Smoke in the Wind

by Peter Tremayne

  Fidelma motioned the girl to a chair by her. Automatically, Elen obeyed the unspoken order and sat down. When she had done so she repeated with emphasis: ‘Is it true?’

  ‘It is true that Brother Meurig was hacked to death in the woodsman’s hut in the forest. However, it is not true that we are looking for Idwal to kill him. Indeed, your father made plain that we have no role in the matter. Nevertheless, we would like to find Idwal if only for his own safety.’

  The girl remained silent for a moment. ‘Brother Meurig told me that you were a famous lawyer from Cashel.’

  ‘When did you speak with Brother Meurig?’ asked Fidelma.

  The girl pouted thoughtfully. ‘He asked me some questions yesterday before I left.’

  ‘Before you left?’

  ‘I have just returned from Cilau and heard the news in the township.’

  ‘Cilau?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘I seem to have heard the name before.’

  ‘It is a small settlement not far from here. I have a cousin there,’ explained the girl. ‘I left there at midday to get here before dark.’

  ‘Did you know that Brother Meurig was going into the forest?’

  ‘I knew that he planned to go to the forest this morning to see where Mair was killed,’ Elen agreed.

  ‘Did you know that he was taking Idwal?

  ‘Didn’t he need Idwal to show him the spot where Mair was murdered?’

  ‘As I recall, you did not believe Idwal killed your friend Mair?’

  ‘Idwal would not harm anyone. You spoke with him so you must know that he is a simple youth. Simple but nice . . . and he is so gentle. Sometimes, when a sheep or lamb under his care falls from a rock and injures itself, he can hardly bring himself to kill it. Only the fact that life is a greater misery with the pain of its injury gives him the courage to do so.’

  ‘You really like Idwal, then?’ Fidelma remarked encouragingly.

  ‘I know that he could not kill Mair.’

  ‘Have you heard that your father is convinced he killed Brother Meurig?’

  ‘My father never liked Idwal. I do not believe he could kill Brother Meurig any more than he could kill Mair.’

  ‘You seem to be thinking with your heart rather than with your head,’ Eadulf observed dryly. ‘Emotion is no judge of the facts.’

  Fidelma knew that there was an implied rebuke to her in his words and she looked at him quickly, but he did not catch her eye.

  ‘There is another question I would like to ask you, Elen, before we proceed,’ Fidelma said. ‘The servant, Buddog. She disliked your friend Mair very much. Has she been in this household a long time?’

  ‘Since before I was born,’ asserted Elen. ‘Poor Buddog.’

  ‘Poor? Why so?’

  ‘She is my father’s mistress. But I think that my father has now grown tired of her.’

  Fidelma relaxed a little. This explained much about Buddog’s attitude.

  ‘How well do you really know Idwal, Elen?’ Eadulf asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  The girl considered the question and then understood its deeper meaning. Her eyes widened. ‘I am not . . .’ She hesitated. ‘There is nothing between us, nothing sexual that is. Nor will there ever be. He is just a simple, friendly boy for whom many feel sorrow. He is four years older than I am. He was abandoned in his youth and raised by a shepherd . . . Iestyn’s brother, but I forget his name.’

  ‘We have heard Idwal’s story,’ cut in Eadulf sharply. ‘Your relationship is no more than that?’

  The girl flushed in annoyance. ‘I have said so.’

  ‘It seems curious,’ Fidelma said slowly, ‘that you are so adamant that Idwal could not have killed your friend Mair and that this opinion is based on no more than your feelings about the youth. I would imagine that we all have the propensity within us to kill if the circumstances were right. What I mean is that if we were outraged enough, or pushed into it by an overriding necessity which was more urgent than our moral code . . .’

  ‘I cannot imagine any circumstances in which Idwal would be driven to such rage that he would do such a thing,’ Elen replied firmly.

  Fidelma regarded the girl thoughtfully. She appeared sincere enough. ‘Tell me more about your friend Mair.’

  Elen looked disconcerted for a moment. ‘What would you want to know?

  ‘How long had you known her?’

  ‘We grew up together. Here in this small township everyone knew everyone else, especially children growing up. Mair and I were the only two girls of our age. We almost looked alike and a few times visitors thought we were sisters.’

  ‘I believe that you know that Idwal is not guilty of the crime he is accused of for another reason . . . another than simply a vague emotion of your heart.’

