The Hawks of Delamere

by Edward Marston

  He held up the coin and Beollan's hesitation vanished.

  With Gytha beside him, the boy loped along a series of trails that were sometimes so narrow and overhung with leaves that they had to plunge into dark tunnels before emerging once again into sunlight.Brother and sister seemed tireless as they covered mile after mile.When they reached a patch of open land, Beollan finally paused for breath, hands on his knees as he bent double. Gytha exchanged a few panted sentences with him then turned to the others.

  ‘The cottage is nearby,’ she said, pointing a finger. ‘An old woman lives there alone. Beollan is not sure if she is the person you seek but she is the only one in this part of the forest who answers the description you gave.’

  ‘Thank you, Gytha,’ said Gervase.

  ‘One thing more.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She is Welsh.’

  Ralph Delchard could not resist another jest.

  ‘Does she have a bow and arrow?’

  * * *

  Having held his council of war, the Earl of Chester now sought the blessing of the Church. It was not easily forthcoming.

  ‘I oppose violence of any kind,’ said a querulous Bishop Robert. ‘Start another war and where will it end?’

  ‘In victory for us,’ Hugh assured him.

  ‘At what terrible cost, my lord?’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’

  ‘Many lives will be lost.’

  ‘Even more will be saved,’ said the earl. ‘As I see it, a stark choice confronts us. We either wait until the Welsh launch an attack on us here or we strike first and rout them before their assault has gathered momentum.’

  ‘Neither course of action commends itself to me.’

  Hugh was sarcastic. ‘What do you propose as an alternative,Robert? Abject surrender? Or do we abandon the city and retreat with all the belongings we can carry?’

  ‘I fear for my cathedral,’ said the other.

  ‘I fear for my county!’

  Earl confronted bishop in the hall at the castle. Robert de Limesey had repaired there in haste to implore that his beloved cathedral be saved from possible demolition only to find Hugh in warlike mood. Unable to condone military action, the bishop only succeeded in enraging the earl and decided to bow out of the debate altogether.

  Archdeacon Frodo immediately came to his rescue by taking his place in the discussion, beginning with a conciliatory smile then speaking with quiet respect.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, rubbing his palms together, ‘the decision lies with you. We acknowledge that. The Church can only advise and we do that with the deference that is due to you. Bishop Robert and I are extremely conscious of the debt which we – and the whole city – owe to you for protecting us so well over the years. Your policy has been as wise as it is effective.’

  ‘I am glad that you appreciate that,’ growled Hugh.

  ‘We do, my lord.’

  ‘Then why does Robert come bleating about his cathedral?’

  ‘The bishop is merely representing our point of view,’ said Frodo softly, ‘and I am sure that Brother Gerold would endorse it. He would no more wish to see Chester cathedral destroyed than watch his own chapel razed to the ground.’

  ‘That will never happen!’

  ‘We pray that it will not.’

  ‘There will be no threat to the chapel or the cathedral if we strike first and put the Welsh army to flight. They will be completely disabled.’

  ‘For the time being, my lord.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The Welsh have been disabled many times but they have a strange capacity for rebuilding their forces. No matter how many battles you win, the war somehow drags on. That is what concerns Bishop Robert and myself.’

  ‘Who asked for your opinion, Frodo?’

  ‘It is irrelevant here,’ said the other with another smile of appeasement. ‘Authorised by Bishop Robert, I merely offer the Church's view. We are doves of peace, my lord.’

  ‘I am a hawk of war.’

  ‘There are more of us in the sky. From what I hear, the Church is not alone in advocating restraint. Your own close advisers warned against intemperate action.’

  ‘That was before my messenger was killed on the road to Rhuddlan Castle.’ Hugh took a step towards him. ‘Who told you of our secret deliberations?’

  ‘Such things are difficult to keep private, my lord.’

  ‘Is there a Church informer among my barons?’

  ‘There are several Christians.’

  Hugh was stung. ‘I am one myself, Frodo.’

