‘I kept my counsel,’ said Geoffrey coolly. ‘Besides, Edward did not ask, because he believed that killing Eudo was the end of the matter.’
‘Yes – but Eudo wrote the letters and passed them to Pepin before he was killed,’ said Delwyn. ‘Do not wave that knife at me, Sir Sear. I have done nothing wrong. I was asked, by men loyal to the King, to ensure two messages were delivered. And that is what I did.’
‘Except you failed,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You have no idea whether I delivered the letters or not.’
‘I assume you did it here,’ said Delwyn. ‘After you visited the abbey. Are you telling me you have not done it yet? For God’s sake, man! It has been two days!’
‘I did it in Goodrich,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Did you?’ asked Delwyn, startled. ‘I did not see. Of course, I only have your word that you did it. You made a mistake with Wilfred’s and Mabon’s, I understand.’
‘The mistake was Eudo’s,’ said Geoffrey curtly. ‘I can only assume he was a little more careful with the ones he deemed more important. But you are a monk. How can you condone murder, especially of a man like Hywel – a decent man and a fellow countryman?’
‘I have my price,’ Delwyn flashed back. ‘And so do you – you carried these letters because you want to protect your family. You are no different from me.’
‘And what was your price?’ asked Geoffrey coldly.
‘My abbey,’ replied Delwyn. ‘It comprises Welsh monks serving a Welsh saint. But there are plans to turn it into a Norman foundation. I was promised that if I helped get the messages delivered, the abbey would stay Welsh.’
Geoffrey regarded him in surprise; he had assumed Delwyn had been paid in coins. And there was something else, too: he had assumed Eudo had acted alone, but Delwyn’s claims suggested there was a wider conspiracy.
‘Who made you this promise?’ he asked.
‘I cannot say,’ said Delwyn. ‘But he is powerful and ruthless, and if you ever challenge him, he will ensure you never live to tell the tale.’
‘Then I definitely need to know,’ argued Geoffrey, ‘because I cannot live the rest of my life suspecting everyone I meet. Tell me.’
‘I shall not,’ said Delywn defiantly. ‘And you cannot make me. So let me go before I tell my abbot that you have been manhandling me and he complains to the King.’
‘The King would pay no heed to grumbles made by you,’ said Sear in disdain.
‘Take your hands off me, you ignorant, stupid Norman,’ snarled Delwyn. ‘Your loutish—’
Geoffrey leapt from his horse when he saw what was going to happen, but he was too late. Sear was not the kind of man to tolerate abuse from someone like Delwyn. There was a brief flash of steel, and Delwyn sank slowly to the ground, staring in disbelief. Geoffrey tried to stem the bleeding, but it was not many moments before Delwyn’s eyes closed in death. Geoffrey gazed up at Sear in horror, appalled that he should kill an unarmed monk.
‘He asked for it,’ said Sear defensively. ‘Indeed, he is lucky I did not skewer him a good deal sooner; he has been an aggravation ever since La Batailge.’
‘We needed him alive,’ said Geoffrey angrily. ‘Now we may never know who really ordered Hywel’s murder.’
‘The King will find out,’ said Sear dismissively. ‘But do not waste any more time. If we are to save Hywel, and rescue the King from the accusations that will follow, we must hurry.’
A week before, Geoffrey would never have envisaged riding side by side with Sear to save the life of a man he barely knew. Sear’s men were behind them, although they were an undisciplined rabble, and he did not think they would be much help in a skirmish. He hoped, although he knew it was unrealistic, that Cornald’s messengers would be successful, and Hywel’s own troops would come to the rescue.
It was not far to the castle, but dusk was falling, and the track between town and Rhydygors was rutted and uneven. To gallop along it risked tumbles for the horses. Sear slowed to an amble, and Geoffrey had no choice but to match his pace, although he chafed furiously at the lost time.
‘What is your plan?’ asked Sear, still clearly unhappy with the whole business.
‘Go straight to Rhydygors to warn Hywel. If he is not there, we will go to Gwgan’s home. Then we will stay with him until his own garrison arrives to protect him. It could be a long night.’
