Smoke in the Wind

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 impatiently.

‘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 among 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.

‘Well met in this land of the Welisc, Eadulf the Christian,’ the young man grinned. ‘I am the Eorl Osric, thane to Eanfrith, king of the Hwicce.’

Eadulf dismounted from his horse and took a few steps towards the eorl. ‘Then well met, Osric of the Hwicce. Pax tecum!’

Osric grinned again. ‘I have no Latin, Eadulf. Speak in good Saxon. I am not Christian. The gods of my forefathers are good enough for me.’

‘I was going to ask you for a quid pro quo, but as you speak no Latin, I shall translate. Something for something. I have told you there are no Welisc warriors here. Now you tell me something.’

Osric chuckled. ‘Were you a merchant before you joined this curious brotherhood of Christ, my friend?’

‘I was hereditary gerefa of my people,’ Eadulf assured him.

‘A lawgiver. I might have known,’ replied the young thane with a wry grimace. ‘Then we shall cease to bargain. What is it that you wish to know?’

‘What are you doing on this shore? Do you mean to harm the people living here?’

Osric pointed to the woods beyond. ‘We are here to cut down the tallest tree we can find.’

It was a totally unexpected reply and Eadulf’s face showed it.

Osric was still chuckling. ‘My gerefa friend,’ he said, ‘it is quite true. Our ship has been demasted and we managed to make it into a bay beyond that point.’ He waved a hand over his shoulder. ‘We need to get a new mast. But as this is the land of Welisc we came prepared to fight for it.’

‘And that was why you were shouting your war-cry?’

‘We thought that it might frighten people off long enough for our purpose.’

He turned and snapped an order which sent his men racing towards the nearby wood searching for a tall tree.

One of the men, obviously the chief carpenter, pointed to a tall, fairly thin oak. Two axemen came forward and set to work with a will, the smack of their metal blades into wood echoing across the landscape. They did not waste time. The work was done quickly and efficiently.

‘Was it your ship that was anchored down the coast some days ago?’ asked Eadulf.

Osric turned to him with an amused grin. ‘Another question? I thought your Latin merchant’s term was question for question?’

‘If you want to ask me questions, I’ll be happy to answer them,’ Eadulf offered, feeling suddenly comfortable with the young man. Hwicce or no, pagan or no, these were his own people and he felt at ease with them.

‘Well, you are right. We have been up and down this coast during this last week or so. We have been chasing a Welisc ship.’

‘Did you by any chance raid the Welisc religious community near here. . to the south?’

Osric shook his head firmly. ‘We had better things to do.’

Eadulf was surprised by the answer. ‘You did not?’ he pressed.

‘Why do you ask? Do the Welisc claim that they were raided by us?’

‘Some do. A Saxon ship was observed moored in a cove in that direction some days ago.’ He indicated the position with his hand.

‘That was my ship, the Wave-Breaker,’ agreed Osric.

‘Not far from where you anchored, Osric, there was a religious community called Llanpadern. The Father Superior was hanged and the community were taken. Several of the brethren were found slain on the foreshore and some Hwicce weapons were found nearby.’

‘I was not responsible,’ insisted Osric.

Eadulf decided to be bolder. ‘There was also a body of a stranger found at the religious place.’

Osric’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have a feeling, my gerefa friend, that you are going to tell me that this body is significant.’

‘It was the body of an Hwicce.’

Osric regarded him with a serious expression. ‘Describe the body to me.’

Eadulf did so, and the young thane let out a long, low sigh. ‘It was the body of Thaec.’

‘Who is Thaec?’

‘One of my crew. The night that we anchored in the bay you have described, he went ashore with another man. They both spoke the language of these Welisc and offered to attempt to pick up some intelligence. Only one man, Saexbald, came back.’ Osric suddenly glanced around at his warriors. ‘Saexbald! Come here!’

A tall warrior detached himself from the group and came running forward.

‘Saexbald, tell the gerefa here what happened on the night you went ashore with Thaec.’

The warrior turned to Eadulf. ‘We had scouted along the shore when, without warning, a group of Welisc horsemen came on us. We fought but Thaec was swiftly overpowered, even though he did his best to get himself killed rather than be taken as captive. I was separated from him in the fight and forced to abandon him. I only just managed to get back to the safety of the ship.’

‘Thaec is dead,’ Osric told the man.

‘May he have met his death with sword in hand and the name of Woden on his lips,’ the warrior intoned.

‘Did you know who these Welisc were?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Warriors, no doubt. They fought well.’

‘Did you hear any names shouted by them during the encounter?’

‘Names? No. The only shouting I heard was. . actually it was strange, come to think of it. One of the Welisc warriors seems to have been stung.’

‘Stung?’ queried Eadulf.

‘There was some shouting about a wasp.’

A slow smile of satisfaction spread over Eadulf’s face.

There was a resounding crash as the tree was felled. Almost immediately, the warriors started to strip the branches and the bark, using their powerful axes. Osric signalled the tall warrior, Saexbald, to return to his comrades.

