by Tony Hays
“They are men of the Christ!” Ider’s face had grown red in anger.
“They are men! And men will seek that which profits them most!”
He hung his head. “You must think me a child.”
“No, Ider. I think you an earnest young man who has been sheltered from the world a bit too much. Do not worry. Stay with me a while longer and you will make up for that.”
At that, Ider smiled, the hurt fleeing from his face. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
“Good,” I answered. “Now let us thread our way through this mass of humanity.”
* * *
As we approached the old Roman bridge at the River Brue, we paused to take stock of the situation. On the far side of the bridge, I could see Melwas’s soldiers gathering. They had constructed no blockade as yet, but I could just make out a pile of hastily cut logs lying to the side of the road. And two of them were casually inspecting those seeking to cross the bridge.
“Look, Malgwyn!” Ider pointed at the soldiers. “They search only the people, not the monachi.”
He was right. Even from a distance, I could see the guards waving robed and hooded monachi through without so much as a cursory glance.
“Melwas dares not offend Coroticus or Dubricius.” I paused and shook my head. “I still do not understand why Melwas courts disaster over Guinevere. He must know that Arthur will have no choice but to attack if he continues to defy the consilium!”
“Perhaps,” Ider ventured, “he loves her.”
The look I gave him left nothing to be sorted out.
But the young monachus squared his shoulders. “If that were Gwyneth threatened with a beheading, would you not face a thousand men alone to protect her? Are you not now taking a grave risk to clear both Ygerne’s and Guinevere’s names? Would you not defy Arthur?”
The boy was becoming irritating, but he was not wrong. Still he did not understand all of it, about the girls at the White Mount and Caer Goch, of the girl along the road back, of Gwyneira and my promise to her. But I chose to ignore him. This was not the time to explain.
“You are well known to Melwas’s men?”
Ider shrugged. “They have seen me.”
“Then we shall walk straight through with our hoods up. As we pass them, nod and show your face, but do not speak. They will assume we are both brothers of the abbey.”
“And then?”
“And then you will show me where to enter the tunnel and you will continue on to the abbey alone.”
Uncertainty flashed in his eyes once again. “Why?”
“I have told you. Coroticus must be distracted.”
“Malgwyn, I am a brother of the Christ! I should return to my duties.”
“Ider, look around you. The soldiers of the consilium are gathering to lay siege to the great tor. Your own superiors are frantically searching for a solution that does not involve violence. Moments ago, you were ready to ride into Hell with me. What has changed?”
Ider turned away. “This is different than the rebellion. That was easy to understand. Lauhiir had rebelled against Arthur. But this, this is different. Melwas has not yet taken arms against the consilium. All he seems to be doing is protecting Guinevere from these accusations.”
“‘Seems to be,’” I repeated. “We have no idea exactly why Melwas has chosen this path. But you are correct. Men will do many things for the love of a woman.
“Trust me on this, Ider. We can avert a great disaster here. But only if we act now. I need you, my friend. Never before have I needed your help so much. Do not think otherwise!”
Still, I saw hesitation in his eyes. I drew him over to the side of the road, to a fallen log. “Sit.”
“Ider, do you really believe that either Guinevere or Ygerne did this thing?”
He shook his head quickly. “No. Not the women I know. But Arthur rejected Guinevere. Could not that have spurred her to some act of revenge?”
I ignored his query. “And Ygerne? What could she seek revenge for? Have I rejected her? No.”
“But she is Guinevere’s friend,” he persisted.
“Ider, you and I are friends. Would that friendship permit you to help me kill a girl in such a brutal fashion? Or to help me hide such a deed?”
He shook his head as a gust of wind blew the mud-laden smell of river reeds around us. The wrinkles in his youthful forehead told me that he was still disturbed.
“What is truly bothering you?”
“You are not of the Christ. You admit such yourself. But I have never seen you truly speak or act against the Church, until now. In the rebellion time, aye, even in the death of Eleonore, you were not at cross-purposes with the Church. It’s even said that Patrick favored you above many.”
“Patrick,” I said softly, “was a good, kind man, who labored in the Christ’s cause with all the strength in him. I am the better man for having known him.”
“Yet now, you ask me, who is of the Christ, to betray those placed in authority over me?”
“No, Ider. I ask you to help me find the truth. Were I to ask you to ignore evidence that points to the guilt of a man, then, yes, I would cast you in the role of betrayer. But we all seek the same ends, Ider. Coroticus, Dubricius, and I want only a peaceful resolution. That we seek it down separate paths does not change our intentions, rather it ensures our ultimate success.”
Ider looked at me with something like relief on his face, and I was embarrassed. I had turned him to my task with glibness and a modicum of truth.
“Then I will show you.”
As I had predicted, the guards gave us barely a second glance as we passed across the old Roman bridge and through the breastworks being thrown up by Melwas.
The consilium had made the old Roman shrine their headquarters, establishing temporary defensive works on the southern approach to the bridge. The lands to either side were swampy, under water in some places, far too muddy to sustain a horse assault.
The wider approach on the eastern side of the tor was better defended by a bank and ditch, begun by Lauhiir and then completed and strengthened by Melwas.
