The Heirs of Owain Glyndwr

by Peter Murphy

  ‘Arianwen, sorry to disturb you, like.’

  It took her a second or two to place him at that time of night.

  ‘Dai? Hello.’

  ‘Hello.’ He didn’t really know what to say to her. He was groping his way along, word by word. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but is Trevor there?’

  ‘No. He’s not back yet. I thought he was with you and Caradog.’

  ‘He was. Caradog went to work, of course. But… no, actually, I haven’t seen Trevor for a while, but he said he would pick me up in the Maes.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘Yes. Well… the thing is, I made arrangements to stay with a friend for a day or two, but I have to collect a few things from Bangor and bring them back here, before they close the town to traffic, you know. Trevor said he would give me a lift there and back. It wouldn’t take long, you know, but I’m worried now that he might have forgotten.’

  ‘That’s not like Trevor,’ she said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Dai.’

  She was gone for some seconds.

  ‘Well, the car is here, so he would have to come back here first.’

  She thought for a few seconds.

  ‘Where are you, Dai?’

  ‘Outside the Castle Hotel.’

  ‘All right. Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you myself. Give me five minutes.’

  Dai Bach almost passed out. No, he wanted to scream. You can’t do that. That was Trevor’s one rule. Arianwen must be kept out of it. Arianwen must not know. He tried to make his voice work, tried to think of some excuse, any excuse, for refusing her offer. But she had hung up.

  She was as good as her word. Five minutes later she pulled up outside the hotel, and reached across to open the front passenger door.

  ‘Arianwen, you don’t have to do this. It’s late.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘It won’t take long.’ She nodded towards the rear seat. ‘I had to bring his nibs, of course, but it won’t do him any harm to have a night-time adventure. He might even take in all the lights on the Castle and remember them when he’s older… well, he might if he was awake.’

  At the sight of Harri sleeping peacefully in his car seat, Dai started to feel sick.

  ‘Let’s go back to your house,’ he suggested. ‘Trevor is probably back by now and wondering where the car is.’

  She laughed.

  ‘No need. I’m going to give him a good talking to when I get back, forgetting his friends. What can he have got up to?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dai replied. ‘Found a place to have a couple of drinks, I shouldn’t wonder, and just put it out of his mind.’

  As he said this, he was imagining Trevor in a police cell. What would that mean? Would they all be lost? Should he abort the whole plan now? He could go to his house, take an innocent suitcase, leave the device in the garage to deal with later, return to town, send Arianwen home with his thanks. Caradog would be beside himself, but he could hardly blame Dai. Trevor would be the one in trouble, when he showed up, if he showed up. But on the other hand, even if Trevor had been arrested, it might have nothing to do with the plan. It might have been just because he ran the Tywysog. The police would be bound to assume that he had a lot of contacts. They might not even have arrested him. They might just want to ask him about people they couldn’t find. There would be nothing Trevor could do about it.

  In any case, Caradog would be angry if Dai abandoned the plan just because of that. If Trevor couldn’t be there, Caradog would expect Dai to use his initiative, take a taxi… ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he suddenly scolded himself. ‘Why didn’t I just take a taxi? I didn’t have to involve Arianwen. I could have…’

  She was asking him something.

  ‘I’m sorry. What did you say?’

  She looked at him strangely.

  ‘Where are you meeting your friend? Where does he live? Or she, perhaps, is it?’ she grinned, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

  ‘No, he,’ he replied, hearing his voice echoing in his head. ‘I’m meeting him near the Maes, just after 1 o’clock.’

  She glanced at her watch. The grin remained, as if she didn’t quite believe him about the friend being male but wasn’t going to press him further.

  ‘We will make it,’ she said. ‘We won’t have traffic.’

  As they entered Bangor, he directed her, not to his house, which she knew well, but to the garage.

  ‘How long have you had this place?’ she said, pulling up outside.

  ‘It’s just for storage,’ he replied. ‘I’ve got too much stuff at home, see, running out of storage space.’