‘Did they torture poor Thaec before he died?’ he asked.

‘He was not tortured. It seems that he was stabbed in the chest with a sword.’

Osric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Do you think he died fighting?’

‘I am sure of it. I also know that he sorely wounded his assailant.’

‘It would be good to tell his parents that their son died with sword in hand and the name of Woden on his lips, so that he could be gathered up into the Hall of Heroes where the immortals live.’

Eadulf looked disapproving. ‘I cannot subscribe to pagan beliefs.’

‘A man of principle, gerefa? Yes, I suppose you are. But did you see or hear anything which would contradict the story?’

‘Nothing. But why would he have been taken to the community and killed?’

‘Are you trying to tell me that the Welisc religious would not have killed him?’

‘They would not have harmed him unless in self-defence. It was the Welisc warriors who captured him who killed him.’

‘I know nothing of this religious community. We anchored in the bay because it was nightfall and we did not know these waters.’

‘Did you not make a search for your missing crewman at first light?’

‘We do not abandon our own unless we are forced to. You know that, gerefa. Of course a search was made at first light. From the shoreline we saw that a Welisc peasant had spotted us and, finding nothing, we reluctantly abandoned the search. It was madness to continue after we had been spotted, for we did not know how many enemy warriors were in the vicinity.’

‘Just a minute,’ Eadulf said. ‘You knew that there were some. What of the band of warriors who took your man Thaec? Why did they not attack you at dawn?’

Osric made a gesture with his hand as if dismissing them. ‘They had disappeared. Taken Thaec and vanished.’

‘So what did you do then?’

‘We put to sea again.’

‘That brings me to another question. What are you doing so far from your own country?’

There was a pause and the young thane examined Eadulf’s expression for a moment as if searching for something there.

‘I answer because I think I can trust you, gerefa. I believe that you are a man of principle. We are chasing a Welisc ship. Have you heard of a prince called Morgan ap Arthyrs? He is the king of Gwent, a territory which borders our kingdom.’

‘I know little of affairs in this part of the world,’ confessed Eadulf.

‘Well, this Morgan is an enemy worthy of our steel. He is cunning and ruthless. He has ruled Gwent for many years.’

‘Morgan?’ Eadulf tried to remember where he had heard the name recently.

‘We are chasing one of his ships. He raided on our side of the River Saeferne which marks our common border. We gave chase and a long chase it has been. But the ship has eluded us. Now we must return to our own land to prevent our families mourning the loss of more than Thaec and Wigar. Wigar was lost overboard in a storm: the same storm which snapped our mast.’

He indicated where his men had finished stripping and trimming the tall oak tree.

‘It’s not the best of times to cut a tree,’ he observed, glancing to the sky, ‘but we cannot choose our seasons. So long as it gets us home we shall be happy.’

Eadulf nodded absently. ‘I still do not entirely understand. Ships often raid and chases occur. That I comprehend. But you have chased this one many a mile. Why are you so dogged in the pursuit of the Welisc, Thane Osric?’

Osric frowned momentarily. ‘You ask a lot of questions, Eadulf the Christian.’

‘It is because I hate mysteries,’ Eadulf replied spiritedly.

‘I will answer you, then. During the raid the Welisc took several hostages. Among them was Aelfwynn, the ten-year-old daughter of King Eanfrith. That is why I have pursued this ship of Morgan’s so closely.’

One of Osric’s men came forwarded and saluted him. ‘We are ready, lord.’

‘That is good. Let us prepare.’

The man turned and barked an order. The trunk of the tree had been rolled onto the long axe handles of the warriors and now they bent and picked up their burden as easily as if it had been a light branch. At another sharp command, the warriors began to move as one, returning on the path in the direction they had come from.

‘You are welcome to continue your journey with us as far as the land of the Hwicce,’ Osric offered, then added, glancing slyly at him, ‘although I think you have other plans.’

‘That I have,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘I will ensure that Thaec has a Christian burial.’

Osric shook his head as he shouldered his shield and took up his war axe again. ‘That would dishonour him. No, let him lie where he is. Do not bother to find out how he died. His family will rest content that he now plays dice with the Immortals in the Hall of Heroes. Old men will sing of his courage around the fires in the evening. His memory will become immortal too. That will be more than poor Eanfrith will boast of lost little Aelfwynn. Alas, I can pursue the Welisc ship of Morgan no longer.’

He raised his axe above his head in salute. ‘Farewell, Eadulf the Christian, sometime gerefa.’

Eadulf felt a sudden panic. He was sure that Fidelma would have asked more questions, discovered more facts, but his mind was blank. All he could say was: ‘God send you a good wind home, Osric of the Hwicce.’ He stood watching as the warriors, bearing their load and followed by Osric, went trotting down the hill.

Behind Eadulf, Fidelma emerged from the woods on foot, leading her horse. He turned to meet her. There was relief on her face.

‘It seems that the Saxons were friendly after all,’ she observed.

‘Their ship was demasted and they were looking for a new mast to replace it,’ he explained.

