Chapter Seventeen
Fidelma was already awake and dressed when Eadulf arose the next morning. She was seated eating a meal of fresh-baked bread and honey washed down by sweet mead. She looked up as he entered and smiled a brief greeting.
‘Is there any sign of Gwnda yet?’ he asked as he sat down and reached for the bread.
When they had returned on the previous evening, the lord of Pen Caer was not in his hall and Buddog told them that she did not expect him to return. He was visiting some friends. So they had eaten a frugal supper and gone directly to bed.
As if on cue, the door opened and Gwnda entered. To their surprise he greeted them with a smile and a civil tone.
‘Elen has spoken to us,’ were Fidelma’s first words.
Gwnda joined them at the table. ‘Did she tell you that it was I who suggested that she do so?’ he asked.
‘She told us that you offered no objection to her telling us the story,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Frankly, I am puzzled. When we last saw you, you were totally opposed to our involvement in this matter.’
The black-bearded lord shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘I might have been wrong in my opinion about Idwal,’ he confessed, yet without any indication of remorse. ‘I felt it best that you hear her story.’
‘You might have been wrong?’ There was a bite to Fidelma’s voice. ‘The boy has been killed.’
‘When my daughter told me her story, I began to see that there could be another explanation for Mair’s death.’
‘Which would mean that Idwal was innocent,’ pointed out Eadulf.
‘It would mean that a great wrong was done to the boy,’ Gwnda admitted, although his tone was hardly that of a penitent. He seemed almost cheerful.
‘A wrong in which you have played both an active and a passive part,’ Eadulf sternly reminded him.
‘If any wrong has been done then I am willing to take my share of the blame in the matter,’ said Gwnda. ‘But the fault first of all lay with the outrage of the mob.’
‘Let us examine your share of the blame,’ Fidelma said. ‘You were the first person on the scene when Mair was murdered and you caught Idwal. What did you say brought you to the woods at that hour?’
Gwnda considered the question. ‘I can’t remember. I was just out riding.’
‘It seems that several people were in those particular woods that morning. Mair and Idwal. Iestyn . . . even Buddog.’
Gwnda’s facial muscles suddenly tightened. His mood seemed to change and for the first time he appeared anxious. ‘The woods span the main track to the south. It is not surprising people were about.’
‘Until your daughter spoke to you, you had no doubts about Idwal’s guilt. But now you have?’
Gwnda shifted his weight again as he considered his words. ‘My daughter has the doubts. I am not convinced that she is right.’
‘Did you come upon Mair and Idwal by accident that morning?’ Fidelma asked.
‘I did. I found Idwal actually bending over her body. That I have said before. I went through the details with Brother Meurig.’
‘Brother Meurig is dead, so tell us what happened that morning again.’
Gwnda shrugged indifferently. ‘I came across Idwal bending over Mair. She was dead. Within moments, I heard the sound of voices raised. Idwal stood up and started to run and so I caught him. Moments later Iorwerth arrived with men from the township. You surely know the rest?’
‘All along, you have maintained that Idwal was guilty. You have even defended his lynching. You refused to let us make inquiries about it. But now . . . now you appear to suddenly change your mind. I cannot help but wonder why?’
‘I am lord of Pen Caer. I am not answerable to you,’ Gwnda responded. ‘Anyway,’ his voice softened, ‘if my daughter’s life is in danger then I am willing to admit a mistake. Didn’t I send for the barnwr to try Idwal in legal fashion?’
‘It did not prevent him from having no trial at all,’ Eadulf observed dryly.
‘Whether he killed Mair or not, I still believe that he killed Brother Meurig in his attempt to escape. Therefore his death was not without justification.’
‘Were you there when he was hanged?’ Eadulf suddenly asked.
Gwnda shook his head vehemently. ‘I did not arrive until afterwards. Someone told me that some of my people had caught the boy and by the time I reached the spot he was dead.’
‘As lord of Pen Caer it is your task to see that justice is done. Yet you seem to have exonerated those who killed him.’
‘I understood their anger against the boy.’