  ‘That is why we feel able to appeal to you.’

  ‘In the spirit of Christian fellowship,’ added Robert. ‘Before you commit yourself to war, consult with Brother Gerold. He will surely take our part. Yet one more dove.’

  ‘The hour of the hawk has come,’ insisted Hugh, striding round the table to take up a position in front of his chair. ‘This whole business began with a hawk being brought down from the sky.Doves of peace cannot avenge that outrage nor can they atone for the murder of Raoul Lambert. It is time to remove the hoods from the hawks of war.’

  ‘Do that and you lose all control,’ cautioned Frodo.

  ‘It is the only way to impose control.’

  ‘Bishop Robert and I view it differently.’

  ‘I have grown accustomed to your poor eyesight.’ The earl waved a contemptuous arm. ‘Away with the pair of you! If you will not bless our mission, do not hinder it. Scurry back to your precious cathedral and protect it with an odour of sanctity.’

  ‘That remark is blasphemous!’ cried Robert.

  ‘Earl Hugh has our best interests at heart,’ said Frodo, jumping in to calm down his quivering companion. ‘We must understand that, your grace. It is unfair of us to expect him to obey our dictates when we know little of the true situation here. What we can, however, suggest is this.’ His third smile was the most obsequious yet. ‘A middle way.’

  Hugh was sceptical. ‘Between what?’

  ‘Outright war and inaction.’

  ‘Middle way?’

  ‘Negotiation, my lord. Using your prime weapon.’

  ‘My army.’

  ‘No,’ corrected Frodo. ‘The man who rots in your dungeon. Gruffydd ap Cynan. He can prevent this battle.’

  ‘He is the cause of it!’ howled the earl.

  ‘Cause and symptom.’

  ‘Do not split hairs with me, Frodo.’

  ‘Is it not at least worth trying?’ pleaded the other.’ If one man can avert a war, why let hundreds of others die in it? Reason with the Prince of Gwynedd. Strike a bargain.’

  ‘I already have. He is my prisoner.’

  ‘Then extract information from him, my lord.’

  ‘How can we when we do not speak his foul language?’

  ‘Use an interpreter.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Robert. ‘Someone who is cunning enough to charm the truth out of him. Set a thief to catch a thief. Instruct a Welshman to lure a Welshman.’

  Hugh was unconvinced. He ran a hand across his jaw.

  ‘There is no man to whom I could entrust this task.’

  Robert and Frodo had a muttered conversation. The bishop had obvious reservations but was eventually persuaded by his archdeacon. The latter turned back to the earl.

  ‘A curious coincidence,’ he said.

  ‘You speak the language yourself?’

  ‘No, my lord. But we have the Archdeacon of St David’s staying with us at present. Let him examine the prisoner.’

  ‘Never! They would simply conspire against us.’

  ‘Not if a third person were present.’

  ‘Third person?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Frodo, gently. ‘Master Gervase Bret. He can understand Welsh but he is not sufficiently fluent in the language to question Gruffydd on his own. What he can do, however, is to act as our witness. That is our counsel, my lord. Employ this Archdeacon Idwal to talk to the prisoner under the supervision of Gervase Bret.�
�� He spread his arms in a gesture of persuasion.‘The whole city may benefit from such a conversation.’

  The moment he set eyes on her, Gervase experienced a thrill of certainty. When they came out into the clearing, the old woman was seated on a tree stump, gazing idly around while her nimble fingers worked at her basket. She was in no way alarmed by their arrival and gave them a vacant grin.

  ‘Thank you, Beollan,’ said Gervase.

  ‘Is this the right place?’ asked the boy.

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Can we go now?’

  ‘Wait until we have spoken to her.’

  Beollan and his sister withdrew into the trees as the visitors closed in on the old woman. Her hands continued to work away at the basket with unhurried precision. Ralph ambled across to her and barked a question but she simply mimed incomprehension. When Gervase spoke to her in Welsh, however,she stiffened at once and her fingers froze.

