Read Online Smoke in the Wind by Peter Tremayne - Free Book Online Page B

Fidelma queried.
    ‘None that I can think of.’
    ‘Then you do not believe, as Abbot Tryffin seems to suspect, that the community might have fallen foul of some black art - spirited away by the forces of darkness,’ Eadulf asked in all seriousness.
    Brother Meurig chuckled dryly.
    ‘The forces of darkness have better things to do than waste time in performing conjuring tricks, Brother Eadulf.’
    There was a ghost of a smile on Fidelma’s lips. ‘When you have eliminated all other explanations, whatever remains, no matter how incredible, must be the answer,’ she observed. ‘Even the black arts.’
    ‘From what I have heard of your reputation, I believe that the realms of darkness would be the last place where you would seek answers, Sister.’
    ‘Ah, you are so wrong, Brother Meurig. The realms of darkness are the first place to search when you are dealing with evil. The evil condition of the human mind is such a place of darkness that the entities of the Otherworld are but drifting ethereal smoke by comparison.’
    Brother Meurig seemed amused. ‘I intend to leave for Pen Caer at first light, so that we may be there by dusk. You may spend the night at the township and go on to Llanpadern in the morning. That would be the safest thing to do.’
    ‘Safest?’ Fidelma caught the word.
    ‘Pen Caer is an area which has been beset by highway thieves of late. Even religious are not immune from their attentions.’
    ‘On our journey tomorrow, you will have to tell me more about the place,’ Fidelma said as they left.
     
    ‘There it is! That’s Llanwnda! That is the seat of the lord of Pen Caer.’
    They had been riding most of the day, taking the journey in an easy fashion without tiring their mounts, stopping now and then for water and once for the midday meal. The track along which they rode was parallel to the coastline and the countryside offered such a variety of scenery as to be impressive. Moorland and crag, rolling cultivated lands and deep wooded valleys, river gorges and even tidal marshes bordered their road. Now and then they came close to where Meurig pointed out towering sea cliffs lining the shore between the land and the restless seas beyond.
    It was late afternoon; the sky was a solid mass of grey-tinged clouds and dusk was not far off. They could feel it in the chill, gloomy air. Brother Meurig brought his mare to a halt on a rise at a crossroads marked by an ancient round-headed stone with a cross inscribed on it, set back in the hedgerow. He gestured towards some buildings which could just be made out through the trees, standing less than a kilometre away.
    ‘That is Llanwnda!’ Brother Meurig called again.
    Eadulf found the name difficult to pronounce. ‘Clanoo’n-da, ’ was the closest he could come. ‘What’s the name mean?’ he asked.
    ‘A llan is an enclosure,’ replied Brother Meurig. ‘The chieftain here is called Gwnda and it takes its name from him.’
    ‘G’oon-da?’ Eadulf tried to repeat the name phonetic-ally.
    ‘That’s right. Gwnda.’
    ‘And the large hill beyond,’ interposed Sister Fidelma. ‘What is that? Is that the hill where the community of Llanpadern is situated?’
    Brother Meurig shook his head. ‘No, that hill is Pen Caer, from which this district takes its name. The community of Llanpadern is on the lower slope of Carn Gelli just to the south of us. Can you see the hill far over to your left?’
    The area was so wooded that it was difficult, but she could just make out the contours.
    ‘We shall find lodgings in the township. Probably Gwnda himself will provide us with hospitality, and then you may be able to pick up some gossip on what people think has happened at Llanpadern.’
    ‘A sound approach,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘I hope we will also have time to observe some of your inquiries on the case that you have come to judge. It would be a good opportunity for me to observe the practice of the law of Dyfed.’
    ‘I would like nothing better