Smoke in the Wind sf-11

by Peter Tremayne

  Gwnda gestured with one hand, a curious motion as if dismissing matters. ‘My own people, stupid and misguided, imprisoned me and my household here. Then they seized the prisoner and intended to execute him.’

  Brother Meurig’s expression was bleak. ‘That is outrageous. They imprisoned you and your family and took the boy from your custody by force? It is unheard of.’

  The lord of Pen Caer’s features formed into a grim smile.

  ‘If it was unheard of, then I fear that it will now be a chronicler’s historical note. Iorwerth, who led this stupid attempt, was the father of the girl whom the boy, Idwal, raped and murdered. It is understandable that vengeance was his motivation. I cannot be harsh on him.’

  ‘Then you are most charitable,’ observed Brother Meurig.

  Fidelma intervened, however, her voice sharp. ‘It sounds as though you have already judged the youth’s guilt, Gwnda. What need did you have of a barnwr?’

  Gwnda turned a patronising smile on her. ‘I observe that you are a stranger to our country, Sister. I should be most happy to explain the law later. Law is a complicated business.’

  Brother Meurig coughed dryly as if embarrassed for Fidelma. ‘Lord Gwnda, Sister Fidelma is not only blood sister to the king of Cashel, but she is also a qualified dálaigh, of equivalent rank to me in her own country. It is to her that Gwlyddien, our king, has turned with his personal commission to seek a solution to the mystery of what transpired at Llanpadern.’

  Gwnda flushed and made a non-committal sound.

  ‘You have not answered my question,’ pressed Fidelma without mercy. ‘It seems, from what you have said, that you have already concluded that the boy is guilty.’

  The lord of Pen Caer appeared uncomfortable for a moment. ‘I sent for the barnwr because I believe that one should follow the law. However, my opinion is that the boy is guilty.’

  One of the women interrupted by bringing in a tray of refreshments, which she placed on the table. Gwnda took the opportunity to motion them to take seats there. There were cuts of meat, cheeses, savoury cakes and oat bread among the dishes. Jugs of mead and fresh water were added to the meal.

  Fidelma took the opportunity of this distraction to ask Eadulf if he were able to follow the conversation well enough. Eadulf was able to understand the general flow, but he confessed that he was too unsure of his knowledge to actually take part in any more tangible form than as a listener.

  Gwnda had restarted the conversation. ‘So you have been sent to solve the riddle of the disappearing community? ’ he said, addressing Fidelma.

  ‘You have been told about it?’ asked Brother Meurig. ‘Llanpadern is only three kilometres from here. We saw and heard nothing until one of our shepherds came by and told us the news.’ He was suddenly thoughtful. ‘In fact,’ he confided, ‘it was Idwal who came through the township and told my servant that the community had disappeared. That was on the very morning that he killed Mair.’

  ‘Did you send anyone there to confirm his story?’

  Gwnda shook his head. ‘By the time Buddog, my servant, told me what Idwal had told her, the murder of Mair had taken place. Idwal was a prisoner. Our concerns were about him and that was when I sent to the abbey for a judge. It was not until this morning that I was reminded about Llanpadern. Of course, it was then too late.’

  ‘Too late? What do you mean?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘You do not know?’ Gwnda seemed surprised. ‘Young Dewi, son of Goff the smith at Llanferran, came to the township this morning and told us that the community had been carried off by sea-raiders. Some of their bodies had been left on the shore nearby. They were probably slain while trying to escape.’

  The news silenced them.

  Brother Meurig asked quietly: ‘Was Brother Rhun among those who were slain?’

  ‘I don’t know. Young Dewi said that the folk at Llanferran buried the corpses of the dead brothers. If Brother Rhun had been among them, I am sure that he would have said.’

  ‘And did this Dewi of Llanferran identify who these sea-raiders were?’ Fidelma quietly asked.

  ‘Oh yes. They were Saxons.’

  Chapter Five

  The ensuing silence was broken only by Eadulf’s stirring uncomfortably. He had been able to follow the conversation clearly. He avoided Fidelma’s eyes.

  ‘This lad called Dewi, is he a reliable witness?’ Gwnda inclined his head in affirmation. ‘His father, Goff, is well respected. His forge, at Llanferran, is not far from here should you wish to confirm the story.’