  ‘Good day to you!’ he said.

  ‘And to you, young man.’

  ‘That is a fine basket you have there.’

  ‘I have been weaving them all my life.’

  ‘Is your daughter as adept at it as you?’

  ‘I have no daughter,’ she said.

  ‘What of your neighbours?’

  ‘I work alone.’

  ‘Always?’

  She nodded grimly. ‘Always.’

  ‘Then who sat beside you the other day when soldiers came in search of an archer?’ he asked, watching her carefully. ‘If she was neither daughter nor neighbour, who was she?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  Gervase’s gaze was penetrating and she slowly began to wilt beneath it. When she looked at the others, she saw that she was surrounded by hostile glares. She shifted uneasily for a moment then rose to her feet to put her basket aside.

  ‘There was someone,’ she confessed.

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘I have no idea, young man. She came running out of the forest and begged me to let her sit beside me and work at another basket. She gave me money. What was I to do?’

  ‘Was she carrying anything?’ pressed Gervase.

  ‘I forget.’

  ‘Try to remember.’

  ‘It is gone,’ said the old woman evasively.

  ‘Then let me jog your memory. I believe that she may have had a bow and arrow with her.’

  The sharp intake of breath gave her away. Gervase had no need to pursue his questioning. She capitulated at once and became eager to co-operate.

  ‘You are right, young man,’ she said. ‘She did have a bow and arrow. What is more, she hid them in my cottage so that the soldiers would not catch her with the weapon. They are still there,’she said, hobbling into her home. ‘I will fetch them instantly.’

  ‘Well done, Gervase!’ said Ralph.

  ‘Now do you believe that it was a female archer?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘The old woman was an unwitting accomplice,’ said Gervase.‘How was she to know that the visitor who sat beside her weaving a basket had just committed murder? She probably could not believe her good fortune when she was offered money for letting the girl sit out here beside her.’

  ‘Why was the bow and arrow left here?’

  ‘For safety, Ralph. If she had been caught with them in her possession, the game would have been up. Far better to conceal them here. Who would expect to find a bow and arrow in such a place? The archer will no doubt return for them in due course.’

  ‘We will be waiting for her.’

  ‘That bow and arrow are the most valuable clues yet.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ralph nodded at the hovel. ‘What on earth is keeping the old woman? Is she writing her will in there?’

  ‘I will go and see.’

  Gervase approached the hut and knocked gently on the door before ducking his head to step into the single, cluttered, evil-smelling room. Ralph followed him and looked over his shoulder. Both gasped in utter amazement when they saw that the place was empty.

  The old woman had mysteriously disappeared.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ralph and Gervase were too stunned at first even to speak. After exchanging a silent glance of dismay, they began a frantic search of the grim habitation. Gervase treated the woman’s mean belongings with a degree of courtesy, moving them aside with care, but Ralph had no compunction about hurling them about indiscriminately to relieve his anger. The hut was soon in even greater chaos than when they first entered and the cloud of dust they created made them choke.

  It was when Ralph flung aside a pile of baskets that the mystery was solved. There was a low door in the wall of the hut, small enough to be easily concealed but large enough to allow someone to crawl through it. Evidently, the woman had made her escape through the door and pulled the baskets over the exit to buy herself some time. Both men were profoundly shocked. They had taken her for a harmless old crone but she had outwitted the pair of them.

  Gervase Bret had a grudging admiration for her but Ralph Delchard was livid. Finding his voice again, he stormed out of the hovel to address his soldiers.

  ‘After her!’ he ordered.

  ‘Who?’ said one of the men.

  ‘The old woman.’

  ‘She went into the cottage, my lord.’

  ‘And out again through a door at the back.’

  ‘We did not see her leave.’

  ‘No more did we but she has gone. Run her down!’

  ‘Which way did she go, my lord?’

  ‘How should I know? Look for her.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Spread out!’ yelled Ralph, waving his arms. ‘And search very carefully. She was clever enough to deceive us once. It must not happen again.’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘Do not come back without her!’

