‘What do you mean?’ demanded Cathen.
‘The second part of the plan, which Clydog was to fulfil, was where things went badly wrong.’
Clydog, still standing between his guards, interrupted with a sneer. ‘Nothing went wrong except your interference, Saxon!’
Eadulf ignored him. ‘Clydog was to raid one of Dyfed’s religious centres and the news of this and the slaughter of its brothers by Saxon raiders would cause the people of Dyfed to demand swift retribution. Gwlyddien would be forced to march on the Saxons.’
‘But what mistake was made?’ pressed Cathen.
‘As we now know, the community of Llanpadern was chosen for the raid. But Clydog raided the monastic settlement too early. Why? Only Clydog and his men know the answer. Perhaps it was the impatience of his character. Perhaps it was because he had received wrong information and thought the Saxon ship had already arrived. But the Hwicce ship had not yet been sighted off the nearby coast, and it was essential that local people see the ship at the same time that the community was attacked. That was the plan. The raid on Llanpadern worked well. Seeing themselves at the mercy of armed men, the brethren offered no resistance and were not immediately harmed. Clydog looted the valuables in the chapel and also took the livestock, presumably to sell. But the main thing was that Clydog now had prisoners and, according to the plan, had to wait for the Saxon ship to arrive.’
‘I do not see the logic of this,’ intervened Cathen. ‘Why not slaughter the brethren at once? It was a risk to keep prisoners.’
‘A greater risk to slaughter them before it could be shown to the local people that Saxon raiders were present. The entire plan rested on this, as I have said. When no word of the Hwicce ship was brought to Clydog, the prisoners had to be removed from Llanpadern. To keep them there would have been equally foolish. The prisoners were split into two groups; half, with Father Clidro, were taken to Clydog’s forest lair, the other half to Morgan’s ship which lay hidden in a secret cove.’
Cathen was beginning to look angry now. ‘By the living God! My brother was a member of that community. I did not see eye to eye with him but he was my brother. There’ll be vengeance against Ceredigion for this sacrilege.’
‘Let us wait for talk of vengeance until we have seen what happened,’ Eadulf advised. ‘Morgan’s ship, as I say, had arrived and took half of the brethren on board. All twenty-seven members of the community were alive at this point.’
‘Is my brother still alive?’ demanded Cathen.
‘Let me tell this story as best I can,’ insisted Eadulf. ‘Clydog’s major mistake was raiding too early.’
Prince Cathen was shaking his head. ‘In what way was a mistake made? I am not sure I follow this well.’
‘No sooner had Clydog removed the brethren from Llanpadern than first Brother Cyngar and then Idwal arrived and found Llanpadern deserted. There was no sign of an attack on the community. They went off to relay the news of this mystery disappearance. Clydog did not realise this.
‘It was not until the next night that the Hwicce ship, pursuing Morgan, sought shelter in a nearby bay. Nearby, Clydog’s men were watching for its arrival. They had taken seven of their prisoners down to the shore.’
‘Are you going to be able to prove any of this, Saxon?’ interrupted Clydog.
‘Oh, yes.’ Eadulf turned to him with a quick smile. ‘As the Saxon ship anchored, two men came ashore from her. You and your men attacked them and succeeded in taking one of them prisoner. This was an unexpected bonus. You had a real Saxon warrior in your hands.
‘You and your men waited until dawn, hiding nearby. As you hoped or planned, some local people came along and spotted the Saxon ship which then set sail. It was then, Clydog, that you ordered seven of your prisoners to be slaughtered and left on the foreshore. Proof that they had been killed by Saxons was placed by their bodies. Are we correct so far, Clydog?’
The Ceredigion prince was disdainful. ‘You do not need my approbation, Saxon, for your fanciful tale. Where is your proof?’
‘Prince Cathen,’ Fidelma interrupted, speaking to the prince of Dyfed. ‘I wish to make an unusual request. I would like Clydog taken to the back of the court and gagged so that he cannot interfere until I am ready.’
‘That is not legal . . .’ protested Cathen.