  Before she could say anything else, he jumped out of the car and unlocked the garage door. The device was on the big trestle table, where he had left it – in its gleaming steel carrying case, which didn’t look anything like a suitcase you would take to spend a day or two with a friend, male or female. If Trevor had been with him, that wouldn’t matter, but… There was nothing to cover it up, nothing to put it in. Too late to worry about that now. He would have to try to keep her in the car. He picked it up, and looked outside. She was sitting in her seat, turning round to look at Harri. He locked the garage door. She saw him, but did not seem to react to the carrying case.

  ‘The boot’s open,’ she called out to him.

  With a sigh of relief, he opened the boot, and laid the device down carefully. There was an old green blanket lying at the back of the boot. He picked it up and threw it casually over the device. He closed the boot, and climbed into the passenger seat.

  ‘Got everything you need?’ she asked.

  ‘I hope so,’ he replied.

  When they arrived back in Caernarfon he directed her into the centre of town, and asked her to stop on New Street, near the corner with Chapel Street. It was exactly 1.15 and, at that precise moment, the world as Arianwen Hughes knew it, ended. From that time all she had left to connect her with that world was a series of memories, memories of events which made no sense and which happened in lightning quick succession.

  Stopping the car.

  Dai Bach getting out of the car.

  Dai Bach walking across Chapel Street and disappearing from view.

  Two men approaching from the same direction.

  Realising that one was Dai Bach.

  And that the other was Caradog, carrying his brightly-coloured duffle bag.

  Why is he here, not at work in the Castle?

  Caradog seeing her, suddenly very agitated.

  Caradog screaming at Dai Bach.

  Caradog and Dai Bach walking around the car to the boot.

  Where is Trevor?

  Getting out of the car.

  Walking to the boot.

  Suddenly seeing a metallic case.

  Seeing Dai Bach open it.

  What the…?

  Horror. A thousand questions, but no words to ask them.

  Two men approaching very fast.

  Shouting and screaming, horribly loud.

  The two men pinning Caradog and Dai Bach to the car.

  A third man approaching.

  Being thrown against the car like a limp rag doll.

  Pain as her head and body hit the hard metal.

  Handcuffs being forced on to her wrists.

  Where is Trevor?

  A fourth man, very big, screaming into a radio.

  ‘Bomb squad… Evacuate the area…!’

  Dai Bach crying. ‘No, it’s safe. There is no danger.’

  Someone screaming: ‘There’s a kid in the car! There’s a kid in the car!’

  Seeing Harri through the car window, still sleeping peacefully.

  Where is Trevor?

  PART 2

  RHAN 2

  21

  Fri
day 18 July 1969

  Gareth Morgan-Davies QC turned towards Sir Bernard Wesley to conclude his short speech of congratulation.

  ‘Bernard, you have presided wisely over our Chambers for many years now and we will miss you, but our loss is the High Court’s gain. You will be a glittering addition to the High Court bench, and we wish you many happy years in your new career. Amélie, we are so pleased that you are with us this evening to celebrate Bernard’s elevation. I hope that, as a true French woman, and therefore, a dedicated republican, you will not be too distressed about being known as Lady Wesley. With your permission, we will still call you Amélie when you visit us, which we hope will be often.’

  He held his glass up high.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the newest judge of the Probate, Divorce and Admiralty Division, Mr Justice Wesley.’

  The members of Chambers and their guests raised their glasses and toasted Bernard Wesley. It was a big day in the life of the barristers’ chambers at 2 Wessex Buildings. Bernard Wesley had been Head of Chambers for more than fifteen years, ever since his predecessor, Sir Duncan Furnival, had left on the occasion of his own appointment to the bench. Now Gareth Morgan-Davies, in silk for only three years, would take over the helm. By the standards of the Temple it was early in his career to assume such a huge responsibility, even for a set of chambers which deliberately kept itself small in number. Gareth had a substantial practice in serious criminal cases, and was greatly respected by judges, solicitors, and the members of Chambers alike. There was no reason to think that Chambers would not continue to thrive under his leadership. But such mercifully rare days always represented a time of transition, and for a profession which loved stability and continuity, it was inevitably a nervous time.