‘That much I could see.’ She smiled. ‘Did you learn anything else? You spoke a long while with the young man who led them.’

‘Osric was his name; thane to Eanfrith, king of the Hwicce.’

Her eyes widened slightly. ‘So these were the Hwicce?’ She stumbled again over the pronunciation. ‘Then it was. .’

‘It was their ship that Goff the smith told us of. And the dead Hwicce at Llanpadern was one of their crew, a man called Thaec.’

Fidelma said quietly: ‘Then you’d better tell me exactly what passed between you and Osric.’

Eadulf did so, keeping as close to the actual words as he could remember. Fidelma nodded from time to time, asking a question merely to have a point explained. When he had finished she was looking troubled.

‘This information merely adds to our mystery,’ she finally said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

There was a mournful smile on Eadulf’s face. ‘The Fidelma I once knew would have said, Vincit qui patitur.’

There was an angry flash in Fidelma’s green-grey eyes, gone in a moment. ‘Indeed, he prevails who is patient, Eadulf,’ she replied tightly. ‘I did not know that you judged yourself a paragon of patience?’

Eadulf flushed at the waspishness of her reply. ‘I meant-’ he began, but she interrupted.

‘You have added another small piece of the picture but we do not know where it fits, that is if we are to believe your Saxon friend. We have an Hwicce warship chasing a ship of Gwent. It anchors in a cove at night. A crewman goes ashore to reconnoitre and is captured. The ship continues on its way, abandoning him. He then is found in a sarcophagus at Llanpadern having been stabbed to death. Does knowing this bring us any nearer an explanation?’

Eadulf had never heard Fidelma’s voice filled with such frustration before. He tried to think of something to say that would be helpful, but could not and so retreated into silence. He was troubled on another level. Ever since they had arrived in this land of Dyfed they had been arguing with one another and he could not understand why. What had gone wrong with their relationship since they had left the shores of Laigin? Or had there been something wrong before?

He had persuaded Fidelma to join him on his return to Canterbury. Had he been blind? Had it been against her will? After all, she had left him at Cashel to proceed to the Tomb of St James while he had set out to Canterbury by himself. It was only in order to save him from the unjust accusation of murder that she had returned to defend him. Now he was confused. Anger grew out of his confusion. He realised that she was speaking again.

‘Let’s return to Llanwnda and stop the panic that must have set in among Gwnda’s people.’

He suppressed a sigh as she mounted her horse, expecting him to follow. ‘No,’ he said abruptly. She stared down at him in astonishment.

‘No,’ he repeated, as he mounted his own horse. ‘I shall ride to the point first and check whether they erected their new mast and told me the truth about their intention to sail south.’

She stared at him for a moment or two and then, without speaking, jerked the reins of her horse, turning it to ride off to Llanwnda.

Eadulf sat astride his mount for a few moments, watching until she had disappeared among the trees. Then he turned his horse and headed after the Saxon warriors. When he reached the point overlooking the small bay, the Saxon ship was immediately discernible below. The main mast was indeed missing, and warrior-seamen were hard at work clearing the tangled ropes and rigging, preparing for the new mast to be set in place.

Osric and his men were already rowing their small boats towards the vessel, bearing their newly cut mast with them. Eadulf admired the ease, born of a lifetime at sea, with which they propelled their craft towards the long, low warship. He could admire their skill, for he considered himself something of an expert on seamanship. Not that he had ever been a seaman, but he had made many voyages now. Four times he had crossed the great sea between Britain and the land of Éireann; four times had he crossed the seas on his pilgrimages to Rome. And he had sailed along the turbulent eastern shores of Britain to attend the great Council of Whitby.

Eadulf liked the sea and yet, at the same time, he feared it. Was fear the right word? No; he did not take the sea for granted. He respected it. The sea was cruel and had no charity. Yet without the sea man would be insignificant, for the sea was like a great road between peoples and without contact with one another men would be isolated and there would be no progress between them. But the sea was patient, watching and waiting and ready, like a murderer on a dark night, hiding in an unilluminated lane with a knife to strike at the unexpected moment.

Eadulf broke off his thoughts with an impatient sigh. He dismounted and tethered his horse, seating himself on a boulder from which he could observe the warriors repairing their ship. The late autumnal sun was lukewarm in the cloudless sky. For the first time in days Eadulf felt that he could relax and give his thoughts to the matter which was worrying him.

Fidelma.

Where lay the fault for the deterioration of their relationship? What was it that he had once been taught by a sage of the South Folk? No one can understand anyone else unless, while being true to his own nature, he respects the free will of the other. Well, he had once thought, perhaps arrogantly, that he understood Fidelma. Yet he had to admit that seven languages were more easily mastered than the understanding of the woman.

He heard a distant shouting and looked up from his revelry, glancing down to the bay. Something moved in the corner of his eye. He looked towards the northern headland and saw a second ship under full sail sweeping round into the bay. It was a sleek-looking fighting ship, and across its taut sails was the image of a large red dragon.