‘It could,’ agreed Sear. ‘Even with my men, we will be heavily outnumbered. We will be lucky to survive. I suppose Edward and his creatures may come to our assistance, but, given their bumbling attempts at ambushing, I do not think our chances will be very much improved.’
Geoffrey said nothing, because Sear’s concerns were valid.
‘I hope you are right about this,’ muttered Sear after a moment. ‘Because it is going to be very embarrassing if you are wrong, and we burst in on a friendly dinner.’
‘I am right,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It is obvious now we have all the pieces.’
‘But Gwgan,’ persisted Sear worriedly. ‘He is Hywel’s closest friend. I admire him.’
‘So do I,’ said Geoffrey, not liking to think of what Isabella would say. ‘But Richard cannot do this without Gwgan. Hywel will dine with him in his house tonight, and Richard will ambush him there. That is why Richard left Kermerdyn – not because he is afraid of being attacked, but so he will be ready to strike.’
‘Did you believe Delwyn?’ asked Sear uneasily. ‘About Eudo being under orders from someone else? Or do you think he was just trying to make himself seem more important?’
‘We may never know,’ said Geoffrey coldly, still angry about the killing. ‘However, at least I know why Eudo took so many days to prepare the letters. I doubt they contained blunt orders to kill, but were couched in terms that could be denied later, should they fall into the wrong hands.’
And, he thought, the King may have wanted to vet them, too. The fact that he had declined to let Bishop Maurice rewrite them after Eudo’s death was testament to the fact that there was something untoward afoot. Maurice had been right when he said he sensed evil in them.
And if the King was aware of what was happening, it explained his rather casual attitude to Eudo’s death. The murder was to his advantage: whether the plot succeeded or failed, Henry could blame it on a rogue clerk who dabbled in dark affairs, and Eudo would not be in a position to deny it. Of course, Geoffrey could confide none of this to Sear, because the man was likely to withdraw his support if he thought Hywel’s murder was what Henry wanted. Sear was nothing if not loyal.
‘Gwgan is clever,’ Sear was saying. ‘He will understand ambiguous commands. And he can read, so there will be no need to involve clerks or scribes. Any message will stay between him and the sender.’
Geoffrey nodded. ‘And he read Richard’s for him too. Doubtless that was also anticipated.’
‘I received some devious messages from Eudo myself, and it was fortunate Alberic knew how to interpret them, because I did not see their real meaning at all.’ Sear glanced at Geoffrey. ‘But I am still uneasy with all this. Supposing we thwart Richard, and the King is angry, because he told Eudo what to write?’
Geoffrey tried to conceal his alarm at the notion that Sear might decide to join Richard and Gwgan instead. He thought fast.
‘Hywel’s murder will throw the entire region into chaos, and Henry told me personally that he does not want trouble here. He will not condone the murder of a popular prince when it will cause untold problems among the people.’
‘The people will have to be suppressed if Hywel’s death is what the King wants.’
‘He will learn it is not what he wants,’ argued Geoffrey. ‘Welsh princes will not rally to his side if he arranges to have them killed after a couple of years. Hywel’s death will cause immeasurable damage, and the King will not want that.’
‘But his letter said I am now under Richard’s orders,’ argued Sear. ‘And if Richard is going to kill Hywel, then it is my duty to help him.’
‘But—’
Geoffrey f
elt the mace swinging towards his head. He ducked, but it caught him on the shoulder, and the blow was powerful enough to dislodge him from his saddle. He cursed himself for joining forces with such a man – a fool, so devoted to his King that he could not bring himself to act against him even after he had been dismissed in a demeaning manner. Did he have no pride?
Geoffrey landed heavily, then put his hands over his head to protect it when his tumble put him directly in the path of the horses behind. One hoof struck his leg and another his arm.
‘Leave him,’ yelled Sear, when one or two men reined in. ‘Dead or alive, he is irrelevant now.’
For the first time since leaving Kermerdyn, Sear urged his horse into a canter, and Geoffrey saw he had dawdled deliberately, to give his new master a chance to do what he had been ordered.
Geoffrey staggered to his feet, heartily wishing Roger was with him. Or Hilde, for that matter. His horse had gone with the others, and his left arm and leg throbbed painfully. It was dark, and he was not sure where Gwgan’s house lay. He saw the vague shape of Rhydygors to his right, with lamps lit in the tower. He began to limp towards it.
