impatience as the young man entered.
‘This is my younger son, Cathen.’
Abbot Tryffin completed the formalities by introducing Fidelma and Eadulf.
‘You say that there is an answer to the question which your father posed?’ Fidelma queried.
‘Do you know anything of the politics of this land?’ Cathen replied with a question, as he sprawled into a chair.
‘Little enough,’ conceded Fidelma.
‘During the last decade this kingdom had been under constant attack from the ambitions of our northern neighbours, the kings of Ceredigion. Their current king, Artglys, is an ambitious and ruthless man. His son and heir is hardly any better. The pair of them are evil. Once Ceredigion was ruled by the kings of Gwynedd but there was an internal struggle among its ruling dynasty. A generation or so ago King Artbodgu managed to unite Ceredigion as an independent kingdom. Since the rise of Artglys, the son of Artbodgu, Ceredigion have endeavoured to expand by raiding the territories of their neighbours. To annex the kingdom of Dyfed to Ceredigion is Artglys’s dearest ambition.’
‘How does that explain the disappearance of the community at Llanpadern?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘Ceredigion have raided our territory before and taken hostages.’
‘So you are saying that Artglys of Ceredigion is somehow responsible for what has happened? That the entire community were seized in a raid?’
‘I do not know for certain. I merely say that it is possible that the Ceredigion raided Llanpadern in order to take my brother, Rhun, as a hostage.’
‘Possible but not likely,’ his father added. ‘When Rhun went into the religious, he gave up all claim to the kingship. Why take him hostage? To use as an emotional lever against me? My enemies know that I am not so weak. My oath of kingship and the good of my people come first. As for Ceredigion raids, why, Saxon ships have also been known to raid along our shores.’
‘What is it that you expect of us?’ Fidelma asked quickly to hide Eadulf’s embarrassment at the mention of Saxon raids. ‘Solving the politics of warfare is not what we are best at.’
Abbot Tryffin appeared uncomfortable. He also did not seem to agree with Prince Cathen’s views.
‘I believe that this affair has absolutely nothing to do with Ceredigion nor with Artglys’s raids across the border. .’ He glanced at Cathen and his voice trailed off.
Fidelma intervened, seeing Cathen tensing himself for an argument. ‘You say that this place — Llanpadern — is north of here? How far from the border with Artglys’s kingdom of Ceredigion?’
‘At least another twenty kilometres or more.’
‘A raid coming some forty kilometres into your territory is a long distance for an enemy host to move unnoticed,’ Fidelma observed.
‘This might be a raid by sea; they could have come ashore on the coast which is only a few kilometres away from Llanpadern,’ Cathen insisted.
‘There is much power in the word “could”,’ Fidelma said reflectively.
The abbot had compressed his lips as if wishing to say something but uncertain whether to contradict his prince. Fidelma noticed his expression.
‘I am sure that your contribution to this matter would be welcomed, Abbot Tryffin. What point do you wish to make?’
The abbot looked even more uncomfortable but seemed to summon his courage. ‘The abbey is situated at the foot of the western slopes of Carn Gelli. If the warriors of Ceredigion made a raid on the abbey by sea, there are only a couple of places they could land. They would still have to march three kilometres from either landing place to the abbey. There are two townships on these routes and such a force would have raised some alarm. Indeed, Father Clidro and his community would have been warned of the arrival of hostile raiders in the territory long before they could reach the abbey. From the way Brother Cyngar describes the orderly way in which the abbey buildings were left, I cannot believe it was the work of warriors carrying off protesting prisoners. There was no sign of an attack, no bodies, nothing to indicate violence.’
Cathen gave a grunt of derision only to be silenced by a gesture from his father.
Fidelma waited for a moment, but as the king said nothing further she asked the abbot: ‘Then to what do you ascribe this disappearance?’
The abbot of Dewi Sant was clearly worried. His eyes were slightly haunted as he stared at her. ‘As Christ is my witness, Sister, I cannot think of any explanation in keeping with natural law that would account for it.’
Cathen let out a derisive hoot. ‘Sorcery! Are you saying that it comes back to magic? I will not have that, Abbot Tryffin. There is no such thing as supernatural forces. You are as bad as that young Brother Cyngar! Evil forces do not exist.’
‘I would disagree.’
They all looked at Fidelma in surprise at her softly spoken interjection. Her glance embraced them all.
‘The supernatural is the natural which is not yet understood. And what of the mysteries of our faith? Are they not supernatural to us? If we recognise that there is good then we must accept that there is evil.’
‘They are mysteries ordained by God!’ pointed out Cathen defensively.
‘And are you the judge of what is ordained by God and what is not?’ Fidelma said quietly.
Cathen opened his mouth as if to disagree but snapped it shut as he found no ready answer would come. He stood flushed-faced for a moment and then said stiffly: ‘Your pardon. I have duties to attend to.’ He turned and left the room.
Gwlyddien stirred uncomfortably as the door slammed.
‘I beg your pardon, I appear to have upset Prince Cathen,’ Fidelma said, although her tone was far from apologetic.
‘He is my youngest son and is inclined to be hot-headed, ’ muttered the elderly king. ‘He means no disrespect. ’
‘There is none taken,’ replied Fidelma. ‘But, considering what has been said, I am intrigued by this mystery. It seems that we have a few days before the likely appearance of a ship by which to continue our journey to Canterbury, so perhaps we may usefully occupy our time.’
King Gwlyddien’s face brightened. ‘Then you will undertake the task?’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf. He had already realised that Fidelma would not refuse; almost as soon as he heard the nature of the mystery and the conflict of interpretation between Prince Cathen, his father and the abbot. Mysteries to Fidelma were like the addiction of wine to another person. He grimaced with resignation, hoping that she could not read the resentment and jealous anger in his eye.
‘We will,’ Fidelma confirmed, apparently not observing anything amiss.
‘Then it is a commission of the king,’ Gwlyddien said with relief in his voice. ‘All your expenses shall be met and whatever fee you demand shall be paid in gold or silver, as you wish.’
‘Very well,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But we must have some token to show we act on your authority, something bearing your seal; plus a sufficient sum to cover our expenses during our stay in this kingdom. If we succeed in finding a solution, we will accept ten gold pieces. If we do not succeed, we will accept five gold pieces. Agreed?’
‘It is agreed.’
‘Then we shall want to speak with Brother Cyngar. We would also need a guide to take us to this abbey of Llanpadern.’
Eadulf suppressed a groan at the enthusiasm in her voice.
‘That presents no problem,’ Abbot Tryffin agreed. ‘Would you be able to leave for Llanpadern tomorrow morning?’
‘Why so soon?’ queried Eadulf, not wishing to be rushed into decisions.
Abbot Tryffin was apologetic. ‘I mentioned two townships that might have raised the alarm had warriors of Ceredigion landed on the shores near Llanpadern. It so happens that one of these townships has asked me to send them a
‘An excellent idea!’ agreed Gwlyddien.
Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘Why did this township. .?’