  ‘Did you have much contact with the community at Llanpadern?’

  ‘Not really. I knew the Father Superior, Father Clidro, fairly well. He was a charitable man, a holy man and a good scholar. But we did not trade much with the brethren.’

  ‘You say that it was Idwal who first brought you the news?’ Fidelma finally asked reflectively. ‘That must have been two days ago?’

  ‘He told my servant Buddog that the community had vanished.’

  ‘I shall need to speak with Idwal about what he saw.’

  ‘He is not a reliable witness,’ Gwnda said sarcastically.

  Fidelma’s eyebrows rose a little at the assertion. ‘On what do you base that statement? His present predicament? ’

  ‘Not at all. Idwal claimed that the community had simply vanished. Puff! Like smoke in the wind. That there were no signs of violence. If the Saxons raided Llanpadern, as Dewi reported, then there would be some sign of their attack.’

  Fidelma considered the matter. She did not refer to the fact that Idwal’s story was the same as that told by Brother Cyngar.

  ‘Is it unusual that Idwal would be at Llanpadern that morning?’ she asked.

  ‘Unusual? No, the boy is an itinerant shepherd and is often wandering the hills.’

  ‘Are you sure, forgive me for asking again, that he brought the news on the same morning that he is supposed to have raped and killed this girl?’ Eadulf interposed for the first time in the conversation. It was also the first time that he had spoken in the language of Dyfed. It was harsh and accented, the grammar not quite polished. But it was understandable. Gwnda regarded him in surprise.

  ‘Ah, and I thought you were dumb, Saxon. Yet you do speak. Not well, but you speak nevertheless.’

  ‘Brother Eadulf is an emissary of the Archbishop of Canterbury,’ Fidelma pointed out sharply. ‘And my trusted companion. He speaks several languages.’

  Gwnda smirked in a patronising manner. ‘I had heard that there was a new archbishop among the Jutes of Canterbury. A Greek, isn’t he?’

  ‘Perhaps we should continue with the investigation first before exchanging gossip,’ said Fidelma. ‘I believe Brother Eadulf asked a question.’

  The lord of Pen Caer shrugged indifferently. ‘Indeed, Brother Saxon. It was on the same morning on which Idwal raped and killed Mair.’

  ‘A coincidence?’ pressed Eadulf.

  ‘What else, my Saxon friend? What else?’

  Brother Meurig cleared his throat noisily. ‘There is time enough to attend to the mystery at Llanpadern tomorrow,’ he said in a censorial tone. ‘I have a more pressing matter to pursue, and would like to hear more of this murder. Perhaps, Gwnda, you would outline the story as you know it?’

  ‘As I know it?’

  ‘The facts, as you know them. In the first place, who was murdered?’

  Gwnda sat back in his chair, his hands folded before him. ‘A girl called Mair was murdered. As you now know, she was the daughter of Iorwerth, our local smith. She was his only daughter. In fact, his only child. She meant much to Iowerth as his wife is also dead. Mair was young, sixteen years old. And she was a virgin.’

  Brother Meurig clicked his tongue several times. When he saw that Fidelma was frowning slightly he offered an explanation.

  ‘I believe that we share the same system of honour prices with you, Sister. A young girl’s honour price, the sarhaed as we call it, would be high. Indeed, a share of that honour price would als
o be vested in the king himself for, as a virgin, her safety is his responsibility. It is called his nawdd.’

  Fidelma inclined her head as she followed his explanation. ‘You are right, Meurig. In our law, we call it the snádud. The king’s protection. All virgins in the territory fall under his protection and a payment must be made if that protection is violated.’

  ‘Shall we proceed to the circumstances of the murder?’ asked Brother Meurig.

  Gwnda continued: ‘It was noticed that Idwal appeared to be seeking Mair’s company more than is usual in such circumstances.’

  ‘Such circumstances?’ queried Fidelma, quickly picking up on the inflection.

  ‘Idwal, as I have already remarked, was an itinerant shepherd. More than that, he was a bastard child. A nameless child. No one knew his father or his mother. A boy of no worth. That is why Iorwerth warned the boy away from his daughter. He also told Mair that she should avoid the boy’s company.’