  ‘Thank you, Gareth,’ Bernard replied. ‘I have enjoyed every moment as Head of Chambers, but it is time for me to move on. I do so in the knowledge that Chambers is in good hands. I do hope you will invite me back for Chambers parties and the odd dinner if I won’t be in the way. And now, I will do what every outgoing Head of Chambers ought to do, namely, to shut up and let you enjoy your champagne without having to listen to any more speeches. Let me just add that Amélie and I are grateful for your friendship, for your understanding and support over the years, and for your kind hospitality this evening. I ask you to raise your glasses again and toast Chambers.’

  The toasts completed, those assembled rushed to refill their glasses and sample the hors d’oeuvres and sandwiches.

  Ben Schroeder had been a member of Chambers for more than six years. He was a good-looking man, with thick black hair, and dark brown eyes set rather deep in his face because of his prominent cheek bones. He was almost six feet in height, and his naturally thin figure was showing the first signs of filling out in response to his body’s age. As always, Ben wore an immaculately tailored three-piece suit, dark grey with the lightest of white pin-stripes, a thin gold pocket watch attached to a gold chain threaded through the middle button hole of his waistcoat, and a fluted white handkerchief in the top pocket of his jacket. As a young Jewish man from the East End of London, he had not found it easy to gain a place in the most waspish and conservative of professions, but he had already played his part in a number of important, high-profile cases as junior to both Bernard and Gareth, and his long-standing self doubt had now receded. He was making his mark at the Bar.

  ‘Many congratulations again, Bernard,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t give us too hard a time when we appear before you, will you?’

  ‘As long as you behave yourselves,’ Bernard smiled.

  Ben kissed Amélie lightly on both cheeks.

  ‘Félicitations, Lady Wesley.’

  ‘Mais non, non. Lady Wesley is still Amélie, and she will be continuing her work at the university as usual.’

  She stepped forward.

  ‘Jess, I am glad you could come. How are you?’

  Jess was almost as tall as Ben, her hair and eyes brown and, although she dressed formally as a barrister in the mandatory dark grey suit, when she was not in court she could not resist adding touches of colour, with a bracelet of bright beads on one wrist and a multi-coloured band holding her luminous hair in place behind her head.

  ‘Very well, Amélie, thank you.’

  They hugged affectionately.

  ‘I haven’t seen you since you became Mrs Ben Schroeder, n’est-ce pas? It was a wonderful day.’

  ‘More than a year ago now,’ Jess replied.

  ‘Too long,’ Amélie said. ‘We must get together again soon.’

  ‘How are things going at the Bar?’ Bernard asked.

  ‘Really well,’ Jess replied. ‘I’ve been a member of chambers for about 18 months, and I’m starting to get some decent work of my own.’

  ‘Family, mostly?’

  ‘Yes. I leave the crime to Ben. One of us doing crime is enough.’

  ‘It is strange how time passes so quickly,’ Amélie said. ‘When I first met you, you were still working for a solicitor, n’est-ce pas?’

  ‘Barratt Davis,’ Bernard said. ‘Of course, that’s what you were doing when we both first met you. The Middle Temple was giving you and Ben such a hard time about “consorting together” when Barratt was sending Ben work.’

  ‘They called it “touting for work”,’ she replied. ‘And if it hadn’t been for you and Miles Overton talking some sense into them, it would have been disastrous for us. Thank you again for that, Bernard.’

  She kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘I’m just glad it worked out so well,’ he replied.

  ‘It was only the other day Miles Overton was appointed, wasn’t it?’ Ben said. ‘You have scaled the Olympian Heights together.’

  ‘Yes. Well, not quite together. I am slightly miffed that I let him beat me to it, but there it is. He will never let me live it down, you know.’

