Smoke in the Wind

to the neck. They were all killed in the same spot, which does not indicate that they were attempting to escape their captors, does it? And, having killed the seven, what warriors do you know who would cast down a shield, a knife and a broken sword by the bodies and leave them?’

Eadulf compressed his lips as he remembered the questions that Fidelma had asked about the broken sword. There had been no blood on it and the broken end was not in any of the bodies.

‘Are you saying that this was deliberately done in order to make people think that Saxons were responsible?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘Are you saying that there is no Saxon connection?’

Fidelma shook her head immediately. ‘The Saxon in the tomb and the Saxon ship anchored off the coast are somehow connected with this mystery. But I am not sure how.’

He regarded her in surprise. ‘But if it was not a Saxon raid, what else would bring a Saxon ship here?’

‘That is the mystery which must be solved. All I know is that the facts are complicated and inexplicable based on the knowledge we currently have.’

Eadulf remained silent for a moment. ‘Then I doubt that we shall produce an answer.’

Fidelma turned a disapproving eye on him. ‘Tempus omnia revelat,’ she said reprovingly.

‘Time may well reveal all things but can we afford to wait?’ he replied sharply.

‘Wait we must,’ she replied calmly. ‘We must be patient.’

‘Have you forgotten the threat from Clydog and his men?’

‘I have not. As I have told you, I think he also provides a key which may unravel this mystery.’

The countryside in which they were riding fell away on their left to a coastline consisting of dramatic cliffs and deep rocky coves. Here and there they could see seal pups cavorting in the water, while mingling with the sea birds were a few buzzards emitting their mewing ‘kiew’ as they scanned the ground for small mammals. Buzzards preferred these open hillsides over which they were now travelling, for it was ideal territory for catching rabbits. The track was now leading by another hill, turning inland. They could see the deserted walls of an ancient hill fortress standing some two hundred metres from them. They followed the contours of the south side of the hill towards the east where Llanwnda lay across the main hill of Pen Caer. Eadulf knew that ‘pen’ meant a head while ‘caer’ was a fort.

‘I’ll be glad of a bath and fresh, dry clothes,’ observed Eadulf cheerfully as he realised they could not be far away from Llanwnda.

Their clothes had dried on them before they reached Llanferran and left them with an uncomfortable sensation, the linen and wool rough and irritating to the skin. Eadulf, after such a long time in the five kingdoms of Éireann, had grown accustomed to Irish ways. There the people bathed every day, generally in the evening, while in the morning they only washed their face and hands. Eadulf had always considered this toilet rather excessive. In his own land, bathing was often confined to a swim in a nearby river and then only infrequently. But the Irish made a ritual of cleanliness, and used a cake of a fatty substance called sléic to create a lather which washed away the dirt.

Now Eadulf missed the heated bath water, the immersion in the tub called a debach in which were placed sweet-smelling herbs, the vigorous towelling with a linen cloth. He had to admit, after his initial caution, that the ritual made him feel refreshed and invigorated.

Fidelma shared his longing for a bath and clean clothes. The previous night’s adventure, such as it was, had left her with a feeling of besmirchment that she felt it would take many baths to eradicate. But there was another anticipation with which Fidelma was returning to Llanwnda. She had not been able to rid herself of concern for young Idwal. Nor could she shake off the belief, albeit based on pure emotion rather than deduction, that the boy was innocent of the death of Mair. She was looking forward to hearing how Brother Meurig’s inquiry had developed. Perhaps the information she had gathered about Mair’s father, Iorwerth, might be useful.

The track was now leading them down into a thickly wooded valley beyond which the settlement of Llanwnda was situated. Fidelma realised that this was probably the very wood in which the girl had been strangled. She wished that she knew for certain. She would have liked to have examined the spot, even though she knew that no clues would remain there after so long an interval. Fidelma, however, liked to see the places where victims met their deaths, insofar as she was able. It helped her envisage the scene more clearly in her own mind.

She mentioned this fact to Eadulf, and he looked glum.

‘Isn’t it best not to interfere in Brother Meurig’s investigation?’

Fidelma was vexed by his attitude and showed it. ‘Interference? Eadulf, you know that as a dálaigh I cannot stand aside and ignore crime.’

‘But this is not your-’

‘Not my country? You have not stood aside in our adventures before and claimed that you should not be involved in them because you were a Saxon! Crime is crime in any land. Justitia omnibus — justice for all.’

Eadulf blinked at the sharpness of her tone. ‘I meant-’ he began.

She made a cutting motion with her hand. ‘I know what you meant.’

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Fidelma often regretted her outbursts of irritation. She knew that her quick temper and sharpness of tongue were faults. Then she remembered that her mentor, Brehon Morann, was fond of saying that the person without a fault is without life. Even so, perhaps she should try to curb her moods.

‘I am sorry,’ she suddenly said, surprising Eadulf. ‘Since we came to this place, I have had a curious feeling that there is much evil here. A mystery which is like a complex of threads of which we have been given several. We follow the thread a distance and find another and another but none of them lead to any centre. I think it is important that the mysteries of the death of Mair and the disappearance of the community of Llanpadern are resolved.’

Eadulf did not respond for a moment.

Fidelma decided to continue. ‘I know you want to proceed to Canterbury as soon as possible but I could not be at ease with myself if I did not pursue these matters to a conclusion.’

Eadulf was forced to respond with a resigned smile. ‘I really expected no less. It is just that I am worried for your safety. .’ He hesitated and raised a shoulder, letting it fall eloquently. ‘For our safety,’ he corrected. ‘I have felt danger before but never the hostility that I have encountered here. And the threat from such a person as Clydog is something that causes me concern. If you or I should fall into his hands again. .’ He did not finish the sentence, but his meaning was clear enough.

‘Then we must ensure that we do not fall into the hands of that outlaw,’ Fidelma replied brightly, with more assurance than she felt.

They were entering a small clearing in the wood and saw that it was occupied by a woodsman’s hut.

‘Best check that we are on the right track to Llanwnda,’ Eadulf advised.

They noticed that the door stood partially open and Fidelma drew rein and called a hello. There was no answer.

The small hut was a tiny affair and outside it was a pile of wood in the process of being cut, for a large- handled axe stood embedded in one of the logs, as if abandoned by the woodsman in the middle of his attempts to sever it.

It was Eadulf who noticed it and he turned to Fidelma and silently pointed to the axe.

Fresh blood was dripping from its blade onto the wood.

Perhaps the woodsman had cut himself while swinging his sharp-bladed axe at the log.

‘Hello!’ cried Fidelma again. ‘Are you hurt? Can we help?’

There was no sound; no movement.

Eadulf swung down from his horse and moved to the door of the hut. For a moment he stood on the threshold staring in and then he let out an exclamation.

‘The man is here and unconscious, so it seems,’ he called to Fidelma, before moving into the dark interior. Fidelma was in the act of dismounting to join him when she heard his voice upraised in surprise.

‘What is it?’ she demanded, starting forward.

Eadulf had emerged and was leaning against the door jamb, his face pale. He stared at her for a moment as if unable to form words. ‘He’s in there. .’