Smoke in the Wind

and it would take a while to put it in place, let alone hoist the rigging and sails. Osric’s ship was lying helpless.

Eadulf found himself squeezing his hands into fists in his frustration, so tightly that the nails dug into the flesh of his palms. Osric’s men had grabbed their shields and weapons and rushed to the side of their vessel in a desperate attempt to repel boarders. And then a curious thing happened.

When there was still several metres between the high prow of the Welisc ship and the side of the Saxon vessel, the red dragon ship turned aside and almost slewed round, still moving rapidly, so that it passed swiftly away from the Saxons. Eadulf heard shouting and saw several burning brand torches being thrown across by the Britons, landing on the Saxon deck and starting several small fires which were quickly extinguished by Osric’s men.

Eadulf was baffled. He had been expecting a barrage of arrows from the bows which the Britons often used, or a boarding party with sword and shield. Yet the Welisc ship passed swiftly on, the sailing master obviously knowing the currents of this bay. Even as the vessel swung away, Eadulf saw several dark objects fall from its stern. Even from this distance he could recognise the shapes as human beings, and from the way they fell and floated in the water he realised that they were dead.

Bewildered, he watched the Welisc ship race out of the bay back the way it had come, round the headland. He waited for quite a long time, fully expecting to see the vessel reappear. When it did not, he decided to make his way down to the shore.

The Saxons were back at work on their ship, hoisting the newly cut mast into position. Others were clearly on watch, for he heard a shout and saw someone gesturing at him as he walked down the shingle. A couple of bodies lay in the surf, face down, moving gently to and fro as the waves washed ashore.

He had been recognised, for he saw Osric and a couple of his men climbing down into a boat and pulling away from the ship towards the shore.

Eadulf walked over to the nearest body.

It was that of a young man, clad in the brown woollen robe of a religieux. The young man’s hair was cut in the tonsure of St John, the style worn by the religious of the Britons as well as the five kingdoms of Éireann. He was but recently dead, perhaps killed at the moment he had been thrown overboard. The wound — his neck had been cut — was still bleeding.

Eadulf bent down, grabbed the young man’s shoulders, and heaved him out of the surf further onto the shingled beach. In doing so, he saw something which had been looped round the man’s left wrist and arm. To a quick examination, it might appear that he had grabbed something from his assailant. It was a piece of cloth on which was embroidered one of the symbols which pagan Saxons still affected. Eadulf recognised it immediately as an Hwicce emblem, and exhaled sharply.

The crunch of shingle trodden underfoot made him look up. Osric came hurrying across to him while his two men stood guarding their small boat, ready to push off back to their ship if danger threatened. The eorl appeared angry.

‘Did you have anything to do with that?’ he demanded immediately, gesturing towards the headland round which the Welisc ship had disappeared. Eadulf realised that Osric was holding his sword menacingly in his pointing hand. ‘You said that there were no Welisc warriors in the vicinity.’

‘I did,’ Eadulf said, raising himself up. ‘The appearance of that ship was as much a surprise to me as to you.’ He pointed down to the corpse. ‘Did you have anything to do with this?’

Osric, disconcerted, glanced down. ‘You saw the Welisc throw those bodies overboard from their ship, didn’t you? Why would we have anything to do with this?’

‘Look at the object looped round the arm of this man.’

Osric bent down. ‘By the blood of Woden!’ he swore. He looked back to Eadulf with a frown. ‘What does this mean?’

‘It means,’ Eadulf said quietly, ‘that anyone who examines these bodies will presume that they were killed by Hwicce.’

Osric was silent. Eadulf turned and went to the other body that had been washed ashore, drawing it also out of the reach of the waves. It, too, was a religieux, not as young as the first one. In his back, quite deeply embedded, was an Hwicce dagger. As Eadulf was laying the body down on the shingle, a groan came from its lips.

‘Deus misereatur!’ cried Eadulf, bending closer. ‘This one is still alive.’

Osric came over and bent down by his side. ‘Not for long, my friend,’ he muttered. ‘I have seen wounds like this and no man recovers. Stop!’ Eadulf had been about to remove the Hwicce dagger from the man’s back. ‘If you remove the dagger he will die immediately. Turn him slightly so that he may speak before he dies.’

Eadulf turned the body on its side. ‘Can you hear me, Brother?’ he asked, in the language of the Cymry. He had been speaking to Osric in Saxon.

The man’s eyelids fluttered and he gave a sound like a barely audible moan.

‘Can you speak?’ urged Eadulf. ‘Who did this thing to you?’

The man’s mouth moved slightly. Eadulf bent his ear to the lips.

‘Break. . break up the bronze. . bronze serpent that Moses made,’ came the painful whisper.

Eadulf did not understand. ‘Who did this to you?’ he whispered again, more urgently.

‘Evil in our midst. . the creature of the damned, the evil spider. . casting his net. . ensnared us all. . He was one. . of us!’ The man abruptly coughed blood and was still.

Osric stated the obvious: ‘He’s dead, my friend. Did you learn anything?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘I think he was rambling. In a fever, perhaps.’ He rose and glanced at Osric. ‘I don’t suppose that you recognised the ship which attacked you?’

The young Saxon thane nodded. ‘That was the ship of Morgan, the one we had chased from the mouth of the River Saeferne out along the coast of these kingdoms.’

‘They could have destroyed your ship.’

Osric did not demur. ‘They could have done so. They might still, if they have courage to come back to match our mettle.’

Eadulf was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘I do not think they lack courage. Yet it is hard to understand why they did not finish off the job. Why simply dump these poor bodies overboard?’

‘Who are they?’

‘Religious. I have a suspicion that they might be part of the missing community of Llanpadern. Though why that should be I do not know.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No more do I. I also suspect that whoever sails that red dragon ship. . Morgan, did you say?. . is trying to put the blame for these deaths onto you. Bodies of the religious found where you had anchored offshore also had Hwicce weapons near them. Why would they take pains to do this?’

Osric smiled grimly. ‘It is not the first time the Hwicce have been attacked by the Welisc and not the first time we have killed Welisc Christians. So we do not care about bearing the blame for these deaths.’

Eadulf was thoughtful. ‘Why is there a need to lay the blame on the Saxons in order to stir up enmity? The very name of Saxon is enough to rouse these folk to hatred, Christian or pagan. Is there some deeper meaning to this?’

‘It is not for me to ponder on any deeper meaning, Eadulf the Christian. My only regret is that my ship was not ready otherwise I would have destroyed that ship of Gwent. Now it has probably found some hiding place further up the coast.’

Eadulf looked towards the Saxon ship. ‘How long will it take to repair your mast?’

‘We’ll have done within the hour. As soon as the mast is raised I mean to out the oars and row further down the coast just in case the Welisc returns to the attack again. We’ll repair the rigging while we are under way.’ He hesitated. ‘What about you? Surely you are not safe in this kingdom now?’

Eadulf was inclined to agree with him, but he accepted that Fate led him on another path. ‘I must return to Llanwnda. There are things to resolve before I can see my homeland again.’ While he had been speaking, his eyes had been examining the beach and the cliffs behind it. He had spotted several dark openings. ‘Those caves there