It was not easy staggering in full armour along an unfamiliar track in the dark, and Geoffrey made poor time. His breath came in gasps, but every time he looked up, the castle seemed no closer. Then he heard the thunder of hoofs.
He looked around for somewhere to hide, but the stretch of road was open, without so much as a bush to crouch behind. He braced himself to fight. He still had his sword and a dagger, but his shield had been attached to his saddle, and was gone.
It was Edward, a number of rough looking men riding behind him. Geoffrey recognized several from the ambushes. Edward reined in when he saw Geoffrey.
‘You know,’ he said, peering down in the darkness. ‘You must, or you would not be out here, unhorsed and alone. You know Gwgan and Richard mean to murder Hywel tonight.’
Geoffrey nodded. ‘And you have been doing all in your power to stop them.’
Edward flicked his fingers. One of his men dismounted and offered Geoffrey the reins of his horse. Geoffrey did not need to be invited twice. He grabbed the bridle and climbed into the saddle, then turned towards Rhydygors again, kicking the animal into a gallop.
‘What else do you know?’ asked Edward, as he struggled to keep up with him. ‘Slow down, man! We will be no use to Hywel if we break our necks.’
‘I know you killed Mabon,’ said Geoffrey. He knew it was unwise to make reckless remarks to killers, but he was too agitated to care.
‘Mabon was a mistake,’ said Edward softly. ‘I was aiming for Richard.’
‘And you were so convinced of your own moral rectitude that when you made your confession to Father Adrian, you did not mention the sin of murder.’ Geoffrey was disgusted.
‘Poisoning Richard would not have been a sin, because it would avert a greater evil,’ replied Edward. ‘You understand what a disaster Hywel’s death will be, or you would not be here now, so you know I am right. But I am sorry if I have offended your religious sensibilities.’
‘And what about your attempt to murder me?’ asked Geoffrey coolly. ‘You loosed a crossbow bolt in an effort to ensure I did not deliver Henry’s letter to Gwgan. Was that not a sin, either?’
‘No, because my heart was not in it. Unfortunately, the bolt came closer to you than I anticipated, telling me I am rather more deadly when I am not aiming to kill than when I am. It must have been that peculiar Saracen curve on the arrow.’
‘You tried to kill Richard and Gwgan after we left Goodrich – you lobbed daggers at them, but missed, and you added poison to their fish soup. I should have known then that they were the targets, because others ate it with no ill effects. And you hurried them away from Brechene when they should have rested, so they would be more vulnerable to ambushes.’
‘If I had succeeded, we would not be here now,’ said Edward bitterly, ‘chasing around in the dark and likely to face insurmountable odds.’
‘You could have taken me into your confidence,’ said Geoffrey, exasperated. ‘Told me that I was about to deliver letters that would lead to a good man’s murder.’
‘I would have done, had I known what you carried. But you kept it secret, and the first I knew of it was when I saw you give a letter to Richard in Goodrich. I was horrified, and the poison and the crossbow were desperate measures that I now regret. The ambushes were more rational.’
‘Rational, but ineffective,’ said Geoffrey scathingly. ‘They almost killed me in Lanothni.’
‘All knights look alike in the dark. Why do you think I barred my door and took my time coming to your rescue? I did not want to be skewered by mistake. Where are you going?’
‘Rhydygors,’ replied Geoffrey shortly. ‘To stop Hywel from accepting Gwgan’s invitation.’
‘The invitation was for sunset.’ Edward laughed mirthlessly. ‘Gwgan said he did not want Hywel walking about after dark, lest some harm befell him. Hywel is already in Gwgan’s lair.’
Without a word, Geoffrey aimed towards the huddle of houses where he thought Gwgan lived. Edward followed, using the opportunity to talk, although Geoffrey was setting a rapid pace.
‘There were whispers in La Batailge about a plan to replace Hywel with Richard. Hywel is a decent man, but Richard is harsh and uncompromising. Hywel is better for Wales.’
‘And better for you,’ said Geoffrey acidly. ‘As Constable of Kadweli, you will be obliged to work with whoever rules here, and there is no question that Hywel will be more reasonable. But I heard no such rumours at La Batailge. I suspect you overheard Eudo himself.’
