Candace Robb - A Spy For The Redeemer

‘Aunt?’ Lucie said softly, unsure whether Phillippa woke or slept. The valerian should still have effect, but Kate had said Phillippa spoke to her and someone had packed the chest. Lucie called to her aunt a little louder.

Now Phillippa noticed her, stopped, glanced at the chest, then back to Lucie. ‘You were kind to ask me to stay, but I must go back to the manor.’

‘Why? Tildy, Harold and all the servants are there. I have sent Magda to see to Daimon. What more can be done, Aunt?’

‘I should be there.’

Lucie ached to see the once indomitable Phillippa like this. She put a soft wool shawl round her aunt’s shoulders. ‘Come and sit down. I shall comb your hair and help you dress.’

‘And then we shall go?’

‘We shall see.’ There, beside the bed, Lucie found the reason for Phillippa’s wakefulness. Her cup of tisane was still half full. Lucie lifted it, held it towards her aunt. ‘Drink this. It will calm you.’

‘You do not understand.’

‘Then tell me.’

‘I forget too much.’

‘As you did this drink.’

Phillippa took the cup, drank down the honey-laced valerian.

‘Why not nap a while until we are ready?’ Lucie suggested. She eased her aunt back down on to the bed, covered her and slipped quietly from the room. She would unpack the chest later.

Owen heard a horse whinny. And another. Math and Enid had no horses. The dog rose and began to bark. Owen struggled to rise. Math jumped up, grabbed a knife and a pitchfork he had propped by the door.

‘Where are my knives?’ Iolo called out from the corner.

‘Do not waste your strength unless I cry out,’ Math said. ‘Both of you. Enid, keep Ilar quiet.’

Enid grabbed the dog and muzzled her with a strip of cloth from the wound dressings.

The farmer pressed an ear to the door, listening. ‘Horsemen. Not many.’

‘One is bad enough if the wrong one,’ Enid murmured.

Especially if he were the murderer of her son?

Math opened the door quietly, slipped out into the wet morning.

A horse whinnied again. Math shouted.

Owen pushed through his pain and stood up. But Math appeared in the doorway before Owen reached it. The farmer laughed as he shook the rain from his hair. ‘Friends?’ Enid asked.

‘Aye. Cynog’s friend. The one-handed Fleming. And two others. They are seeing to their horses.’

‘Praise God.’ Enid let the bitch loose. Ilar rushed from the cottage, barking. ‘I must add more to the pottage,’ Enid said.

‘You sic that stubby, yapping devil on a friend?’ Iolo asked. He was sitting up, looking as if he had spent the night under a tavern table.

‘She knows Martin,’ Enid said. ‘And she is no devil, but the best watch dog a farmer could ask for.’

‘Martin Wirthir,’ Owen said.

Math gave an enthusiastic nod. ‘He says he has come to crown you king of fools.’

‘I shall greet the kingmaker.’ Owen hoped that walking about would ease the stiffness in his legs. His wounds slowed his impulsive pace, but they did not stop him. Outside, he lifted his face to the cool drizzle, breathed in the fresh air. The expansion of his ribs brought pain, but his lungs felt cleansed. He headed into the brush to relieve himself. When he returned to the yard, Martin Wirthir was walking out of the barn, his pack over his left shoulder, the dog trotting happily beside him. She gave one bark when she saw Owen. Martin paused, crouching to pet Ilar. It was ever jarring to see Martin after an absence. He could be Owen’s brother, they looked so much alike, but that Martin’s hair was slightly lighter and straighter. Like Owen, he carried a terrible scar, though not on his face. He was missing his right hand. At the moment he looked muddy and bedraggled.

‘I see you have ridden hard this morning,’ said Owen.

‘Walked. We camped the other side of the forest.’ Martin laughed as Ilar pulled at his pack. With his left hand he grabbed a stick and threw it far across the yard, sending the dog racing after it on her squat legs. ‘Ilar believes she is a deerhound,’ Martin said as he rose, brushing off his muddy knees. ‘Not a bad toss for someone who could throw only with his right hand a few years ago, eh?’ Now he looked closely at Owen. ‘By St Sebastian, you are not looking much the archer this morning.’

‘My bow would have been of little use in the forest,’ Owen said. ‘Did my men tell you where I was?’

‘No.’

‘Your own spies told you?’

The dog dropped the stick at Martin’s feet, then dashed into the cottage. ‘She has the good sense to go inside, out of the rain.’ Martin hoisted his pack over his shoulder. ‘So do I.’ He bowed to Owen and walked away. At the cottage door Martin glanced back at Owen, who was still eyeing the forest. ‘There is no need for you to stand out here. My men are on watch.’

Owen followed, though it was not because of the rain. The Fleming usually travelled alone. For him to ride with companions and set a guard — something had him worried. The men who had attacked Owen?

Enid and Math welcomed Martin with much affection. Owen learned from their conversation that Martin had been the one to bring them the terrible news of Cynog’s murder. They had not mentioned him last night when Owen questioned them.

Martin bent over Iolo’s wounded foot. ‘I thought you were a better fighter than this, my friend.’

‘It was three against two, three men who knew the forest,’ Iolo protested. ‘They had the advantage of our surprise.’

Martin straightened. ‘Can you ride?’

‘Ride, aye. But mounting and dismounting …’ Iolo shook his head at his leg.

‘We can assist you.’ Martin turned to Owen. ‘And you?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Enid said, stepping between them.

‘Today would be better,’ Martin said.

‘Tomorrow is foolish enough,’ she said. ‘He will open his side and bleed all the way to St David’s.’

‘He might suffer far worse if he curls up and naps until his trouble appears.’

Martin’s unease had Owen’s full attention. ‘Shall we talk about this trouble?’ he asked.

‘First we eat,’ Enid said. ‘Then I shall leave the three of you alone.’

Owen grew impatient with her mothering. But Martin thanked her graciously.

Enid’s good, thick pottage and sharp cider soon calmed Owen and made him more confident he could ride. But he wondered about Iolo. The horses must be led for much of the way to St David’s. Through the forest he might bend low against his mount, but it would be dangerous for him to stay mounted on the steeper rock faces. Yet how could he walk? Owen asked whether Martin had a different route in mind.

Taking their cue, Enid and Math rose from the table and donned their cloaks to set about their chores. They were already behind in their morning schedule, Math said as he hurried Enid — who would linger — out of the door.

Martin leaned his elbows on the table, toying with a puddle of cider on the wood. ‘Do you wish to return to St David’s? Might it not be wiser to journey south, and then east, towards home?’

‘The time is not right.’

Martin glanced up from his fidgeting to look Owen in the eye. ‘I should have thought it precisely the time.’

‘With my men yet in St David’s, the tomb unfinished …’ Martin’s grim expression did not change. ‘Math said you had come to crown me king of fools. What did he mean?’

‘What do you have to gain by returning to the city? If you have paid the stonemason, he will complete the tomb. Why should he not? It will be a monument to his artistry as well as to Sir Robert’s life.’

‘And Cynog’s murderer? Do I abandon the search for him?’