  The men divided into three pairs and set off in different directions, using their swords to hack their way through any obstructions and disturbing nesting birds and wildlife. The commotion brought Gytha and Beollan out of the trees and they watched in bewilderment from the edge of the clearing. They could not believe that the basket-weaver had somehow eluded the grasp of eight men.

  When Gervase came out of the hut, Ralph was still fuming.

  ‘Duped by a ridiculous old woman!’

  ‘She was shrewder than either of us imagined,’ said Gervase.‘But one thing seems clear. She did not unwittingly help the archer. She was probably her sworn confederate.’

  ‘Full of the same low cunning.’

  ‘I can see that your pride has been wounded, Ralph.’

  ‘It has,’ said the other with feeling. ‘I would hate it if I were beaten in a fair fight with a man. But to be tricked by a woman like this! What sort of brutish people are the Welsh? Using their womenfolk as spies and assassins. It is against all the rules of warfare.’

  ‘There are no rules, Ralph.’

  ‘So I am discovering.’

  ‘And do not take it as a personal affront.’

  ‘But I do, Gervase. I will have some stern questions for that stinking old badger when my men catch her.’

  ‘If they do so, that is.’

  ‘What chance does she have against six armed men?’

  ‘She has the advantage over them so far.’

  ‘Temporarily.’

  ‘She knows the forest, they do not.’

  ‘They will find her,’ said Ralph confidently. ‘Or they will answer to me. Apprehend the old woman and she may lead us to the archer herself.’

  ‘The trail will not end there, Ralph.’

  ‘No, it will go all the way across the Welsh border.’

  They plunged off into the forest to help with the search. Gytha and Beollan followed to add two more pairs of eyes but it was all to no avail. Though they scoured the area on foot and on horseback for over an hour, there was absolutely no trace of the old woman. Somehow, she had managed to escape their clutches.It was baffling. After a last sweep over a wider area, they eventua
lly conceded defeat.

  ‘Where is she?’ said Ralph through gritted teeth.

  ‘Heaven knows!’ sighed Gervase.

  ‘The woman is a witch. She has put a spell on us.’

  ‘No, Ralph. She has simply outflanked us again.’

  ‘This makes my blood boil!’

  ‘We noticed.’

  ‘She has to be somewhere in the forest.’

  ‘It is too full of hiding places. My guess is that she has gone to ground and is lying low until we leave.’

  ‘Our journey was a total waste of time.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Gervase. ‘We have gathered valuable intelligence. We have learned how the archer eluded capture by Earl Hugh’s men and we identified her accomplice. We also discovered something about Welsh women.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘Do not trust them for one second.’

  ‘We must report this to Earl Hugh.’

  ‘Not yet, Gervase. Let us pursue our own inquiries first. I do not relish the idea of explaining how we came to let an old woman delude the whole pack of us. He would roast us with his scorn. Wait until we have some good news to report,’ he decided. ‘Then he might actually show some gratitude.’

  Canon Hubert was on the verge of apoplexy. His eyes widened dangerously, his breathing became laboured and his cheeks reddened until they shone like apples in the sunlight. He refused to accept what he had just been told.

  ‘Is this some sort of cruel jest?’ he asked.

  ‘No jest, I do assure you,’ said Frodo.

  ‘Then Bishop Robert is in earnest?’

  ‘He is, Canon Hubert, and he has my full support.’

  ‘For a policy of calculated madness?’

  ‘We believe that it is a wise course of action.’

  ‘Where is the wisdom in such patent idiocy?’

  Archdeacon Frodo smiled benignly. He could understand Hubert's feelings, because he had shared them himself until recently, but his opinion had slowly been changed by the pressure of events. The two men were in the cathedral vestry and their voices were suitably low and reverential. Hubert’s expression,however, was one of frank horror.

  ‘Did you seriously recommend this course of action to the earl?’ he said in a hoarse whisper. ‘Knowing what you know of Archdeacon Idwal?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I am staggered.’