Edward shot him a sideways glance. ‘You are certainly very astute. Yes, I heard Eudo tell the King how much safer the region would be if Hywel was dead. So I slipped into his office later, to explore the chest where he kept his secret correspondence.’
‘You saw the letters to Richard and Gwgan?’
‘No! Eudo was not a fool; he knew better than to leave a parchment trail. What I found were copies of letters to powerful barons in the area, asking for their assessment of Hywel. I knew then a plot was afoot to unseat him.’
‘You murdered Eudo, but you were too late. He had already written his letters.’
Edward made no effort to deny the accusation. ‘Pepin lied when he told me you were only to deliver a letter from the Archbishop to Mabon. I should have known not to trust him. And Eudo lied when he swore – on his immortal soul – that he had not embarked on any plot to kill Hywel.’
‘Then why did you kill him?’
‘To ensure he did not write any such missives in the future.’
Geoffrey suddenly felt very tired, appalled by the mire of intrigue that had been created, and by the devious minds – on both sides – that had dreamt it up.
‘Well, I am glad you are here,’ said Edward, when Geoffrey made no reply. ‘Eudo chose well when he recommended that you should be the King’s courier.’
‘Eudo recommended me?’ asked Geoffrey, startled. ‘Why? He did not know me.’
‘No, but he knew of you. He had read letters sent to you from Tancred. Your Holy Land prince is not a man who is easily impressed, but his missives showed he respects and trusts you. Of course Eudo would want to secure such a man for our King.’
Geoffrey thought fast. ‘Then the burned letter Maurice gave me was an original, and the ones I received threatening me with execution are forgeries. I knew Tancred would not take against me so violently! He remained loyal, despite someone’s efforts to sabotage our friendship.’
‘Eudo did it,’ said Edward. ‘It would not be the first time he has intercepted letters. I imagine his intention was to keep you in England, because the King finds you useful.’
Maurice would have to release him from his vow now, Geoffrey thought. But it was no time to plan for the future, because they had arrived at the hamlet, where lights blazing from the largest of the houses indicated something was happening within.
‘Are you working
alone?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Or are you in the pay of someone else?’
‘The King, of course,’ replied Edward. ‘He ordered me to stop Richard and Gwgan. Why do you think he insisted Sear, Alberic and you travelled with me from la Batailge? To ensure I reached Kermerdyn alive to do his bidding.’
Clever Henry, thought Geoffrey bitterly. He had looked the other way while Eudo organized a murder, but had hired a man to prevent it. He would emerge well from the affair, however it ended.
Taking charge, Geoffrey indicated that three men were to go around the back with Edward, while the rest should stay with him at the front. Even as he issued the orders, he was aware that the house was oddly silent, and wondered whether they were already too late.
‘I must have been wrong,’ said Edward in a strangled whisper. ‘Hywel is still in Rhydygors. We had better—’
‘No!’ Geoffrey stabbed his finger to where he could see shadows approaching. It was a dark night, with no moon, but light filtered from the windows of Gwgan’s house, affording a little illumination. ‘That is Richard’s garrison.’
‘Oh, Christ!’ breathed Edward, frightened when he saw how many men Richard had brought. ‘I am an administrator, not a warrior. Perhaps we should retreat and tell Henry the task was beyond us. He will understand.’
‘For God’s sake, do not run,’ hissed Geoffrey. ‘Or your soldiers will follow, and Hywel will die for certain. Take those three men and go around the back of the house. Get Hywel out and take him to Rhydygors. Lock yourselves in the tower.’
‘And what will you be doing while I am risking my life?’ demanded Edward.
‘Engaging Richard’s troops at the front with the rest of your men. The longer we hold out, the longer you will have to escape. Now go. Hurry!’
‘But you will all die!’ breathed Edward. ‘There are too many of them!’
‘Go!’ snarled Geoffrey.
When Edward had gone, Geoffrey quickly issued some basic instructions to the remaining men, orders that would have been unnecessary to skilled soldiers. Then he waited out of sight, hoping their horses would not give them away with snickers or whinnies and lose them the element of surprise.
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