Smoke in the Wind

me all about it. In the meantime, your bungling has nearly ruined everything. They are asking too many questions, getting too near the truth of this matter.’

‘Why should you worry? Artglys of Ceredigion will guarantee you protection.’

‘Every moment the Gwyddel and the Saxon stay in Llanwnda is dangerous for our cause. That was why you were supposed to take care of them.’

‘So I shall. But there are more important matters to see to first. There is plenty of time.’

‘When will we get the word?’

‘As soon as we hear that Gwlyddien is marching east.’

‘I cannot stay longer. You were a fool to come to this place. Why did you summon me here?’

‘To tell you that Morgan carried out his part. Now you must do yours.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that word gets to Gwlyddien about the latest Saxon outrage. Did everything else go to plan?’

‘So far.’

‘I still say that the Gwyddel woman and her friend could destroy everything.’

‘Have no fear, Iestyn. The word will soon come. The people of Dyfed will believe anything about the Saxons. I have sent one of my men to the abbey of Dewi Sant with news of the Saxon raids. If this does not stir that old fool Gwlyddien to march then his people will start taking matters into their own hands. Whatever way, we will be victorious. Make sure that some of your people bear witness to the bodies and see the Saxon ship.’

‘What if this does not work?’

‘It will work. As soon as Gwlyddien is forced to march against the Saxons, Artglys of Ceredigion will march south into the kingdom and within a day or two you will be looking at the new king.’

‘There is an old saying, Clydog, “The end of the day is a good profit”,’ Iestyn replied pessimistically.

‘Just make sure that you get witnesses to see the Saxon ship and the bodies,’ snapped Clydog, kicking his horse and leading his men back across the bridge into the forest.

Fidelma and Eadulf waited until they heard Iestyn leave the forge and disappear into the woods in the direction of his farmstead. Eadulf gave a long whistling sigh.

‘I think I am more confused than ever,’ he confessed, standing back from the door.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘On the contrary, things have been made abundantly clear.’

‘Clear?’

‘It is now clear that Prince Cathen’s suspicions about Dyfed’s neighbour, King Artglys of Ceredigion, have a firm foundation. Ceredigion is trying to create a situation where Gwlyddien and his army are persuaded to attack the Hwicce. While they are away, Artglys will march into Dyfed to set up a puppet ruler answerable to him.’

‘Do you mean Clydog?’

‘It is possible.’

‘So what you are saying is that the affair of Llanpadern was staged to force Gwlyddien’s hand? That this Morgan marched on Llanpadern because Gwlyddien’s son Rhun was a religieux in that community?’

‘Precisely so.’

‘I still do not understand the details. . why take all the members of the community prisoner and then wait a day or two before killing some of them and staging that first elaborate charade of an Hwicce attack?’

Fidelma was nodding thoughtfully.

‘I think that might be explained. Brother Cyngar and the boy Idwal were not expected to arrive at Llanpadern that morning. Whoever did the deed did not even know that they had visited Llanpadern and found the community missing. Why the wait before starting to kill their prisoners? Because whoever took the community had to wait until the Saxon ship was sighted before staging the first “attack”. Cyngar and Idwal upset the plan from the first by arriving on the scene too early.’

‘But what of the death of the girl Mair?’

‘We still have to work that into the scheme of things.’ She stood up. ‘There are a couple of people we need to question before we can clarify matters there. Come.’

She led the way into the township. A few people were beginning to drift back to their houses, having been assured that the Saxon ship had sailed.

‘Should we try to stop Iestyn taking some townsfolk to see the Hwicce leaving?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Are you sure that the bodies of the religieux are well hidden?’ Eadulf asserted they were, and Fidelma went on: ‘Then we will leave that matter for a while and finish our other business.’

They had halted before a small building by which stood a stone statuette of a woman on horseback with a basket of fruit. Fidelma knew it was the old pagan horse goddess Epona, whom the ancients regarded as the symbol of fertility and health. The building was clearly the township’s apothecary shop. There was light and movement behind the thick, opaque glass windows.

Fidelma went inside. Eadulf followed, mystified. An elderly man was sitting at a bench pounding some herbs in a mortar with a wooden pestle. He looked up as they entered.

‘Ah, you are the dálaigh from Cashel, eh? Exciting times, eh? But not the first time we have had to abandon our township and take to the forests. The Ceredigion have sailed into the bay more than once in my lifetime, not to mention the Saxons.’ The old man was clearly of a loquacious temperament.

‘I presume that you are Elisse the apothecary?’ Fidelma asked.

‘I am. How can I be of service?’

‘Did Brother Meurig seek you out before he was killed?’

‘Ah, that was a sad death. Sadder that the people lost their senses and killed that young boy. Justice should not be an act of mere vengeance.’

‘Did Brother Meurig ask your opinion on the death of Mair?’

The apothecary shook his head. ‘He did not, although I was told that he wanted to speak with me. However. . his time was short.’

‘Then will you answer a couple of questions for me? I know what he wanted to ask you.’

The apothecary regarded her expectantly. ‘I am at your service, Sister. Ask away,’ he invited with gravity.

‘You were called to examine the body of the girl Mair, weren’t you?’

Elisse nodded in affirmation. ‘Sad when one so young departs this life. Sad indeed.’

‘What was the cause of death?’

‘I would say that she was strangled first. Bruising and abrasions around her neck showed that.’

‘Strangled first?’ Fidelma picked up on the word.

‘The other wounds were made after death, as if in some frenzy.’

Fidelma was leaning forward eagerly. ‘Other wounds? What other wounds?’

Elisse regarded her in surprise for a moment. ‘You were surely told about the knife wounds?’

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf. ‘We have heard no mention of knife wounds. I heard that there was blood on her lower clothing. But we were told that this indicated that she had been raped and that she was a virgin.’

‘No, that was the conclusion that Gwnda leapt to when he pointed the blood out to me. He and Iorwerth claimed that the girl must have been raped before death. Iorwerth believed his daughter to be a virgin.’

‘What are you saying exactly? That she was not?’

‘I am afraid not. I paid particular attention to the matter for when my wife was cleaning her body for burial she was troubled by wounds made on the upper inner thigh. I realised that two wounds had been made by a broad-bladed knife. This was the source of the heavy bleeding.’

Fidelma was silent as she contemplated what she had been told.

‘I explained that there’ — the apothecary gave an embarrassed shrug — ‘there was no sign of sexual molestation. And I would guarantee that she was no virgo intacta.’

‘Could you tell by examination?’

‘My wife did that. She also told me that she was not surprised, for a year ago the girl had approached her and asked about ways to prevent pregnancy. I speak boldly, Sister, but you must know how women hand down such lore.’

‘Mair asked your wife this question?’

‘You may ask her yourself.’ The apothecary turned as if to call her but Fidelma restrained him with a shake