  ‘And did she?’ asked Fidelma.

  Gwnda seemed surprised at the question. ‘Mair was a dutiful daughter. You see, Iorwerth was a smith and, as his only child, he could expect to make a good match for her. I believe that he meant to marry her to Madog, the goldsmith of Carn Slani.’

  Fidelma turned to Brother Meurig. ‘I presume that we share the same system of dowries?’ she inquired.

  ‘We do,’ he confirmed. ‘The murderer will become responsible for the payment of the sarhaed, to her family, that is to Iorwerth. There is the payment of the amob to the lord of Pen Caer, and payment of the dirwy tais to King Gwlyddien himself. The payment and compensation of the fines involved would constitute a very large sum of money.’

  ‘More than, say, an itinerant shepherd boy can pay?’ Eadulf was able to intervene again with a simple sentence.

  Gwnda made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘The youth, Idwal, could not pay any such fines. That is why there was such anger in Iorwerth.’

  ‘Are you saying that Iorwerth was only angry at the financial loss caused by the murder of his daughter?’ demanded Fidelma swiftly.

  Gwnda shook his head. ‘Of course not, but it would enhance the anger for any man. That anger built up and he forgot his duty to his lord. He persuaded some companions to imprison me in this hall while he and others snatched the boy and were about to mete out summary punishment when you arrived.’

  ‘That is barbaric and against our legal code,’ Brother Meurig pointed out.

  ‘Yet satisfying to a man who has been wronged and sees no other way of exacting retribution,’ rejoined Gwnda.

  Fidelma’s brows drew together. ‘It sounds as if you approve?’

  Gwnda’s lips twisted into a thin smile. It was more a moving of facial muscles than an expression of what he really felt.

  ‘I cannot approve in law. But I can understand his motivation. I have said so before. Therefore, if I judge him on his rebellion, I shall not exact punishment for his action.’

  ‘His action was still unprecedented and without the law,’ insisted Brother Meurig.

  ‘The circumstances of the murder have not been explained yet,’ Eadulf pointed out quietly, seeing the conversation going down a cul-de-sac away from the main subject.

  Brother Meurig regarded him in annoyance for a moment and then realised that he was being logical. ‘You are right. Such legal arguments can be more usefully aired at a later time. Let us hear the circumstances of the actual killing, if you please, Gwnda.’

  The lord of Pen Caer rubbed the bridge of his nose as if the action aided his thoughts. ‘Little to relate. It was two days ago. As I said, young Idwal came to the township and told Buddog that the community had abandoned Llanpadern. That was not long after dawn. It was about then that Iorwerth sent Mair on an errand to her cousin’s place at Cilau. About an hour later Iestyn, who is a friend of Mair’s father, arrived at Iorwerth’s forge and told him that he had seen Mair and Idwal arguing on the forest path. He came straight away to tell Iorweth as he knew that Iorwerth had forbidden them to meet.’

  ‘Why didn’t Iestyn intervene in this argument he witnessed? He was a friend of her father,’ Brother Meurig pointed out.

  ‘That is something that you would have to ask Iestyn himself,’ replied Gwnda.

  ‘Continue,’ pressed the barnwr. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Iorwerth fell into a rage. He, Iestyn and a few other men from the township went off swearing that they would give Idwal such a beating that he would never molest another girl again.’

  ‘Molest?’ queried Fidelma. ‘I thought Iestyn only said he had witnessed an argument? How would Iorwerth interpret this as molestation?’

  Gwnda turned to her. ‘Again, you have to ask him, Sister. I only report what I have heard.’

  ‘When did you hear that Iorwerth and his friends had set off in search of Idwal?’ asked Brother Meurig.

  ‘By chance, I was in the forest that morning. That was how I came upon Idwal standing over the body of Mair. He did not see me but it was clear what had happened. For the boy still had his fists clenched in anger and he was shouting out her name in a shrill voice.

  ‘I was making my way towards him when there came the sound of Iorwerth and Iestyn coming through the woods. Idwal heard them also and he turned to run. By coincidence, he came running straight for where I was hidden behind a tree. As he passed me, I hit him across the shoulders with my cudgel and knocked him down. Then Iorwerth and his companions arrived. When they saw what he had done they wanted to kill him there and then. I prevailed on them, at that time, telling them that a judge should be sent for.’