All of these things I noted as we made our way along the base of Wirral Hill toward the small village at Ynys-witrin. My ruse would only work to get past the guards at the bridge. Brothers going in and out of the abbey precinct through the vallum were unlikely to be fooled. If I could penetrate the abbey grounds, with Ider’s help, I could learn where Guinevere was. By speaking to her, I hoped to do one of two things: learn truly who had killed Gwyneira or convince her to surrender to Arthur and purchase yet more time for my inquiries.
“We are nearly there, Malgwyn,” Ider told me as the abbey entrance drew in sight before us.
“Then it is time for you to continue toward the abbey. I will walk as if I’m headed to the other community to the west.”
“As I explained, you will find it at the back of an old hovel, covered by what seems to be a wooden pallet over a storage pit. I really wish you would let me go with you.”
“No, I need you to make certain that no one is about in the vetustam ecclesia when I emerge. You are needed there more than at my side.”
He nodded. I clapped him on the shoulder and watched him walk for a few steps toward the abbey. Satisfied that all was aright, I started toward the hovel in the back lane of Ynys-witrin.
I made it almost to the entrance of the tunnel.
My plan had started out well. But most plans were that way. Then, something would happen to alter its path.
Like the whining voice of Melwas.
“Master Malgwyn! I wondered when you would visit me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Lord Melwas! How goes it with you?”
I was brazen if nothing else. My cheery greeting took the grubby little lord by surprise. “Why, my lord, you knew that I had taken the vows?”
This was new information, and Melwas did not deal well with new information. But one of his aides leaned in and whispered something in his ear. A
smile broke across Melwas’s face. “Malgwyn, you are ever the jester! Come be my guest!”
At that I found my good arm held by one soldier and my stump by another. I shook them off.
“Be careful, Melwas. From a distance it might appear that you were arresting a monachus. That would not bode well for negotiations over Guinevere.”
Rather than look thoughtful or pensive, as if he were considering my words, Melwas grinned a rotting-toothed grin. “You are assuming that I intend to negotiate.”
The smile on his face gave me great pause. In some hidden corner of my mind, I had always assumed that Melwas would ultimately wish to negotiate new lands, that he would give in at the last moment and surrender her, but only in return for new titles or property. Oh, he would claim it was all in defense of Guinevere, but he would seek some profit. It would have been too late to save Ygerne, but Guinevere might live another day. I saw now how naïve that had been on my part. At that moment, I saw how completely besotted with my cousin Melwas had become. He was mad, not drooling mad, but insane nonetheless.
He would, indeed, go to war over Guinevere.
Unless he saw how futile his cause was; he was not suicidal.
His soldiers laid hands upon me again and this time I did not shake them off.
Nor was I surprised when, as we drew closer to the village, I saw Ider standing next to Coroticus and Dubricius, his head hanging in shame.
He had betrayed me.
Coroticus wore a smug expression. Dubricius seemed pleased. “You see, Lord Melwas,” the abbot began, “it was as our brother Ider said. Arthur and the consilium sent Malgwyn, dressed as a monachus, to spy out your defenses. This is the sort of duplicity that you can expect from them. And this is why you must allow the Church to work as a neutral party for a peaceful solution.”
I straightened quickly. Something was wrong in this. Ider knew what my mission was; he knew it had nothing to do with spying out Melwas’s defenses.
And while everyone else listened carefully to Coroticus, Ider did something completely out of character for the earnest young monachus. He winked at me.
That could mean only one thing. He knew something that I did not, and it would have doomed our plan. Somehow, he believed that by betraying me, he was helping me. But unless I knew what he apparently knew, I could not judge his success.
I tried to focus on what Coroticus, Dubricius, and Melwas were saying. But after Coroticus’s diatribe, none of which I heard, they had moved off a step or two and lowered their voices. All I could discern was Coroticus making some sort of plea about two being better than one.
After a moment, Melwas waved to the soldiers and they began marching me off toward his fortress at the base of the tor, exactly where I did not wish to be. My stomach nearly revolted as I realized that Ygerne would be beheaded in less than two days, and I had little chance now of preventing it.
* * *
“You look silly in those robes, Malgwyn.”
Only one person would say that to me.
Guinevere.
“And the tonsure makes you look as some sea monster.”
I had just been tossed into a small wooden hut within Melwas’s compound and the door bolted shut. Blinking my eyes to adjust to the dim light, I could make out my cousin, sitting on the dirt floor. A platter of cheese and bread lay near her, and I saw that a flagon of water hung from a wooden peg.
“You are a prisoner?” I had just assumed that she would have the freedom to roam where she wished within Melwas’s defenses. Indeed, I thought she was the little toad’s consort.
“You think I would willingly become Melwas’s woman? You are no kin of mine, Malgwyn. My relations think better of me,” she chided.
“Then what happened?”
She brushed her blond hair from her face. “I was not as devastated as you might think at Arthur’s news. I have my own spies, and I knew that David and the others were urging him to marry Aircol’s daughter.” Her words were firm, but I heard a sadness despite her bravado.
Still, I chuckled grimly. It seemed that we were forever underestimating Guinevere.
