Read Smoke in the Wind for Free Online Page A

defeated the Briton, King Selyf son of Cynan. After that battle, Athelfrith went to the great abbey of the Britons at Bangor and slaughtered one thousand Christian monks to celebrate his victory. Do the Britons forgive us such slaughter, Fidelma? I think not. I cannot rest easy all the while that I am in the kingdom of the Britons.’
    Fidelma considered his fears with some sympathy. ‘You are not to blame for the misdeeds of your people, Eadulf. I think that you should reflect on the fact that the Britons are not so narrow-minded that they would blame all Saxons for the events caused by previous generations. The Britons have adhered to the Faith for many centuries, even during the time when the Romans occupied their lands. They do not inflict harm without just cause. The massacre of the monks at Bangor took place in the kingdom of Gwynedd in the north and we are in the kingdom of Dyfed, which is in the south. Dyfed has close links to Éireann. And tomorrow Abbot Tryffin of Dewi Sant has invited us to break bread with him.’
    Eadulf looked at her in surprise. ‘We have both been invited?’
    Fidelma grimaced. ‘Well, the invitation was primarily to me but it was made clear that if you were sufficiently recovered then you would accompany me. I believe that something is worrying the abbot. He seems a kindly soul. I think that he wants to ask for help but did not feel comfortable about doing so at our meeting this afternoon.’
    Eadulf was bewildered. ‘Why would the Britons ask for your aid?’
    ‘As I said, there are close links between Dyfed and Éireann.’
    ‘Such as?’ Eadulf, always keen to learn some new knowledge, asked her to explain.
    Brother Rhodri entered at that moment bearing a tray with bowls of steaming broth and bread. He set it down on a table beside the bed.
    Eadulf regarded the broth wryly. ‘I could eat a side of venison,’ he sighed, glancing at Fidelma, still speaking in their common tongue.
    Brother Rhodri regarded him in disapproval. ‘You may try some cuts of cold meat and cheese on the morrow, Brother Saxon, but I would advise you not to fully indulge your appetite for a day or so.’
    Eadulf grinned a little in embarrassment at the man, now realising just how fluent the Briton’s knowledge of the language of Éireann was. Perhaps he should have been more circumspect in his utterances.
    ‘I am grateful both for your nursing and for your advice, Brother Rhodri.’
    The round-faced man smiled suddenly. It seemed his natural expression. ‘God never ordained a mouth to be without food,’ he quoted as he left the room. ‘So remember that advice is never the law.’
    ‘What are these links, Fidelma?’ Eadulf demanded as they began their meal after Brother Rhodri had departed.
    Fidelma was nothing loath to explain the history and folklore of her people.
    ‘According to the old scribes, it was over two centuries ago that a chieftain of the Déisi, Aonghus of the Terrible Spear, made a cast in temper and knocked out the eye of the High King, Cormac Mac Art. Because the cast was an accident, the punishment was not as severe as it might have been. The punishment was that Aonghus and his entire clan were to be banished from their rich lands in the kingdom of Midhe. Part of the clan was settled in my brother’s own kingdom.’
    Eadulf nodded, remembering that a tribe called the Déisi did, indeed, dwell in the southern area of Muman. ‘And the others?’
    ‘Another section of the clan went across the sea. One was led by Eochaid. He settled his people here in this area, which was the lands of the Demetae. He became the ruler here, though it is said that he achieved it by peaceful means and not by war. Since then there have been ten kings of his line and many of the nobles of this place are the actual descendants of the Déisi. That is why you will find many of this kingdom still able to converse in the language of Éireann and why many of our religious come to study here.’
    Eadulf had not