‘But necessary, I assure you,’ insisted Fidelma, glancing meaningfully to Eadulf who nodded briefly.
Cathen sighed and gestured to Cadell to cut off the voluble protest that had arisen from Clydog.
‘What now?’ Cathen demanded when Fidelma’s request had been fulfilled. She turned to Eadulf and gestured for him to continue.
‘Bring forth Sualda,’ he called.
A moment later, the thin, pale-faced man whom Eadulf had treated when he had been near death at Clydog’s camp came cautiously into the hall.
‘Give Prince Cathen your name,’ invited Eadulf.
The man was hesitant. ‘I am Sualda, in the service of lord Clydog of Ceredigion.’
‘Do you recognise me?’ asked Eadulf.
‘We spoke last night.’
‘But before that?’
‘I do not recall, except that last night you said you were the man who treated my wound when I was near death in the forest camp.’
‘How did you get that wound?’
‘A Saxon gave it me.’
‘This Saxon was a sailor whom Clydog’s men had captured one night when he came ashore from a Saxon boat near Llanferran?’
The man hesitated and then nodded.
‘We have heard,’ Eadulf said, ‘how Clydog had taken some of the religious from Llanpadern to that spot and had them killed.’ He prayed that Cathen would say nothing to disabuse Sualda of the false impression that the matter had been established.
‘I was not one of those who killed the religious,’ muttered the man quickly. ‘I was guarding the Saxon prisoner when that happened.’
Eadulf exchanged a triumphant glance with Fidelma. The ruse had worked. A confession had been made.
‘So tell us what happened. After the religious were killed, what then?’
‘We were ordered to march back to Llanpadern. Clydog told us that we had to make it look as though the Saxons had attacked the community there.’
‘But you did not. Why?’
‘Lord Corryn was waiting for us and he was angry when he saw us. He said that the bodies of some religious had to be left at Llanpadern. He had the old priest, Father Clidro, with him. We . . . that is . . . well, he hanged the old man in the barn while Clydog and his men went off to fetch the rest of the prisoners we had left under guard in the forest.’
‘And the Saxon sailor?’
‘He had been brought with us to Llanpadern.’
‘How did he die?’
‘It was while the lords Clydog and Corryn were arguing about the bodies of the religious that the Saxon escaped. I was told to go after him. That was when I was wounded. I chased him into the room where the religious ate. He seized a meat knife and cut me and I killed him with my sword. As I was being carried back to camp with lord Corryn’s warriors, I heard that our men had killed the rest of the prisoners and were taking them by cart back to Llanpadern. By then, I was beyond caring. I had gone into a fever.’
Eadulf was smiling. ‘Clydog did not appear to be aware of the fact that time was important. By the time he returned to Llanpadern to fake the scene of the attack, he found another problem. Sister Fidelma and myself.’
Prince Cathen called for the release of Clydog, and Sualda was removed to one side.
‘Well, do you wish to deny anything, Clydog of Ceredigion? What I have heard is a twisted plan arising from a twisted mind,’ Cathen observed. ‘It was diabolical.’
Clydog stood in defiant humour. ‘My first instinct was to kill the Saxon and the Gwyddel. I should have obeyed my instinct.’
‘Your plan did not work,’ Cathen replied coldly. ‘There was confusion and, above all, King Gwlyddien has not raised a
host to march on the Saxons. Brother Eadulf seems to be telling us that it was your mistakes that caused this.’
‘You are right,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘However, King Artglys of Ceredigion was increasingly frustrated that no movement was happening, no calls for vengeance against the Saxons. He had already sent one of his men to meet with his son Clydog. That was the meeting observed by Elen in the forest. It had been agreed then to leave some of the brethren with Morgan of Gwent in case just such a contingency should arise, and now Artglys decided to prompt matters by sending the same messenger to order Morgan to put some more slaughtered brethren of Llanpadern in a conspicuous place. It was sheer coincidence that Elen saw him again as he was passing through Llanwnda on his way to Morgan’s ship.
