Chapter Six
Buddog met them at the door with a lantern. She
held the light high in strong, capable hands as she conducted them
across the yard to the dark stables. Fidelma had a passing thought
that the hands did not go with the handsome features of the woman,
for they seemed hard and callused by manual work. Buddog did not
seem relaxed or friendly towards them. She spoke only when spoken
to and then was monosyllabic, holding her head with jaw jutting
upwards slightly aggressively.
‘Have you run this household for a long time,
Buddog?’ Fidelma asked pleasantly as they began to cross the
yard.
‘Not long.’
‘A few weeks?’ There was a tone of mockery in
Fidelma’s voice. She disliked imprecise answers.
She noticed the servant’s lips tighten a
little.
‘I have been in this household for twenty
years.’
‘That is a long time. So you came here to work
when you were a young girl, then?’
‘I came here as a hostage,’ replied the woman
shortly. ‘I am of Ceredigion.’
They had reached the stable door. Buddog paused
with her hand on the latch and turned to Brother Meurig.
‘You will need this lantern, Brother. I know the
yard in the darkness so I can find my own way back.’
Brother Meurig took the lantern.
The woman hesitated and then said with a quiet
intensity to the barnwr: ‘If the boy did
kill Mair, then she was deserving of death!’
With that, she turned and became a shadow in the
darkness.
Fidelma broke the surprised silence. ‘I think,
Brother, you will have to ask Buddog to explain her views.’
Brother Meurig sighed softly. ‘Undoubtedly,
Sister. She seemed rather vehement.’
The boy, Idwal, was chained in an empty stall.
He strained away from them as they entered, moving into the
furthest corner like some frightened animal. He could not move far
for he was still bound with his hands behind him and had the chain
around one ankle. Fidelma wrinkled her nose in disgust.
‘Does he have to be contained in this fashion?’
she demanded.
Brother Meurig did not support the idea of
loosening his bonds. ‘If the boy is a killer, then there is no
cause to release him in case he does further harm.’
‘If? And if he is not a
killer?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘The evidence we have heard hardly supports that
contention, ’ replied Brother Meurig in annoyance at having his
opinion challenged.
‘We have only heard part of the evidence, so
far,’ Fidelma reminded him.
Brother Meurig was impatient. They had been
travelling all that day and he was tired. ‘Very well. I will have a
word with Gwnda after we have finished.’
He moved forward but Idwal gave another
animal-like cry and cowered back, turning his head away as if
expecting a blow.
Fidelma laid a hand on Brother Meurig’s arm. ‘I
would like, with your permission, to question him, Brother Meurig.
I know I am here only to observe and this is stretching your
generosity, but the boy might respond better to questions from
me.’
Brother Meurig was about to object. He was
beginning to feel that Fidelma might be interfering too much in his
office, but he was also an intelligent man and realised that the
boy might be more forthcoming to a woman. He indicated by a gesture
that she might do so and seated himself on a nearby bale of hay.
Eadulf took up a similar position. There was a three-legged stool,
used for milking cows, nearby. Fidelma picked this up and went to
sit near the boy.
‘Your name is Idwal, isn’t it?’ she began
gently.
The boy started back, staring at her with large
frightened eyes. It soon became obvious to Fidelma that Idwal was
not the brightest of youths. He was a slow-wit. Above all, he was
very frightened.
‘I am not going to harm you, Idwal. There are
just a few questions that I must ask you.’
The youth searched her features as if seeking
reassurance. ‘They have hurt me,’ he whispered. ‘They tried to kill
me.’
‘We are not going to hurt you, Idwal.’
The youth was undecided. ‘You are not one of us,
the Cymry - the compatriots?’
‘I am a Gwyddel.’ She used the word which
denoted an Irish person in the language of the Cymry.
Idwal glanced beyond her to Brother Meurig and
Eadulf. Fidelma saw his swift examination of them.
‘Brother Meurig there is the barnwr come to hear the charges against you. He has
asked me to put a few questions to you. You see, we want to help
you. Brother Eadulf is my companion. We all want to help
you.’
The youth gave a long sobbing cry. ‘They tried
to kill me. Iorwerth and Iestyn and the others. They were angry
with me. They tried to hang me on a tree.’