  ‘Let’s get this straight,’ Brother Meurig said slowly. ‘Do you claim that you saw the boy in the act of. .?’

  Fidelma cleared her throat and was about to speak when Gwnda pre-empted her obvious comment. ‘I saw the boy standing over the body. That is all. But it does not take a sharp mind to understand what had happened.’

  ‘In my country, the laws of evidence are strict. You cannot swear to what you did not see,’ Fidelma observed dryly.

  ‘The same laws apply here, Sister,’ agreed Brother Meurig. ‘Opinions or interpretations of witnesses do not constitute evidence. Gwnda knows this well. A judge will draw his own conclusions from the evidence. How was the girl killed?’

  ‘Strangled after she was raped. There was bruising on the neck. The body was seen by Elisse, the local apothecary. He says that heavy pressure was applied and the girl was prevented from breathing long enough to kill her.’

  ‘How did this apothecary deduce that the girl was a virgin but had been raped before death?’ queried Fidelma.

  Gwnda appeared momentarily embarrassed by the subject. ‘There was a great deal of blood. . you know, on her nether clothing.’

  ‘Was the body warm when you came upon it?’ asked Eadulf, once again trying to phrase his question in an intelligible form.

  Gwnda stared at him as if he were a half-wit.

  ‘Brother Eadulf means, did you examine the body yourself?’ interpreted Brother Meurig.

  ‘I did not touch it. I saw that the girl was dead. That was obvious without an examination.’

  ‘But you cannot say if she had been dead for some time by the time you came on her and Idwal?’ Fidelma asked, having seen the point that Eadulf was making.

  ‘The boy was still standing over her. It was obvious that the killing had only just happened.’

  ‘It is not obvious to us,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘You did not see the killing and there are many ways to interpret what you saw. Has Idwal actually admitted that he killed the girl?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Of course?’

  ‘I have not known anyone to voluntarily admit to murder.’

  ‘So he has denied that he killed her?’ Brother Meurig did not sound happy. ‘Did he admit that he raped her?’

  ‘The boy denied that as well.’

  ‘Has he consistently denied being responsible for Mair’s death?’ pressed Fidelma.

 
Gwnda nodded slowly.

  ‘Has he volunteered any explanation?’ asked Eadulf. ‘What does he say happened?’

  Gwnda was nonplussed.

  ‘Was he ever asked for his explanation of events?’ Brother Meurig was worried.

  Gwnda saw the disapproving expressions on their faces. ‘He was not,’ he admitted. ‘I am no lawyer.’

  There was a short silence which Fidelma broke by observing: ‘A pity that you did not touch the body to see how long she had been dead. We might have learnt something from that.’

  Gwnda chuckled grimly. ‘Only the boy’s guilt.’

  ‘At least that would have been something, wouldn’t it?’ returned Fidelma icily.

  Brother Meurig rubbed his chin, his face creased into a frown of irritation. ‘Everyone seems to have condemned the boy without asking his story. What motive is he accused of having? Why had he killed the girl?’

  ‘Easy to answer,’ replied Gwnda. ‘The girl rejected his advances. He raped her in uncontrollable passion and then, realising his crime, he killed her. I would have thought that much was obvious.’

  Fidelma had expected his answer. ‘Are we sure that Mair, as a dutiful daughter, which you assure us was the case, rejected the advances made by Idwal, if, indeed, he made any?’

  Gwnda stared at her in distaste. ‘You will not be welcome in this community if you impute things about those who cannot now defend themselves.’

  Fidelma’s expression did not change. ‘I am sorry if you think I am doing so, Gwnda of Pen Caer. I do not speak frivolously and I thought the purpose of Brother Meurig’s inquiry was to ascertain the truth. In pursuit of truth, questions have to be asked and answers given. Sometimes the questions might imply things that are distasteful. It is not the questions that are distasteful but occasionally the answers.’

  Brother Meurig rose from his seat, shaking his head sadly. ‘In this matter, I agree with Sister Fidelma. It appears that we have arrived just in time to guide this matter into the proper legal strictures. We must question the boy, Idwal. However, the hour grows late and we must find hospitality for the night.’