‘Morgan had enticed the Hwicce vessel into pursuit, but the Saxon ship had lost its mast in a storm during the chase. It put in here to cut a new mast, and by another coincidence I was able to witness Morgan’s ship put into the bay and toss the dead bodies of the brethren overboard, with items which would lay blame on the Hwicce.’
Clydog started to laugh harshly. ‘This Saxon is trying to absolve his fellow Saxons from blame. Don’t listen. The Saxons killed these religious.’
Prince Cathen smiled coldly at him. ‘You already stand convicted out of your own mouth and that of your man Sualda. But tell me, Brother Eadulf, why did the Ceredigion not slaughter all the religious prisoners at once? Why divide them into groups?’
Fidelma moved forward again.
‘To use to mislead people. Some were left dead on the shore; some would have been left at Llanpadern itself had Eadulf and myself not been present to frustrate the plan; and others were kept in reserve to fabricate just such a drama as they presented to stir the people to hatred against an imagined enemy. Brother Eadulf and I have estimated that Morgan may still hold captive half a dozen of the brethren of Llanpadern.’
‘Indeed,’ added Eadulf, ‘it was lucky for us that Morgan neglected to ensure that all the religious were dead when he tossed them overboard. One of them was still alive.’
Eadulf did not lie. He merely did not explain that the poor religious had died before he could identify those responsible for the deed.
Clydog blinked rapidly as he absorbed this news, and Prince Cathen leaned forward in his chair.
‘Do you still deny this, Clydog?’
The Ceredigion prince raised his chin disdainfully. ‘It is war, that’s all,’ he suddenly said, as if dismissing any wrongdoing.
Cathen’s face was working with anger. ‘War? The brothers of the community of Llanpadern have been murdered! My own brother Rhun, old Father Clidro, whom I knew well, and others sacrificed by those involved in this devilish plot! Blood must answer for blood! Did you and your father Artglys really think that this twisted plan would work? Even had Ceredigion marched into Dyfed, do you think that no one in the kingdom would have fought back against them once Artglys declared himself ruler of Dyfed?’
‘It was even more subtle than that,’ Sister Fidelma said in a quiet voice.
‘More subtle?’ queried Cathen. ‘How so?’
‘The plot needed someone inside Dyfed to rally the people in support. There are several minor traitors ready to sell themselves to Ceredigion. Iestyn, for example.’
‘I was no traitor!’ cried Iestyn from the seat where one of Cathen’s men still had him confined. ‘Gwlyddien was weak. It was time we had a new ruler.’
Fidelma ignored him but signalled Cadell.
A moment later, Cadell ushered in the tall figure of Corryn, still wearing his war helmet.
‘Remove your helmet,’ she ordered.
When Corryn hesitated, Cadell reached forward and did so for him.
Cathen started up from his chair, a hand to his breast, staring at Corryn. The outlaw, now displaying a tonsure, his bright violet eyes defiant, smiled cynically back.
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf in satisfaction before returning her gaze to Corryn.
‘And how would you like to be known in this court?’ she asked. ‘As Corryn the Spider, as Brother Rhun of Llanpadern or as the Prince Rhun of Dyfed?’
Corryn shrugged indifferently. ‘It makes no matter. It would seem that we have reached a checkmate . . . for the time being.’
Fidelma turned to Prince Cathen. ‘The final mystery is solved,’ she announced. ‘Why was there no confusion amongst the brethren when Clydog arrived? Why no sign of attack? Because Brother Rhun was able to exert his authority over his fellow monks to persuade them to submit passively to Clydog and his men. Their blood is on his hands.’
Cathen sat back heavily in his chair, regarding his brother with a shocked and anguished expression. ‘Is this true, Rhun? Have you plotted with Ceredigion, the enemies of this kingdom, to overthrow our father and seize power? Even now I cannot believe it. Did you really support this terrible plot?’
Corryn smiled crookedly. ‘You were always gullible, little brother. He that does not bear adversity for a while does not deserve prosperity. I was able to bear my adversity in the attempt to gain the prize that I desired. I spent many months in the preparation of this plan. That was why I left court and pretended to become a religious. God, how bored I was with the passing months in that close confinement of Llanpadern. The moment when I was at last summoned to meet Clydog and his father’s messenger in the woods of Ffynnon Druidion was one of the happiest of my life.’