‘They were angry but they were very wrong to do
what they did,’ said Fidelma. ‘However, we came along and stopped
them. Do you remember that?’
Idwal cast a glance at Meurig and Eadulf from
the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to her. ‘I
remember,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘Yes. I remember.’
‘Good. Now, you do understand that they are
saying that you killed a girl called Mair? That you raped her and
killed her. Do you understand that?’
Idwal began to shake his head rapidly. ‘No, no,
no! I did not do it. I loved Mair. I would do anything for her . .
.’
‘Mair’s father, Iorwerth, told you to keep away
from her, didn’t he?’
The youth hung his head. ‘He did. He did not
like me. None of them here in Llanwnda liked me.’ Idwal’s voice was
suddenly flat, without emotion. He made a simple statement of
fact.
‘Why wouldn’t they like you?’ Fidelma
pressed.
‘Because I am poor, I suppose. Because I never
knew my parents. Because they think that I am stupid.’
‘But you were born in this territory?’ Fidelma
asked the question because in her society the community always
looked after its weakest members and it was unusual that resentment
was ever demonstrated against those without ability or means.
Idwal responded with a frown. ‘I don’t know
where I was born. I was raised in Iolo’s house over at Garn Fechan.
Iolo was a shepherd. He wasn’t my father. He never told me who my
father was. When he was killed, his brother, Iestyn, kicked me off
the land and I had to fend for myself.’
‘Iestyn?’ The interjection came from Eadulf.
‘Where have we heard that name?’
Fidelma glanced warningly at him. ‘Is Iestyn the
same person who was one of those trying to punish you this
evening?’
Idwal nodded quickly. ‘Iestyn has always hated
me.’
‘You said Iolo was killed. How was that?’
‘Sea-raiders.’
‘Who were they?’
Idwal shrugged and shook his head.
‘Tell me what happened between you and Mair,’
went on Fidelma. ‘Why did you come to be accused of killing
her?’
‘Mair didn’t treat me like the others. She was
friendly towards me. She was nice.’
‘And you liked her?’
‘Of course.’
‘In what way did you like her?’
The youth looked puzzled by her question.
‘She was my friend,’ he asserted.
‘Nothing more?’
‘What more is there?’ The youth was
ingenuous.
Fidelma compressed her lips as she gazed into
the boy’s guileless eyes. ‘You were seen having a row with her a
short time before her body was found.’
Idwal flushed and he dropped his gaze. ‘That’s
my secret.’
‘It is not a secret, Idwal,’ she said sharply.
‘You were seen arguing with her and a short time later she was
found dead. People might say that you could have killed her because
of that argument.’
‘I promised her that I would not say.’
‘But she is dead,’ Fidelma pointed out.
‘My promise still holds. It was a personal thing
between us.’
‘So personal that she is now dead?’
‘I did not kill her.’
‘What happened, then?’
The youth’s reply was guarded. ‘After I had said
that I would not do what she wanted me to . . .’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed quickly. ‘That was what
the row was about? She asked you to do something and you
refused?’
Idwal blinked in confusion. ‘Are you trying to
trick me? I will not say what the row was about.’
‘I am trying to get to the truth of the matter.
If you tell me the truth, then you have nothing to fear.’
‘I am telling the truth. I did not kill
her.’
‘What did she ask you to do?’ pressed Fidelma
relentlessly.
The youth hesitated. Then he gave a little sigh.
‘She wanted me to take a message for her, that’s all. And that’s
all I can tell for I swore an oath not to tell anything more. I
swore an oath to her; an oath to Mair. I will not break it.’
Fidelma sat back in contemplation. ‘It must have
been some terrible secret that you would swear such an oath about
taking a message. Why would your refusal create an argument?’
‘Because I did not want to take her message. I
thought it was wrong,’ blurted Idwal.
‘Why was it wrong?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘I will not tell any more.’ Idwal was certainly
a stubborn youth.
‘Tell me how you came to be standing over her
dead body if you did not kill her?’ Fidelma decided to change tack.
‘Come on, Idwal, speak sharply now.’