  Fidelma made her suggestion without preamble, surprising Eadulf.

  Elen was quiet, and Fidelma decided to explain further.

  ‘When Idwal was accused of raping Mair and taking her virginity, you knew that was not the case, didn’t you?’

  The girl shrugged. ‘Mair was not a virgin,’ she agreed. ‘She told me so many months ago.’

  ‘If Mair had a lover, the loss of her virginity is not a factor for compensation under the law, as her father is claiming.’

  ‘How did you know about her lover?’ Elen asked curiously.

  ‘Because Idwal implied it without intending to do so.’

  ‘Idwal is not artful enough to keep a secret for long,’ she agreed. ‘Did he tell you who it was?’

  ‘He would not even have told us that Mair had a lover if I had not drawn it out of him by a ruse,’ replied Fidelma. ‘He refused to give a name. He said that he had sworn an oath to Mair not to tell who it was. She wanted a certain message delivered. Idwal refused to take it. That letter was to her lover.’

  Elen lowered her head sadly. ‘He is a very moral boy. That’s a further reason why he could not have killed Mair.’

  ‘Granted that, do you know who this lover was?’

  ‘I do not. She was very secretive. She only told me of how it was, that first night. You know, the way girls talk about their relationships. The way it felt. Mair was very cynical. She was actually poking fun at this nameless lover. She told me that he was very clumsy and not at all expert in the techniques of love.’

  ‘And was Mair such an expert at the techniques of love?’ inquired Eadulf cynically.

  Fidelma suddenly leant forward towards the girl, her eyes searching. ‘Brother Eadulf does have a point. This conversation you say you had with Mair, was that truly the time when she lost her virginity or had she had experiences before?’

  Elen considered the question carefully, realising the implication, and then she shook her head. ‘At the time, she was boasting about losing her virginity. She was always a flirt. Always attracted to men - older men at that. As I recall, it was the first time that she had talked about sex, but I think she was implying that her lover was elderly and clumsy and that she felt superior to him.’

  ‘Elderly?’ Fidelma sat back thoughtfully. ‘As Mair was very young, it might be someone who was merely older than she was.’

  ‘Elen, you have absolutely no idea who this man was?’ demanded Eadulf.

  Elen shook her head firmly.

  ‘Think carefully,’ he pressed. ‘This might be the very man who killed her if, as you claim, your friend Idwal did not.’

  ‘I do not think Mair’s lover killed her.’

  Eadulf was sardonic. ‘Another emotional deduction, I presume?’

  ‘Not so,’ replied the girl with some spirit. ‘You see, I believe that I was supposed to be the victim that day.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was a moment of utter silence. Even as Fidelma was about to form the question that Elen’s statement obviously demanded, there was a noise outside the room. Gwnda came through the door and paused. He looked anxious.

  ‘They have--’ he began, saw Elen and stopped abruptly. Then he said: ‘Elen, please leave us.’
>
  ‘But, father, what--’ the girl began to protest.

  Gwnda stamped his foot on the floor, a strangely petulant action which caused Fidelma some amused surprise. She had heard of people stamping their feet in annoyance but this was the first time she had actually observed such a demonstration of emotion.

  ‘Go to your room, at once!’

  Reluctantly, the girl rose, glanced at Fidelma with a look which seemed to indicate that she wanted to continue the conversation with her, and withdrew.

  Gwnda waited until she had gone. ‘I didn’t want the girl to hear,’ he explained brusquely.

  ‘That much was obvious,’ Fidelma assured him dryly. ‘What is it that Elen should not hear?’

  ‘The boy--’

  ‘Do you mean Idwal?’ Eadulf interrupted.

  ‘Idwal. He has been found.’

  Fidelma rose immediately. ‘Then we need to ask him some questions immediately,’ she said decisively.

  Eadulf was also rising when Gwnda made a negative gesture.

  ‘It is too late for questions. I said that the people would be angry when they heard of Brother Meurig’s death. Iorwerth and Iestyn led the crowd. They . . . they have lynched the boy.’

  ‘Is he dead?’ asked Fidelma after a pause. She realised that the question was superfluous as soon as it came to her lips. Of course the boy was dead. Gwnda’s face confirmed it.

