‘Only when I have seen the archdeacon.’
‘He is not in a talkative vein.’
‘He is here, then?’
‘Oh, yes!’ sighed Frodo. ‘Idwal is here. Throbbing with remorse. He does not have to speak for us to be aware of his presence. His silence is just as deafening as his voice.’
‘He feels betrayed.’
‘So do we all.’
Frodo shook his head disconsolately and padded off.
Gervase soon found Idwal. The archdeacon was kneeling at the altar rail and staring up at the crucifix. Instead of being in an attitude of submission, he was still frothing at what he felt was a great betrayal and he mixed prayer with accusation. Gervase waited at the rear of the nave until his friend finally rose to leave.
The Welshman’s eye kindled when it fell on Gervase. ‘Fresh news?’ he said hopefully, hurrying down the aisle.
‘Alas, no.’
‘No change of heart by Earl Hugh?’
‘He is adamant.’
‘War would lead to catastrophe.’
‘There is nothing to stop it, Archdeacon Idwal.’
The Welshman’s face crumpled into despondency. ‘They are idiots, Gervase!’ he declared. ‘They had peace in the palms of their hands and they threw it away. Fools!’ He remembered where they were. ‘Come outside,’ he urged. ‘My words are unfit to be heard in the house of God.’
Gervase followed him out through the main door. ‘I came to commiserate with you,’ he explained.
‘That was a kind thought.’
‘You tried so hard to bring peace about.’
‘I did no more than my Christian duty,’ said Idwal, ‘but I did it to remarkable effect. Just think, Gervase. Two armies ready to close with each other and we stood between them.’
‘Unsuccessfully.’
‘It need not have been so.’
‘No,’ agreed Gervase. ‘If you had been allowed to visit the prisoner a day earlier, the situation might have been quite different. As it was, we were too late.’
‘Thanks to some impulsive Welshman,’ said Idwal sadly. ‘That is what hurts me most. Peace was wrecked on the other side of the border by people who stood to gain from it. I am an impulsive man myself but there are times when one must check those impulses. They have ruined everything.’
‘And sent their leader back to the dungeon.’
‘Gruffydd will be lucky if that is where he stays. Earl Hugh will not scruple to kill a hostage if he is pushed. He needs little enough excuse.’
‘Why are they doing it, Archdeacon Idwal?’
‘Who?’
‘The people who are making decisions over the border. Surely they know that they will imperil their prince’s life?’
‘Yes, Gervase.’
‘Is that their intention?’
‘I begin to fear that it is.’
There was a long pause. Gervase felt unable to break the silence and Idwal used it to study his companion, cocking his head to one side and peering intently at him.
‘You have another reason, Gervase,’ he said at length.
‘For what?’
‘Seeking me out. I see it in your face.’
‘I merely wished to share my feelings of disappointment.’
‘And suspicion.’
‘No,’ lied Gervase.
‘Your eyes betray you, my young friend. You question my honesty. I sensed it when we were in that dungeon together. You felt that I was scheming with Gruffydd.’
‘It did cross my mind,’ admitted the other.
‘And so it should have. Trust nobody. Not even me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I am first and foremost a Welshman,’ said Idwal. ‘That means that I view the world through different eyes. In any border dispute, I will always side with my countrymen. I only interceded here in the hope of saving them from a defeat which will surely come.’
‘What are you telling me?’
‘That you were wise to suspect me but that your suspicion was unfounded. I was not trying to pass some secret message to Gruffydd. You saw the difficulty I had bringing him round to reason. That was not dissembling.’
‘I know.’
‘How?’
‘Instinct.’
‘It is very sound.’
Idwal punched him on the arm and let out his celebrated cackle. Just as the archdeacon seemed to be recovering his buoyancy, Gervase hit him with a blunt question.
‘What exactly are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Doing here?’
‘In Chester.’
‘I have told you. Forging links.’
‘That requires the hand of friendship,’ said Gervase, ‘yet you seem to go out of your way to antagonise people. Bishop Robert does not feel any links have been forged, nor does Archdeacon Frodo.’
‘Give me time. I will wear them down.’
‘You are here for another purpose and it has nothing to do with diplomacy. Why did Bishop Wilfrid send you here?’
‘On a mission of good will.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Why else should I be here?’
Gervase studied him levelly. Idwal’s smile slowly wilted under his gaze and he saw that he had met his match. Gervase was unrelenting. Fond as he was of the Welshman, he was not going to let him squirm out of answering his question.
‘Tell me,’ he invited. ‘What is the real reason?’
‘What do you think it is, Gervase?’
‘You are after something.’
‘Am I?’
‘Something which you feel may be locked away here,’ said Gervase, indicating the cathedral, ‘or in the vestry of the chapel, perhaps. Something which has made you probe Archdeacon Frodo, Brother Gerold and even me. What is it?’
‘Nothing of consequence.’
‘You came all the way from St David’s for nothing of consequence? No man would subject himself to such a journey unless there was something important at the end of it.’
Idwal beamed. ‘There was. The pleasure of meeting you and Ralph again,’ he said. ‘Not to mention Canon Hubert and that walking skeleton of a scribe.’ The gaze was turned upon him again with even greater intensity this time. ‘You are a shrewd young man, Gervase Bret.’