The youth gestured helplessly with his
shoulders, a difficult motion with his hands still bound behind
him. ‘After the argument, I left her. It upset me. She was my
friend and treated me nicely. But I could not do what she asked. I
went to sit by myself and thought for a while. I felt that I should
go to find her and apologise . . .’
‘How long did you sit on your own?’
‘I do not know. It seemed a long time.’
‘So you went back to find her. Did you?’
‘It was near to the very place where I had left
her. She looked as though she was sleeping. At first, I thought she
was.’ Idwal gave a sob.
‘Then you saw that she had blood on her?’
Brother Meurig suddenly intervened, causing Fidelma a moment of
irritation.
‘She had no blood on her,’ replied the boy.
‘That’s why I thought she was asleep.’
Brother Meurig leant forward from his hay bale.
‘Yet the apothecary, according to Gwnda, said the girl had blood on
her clothes,’ he pointed out, more to Fidelma than the boy.
‘Are you sure that there was no blood on her
clothes, Idwal?’
The boy closed his eyes, as if trying to
remember. ‘I saw none,’ he said emphatically.
Fidelma glanced at Brother Meurig.
Gwnda had said that the girl was a virgin who
had been raped. If so, one would expect blood to make staining on
the nether clothing, just as had been reported to them.
‘What did you do then?’ she prompted, deciding
not to pursue the matter for the moment.
‘I knelt beside her to see what I could do. I
realised that she was dead. I stood up. I felt . . .’ He paused,
unable to express his feelings. ‘It was then that I heard angry
shouting. People were coming though the bracken. I was scared. I
started to run.’
‘Then?’
‘I remember being hit. I was on the ground and
there was Gwnda standing over me with his cudgel. Then the others
came and started to kick and beat me. I think I lost consciousness
for a long time. I do not recall any more until I awoke here and I
was bound.’
‘You cannot remember anything else?’
‘I do not know how long I was kept here. I know
it was more than a day and a night. Buddog came and gave me water.
She said she was sorry for me. I have not eaten for a long while.
Then early this evening, Iestyn came with two others and dragged me
out. They dragged me towards the tree in the square . . . then you
came.’
Fidelma sat back in silence for a while, looking
at the youth. She turned to Brother Meurig. The barnwr was frowning. He indicated with his head
towards the door.
Fidelma turned back to the youth. ‘All you need
do, Idwal, is tell the truth. Do you swear that you have told me
the truth?’
Idwal raised his eyes to her. ‘I swear it by the
living God, Sister. I swear it. I did not kill her . . . Mair was
my friend. My good friend.’
‘And you still will not say what was the message
that she wanted to entrust to you?’
‘I have taken an oath to her. I will keep the
message a secret. I cannot break my oath.’
Fidelma patted him on the shoulder, rose and
followed Brother Meurig and Eadulf to the door.
‘The boy has a ring of sincerity in his voice,’
Brother Meurig observed reluctantly in a quiet tone. ‘But his
statement raises as many questions as it answers.’
‘I agree that he is speaking the truth so far as
it goes,’ replied Fidelma.
‘Then, like me, you are not sure that he has
spoken the whole truth?’
‘What message could the girl have wanted to
entrust to him which would cause him to argue with her?’
‘Maybe he was lying about it?’ Eadulf
suggested.
‘For what purpose? It is obvious that the youth
is immature for his age. I doubt that one so simple could make up
such a story,’ replied Fidelma.
‘It seems strange, though. What message could
have been important enough for her to make him swear an oath not to
mention it?’
They were silent for a moment and then Eadulf
spoke thoughtfully. ‘The most puzzling thing is that Idwal claims
there was no blood on the girl’s clothes. Gwnda and the apothecary
have said that that was what denoted that she had been
raped.’
‘That is something we will have to follow up
with the apothecary himself. What was his name? Elisse?’ agreed
Fidelma.
‘It is clear that Idwal is claiming that he was
not the girl’s lover . . . not even a would-be lover,’ Brother
Meurig observed. ‘However, the evidence from the apothecary does
indicate rape. The position of the blood on her clothes would
confirm it.’
‘I would also pursue the matter of this secret
message,’ Eadulf suggested. ‘Often such messages are the means by
which lovers communicate. Did Mair have such a lover? Was that the
reason why Idwal refused to take her message?’