  ‘I have rebuked Iorwerth and Iestyn for what they have done,’ said the lord of Pen Caer. ‘I have accepted that it was not done within the law. But I believe it was a just outcome and will explain as much to King Gwlyddien’s chief barnwr. The boy is dead. That ends this sad affair.’

  ‘Does it?’ Fidelma’s anger was clear in her voice. Eadulf shifted his weight uncomfortably.

  ‘It is, indeed, a sad story,’ Gwnda went on, oblivious of the glitter in her eyes. ‘I am only sorry that the matter resulted in the death of such a learned barnwr as Brother Meurig.’

  ‘That is certainly to be regretted.’ Fidelma’s voice was dangerously brittle.

  Gwnda clapped his hands and Buddog entered a moment later. He demanded mead be brought.

  ‘I have had the boy’s body taken to Elisse the apothecary. He will see to it that the boy is buried properly. At least, here is an end to the matter,’ he said, seating himself. ‘My daughter knew Idwal,’ he added, as if by way of explanation. ‘I didn’t want her to hear what happened just yet.’

  ‘She will soon find out,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  ‘Indeed, but I will find a gentler way of telling her. I needed to tell you both immediately.’

  ‘It is outrageous that people have taken the law into their own hands,’ Fidelma said, her anger a little more under control now. Eadulf had thought she was going to explode in fury but she seemed to be fighting the emotion. ‘Do you still intend to prohibit me from making inquiries about the death of Mair and Brother Meurig?’

  Gwnda seemed astonished. ‘Inquiries? But we have resolved this matter. Not in accordance with law, but it is resolved.’

  ‘I have not resolved it.’

  Gwnda frowned in irritation. ‘I have already told you that you have no jurisdiction in this. The matter, so far as I am concerned, is now ended. I will send to the abbey of Dewi Sant to inform the court.’

  Fidelma stood with head bowed in thought. ‘Very well; yet you have no objection to my pursuing inquiries about Llanpadern.’

  Gwnda was suspicious. ‘You know I do not. You have the permission of the king.’

  ‘Then I shall continue to pursue those inquiries.’ She turned and motioned to Eadulf to accompany her, leaving Gwnda gazing in annoyed perplexity.

  Outside Eadulf examined her with a baffled expression. ‘What was that supposed to mean?’ he asked.

  Fidelma smiled wanly. ‘I intend to question Iorwerth and Iestyn.’

  ‘But Gwnda said--’

  ‘Gwnda said that he had no objection to my pursuing inquiries concerning Llanpadern. You will recall that Idwal passed through Llanpadern on the morning Mair was murdered. What concerns Llanpadern might concern Idwal.’

  She turned into the kitchen and sought Buddog. ‘Where can I find the lady Elen?’ she asked.

  The blonde woman shook her head. ‘She left the house when her father arrived. I do not know where she has gone.’

  Fidelma compressed her lips in annoyance but thanked the woman.

  ‘A pity,’ she said to Eadulf after they had left the kitchen and stood outside in the yard. ‘I want to hear what she meant by saying Mair was killed in mistake for her. Until we can find her, let us go down to Iorwerth’s forge and have a word with this outraged smith.’

  Eadulf moved reluctantly after her. ‘I doubt if Gwnda is going to interpret matters in the same light.’

  ‘Probably not,’ agreed Fidelma briefly. ‘That is why I still want you to ride to the abbey of Dewi Sant tomorrow and secure Gwlyddien’s authority for me. Gwnda’s prohibition must be cancelled. In the meantime, let us see what Iorwerth says about Idwal’s death before you leave.’

  Eadulf was glum. ‘I do not like to leave you here on your own.’

  ‘But the permission of Gwlyddien is now necessary and urgent.’

  There were several people about in the township as they walked from Gwnda’s hall down to the forge. It was late afternoon and there was a hint of dusk approaching. Many of the people they met now avoided eye contact and hung their heads, scuttling away into their houses.

  ‘The madness of the lynch mob has been dispelled,’ Eadulf commented cynically. ‘Now they feel their individual guilt at taking a human life.’

  ‘And that guilt will only last a day or two before they begin to find justification for their actions,’ agreed Fidelma.

  As they came upon Iorwerth’s forge they saw a horse tethered outside. A figure that seemed familiar was dismounting and untying a heavy saddle bag. The young man turned at their approach. Fidelma recognised the son of Goff the smith whom they had encountered earlier that morning.

