Smoke in the Wind

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.

Chapter Eighteen

Eadulf leapt to his feet.

The shouting had come from the Saxons, who had spied the oncoming vessel. There was no mistaking the intention of the other ship, nor that it was manned by Welisc. The dragon battle flag seemed common to most of the Britons. It had been the symbol of the great Macsen Wledig, whom the Romans had called Magnus Maximus when he was declared emperor of the western empire by the legions stationed in Britain. It was curious what thoughts came in moments of adversity. Macsen was betrayed and put to death. His wife, Elen, returned to Britain to become the most influential figure in the Christian movement, her sons and daughters founding many kingdoms of the Britons.

Eadulf watched the oncoming Welisc vessel with consternation. It was clear that the Saxon ship would have no chance to escape or manoeuvre. The new mast had only just been lifted on board