‘And immune to flattery,’ cautioned the other.
‘Then I will insult your intelligence no longer.’
‘Thank you, archdeacon.’
‘First, however, I must swear you to secrecy.’
‘Why?’
‘You will understand in time,’ Idwal assured him. ‘Do I have your word that you will divulge nothing of what I am about to confide in you? Give me your promise or the bargain is void.’
‘Very well,’ decided Gervase. ‘You have it.’
‘Then I can let you know the truth, my friend.’
‘What brought you to Chester?’
Idwal stepped in close to speak with conspiratorial glee. ‘St Teilo!’
Rhuddlan Castle began to feel more isolated than ever. The road to the east was blocked and those that led in other directions were also cut off. Human obstacles were used in the latter cases. As Robert of Rhuddlan looked out over the battlements, he could see bands of warriors encamped at strategic points on every route. Effectively, the castle was surrounded, with no means of summoning help from Chester.
The captain of the guard was at his side again.
‘What are they doing?’ asked Robert.
‘Biding their time, my lord,’ said the other.
‘For what?’
‘Attack.’
‘They have no ladders, no siege engines.’
‘But they have archers in abundance. We can see their bows. They can rain down arrows on us whenever they choose.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘Who knows, my lord?’
Robert was mystified. Twelve of his best men had been captured then inexplicably released. The castle looked out on a show of force that st
ayed just out of range of any weaponry. Guards patrolled the battlements day and night but their nerves were becoming frayed by the interminable wait for action that was being denied them. Robert felt disadvantaged. He wondered how long it would be before his uncle came from Chester to relieve the situation.
That situation was transformed in an instant. The bands of armed men on all sides mounted their horses and, at a signal from some unseen commander, began to ride towards the castle. Robert of Rhuddlan raised the alarm himself and the captain supplemented his yell with a stream of orders. The whole garrison swarmed up the stairs to the battlements to repel the first assault, weapons at the ready, baskets of stones in waiting to be tipped on to anyone who reached the walls. Days of delay at last seemed to be over.
But the attack never came. As soon as they had kicked their horses into a gallop, the various bands veered away from the castle and took up different vantage points from which they could watch and intimidate. The cavalry charge had been feigned. There was no intention to engage in fighting. They had merely wished to scare their enemy.
Robert of Rhuddlan was more confused than ever. He rounded on the captain of the guard in sheer annoyance. ‘What are they up to now?’ he hissed.
Idwal was incredulous. ‘You have never heard of St Teilo?’
‘Only vaguely,’ confessed Gervase.
‘You should be ashamed of your ignorance.’
‘Educate me.’
‘I will,’ said Idwal. ‘St Teilo was a monk and bishop whose work was centred on Llandeilo Fawr. He lived at the same time as St Dyfrig and was indeed a pupil of his for a while. He also studied under Paul Aurelian.’
‘A learned man, then?’
‘You will not find a Welsh saint who is not.’
‘What connection does he have with Chester?’ asked Gervase. ‘Did he visit here, preach here, die here?’
‘No,’ said the other. ‘When plague struck his native country, St Teilo went to Brittany to work for seven years, staying with no less a man than Samson of Dol.’
‘Now, there is a name I do recognise.’
‘Then you will know its worth, Gervase.’
‘I do.’
‘When he left Brittany, St Teilo made his way back to Llandeilo and eventually died there. It was then that the miracle occurred.’
‘Miracle?’
‘The bones of a saint are treasured relics. Llandeilo naturally wanted to keep his body but Llandaff and Penally also laid claim to it. The dispute, I understand, was fierce.’
‘How was it resolved, Archdeacon Idwal?’
‘Miraculously,’ said the other, palms uplifted to heaven. ‘The single body multiplied into three so that each of the claimants could have their own St Teilo. I have seen his remains at Llandaff, Penally and Llandeilo.’
‘That does not explain what brought you here.’
Idwal looked around to make sure that they were alone. ‘I came for his Gospel, Gervase.’
‘His what?’
‘The Gospel of St Teilo. It is a priceless document, containing the earliest known sentences in the Welsh language. When he died, it was left in the keeping of Llandeilo church.’
‘How, then, did it reach Chester?’
‘It was stolen, Gervase.’
‘By whom?’
‘Saxon monks who wanted relics for their own foundations.Welsh churches were regularly pillaged. The Gospel was taken, along with hundreds of other valuable relics.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Bishop Wilfrid set me to find it to return it to its rightful place. I have traced it as far as Chester.’
‘From where?’
‘Lichfield.’
Gervase was surprised. ‘Bishop Robert has it?’
‘I believe so,’ said Idwal, ‘though I have yet to lay eyes on it. But I know that it is here somewhere. When the bishops had their seat in Lichfield at the cathedral church of St Chad, they had the gall to refer to St Teilo’s Gospel as that of St Chad. Sacrilege!’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘Restore it to Wales once again.’
‘You hope to steal it?’ said Gervase in horror.