“The day after Arthur told me, Melwas appeared at my cottage. He started out politely, offering his patronage, but when my face betrayed my horror, well, he turned nasty.”
“How so?” I asked. If he had raped her, there would be no corner of our patria in which he could hide.
“He progressed to demands very quickly, and when I scoffed at his demands, four of his soldiers threatened to abduct me, and I saw quickly it would be folly to resist. I pretended to go along with it.”
I nodded. “He put word about that you were now his consort.”
Guinevere scowled. “If I were in need of a new patron, it would be Kay or Bedevere or perhaps even Gaheris. At least they are pretty to look at.” She paused. “Is it true?”
“What?”
“That Arthur and Aircol are condemning me for Gwyneira’s death. That if Melwas fails to hand me over that they will lay siege and take me by force so that I may pay for her death.”
Melwas was indeed a madman, but not so insane that he had told Guinevere of Ygerne’s fate.
“You made certain that no other conclusion could be drawn. You were one of the last two people to see Gwyneira alive. You were proven to be the author of the note. What were they supposed to think? I take it that that’s how you ended up in here?”
She nodded. “For the first bit, I had the freedom of the area. But after I had slipped away twice to Castellum Arturius, Melwas put me in here and said it was for my own protection.”
“Why didn’t you just stay at Arthur’s castle?”
“The first time, when I delivered the note to Ygerne, it was jealousy that sent me back. The second time, last night, after I found poor Gwyneira so foully murdered, I thought I had nowhere else I could go.”
“There is more to tell you.” It was time that she knew about Ygerne. I explained how events had transpired after Gwyneira was discovered, how Ygerne refused to say anything publicly in some effort to cast the torch of suspicion away from Guinevere. How Arthur had given Melwas two days to hand her over and how Arthur planned to execute Ygerne in a final effort to make Guinevere surrender.
“And Arthur has given you two days to find out who truly did this?” It was more a statement than a question.
I nodded.
“Why is Ygerne being so stubborn?” Guinevere exclaimed. “She knew nothing about Gwyneira until I told her.”
“She thinks her silence keeps you safe.”
“Marry her, Malgwyn, if we all survive this. She is one to keep. She has complete faith in you, you know. She does this only because she believes that you will work your magic and resolve this affair.”
“Hmmph! I find that unlikely. She will not let me in her door.”
Guinevere hid a smile behind her hand. “That is another matter.”
“Tell me what you remember of that night.”
“Why, Malgwyn? We can do nothing from here.”
“True. But we have yet a little time, and the only thing that I can do is to talk to the one person I have not yet made inquiries of. Unless and until I can give them the murderer, where we are is of little consequence.”
So Guinevere began, telling essentially the same tale that Ygerne had told me. “I went there not to do her harm, but to see if we could reach a sort of understanding.”
“An understanding?”
“I have many friends among Arthur’s men and the town folk. I did not wish to lose them all. But in order to keep them, I also needed to make my peace with the child. I needed to walk the lanes without fearing an encounter with her.”
“How did you know she would be alone?”
“How could Arthur and his nobles ignore a chance to ride once more?”
“And so you used me for permission to see Gwyneira.”
“I knew that no one would question your word.”
“Then what happened?”
“The
n nothing. I went in and found her dead, the blood still very, very fresh.”
“And no one else around?”
“No one. Merely the servants clearing the feasting hall.”
“In the lanes you saw no one, not the Druid or … Mordred or David or…”
She held up her hand. “I saw no one I knew and scarcely anyone else. The stalls selling wine and mead had closed. Only the drunken lords of the consilium were about.”
“What of Morgan ap Tud? The medicus?”
Guinevere shook her head. “No, not him either. You do not think little Morgan could have done these things?”
I shrugged. “He is David’s man. And I believe David capable of anything. At the White Mount and then again at Caer Goch, Morgan’s whereabouts cannot be determined. The night of Gwyneira’s death, he managed to elude two of my, uh, watchmen.”
“You mean two of your spies.”
I stood and paced about. “This makes no sense. Someone had to kill her. She did not do this to herself.”
“Who knew of the method by which the other girls were killed?”
’Twas a fair question. But she did not like my answer. “You, Ygerne, Bedevere, Arthur, and Merlin. Oh, and Wynn, of course.”
The scowl she threw my way was as withering as a summer sun at midday. “You are not being helpful. Did not the parents of these girls know how they died? Could not one of them have believed that it was one of Arthur’s men who did this? Could not one of them have killed Gwyneira in the same manner out of revenge?”
My cousin was much like me in the way her mind worked. But I had already considered this possibility and dismissed it. “No, I met their families, well, except for the last one on the journey back from Caer Goch. And no one we have spoken to saw anyone unfamiliar.”
“Malgwyn!” The door had opened and a smiling Melwas stood in it.
“My lord,” I acknowledged him with a bowed head.
“I would speak to you, alone.” I knew Guinevere did not like that, but I had little choice.
“It would seem that I am at your service, whether I want to be or not.”
“If you will excuse us, Lady,” he said, bowing in deference to Guinevere.
Her sharp eyes shot daggers at him. “My cousin I will excuse. You are but a little toad.”