  They laughed.

  ‘Bernard, I must dash.’ Mr Justice Furnival came over briskly to take his leave.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Duncan.’

  ‘Not at all. Always happy to call in when there is champagne on offer. Many congratulations. I couldn’t be more pleased, and Chambers is in good hands with Gareth. Amélie. Schroeder. Ah, and Miss Farrar. You were in front of me the other day, weren’t you?’

  ‘Last week, judge.’

  ‘Yes, of course. You were telling me that what the Court of Appeal said in that wretched Staunton case was a load of complete poppycock.’

  ‘I hope I didn’t put it quite like that, Judge.’

  They laughed.

  ‘No, of course you didn’t. You put it very well. I’m only sorry I couldn’t agree with you. But they outrank me, as you know, so you will have to go up there and try to persuade them, rather than me.’

  Merlin was hovering quietly, but with intent.

  ‘I am sorry to interrupt, sir,’ he said to Ben. ‘But can I drag you away for a moment? I need a word with you and Mr Morgan-Davies.’

  ‘Sorry, Bernard.’

  ‘No, it’s quite all right, Ben. When your senior clerk calls, you must obey. I’ve known Merlin long enough to know that, haven’t I, Merlin?’

  ‘Indeed you have, Sir Bernard.’

  ‘In any case, I see Aubrey hoving into view, so we won’t be lost for conversation. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

  Merlin appeared to hesitate.

  ‘Actually, Miss Farrar, I need you as well, if you don’t mind.’ He caught her look of surprise and smiled. ‘I know your clerk isn’t here, but perhaps I can take his place for this evening? Steven and I have known each other for a long time. I’m sure he won’t mind.’

  ‘This is all very mysterious, Merlin,’ Ben said.

  ‘All will be revealed, sir,’ Merlin replied.

  22

  They gathered in what would still be Gareth’s room for a few days, until Ber
nard Wesley had finally removed the last traces of his occupancy from the Head of Chambers’s room and ceded it to Gareth. Barratt Davis was waiting for them, with a man Ben did not recognise. Ben knew Barratt well. He was a partner in the firm of Bourne & Davis, which sent its work in the courts to Chambers, much of it to Ben.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt the party,’ Barratt said. ‘How is Mr Justice Wesley? I haven’t seen him since the Digby case. He was most impressive, I must say. I would think he will be rather good on the bench.’

  ‘I agree,’ Gareth said. ‘I am sure he will. And you’re not interrupting at all, Barratt. What can we do for you?’

  ‘Well, first I must introduce someone – Eifion Morris, an old friend, and a solicitor practising in Cardiff. We did our solicitors’ finals together at Guildford, more years ago than either of us cares to remember. Eifion, may I introduce Mr Gareth Morgan-Davies QC, Mr Ben Schroeder, and Miss Jess Farrar of Counsel.’

  ‘Very pleased to meet you all,’ Eifion said, shaking hands.

  ‘I haven’t quite got used to saying “Miss Farrar of Counsel” yet,’ Barratt grinned. ‘She used to work for me, you see,’ he added. ‘Apparently, the experience was enough to make her desert the solicitors’ profession in favour of the Bar, but it doesn’t seem to have done her too much harm.’

  ‘It was an essential part of my training,’ Jess smiled.

  ‘Well, let me come to the point,’ Barratt said. ‘Eifion arrived in my office unexpectedly this afternoon. It’s probably best if I let him tell you why.’

  They took seats.

  ‘I’m sure you all remember this quite well, with it being so recent,’ Eifion began hesitantly. ‘Three people, two men and a woman, were arrested in Caernarfon on the eve of Prince Charles’s Investiture. It is alleged that they were planning to plant a home-made bomb in the Castle, timed to detonate during the ceremony.’

  ‘I remember it very clearly,’ Gareth replied. ‘The papers said they planned to hide it under a flagstone, not far from where the ceremony would be taking place.’