Candace Robb - A Spy For The Redeemer

‘Oh, aye? Not of late.’ Owen sat back, resisting the gesture to speak confidentially.

Hywel nodded to himself. ‘That is the archdeacon’s fault, not your own. Glynis told me about you. You have been ill used by Adam Rokelyn.’

‘When did you speak to Glynis?’ Owen could not hide his interest.

Hywel ran his hands through his coarse hair, sat back, crossed his arms, studied Owen, then looked away as if deep in thought. Without turning back to Owen, he asked softly, ‘What is your interest in Glynis?’

‘I wished to speak with her.’

‘Why?’ Now Hywel returned Owen’s gaze.

‘It was you who mentioned her,’ said Owen. ‘Why now this riddling?’

‘I feel responsible for her.’

‘One of her lovers is accused of murdering the other. She might have much to say.’

‘Does Rokelyn want her? Does he require two in the bishop’s dungeon?’

Owen saw that they thought much alike, but Hywel did not see that. ‘I am not your enemy,’ Owen said.

‘No? How do I know that?’

‘I am looking for the murderer of one of your men.’

‘Cynog?’ Hywel sighed, shook his head sadly. ‘God granted him a wondrous gift. They tell me he was carving a tomb for your wife’s father.’

‘Aye, he was.’

Hywel tilted his head back, gazed up at the top of the tent. ‘Wirthir’s recommendation?’

‘You know much.’

‘So does Wirthir.’ He sat up suddenly. ‘Now there is a man dangerous to the prince’s cause.’

‘You are mistaken. He is working for Owain Lawgoch.’

Hywel laughed. ‘He is working for the French king. You know it, we all do. If King Charles turns on Owain Lawgoch, so will Wirthir.’

‘Martin is not King Charles’s man.’

‘He is no one’s, I know. Hence the danger. What he learns today about our cause he may use against us tomorrow.’

Owen could not deny that.

Hywel, ever restless, stood now with one foot on his chair, an elbow resting on his thigh. ‘What about you, Captain Archer? Your work for the Duke of Lancaster is finished. Whom are you presently serving?’

‘The Archdeacon of St David’s, as you know. He has delayed my departure.’

‘With Captain Siencyn, yes. Adam Rokelyn is enjoying his power, ordering you about. But do you wish to leave? Is this not your country, your people? Surely you do not prefer the English to us?’

‘My family is in England.’

‘So Cynog told me.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Join me. For a while. You have been away so long, a few months longer would go unnoticed by most.’

‘But the duke, the archbishop — ’

Hywel held out a hand, silencing Owen. ‘What I want is your help in preparing an army to support Owain, Prince of Wales. Train his archers. Teach his men what you have learned in service with the duke and the archbishop. Redeem yourself. Redeem your people.’

‘Is my wife to worry that I have deserted her? I will not do that to her.’

‘Would your wife deny you this? Spy for your people, train archers for them, not the English who despise us.’

Owen fought to sound indifferent. ‘I know nothing of you, little enough about Owain. Yvain de Galles the French call him. Is he Welsh? Or is he now a Gaul?’

‘Many Welshmen find respect fighting in the free companies across the Channel. Owain will bring many of them with him. Trained soldiers.’

‘Then you do not need me.’

‘Come now, Owen Archer. The great bard Dafydd ap Gwilym has told me of your remarkable skill.’

‘He saw one performance.’

‘He is a fine judge of heroes, Captain. He has met his share. But you must of course take your time, consider my proposal. Meanwhile, in exchange for your horses — ’

‘We owe you nothing,’ Iolo said.

Hywel feigned surprise. ‘I have groomed them, fed them. I ask you to deliver a letter for me. A simple task. The recipient is a pilgrim at St David’s.’

‘You are not so far from the city,’ said Owen. ‘Surely you might deliver it?’

Hywel laughed. ‘You suggest that a known commander of Owain’s supporters should openly ride into St David’s? The English consider me a traitor to their king. Houghton is lord in St David’s and he is English.’

‘One of your men might go.’

‘It is such a small thing I ask of you.’

It was Owen’s turn to laugh. ‘At this moment I am in pain caused by your men. Iolo cannot walk. And you ask for a favour.’ He shook his head as if disbelieving. In truth he was delaying.

Hywel dropped back down into the chair, folding his arms. ‘If you deliver the letter, I shall find passage for you. To England.’

‘You no longer wish to persuade me to stay?’

‘A generous commander never lacks men. You may change your mind. Return with your wife and children. I shall be here.’

This was the way a commander should behave. Despite his own injuries, Owen admired the man.

‘Well?’ Hywel drew a small parchment from a pouch sitting on the table. ‘As you see, it will not encumber you. Griffith of Anglesey would be most grateful. As would I.’

‘If it is so small a thing to ask, why would you be so grateful you would arrange passage for me?’

Hywel chuckled. ‘You catch me at every turn. I can see you make an excellent spy. A spy for Owain, Prince of Wales. What could be a more honourable use of your skills?’

Did the man know the questions in his heart? Owen hesitated. What would that be like, to turn what he had learned in the service of the archbishop to such a purpose?

Hywel saw his hesitation. ‘You asked how you might show you are not my enemy. Carry this letter.’

Owen said nothing.

‘Glynis is well, by the way.’

‘She came to you?’ Owen asked.

Hywel nodded. ‘She began to fear Piers the Mariner and his brother. With cause. I have no doubt that Piers hanged Cynog.’

‘What cause had he to take the man’s life? And in such wise?’

‘Ask him.’ Hywel held out the letter once more. ‘Will you take it?’

‘Why did Glynis fear him?’

‘Is it not plain? He is a violent man, Captain. So is Siencyn.’

Iolo sighed loudly. ‘If we tarry much longer, we shall miss the curfew at St David’s. We cannot ride fast.’

Hywel still held out the letter.

‘If you arrange passage, how should I hear of it?’ Owen asked.

‘I shall find a way to inform you. I give you my word.’ Hywel placed the letter on the table by Owen’s hands.

Owen nodded, tucked it into the top winding of the bandage beneath his tunic. ‘Iolo will need assistance to his horse.’

Hywel called for his men.

‘I hope to have the honour one day soon of introducing you to Owain Lawgoch,’ Hywel said as Owen rose.

‘We shall see.’ Owen bowed to him and left the tent.

‘Griffith of Anglesey,’ Hywel called after him. ‘A large man with a red beard.’

Owen heard, but did not acknowledge it. He expected Griffith would find him.

At the edge of the wood, Morgan and Deri took the extra horse and left Owen and Iolo. Until Wirthir’s men were out of sight, Owen sat his horse silently. Then he dismounted, pulled the rolled parchment from his tunic. A simple seal, wax on a string. With some heat, easily resealed.

‘You will read it?’ Iolo asked from his saddle.

‘I think it wise.’ The parchment was filthy, often used. Owen slipped his dagger beneath the seal. The writing surface had been scraped so often it had a sheen. Was it the condition of the parchment, or was it the nonsense that it looked? Long, curving lines, squiggles, splotches. No words, no signature. ‘He has fooled me. Why?’

‘I thought it strange he gave it to you.’

‘But what is his game?’ Owen studied it, turning it this way and that, certain it must have a purpose. ‘By the Rood, it is a map.’