Fidelma stared at Eadulf in surprise for a
moment and then her features broke into a smile of approval.
‘Sometimes, Eadulf, you have the ability to see the obvious while
we are looking for something else.’
Brother Meurig was intrigued. ‘If the message
was to a lover, then Idwal, who has admitted that he loved Mair,
even though it seems we are not talking about a physical love,
might have been stirred to violence through jealousy. Let us tax
the boy immediately.’
Fidelma turned back into the stable. ‘Idwal, one
further question arises. About the message--’
The youth’s features were set firmly. ‘I have
told you that I will not say anything more.’
Fidelma’s voice was calming but assured. ‘Very
well. I suppose, however, you refused to take it because you did
not approve of Mair’s lover? Is that it?’
Idwal’s expression told her what she wanted to
know.
‘You see, Idwal,’ she went on kindly, ‘truth has
a habit of revealing itself. Who was this man?’
The youth shook his head. ‘I have given my
oath.’
‘Your future might depend on your telling me the
man’s name.’
‘I have given my oath.’
Fidelma was a shrewd judge of character and
realised that Idwal would not be budged. ‘Very well, Idwal. So be
it.’
She rejoined Brother Meurig and Eadulf at the
door, shaking her head. ‘Eadulf was right. The youth insists on
saying nothing but his face spoke the truth when I put it to him
that the message was for Mair’s lover. However, he would not name
him.’
‘There is one thing that we are overlooking,’
Brother Meurig pointed out. ‘About this unknown lover - we are
talking only of a lover in emotional terms and not physical terms.
The evidence confirms she was a virgin. It still gives the boy a
motive. Revenge on the girl because she had rejected him for
another.’
‘I think it is best to wait until morning before
pursuing the matter further,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Tonight, Idwal is
determined to keep his oath. He might have reflected on the matter
by the morning.’
They left the stable but outside Brother Meurig
paused. His face was troubled in the light of the lantern which he
held. ‘The boy might be more cunning than we give him credit for.
He might be misleading us.’
‘If he is not,’ replied Fidelma, ‘it might not
only confirm the reason why Iestyn saw the girl and boy arguing,
but, again in the boy’s favour, it might confirm that someone else
had a motive for encompassing her death.’
Brother Meurig looked doubtful.
‘At this stage,’ Fidelma reassured him, ‘it is
not so much a matter of getting the right answers as of asking the
right questions of the right people. You heard Gwnda’s daughter,
Elen, say that she was a friend of Mair’s? She was also concerned
for Idwal. Perhaps she knows something? However, if I may offer
advice, I would ensure that you question her without the presence
of Gwnda. He did not seem at all happy at his daughter’s
concern.’
Brother Meurig gave her an appreciative look.
‘And there is the servant Buddog,’ he added. ‘She was quite severe
about Mair.’
‘I had not forgotten. Let us go and have a word
with her before we retire.’
Buddog was in the kitchen. She was in the
process of wringing the neck of a chicken. She glanced up dourly as
they entered, her large hands giving the final quick twist to the
bird’s long neck. Then she pushed it aside. Three more carcasses
lay ready to be plucked for the next day’s meal.
‘I will show you to your rooms,’ she said,
rising and wiping her hands on a cloth.
Brother Meurig replied by suggesting that food
should be taken to the boy and his restriction eased.
‘Food I will take,’ replied the woman woodenly.
‘Ask Gwnda about his bonds.’
‘I shall,’ agreed Brother Meurig. ‘We were
wondering what you meant when you said that Mair was deserving of
death?’
Buddog’s features distorted with a little
grimace. ‘I gave you my opinion,’ she said, volunteering no further
information.
‘But on what is that opinion based?’ demanded
Fidelma.
Buddog hesitated. Her lips thinned, and she
pulled a disdainful grimace. ‘It is known throughout this township
that the girl liked to flirt, to tease any man she thought she
could provoke and make gain from.’
‘Are you saying that she was promiscuous?’
Fidelma asked.
‘I thought I had spoken plainly.’
‘A promiscuous virgin? It sounds like a
contradiction in terms,’ muttered Brother Meurig.