‘But now you say that he might not have been guilty of Mair’s killing?’ pointed out Fidelma.
Gwnda was silent.
‘You were vehemently opposed to our making inquiries into this matter yesterday afternoon, yet a short time later you approved of Elen speaking to us.’
‘There is nothing strange in that. I have not changed my attitude. I still maintain that you have no right to interfere in this matter. You are here only to deal with the mystery of Llanpadern. Nothing has changed. But Elen wished to tell you about Clydog as you seem to have the ear of King Gwlyddien. I do not object to that. As I hope I have made clear, I am willing to listen to Elen’s doubts but my opinion is that Idwal killed Brother Meurig. There is an end to the matter. It is now up to King Gwlyddien to clear the forests of Clydog and his men and resolve this matter of conspiracy which Elen overheard.’
There was a pause before Fidelma sighed as if in realisation that he would tell her no more. ‘We appreciate your help in this, Gwnda. One thing more. What do you make of the meeting to which Elen says she was a witness?’
Gwnda rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. ‘Clydog is a well-known thief in these parts. He and his outlaw band have held sway in the forests of Ffynnon Druidion for several months now. I cannot conceive of any involvement he might have with a religieux. I have no means of knowing what plan they were talking about.’
‘You have told me that nothing is known about Clydog’s background,’ asked Fidelma. ‘If we knew something of that, we might be able to understand something of this matter. What about his compatriot, Corryn? He seems to share the leadership of these outlaws?’
‘I have never heard any stories of him. Only of Clydog.’
Gwnda rose abruptly, signalling an end to the conversation. He glanced through the window and smiled. ‘A clear sky today. There has been no more rain since last night. You will have a good ride back to the abbey of Dewi Sant.’
Fidelma exchanged a look with Eadulf. ‘What gave you the impression that we were returning to the abbey today?’ she inquired.
Gwnda’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he swung round on her. ‘I told you that you would not be welcome here after last night. There is nothing to keep you here.’
‘On the contrary,’ Fidelma said, also rising to her feet. ‘There is much to keep us here.’
She could see Gwnda attempting to control his temper. Just as he was about to articulate his anger there came a shouting outside the door and a moment later it burst open. A youth with wide frightened eyes came into the room with a rush, saw them and skidded to a hold, gasping for breath.
‘A raid!’ he managed to get out after a moment. ‘A raid! Saxon warships.’
‘What do you say?’ gasped Gwnda, staring at the young man. ‘Saxons raiding? Where?’
Eadulf groaned inwardly as he rose to his feet.
‘Can you be more specific?’ Fidelma demanded sharply of the youth. ‘Where are these Saxon warships?’
The young man was agitated and did not reply until Gwnda took him by the arm.
‘Speak, lad!’ he thundered. ‘Where are the Saxons landing?’
‘My father is the cowherd Taloc, my lord. His cattle graze on the pastures at Carregwasted, a few kilometres to the north. You must know it - the old point, overlooking the bay.’
‘Yes, yes. I know it. How many Saxon ships?’ demanded Gwnda i
mpatiently.
‘We were tending the herd beyond when my young sister came running to tell us that a strange ship had entered the bay--’
‘Are you saying there is only one Saxon warship?’ intervened Fidelma.
‘One’s enough,’ cut in Gwnda quickly. ‘Go on, lad. How many warriors? Where are they now?’
The youth looked from one to another in bewilderment, and decided to continue. ‘We went to look at it. My father said it was a Saxon ship, because of the markings on it. He said there was something strange about it.’
‘Something strange about the markings? What?’ interrupted Eadulf.
‘Forget the markings. What happened then?’ urged Gwnda.
‘Some small boats put out from the Saxon ship and came to the rocky beach below. About a score of Saxon warriors with battleaxes and round shields came ashore at the point . . .’
Gwnda groaned loudly. ‘I know the place. There is an easy path up from there. They mean to raid us, and I can only raise half a dozen able-bodied men. We will have to abandon the township; take shelter in the woods.’
Fidelma leant forward towards the youth. ‘Did you see them preparing to come up from the beach?’
