘You have been a long time! I have been waiting for you.’

Eadulf was approaching the small bridge across the stream that marked the boundary of Llanwnda. Fidelma was seated on a fallen log, her horse tethered a short distance away.

He halted and dismounted. ‘Something unusual happened which delayed me,’ he replied.

She examined his features and read the grim lines of his face. ‘Do you wish to tell me about it?’ she inquired.

He glanced towards the apparently deserted buildings of the township. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘Still hiding, I presume. They do not trust the Saxons. I did inform one of Gwnda’s men that they had nothing to fear, I don’t think he believed me.’

The two of them walked their horses side by side across the bridge into the township. Sparing no significant detail, Eadulf quickly told her what had happened and what he had done.

She remained deep in thought for some time after he had finished. ‘That is intriguing,’ she said at last.

Eadulf raised an eyebrow. ‘Intriguing is not the word I would use.’

‘Yet there is no other way to describe this event. Tell me — and do not stand on any false idea of kinship — did you trust this man Osric in all he said?’

Eadulf scowled momentarily. ‘What do you mean by trust?’

‘Did you believe his story? Believe it when he said he was chasing a ship of this Morgan of Gwent and that it was the same ship that sailed into the bay?’

‘I think, insofar as my ability to discern those who are frugal with the truth goes, I would say that he was telling the complete truth. Nor could he understand why the red dragon ship did not destroy him and his men while it had the chance.’

Fidelma nodded swiftly. ‘That is the most remarkable thing. Surely, whoever commanded that ship would know that Osric would not wait around to be attacked further? Why such a futile action? It was obvious, as you concluded, that this Morgan merely meant to dump those bodies in the bay. That the Saxons were intended to be blamed for the slaughter is also obvious. But why?’

‘I have asked myself that question several times on my way here. There is no simple answer.’

‘If these were bodies of the religious of Llanpadern, and if Osric’s men did not raid the community, why would this Morgan do so and why is he trying to place the blame on the Saxons?’

‘I am sure that we have heard the name Morgan recently and I am trying to remember where.’

‘You are right, Eadulf. It was Corryn who mentioned the name last night. But was it the same Morgan?’

‘Good questions, as you have often said. Now we must find good answers.’

‘Exactly so,’ agreed Fidelma cheerfully.

They had halted just beyond Iorwerth’s deserted forge. The pause in their conversation now brought a sound to their ears: the unmistakable noise of galloping horses. Three or four of them, at least. Some instinct made Fidelma motion to Eadulf to follow her and run quickly with her horse round the corner of the building next to the forge.

‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.

She shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.

The thunder of the approaching horses had diminished. The gallop slowed to a trot and then came the sound of their riders pulling up. Fidelma moved to the edge of the building and peered round. Eadulf was surprised when she swiftly pulled back.

‘It’s Clydog!’ she hissed.

Eadulf glanced round, seeking a hiding place or a means of escape.

‘Wait!’ whispered Fidelma, leaning forward to peer round again. ‘He’s not dismounting. He has two men with him.’

To their surprise they heard the door of Iorwerth’s cabin open and heard a well-known voice greet Clydog. It was Iestyn.