Smoke in the Wind by Peter Tremayne

Author:Peter Tremayne [Tremayne, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, _NB_fixed, _rt_yes, tpl, Fiction, Medieval Ireland, Clerical Sleuth, Historical, Church History
ISBN: 9780747264347
Publisher: Headline Book Publishing Ltd
Published: 2005-06-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

They rode into Llanwnda in silence. Fidelma had spoken little on the journey from the woodsman’s hut. As they crossed the bridge over the stream into the township, they heard the clang of metal on metal from the smith’s forge, heard the rasp of the bellows and saw Iorwerth the smith at work, swinging his hammer with his muscular arm. He barely glanced in their direction as they rode by. In the square beyond the bridge, where two nights before they had watched the abortive attempt to hang Idwal, there now stood a tall stack of wood, piled high and obviously ready to be ignited into a gigantic bonfire. Children were playing here and there in groups, unconcerned, riotous, normal. There were a few groups of people in the single street. Some stood gossiping, a few cast glances filled with curiosity in their direction.

Eadulf looked at Fidelma. He could see that she was perturbed. Indeed, the murder of a religieux was a heinous crime. When he had tried to speculate on who might have done this terrible thing, she had simply replied with her customary advice: ‘It is no use speculating without facts.’ She had refused to engage further with him, although he felt that she must be examining possibilities in her own mind as they rode along. That irritated him.

Fidelma was not immune to Eadulf’s frustration but she was in no mood to speculate aloud. She was too busy turning matters over in her head. She had spent some time carefully examining Brother Meurig’s body. She had also inspected the hut, the axe and the surrounding area. She had found nothing at all which could be called a clue. What had Brother Meurig been doing in the woods? Had he been searching for the spot where Mair had been killed? If so, what had he stumbled on to cause him to be killed in such a vicious and maniacal fashion?

It was no use sharing these questions with Eadulf. He would know the questions well enough but it was answers that were needed and there were none - yet. Without further information, questions remained simply questions.

The tranquillity of Llanwnda was in sharp contrast to what they had seen in the woodsman’s hut and their experience at Llanpadern. No one seemed surprised to see them again. No one appeared to be interested in their arrival.

‘We’ll go directly to Gwnda,’ Fidelma said to Eadulf as they walked their horses slowly down the street towards the hall of the lord of Pen Caer.

It was only when they had dismounted and were hitching their mounts to the posts in front of his hall that Gwnda himself appeared. He seemed ill at ease to see them.

‘What news from Llanpadern? You are soon back from there,’ he said in greeting. It was clear that there was no enthusiasm in his voice.

Fidelma examined his features closely. ‘What do you know of Brother Meurig’s whereabouts?’ she asked.

Gwnda’s mouth tightened a little at her response. ‘I don’t know where he is.

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