The young man shook his head. ‘My father shouted to my sister and mother to take what valuables they could carry and hurry towards the forest shelter where they might hide. He went back to the herd to try to get them to safety while he ordered me to come and warn the township.’
Gwnda stood helplessly. ‘We do not have enough warriors to defend the township,’ he groaned. ‘We must evacuate immediately!’
‘Better that we first attempt to discover their intentions before you send your people into a panicked flight,’ suggested Fidelma.
‘Intentions?’ Gwnda laughed sourly. ‘They are Saxons. What other intentions have they but to rape, pillage and burn. They are barbarians!’
Eadulf flushed. ‘Not all my people are barbarians.’ His voice was tight with anger.
‘I suppose you mean to tell me that your countrymen are here to trade peacefully with us?’ Gwnda sneered.
Eadulf took a threatening step forward. Then he halted, controlling the impulse. ‘We do not know why they are here. Nor will we find out if you run away or attack them.’
‘Have we not learnt from the raid at Llanpadern? Or do you reject the evidence? I suppose you think I should go to the point and politely ask them what they want?’
‘It might be an easier option than what you are suggesting, ’ Eadulf replied without thinking.
‘But not a prudent one,’ Fidelma said, rising and laying a hand on his arm, for she saw that Eadulf’s temper was getting the better of him. She knew that his pent-up anger was caused by the guilt he had been made to feel about his Saxon heritage.
‘If there is no man among the people of Llanwnda to go and meet with these Saxons, then I shall go myself. I shall find out what they want,’ he said.
Gwnda stared at him in surprise for a moment and then he chuckled softly. ‘Of course, you are one of them. You will go to them to save your own neck.’
Fidelma let out an angry hiss and stepped in front of Eadulf, more to protect Gwnda from her companion’s physical rage than to protect Eadulf.
‘That is unworthy of you, Gwnda. Brother Eadulf is a man whom I trust with my life and the lives of everyone in this place.’ She hesitated and turned to Eadulf. ‘It is a good idea that we try to parley with them, whoever they are, or at least get close enough to see what their intentions are.’
Eadulf was still simmering at the insult. ‘I did not make the offer to go from self-interest,’ he growled. ‘But I shall go.’
‘We shall go,’ corrected Fidelma with a smile.
Eadulf shook his head firmly. ‘I go alone. Gwnda is partially right. They are less likely to harm a fellow Saxon if their intention is warlike.’
‘Perhaps,’ Fidelma admitted reluctantly. She could understand his argument. ‘But I will come as far as I can and--’
‘Time is pressing,’ interrupted Gwnda. ‘I shall give the order for the township to be evacuated into the forests. I cannot wait for you to see what these barbarians are about.’
‘You must do as you think fit, Gwnda.’ Fidelma turned to the youth. ‘Boy, point us in the direction of this landing place.’
The youth pointed northwards. ‘Keep going along the northern track until you come to the sea. It is only a kilometre or two, directly to the north. You cannot miss the bay.’
Fidelma and Eadulf went to the stables and saddled their horses. As they left the township, Gwnda had already begun to sound an alarm bell. The place had become a scene of frenetic activity as people ran here and there collecting their children and belongings. Fidelma called to Eadulf: ‘As soon as we come within sight of them, I’ll hang back and you go on. But, for the sake of all you hold dear, Eadulf, please be careful.’
Eadulf gave a quick smile. ‘I do not mean to throw my life away to make a point to that cretin Gwnda.’
‘If you can make contact with these Saxons, try to find out if they were the same ship that was sighted where the brethren from Llanpadern were found and what they know of that raid.’
After that, they followed the path northwards in silence. Beyond an isolated copse, they came within sight of the sea. But it was not the view which halted them. It was a curious rhythmic sound; a musical chant, but not exactly so. There was something almost menacing about it. Eadulf signalled to Fidelma to draw rein and pointed to the shelter of the trees.
‘They are coming,’ he announced quietly. ‘That’s a Saxon war chant. Stay hidden. If anything happens . . . well, ride as if the furies of hell were on your heels.’