  ‘Dewi!’

  The young man greeted them with a smile. ‘I thought that I might see you here,’ he said.

  ‘But what are you doing at Iorwerth’s forge?’ asked Eadulf, his eye falling to the heavy saddle bags.

  ‘My father promised Iorwerth some gold to work with in his forge. I have come to deliver it.’

  ‘Do you have any objection to that, Gwyddel?’ snapped a voice angrily.

  Iorwerth, the thickset smith, was standing at the door of his cabin with his muscular arms flexing, a pair of tongs clenched almost menacingly in one hand.

  Fidelma smiled softly. ‘Why should I have any objection?’

  Iorwerth looked disconcerted. ‘What are you hanging about my forge for, anyway?’ he demanded ungraciously.

  ‘We have come to have a talk with you. But we have no objection to you concluding your business with Dewi first.’

  Iorwerth looked doubtfully from Fidelma to Dewi and back again. ‘How do you know this Gwyddel, Dewi?’ he demanded gruffly.

  ‘We met Dewi at his father’s forge this morning,’ Fidelma intervened innocently. ‘Does that worry you? Or is there any other information you would like?’

  Iorwerth glowered at her, not sure how he should answer.

  ‘Can you read, Iorwerth?’ was her next unexpected question.

  Iorwerth’s expression was not pretty. ‘I have no call for reading,’ he replied gruffly.

  ‘A pity. Dyfed is known as a literate kingdom. However, perhaps Dewi here can read . . . ?’

  The young man flushed a little in embarrassment. ‘Father Clidro taught me,’ he affirmed.

  Solemnly Fidelma took out a piece of vellum from her marsupium and handed it to him. ‘Perhaps you could tell Iorwerth what this says. I fear that if I tell him he will not trust me to tell the truth.’

  Iorwerth’s eyes narrowed in continued annoyance.

  The young man took the vellum and read quickly through it. ‘You showed this to my fat
her. It is a commission from King Gwlyddien.’

  ‘Saying what?’ prompted Fidelma.

  ‘Saying that you act on his authority and advising everyone to co-operate with you . . .’

  Fidelma reached forward and took the vellum from Dewi’s fingers. ‘Do you understand that, Iorwerth?’ she asked.

  Eadulf found himself hiding a smile at her sleight of hand. He knew that she had not allowed the young man to read out that the co-operation related to the specific inquiry about Llanpadern.

  The smith’s jaw came up stubbornly.

  Dewi was apologetic. ‘It is what the words say, Iorwerth, and I have seen the king’s seal often before at the abbey of Dewi Sant when I have delivered father’s work there.’

  The smith remained hesitant but then admitted defeat. ‘If that is what the words say,’ he conceded reluctantly, ‘I will answer your questions.’

  ‘When you have finished your business with Dewi,’ Fidelma told him, ‘we will go inside your cabin and talk.’

  The young man unslung his saddle bag and handed it to Iorwerth. ‘There is little business to conduct, Sister,’ he announced. ‘I merely came to deliver the pieces of gold that my father promised Iorwerth for his forge.’

  Iorwerth took the bag and emptied out the pieces of metal, looking more like jagged rocks than precious gold.

  ‘Excellent,’ Iorwerth said as he examined them. ‘It is as agreed. Give my salutations to your father, Dewi.’

  The youth returned the courtesy and turned towards his horse while Iorwerth said to Fidelma: ‘You may enter and tell me what you want of me.’

  As Fidelma was about to follow him, Eadulf said: ‘I will join you in a moment. I just want a word with Dewi.’

  She raised an eyebrow to show her curiosity. Eadulf caught her gaze and half nodded towards a corner of Iorwerth’s forge. She just had time to control her surprise. In a corner was a figure of a man made of twists of straw. It was not the same but it was similar to the straw man which they had found in the chapel of Llanpadern.

  ‘Well, Sister?’ Iorwerth was demanding as he stood at the door of his cabin. She recovered from her astonishment and joined him, and he led the way into his small living quarters. The space was claustrophobic and dark. She had to bend slightly, for she was tall and her head almost connected with the low beams. The heat of the fire was almost stifling. Fidelma did not wait for Iorwerth to ask her to be seated, for she knew that she would wait in vain.