‘Tell me, Goff, where was this master-smith under whom you and Iorwerth were apprentices?’
‘He was smith of Dinas. Gurgust of Dinas. Poor man.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘Poor man?’
‘His daughter, you see.’
‘Poor man from the point of view that his daughter was having an affair with Iorwerth?’
Goff shook his head. ‘From what happened afterwards. It was a few weeks after Iorwerth was chased out of Dinas, after Gurgust had discovered that his daughter — Efa was her name — had succumbed to Iorwerth’s attentions, if you understand me? Gurgust was in such a rage that he threw his daughter out of his house as well.’
‘Did she go off with Iorwerth?’
‘She did not. Iorwerth had vanished and the girl was on her own. It seems that poor Efa took up with an itinerant warrior and had a child by him. Then Efa died.’
‘Did she die in childbirth?’
‘She was found in nearby woods, strangled, when her child was a few months old.’
‘Strangled?’ Fidelma was not often overtly startled but she set down her mead carefully.
‘It was very sad. Poor Gurgust gave up the forge after that. I did hear that he tried to find and claim custody of Efa’s child.’
‘Did he succeed?’
‘Not that I know of. The warrior had already given up the child and vanished in a host that marched on Ceredigion. I left Dinas and moved to the smithy here in Llanferran. It was only some years later that I heard that Gurgust had been killed in one of the border raids. In spite of his actions, he loved his daughter, Efa, and when she was murdered. .’ He ended with a shrug.
‘Did they ever find out who was responsible for Efa’s death?’ asked Fidelma when he paused.
Goff shook his head. ‘There was speculation that the warrior who had befriended her was the murderer. But no one knew who he was nor was he ever caught. There was even some argument that it was none other than Iorwerth himself.’
‘Was Iorwerth ever questioned about it?’
Goff was not surprised at her query. It had doubtless been asked many times over the years.
‘Of course. But Iorwerth had left Dinas as soon as Gurgust had thrown him out. At least no one could find him. It was thought that he had been in one of the hosts which marched on Ceredigion. Then, some years later, it was found that he had set up his own smithy at Llanwnda. Then he married Esyllt, my wife’s friend, and Mair was born. There was nothing to connect him with the death of Efa except rumour. Some felt that a wandering beggar had killed her, because the golden chain that she always wore — a chain of red gold which Gurgust had fashioned for her and which she had prized — was missing. It carried a strangely shaped gold pendant with jewels ending in the likeness of a hare. It was the symbol of Andrasta, the old pagan goddess of my people.’
‘Andrasta?’ queried Fidelma. ‘I have not heard of this goddess.’
‘They say the great queen, Boudicca, invoked her before she drove the Romans out of her kingdom,’ explained Goff.
‘And this gold chain and pendant was missing?’
‘It was. The conclusion was that she had simply been robbed and killed.’
‘Nevertheless, Iorwerth was suspected?’
‘He is an evil man, Sister,’ interrupted Rhonwen. ‘I would not put anything past him.’
Fidelma sat awhile, frowning. ‘Is Dinas far from here?’
‘It is a long way around the coastline. But if you went to the coast a few kilometres north-west of Llanwnda, then took a boat across the great bay there, Dinas is the island on the far side of the bay: a distance of perhaps five kilometres. Often the island is the object of attacks from Ceredigion just along the coast. But Gurgust and his daughter Efa are long forgotten. This happened twenty or more years ago. There is nothing there now.’
‘It seems a curious coincidence that both the daughter of Gurgust and the daughter of Iorwerth should meet their deaths in similar circumstances.’ Fidelma was reflective.
‘How can there be any connection?’ demanded Goff.
‘You said that Gurgust was killed in some border war?’
‘I did.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It is what I heard.’ The smith’s eyes suddenly lightened and he smiled. ‘If Gurgust lived, and believed that Iorwerth had killed his daughter, then he would have sought revenge long ago. Gurgust is long dead.’
Rhonwen leant forward across the table and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Even so, husband, the good sister must have a reason for asking the question. Are you saying that you believe Idwal to be innocent of young Mair’s death? Does Brother Meurig also believe this?’
Goff interrupted before Fidelma could respond.
‘You told us that you had come here to investigate the raid at Llanpadern. What is your interest in the death of Mair of Llanwnda?’ he demanded suspiciously.
Fidelma reassured him. ‘We journeyed to Llanwnda with Brother Meurig. He is there to investigate the killing. It is natural that our curiosity is piqued by the affair, and what help we can render to Brother Meurig we are willing to give.’
‘So you do believe that Idwal is innocent,’ Rhonwen said shrewdly. ‘No barnwr would waste their time on such questions unless they suspected that all was not as it seemed.’
‘How well do you know Idwal?’
Rhonwen answered with a smile. ‘As Goff said, we are a small community.’
‘What do you make of him?’
‘Make of him?’ Rhonwen was puzzled.
‘Do you think him capable of murder?’
‘Who is and who is not capable of taking a life given the circumstances?’ countered Goff. ‘We are all capable of doing so, I should imagine.’
‘I think Sister Fidelma means, what is your assessment of Idwal? Is he a likeable boy? Would he kill without justification?’
Goff rubbed his nose. ‘He is a half-wit.’
Rhonwen made a tutting sound and shook her head. Fidelma turned to her.
‘You disagree with that assessment?’
‘He isn’t a half-wit. He is merely slow. Almost child-like. He did not have a pleasant childhood after Iolo the shepherd died. Iolo fostered the boy as a baby. He was still a boy when Iolo’s brother, Iestyn, drove him out. Since then Idwal has had to earn a living as an itinerant shepherd.’
‘I’ll not deny that the boy has a fairly gentle nature,’ agreed Goff. ‘There is no denying that. He would weep every time one of his lambs died. But who knows what provoked him? We all have the instinct to kill when presented with the right circumstances, and the boy was deep. He kept his thoughts to himself. Who knew what angers lay beneath his quiet exterior?’
‘So you believe that he is guilty?’ asked Eadulf.
‘I believe what I am told by men whose opinions I respect.’
‘And who is it that you respect who told you Idwal was guilty?’ Fidelma asked sharply.
‘Why, Iestyn of Llanwnda, of course.’
Fidelma saw Rhonwen screw her features into a brief expression of dislike.
‘You do not think much of Iestyn, do you?’
Goff’s wife made her views clear. ‘When I think of him throwing that young boy out to fend for himself. . and now he has the gall to level the finger of blame.’
Goff tried to defend his opinion. ‘Iestyn has been a good friend to me. And perhaps he was right to throw the boy out years ago. Perhaps he saw what was coming.’
‘I know this is a small community, but when did you speak with Iestyn on this matter?’ Fidelma probed.
‘A day or so ago. He came by with a cart that needed a repair.’
‘I thought he was a friend of Iorwerth. Surely Iorwerth was closer at hand and would have been able to mend his cart?’
‘What my husband means,’ sniffed Rhonwen, ‘is that Iestyn was delivering a cartload of hides to a trader near here when his cart broke. Easier to call here than drag it all the way back to Llanwnda.’
‘I understand. So Iestyn was the one who told you what had happened and said that Idwal was guilty.’
‘He was,’ said Goff, rising abruptly. ‘And now, pleasant though it is to gossip, I have my forge to get back to.’