Smoke in the Wind sf-11

by Peter Tremayne

‘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 o
f 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, poor 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.’

  ‘He was more evil in many ways than Clydog,’ Fidelma mused.

  ‘And more short-sighted,’ added Eadulf. He met her amused glance with a shrug. ‘Aesop said that one should never attempt to soar aloft on the wings of an enemy. That’s what he tried to do. A slave has one master but the ambitious man will have as many as are needed to help him reach his objective.’

  ‘Which philosophy means?’ prompted Fidelma humorously.

  ‘That even if he had become king of Dyfed through the help of Ceredigion, the price would have been too high. Ceredigion would have demanded remuneration which Rhun might have been unable to pay.’

  There was a silence between them for a moment.

  ‘I suppose,’ Eadulf said, after a while, ‘that the greater tragedy, in this story, befell Idwal and Mair.’

  ‘A sad drama that was almost obscured by an unrelated conspiracy,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Brother Meurig’s death, Iorwerth’s suicide and the deaths that went before — Idwal’s mother Efa, for example. Where did that cycle start?’

  ‘Who knows? We are into the game of “what if”. What if Gurgust had not thrown his apprentice Iorwerth out? Or if he had not banished his daughter Efa from her home?’ ‘What if the person who came along at that time had not been Iestyn?’ rejoined Fidelma.

  ‘Iestyn!’ Eadulf sighed. ‘I’d almost forgotten him. What will happen to him?’

  ‘I suspect that it has already happened,’ Fidelma said grimly. ‘He might have found forgiveness for the part he played in feeding Iorwerth’s fears and hatred, and causing the death of Idwal, but he was in league with Rhun. I heard that he had served as a warrior with Rhun and his allegiance was personal. But, when it comes down to fact, he was a spy for Ceredigion. I think his fate was written in Cathen’s eyes when they took him from Gwnda’s hall.’

  ‘And what of Gwnda and Buddog?’

  ‘The Britons spent many centuries as a province of the old Roman Empire,’ Fidelma reflected. ‘They have adopted ways of punishment that we have not pursued in the five kingdoms. There is more of vengeance and retribution in their law. They punish more harshly.’

  Eadulf shivered slightly. ‘Well, I am glad that we are now on our way to Canterbury. I cannot say that I enjoyed my time in the kingdom of the Britons.’

  ‘That was evident,’ agreed Fidelma seriously. ‘I have never known you to be so apprehensive and irritable.’

  ‘I am sorry that I allowed my fears to show.’ Eadulf paused and glanced quickly at her. ‘There were times when I felt they were justified.’

  Fidelma’s features were suddenly pensive. ‘I have behaved very badly towards you, Eadulf. I should have treated you differently. I confess that I was trying to distance myself from you.’

  Eadulf, to her surprise, nodded slowly. ‘I knew well what you were doing.’

  Fidelma stared at him, slightly bewildered at his calm assertion of knowledge. ‘But you seemed to take every insult that I threw at you.’

  ‘As fearful and apprehensive as I was in the land of the Welisc, I knew that you were more uneasy and afraid. And you were not afraid of the Welisc.’

  ‘I think that you should explain that,’ she said, her voice slightly breathless with tension.

  ‘It’s an easy explanation. At Loch Garman, before we left the kingdom of Laigin, you finally admitted to your feelings for me and you made a decision to accompany me to Canterbury instead of returning to your brother’s kingdom. Do you think that I was unaware of how difficult that decision was? That I did not know how frightened you were of having made it? You have been racked with apprehension these last days. But it is in your character not to display your fear. You simply disguised it under a cloak of disdain and even derision towards me.’ Eadulf shrugged, his expression still serious. ‘I knew what was in your mind, Fidelma. You were testing me. You wanted to see if I might break and thus confirm that you had made the wrong decision. I was not going to make it so easy for you. If you want to change your mind then it must be by your own determination and not by mine. My mind in this matter is steadfast.’

  Fidelma regarded him quietly for a moment or two before, impulsively, reaching out and placing her hand firmly in his.

  ‘I don’t think that I was doing it deliberately, Eadulf. Perhaps some unconscious impulse? But you are wise. I think my apprehension is cured. Will you forgive me for it?’

  ‘Fear comes from uncertainty. You have to be certain. Seneca wrote that where fear is, happiness has deserted that place.’

  Fidelma looked solemn. ‘I agree. Fear is not a virtue. I am glad you tolerated my fear, Eadulf. I believe I am certain now. But if I grow uncertain, I vow to be honest and not let fear dictate. I have learnt by this experience.’

  ‘Speaking of learning,’ Eadulf smiled, shifting the conversation to a lighter note, ‘do you remember that you promised to tell me the meaning of that cheap metal finger ring hidden in that speckled cake that I ate the other night? I nearly cracked my
teeth upon it.’

  Fidelma coloured slightly. ‘Oh, it is only an old superstition, ’ she said in an attempt to dismiss the subject.

  ‘What sort of superstition?’ he pressed firmly.

  Fidelma saw no easy way out of it. ‘At home, on the feast of Samhain, which Rome now calls the eve of All Hallows Day, it is our custom to serve the speckled bread — bairin breac, we call it. The Britons have the same custom and call the bread bara brith.’

  ‘But what does the ring in the bread symbolise?’ Eadulf demanded.

  ‘Well, when the speckled bread is being made, a ring and a hazel nut in its shell are mixed in with the dough. Whoever gets the portion of the speckled bread with the nut in it will remain unwed for the rest of their life.’

  ‘But I had the ring,’ he pointed out. ‘What happens to whoever gets the ring?’

  ‘It means that they will soon be married.’

  Eadulf grinned in happy satisfaction. ‘That is a superstition I can live with. In fact, I think it is an excellent superstition.’

  Fidelma inclined her head in thought for a moment, leaning against the rail of the ship. Then she reached into her marsupium.

  ‘I also had something in my piece of cake,’ she said quietly.

  Her features were formed in a smile and so Eadulf did not observe the serious look in her eyes.

  She held out the object in her hand and gradually opened her fist, palm upwards. A hazelnut lay on her palm.

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