‘It is not an act of theft.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘Legitimate restitution.’ Idwal beamed. ‘Just think, my friend. St Teilo’s Gospel can return home at last. I am so glad to share the wonderful news with you. It makes such a difference to me.’
‘In what way?’
‘I am no longer working alone. I have an accomplice.’
‘Who is that?’
‘You, Gervase.’
Chapter Eighteen
The three men heaved hard and Hugh d’Avranches was levered up into the saddle of his destrier. He was in full armour with his sword belt strapped on and a lance in one hand. He rode the length of the bailey to inspect the ranks of knights who were drawn up in readiness. Some had little stomach for yet another battle against the Welsh but none dared refused his summons. The Earl of Chester did not nurse grudges. He took punitive action instead.
William Malbank waited with his own bevy of knights, sad that the efforts to find a peace had broken down but resigned to the fact that the day of the hawks had come. As he watched the massive figure of the earl ride past him, he writhed at the thought of his mistress being crushed beneath such a huge, urgent body. A foolish wager had consigned the woman to untold pain and humiliation.
Hugh’s horse trotted back to the head of his men and he gave the signal for the gates to be opened. Before he could leave, however, he was accosted by an indignant Ralph Delchard.
‘Let me ride with you, my lord!’ he protested.
‘Not today’
‘My place is beside you’
‘No, Ralph,’ said the earl. ‘It is here with your wife and your colleagues. You did not come to Chester to fight our neighbours. It would be unfair to draw you into our quarrel. Stay here in the safety of the castle until we return with rebellion quashed’
‘I want my share of the action’
‘We have men enough to serve our purpose’
‘How many of them have my experience?’
‘Very few, I grant you. Yet we are still a strong enough force to quell this revolt. In their latest reports, our intelligencers say that the enemy is gathering on the border but in numbers greatly inferior to our own’ He gave a macabre chuckle. ‘It may be a short engagement but I promise that it will be a bloody one’
‘Let me see for myself’
‘There is no need’
‘My pride urges me to go’
‘Your offer is welcomed but refused’
‘Why, my lord?’
‘Because I say so,’ came the peremptory reply.
Earl Hugh wasted no more words in argument. With a wave of his hand, he set off through the gates with the long column trailing behind him. There was a sense of power about his army that was quite breathtaking. As it thundered out into the street, everyone who saw it predicted its success. The Welsh were valorous but they had none of the discipline and tactical expertise of Norman soldiery.
Feeling rejected, Ralph turned away in disgust. Then he caught sight of Golde, standing in the window of their chamber in the keep and gazing down with such gratitude that his heart softened. There would be other chances to fight. Ralph tried to put his disappointment aside and headed for the keep.
Golde was waiting for him in the apartment.
‘You decided not to go,’ she said with delight.
‘Hugh would not have me’
‘My prayers have been answered’
‘And mine were denied,’ he sighed.
They waited inside the house until the army went past. It was a long wait as hundreds of hooves pummelled their way along the narrow street. When the three of them finally emerged, the last of the horses was just going through the city gate. The young man stood between Eiluned and Dafydd. Taller than both, he had the same swarthy skin and cast of feature. The others took their lead from him.
‘H
ow long must we wait, Sion?’ asked Dafydd.
‘A couple of hours at least’
‘That long?’
‘Yes,’ confirmed the other. ‘We stick to the plan’
‘I am ready now,’ said Dafydd. ‘What about you, Eiluned?’
‘There is no hurry,’ said Sion. ‘Eiluned will walk the streets to make sure that all is well. A woman will attract less attention than two men’
‘What do we do?’
‘Wait patiently, Dafydd.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do,’ insisted Sion. ‘I have not come all this way to bungle the attempt. Months of planning have gone into it. I came out of exile in Ireland to take my part. We must not fail. That would be a disaster.’
‘You will not find me wanting,’ said Dafydd.
‘Nor me,’ added Eiluned.
‘I know. You have both done well so far. We are very grateful.’ Sion grinned. ‘Now it is my turn. I was born in Chester. I lived here for years until they sent me into exile. The city owes me a favour. I am here to collect it.’
Gervase Bret argued long and hard with Archdeacon Idwal about the morality of stealing the Gospel of St Teilo. Whatever action the Welshman took, Gervase wanted no part of it, though he promised that he would not break any confidences. Leaving Idwal at the cathedral, he made his way back to the city and was about to enter the postern gate when Canon Hubert came bustling through it. Gervase could see that he was agitated.
‘What is the matter?’ asked Gervase.
‘Brother Simon has let us down for once.’
‘That is unlike him.’
‘I know,’ said Hubert, ‘and I have chastised him roundly.’
‘What is his fault?’
‘Carelessness. When he heard about the imminent battle, he flew into such a panic that he could not get back into the city soon enough, even though it meant being in the castle with Earl Hugh. In his haste, he left a satchel of documents behind.’
‘That is indeed a bad mistake. Those documents are highly important and must not fall into the wrong hands.’
‘I made that point very clearly to Brother Simon.’
‘Let me fetch the satchel,’ volunteered Gervase.
The Hawks of Delamere (Domesday Series Book 7) Page 23