Cathen shook his head in disbelief. Then his face hardened. ‘They say that there is no action more malicious than treachery, Rhun. You have set yourself up as a fox in lamb’s clothing. I must bring you before our father so that he may see your spite and deceit. Only that will keep you alive for a little while longer. If it were left to myself, you would be thrown over the nearest cliff.’
Corryn seemed unperturbed. ‘It might be better for you if you do so. This feeble kingdom cannot last indefinitely against the ambition of Ceredigion. Non semper erit aestas!’
Brother glowered at brother for a moment and then Cathen motioned to his men, pointing at Corryn.
‘Take . . . that from my sight.’
As they propelled the erstwhile religious to the door, Cathen suddenly called: ‘Perhaps it is you, Rhun, who should consider well that line of Seneca which you throw about so freely. Truly, it will not always be summer. The day of reckoning will come shortly for you. Let your friends, the Ceredigion, attempt to invade now . . . we will be ready for them. They will be driven away, as we have driven them away in the past; driven away like smoke in the wind.’
Epilogue
‘I think that you made a splendid presentation, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said approvingly.
The coast of Dyfed was disappearing in the distance as they stood resting against the taffrail of the Frankish trading ship beating its way southwards across St Bride’s Bay. It was a satisfying feeling to sense the bounce of the hull against the waves; see the rise and dip of the vanishing coastline; hear the crack of the thin leather sails, as they filled with the changeable winds which were now set fair for their passage. The captain had promised them that their next landfall would be at Tanatos, the island off the coast of the kingdom of Kent. They now had a few days to do nothing but enjoy the voyage. They felt relaxed and happy.
‘I was guided by you,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘You were the one who spotted the similarity of facial features between Corryn and Cathen. What made you suspect Corryn of being Brother Rhun? Just the resemblance?’
‘Not only that. I was sure that I had seen Corryn’s features before. Those blue eyes of his should have made me realise sooner. But why did he always wear that war helmet? Obviously to hide his tonsure.
‘And there was his attitude. You remember that he was supposed to be Clydog’s lieutenant and yet many times he seemed to be in charge? He was certainly Clydog’s equal. However, what clinched my suspicions was when you reported the words of the dying religious on the beach.’
Eadulf shook his head, trying to recall. ‘I thought that the man was raving, p
oor fellow.’
‘He was telling you something in among his dying thoughts. He said that evil had been in their midst. The evil spider. Brother Rhun was the evil in their midst. He had taken the nickname Corryn, and what does that mean?’
Eadulf groaned inwardly. ‘Spider.’
‘Just so,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘Anyway, you were the one who healed Sualda. Sualda proved to be the weak link, for without him we might never have known what happened to the Hwicce warrior.’
‘Ah, Thaec. At least he did meet his end with a blade in his hand, believing he was being dispatched to the Hall of Heroes. I suppose you are right. Without Sualda, Clydog could have kept his mouth shut or denied everything. How did you guess that Clydog was the son of Artglys?’
‘He was not an ordinary outlaw, that was for sure. Like Corryn, he was well read, educated. Then I remembered that Cathen had mentioned that Artglys had a son. It was guesswork, but guesses are often a short cut to the truth.’
‘What will happen to Clydog? He is an evil man.’
‘He is also a prince of Ceredigion. I suppose he will be held as a hostage against King Artglys’s future good behaviour. Perhaps Artglys might offer the remaining missing brethren of Llanpadern in exchange for the return of his son; perhaps even the missing valuables from the chapel.’
‘And what of the fate of Rhun, the renegade?’
‘I have no doubt what Cathen would like to do with his ambitious sibling. But the decision will be Gwlyddien’s. Although while Rhun remains alive, he will be a constant threat to his father and brother.’
Eadulf pursed his lips. ‘It was amazing that he had no compunction about slaughtering his own religious companions at Llanpadern.’
Smoke in the Wind Page 31