Fidelma raised her hand in acknowledgment, turned her horse and walked it in among the cover of the trees.
Eadulf waited until she was well hidden and then began to walk his horse towards the curious percussion-like noise. As he came round the corner of a rise he saw below him what to an untrained eye would look like a strange serpent moving slowly along the path, the sun reflecting off odd scales running along the sides of the monster. To an eye which had beheld the sight before it was a double column of men, large round shields giving protection on both sides so that little could be seen of the warriors who held them. He could make out their horned metal helmets and the double-bladed battleaxes held ready.
The column marched in unison, leather boots stamping the ground. And, with a regular monotony, the arms holding the axes would be raised heavenward before striking the weapons down on the metal shield rims so that the noise was a fierce drum beat, hypnotic, unrelenting. In the pause before the next beat came the cry ‘úp the eorl! úp Eanfrith!’ and then the remorseless bang of axe on shield again. It was unnerving and it was designed to be so. Eadulf was no stranger to the sight of Saxon warriors marching in a battle phalanx and issuing the war-cry calculated to terrify their enemies.
Abruptly the column halted and was silent.
Someone must have seen Eadulf on his horse and given the order. He hoped that no one in the column of warriors was armed with a bow and would decide to use it before he came within shouting range. He guided his horse slowly down towards the waiting column.
‘Welcome, brothers!’ he called, halting about five yards away from the head of it. ‘What do you seek in this land?’
The column stood in silence and then a Saxon voice answered him.
‘Who are you who speaks our tongue?’
‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham in the land of the South Folk.’
‘A Christian?’ The voice was still suspicious.
‘I am.’
‘We are Hwicce!’ came the cold response.
Eadulf felt a coldness go through him. Here were the very people he had told Fidelma about. Saxons whose fighting prowess was legendary and who still clung to the old faith, worshipping Woden the Allfather, chief of the raven clan.
‘I have heard of the Hwicce.’ Eadulf managed a smile. ‘The Hwicce are renowned a
mong all the kingdoms of the Saxons, Angles and Jutes. But the Hwicce I have heard of are brave and generous warriors who are courteous to strangers - even to Christian brothers in strange lands.’
There was a moment’s silence and someone muttered something and then there was a shout of laughter. Eadulf tried not to show his unease.
‘You have a way with words, Eadulf the Christian,’ came the voice. ‘Tell us what you are doing here.’
Eadulf decided to be sparing with the truth. ‘I am travelling with a companion to the kingdom of Kent, to Canterbury. A storm drove my ship ashore here a few days ago.’
‘And you, a Saxon, have encountered no animosity from these Welisc?’ demanded the voice in surprise.
‘I have encountered many expressions of dislike but I have survived. But they are Christian in this land and do not kill without good reason.’
‘Being Saxon is often considered reason enough. Doubtless, your Christian ways make these dogs spare you, Eadulf,’ the voice replied. ‘Tell me, do you know where the Welisc warriors are? Are we likely to be attacked?’
Eadulf thought quickly. Which would be more effective? The truth or some lie claiming that warriors were nearby? He felt it better to be truthful.
‘There are no warriors nearby, Hwicce. This is a land of peaceful shepherds and herders of cattle.’
‘Will you take an oath on that? Swear by the sword of Woden?’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘An oath on the sword of Woden would be meaningless to me. I will swear on the cross of my Christ, though.’
‘Good enough. Do you so swear?’
‘I do. There are no large bands of Welisc warriors within a morning’s ride of us. I swear this by the Holy Cross!’
The column of warriors broke up at a word of command. The shields came down and the phalanx dissolved and Eadulf came face to face with the person whom he had been addressing. The man set down his war shield and took off his helmet. To Eadulf’s surprise, the speaker was a blond-haired youth, certainly not far advanced into his twenties. He had a handsome face, highlighted by deepset eyes so grey as to be almost violet in colour. He was tall, muscular and looked like a man to whom the profession of warrior came naturally. Eadulf took an instant liking to his open, youthful features.
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