‘Virgin?’ Buddog gave a harsh laugh.
‘You do not think she was a virgin?’
‘I only have an opinion,’ replied the servant.
‘I am not a physician.’
‘What men did she provoke?’ queried Fidelma.
‘You said that she would tease and provoke them.’
Buddog pursed her lips, perhaps regretting that
she had made the comment. Then she said: ‘Why not ask Iestyn? I
once saw him coming through the woods with a smile on his face. I
heard that he had just seen Mair.’
‘When was this?’ demanded Brother Meurig.
‘A few days ago . . . oh, the very day she met
her death.’
‘And what were you doing in the woods at that
time?’ Fidelma asked quickly.
‘I was picking mushrooms that morning for a meal
I was preparing.’
‘Buddog!’ It was the sharp voice of Gwnda, who
had appeared in the doorway. ‘What are you doing here chattering?
Take our guests to their rooms immediately. Can’t you see that they
are tired, woman?’
Buddog shot him a resentful glance but said
nothing. Gwnda started to apologise to them but Brother Meurig cut
him short.
‘It is we who were asking questions,
Gwnda.’
The lord of Pen Caer frowned. ‘Then you should
address your questions to me and not to my servants,’ he said
stiffly.
‘That would be futile, for it is the answers of
Buddog that we wanted,’ Fidelma said. She disliked the overbearing
lord of Pen Caer, especially the way he seemed to treat the women
of his household. ‘I think Brother Meurig does have a request for
you.’
Thus prompted, Brother Meurig told him that he
expected food to be taken to Idwal and that his bonds should be
removed except for the ankle chain. Gwnda grunted and turned away.
Brother Meurig took it as an affirmative response and did not
pursue him.
‘A pity,’ the barnwr
said a short time later as he, Fidelma and Eadulf stood in the
corridor outside the rooms to which a now taciturn Buddog had shown
them.
‘Perhaps you can resume your questions
tomorrow?’ Fidelma suggested. ‘However, it might well be that
Buddog was making conjectures about Iestyn. Certainly she seems to
dislike Mair. Anyway, we should retire now.’
‘Thank you for allowing me to observe your
method of interrogation,’ smiled Brother Meurig. ‘I can see why you
have won your reputation.’ Then he hesitated and glanced towards
Eadulf. ‘I mean, why you both share the reputation.’
Eadulf did not bother to respond to Meurig’s
belated inclusion of him.
‘Eadulf and I need to make an early start for
Llanpadern in the morning,’ said Fidelma.
‘Will you not stay and see this matter through
before you go? I thought you were interested in this case?’ Brother
Meurig was surprised.
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I am very interested,
for I fear the youth is innocent and that something deeper lies
behind this. But our commission from King Gwlyddien is to find out
what happened at Llanpadern and to his son Brother Rhun. That is
our main task. We will ride on to Llanpadern first thing tomorrow.
But I will look forward to hearing your news on this matter when we
return.’
Brother Meurig’s face softened a little. Eadulf
realised that Fidelma’s announcement probably came as a relief to
the barnwr. Fidelma’s natural authority
seemed to have almost taken over his investigation. Nevertheless,
the barnwr was gracious.
‘I am most grateful for the help given by
Brother Eadulf and yourself. It appears that our methods of
investigation are similar.’ He paused and then added almost
reluctantly: ‘But won’t you need a guide in the morning - an
interpreter?’
Fidelma smiled. ‘I don’t think so. If Llanpadern
is just a few kilometres in the direction of the hill which you
pointed out to me earlier, then it will not be difficult to find.
And as for an interpreter, though it is a few years since I spoke
the language of the Cymry, I find that I seem to have retained a
fair portion of what I learnt.’ She smiled at Eadulf. ‘Eadulf, too,
appears to understand enough to get by.’
‘I understand more than I speak,’ confirmed
Eadulf.
Brother Meurig certainly appeared relieved that
they were no longer calling on his service as guide and
interpreter. ‘Then I shall remain here and continue the
investigation.’
Fidelma smiled. ‘We shall look forward to
hearing your resolution when we return after our inquiries at
Llanpadern.’