Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

Idwal’s ears pricked up. ‘Was the earl injured?’

‘Not physically. But his pride was badly lacerated. He is certainly in no mood to grant favours to anyone from across the border. My advice would be to delay your request until he has calmed down again.’

‘Sage counsel. I’ll obey it.’

‘Then I can be excused.’

‘Not so fast, my lord,’ said Idwal, plucking at his sleeve. ‘Our paths have not crossed for such a long time. I would like to know what has befallen you since we parted in Hereford. Apart from your fortunate marriage, that is. And you, I am sure, are anxious to hear my news.’

‘I dream of nothing else,’ said Ralph sardonically.

Idwal beamed. ‘In that case, I’ll begin …’

‘Another time.’

And Ralph fled the field like the most craven deserter.

Darkness was starting to fall with more conviction by the time they reached the castle and they needed the help of the flaming torches to pick their way across to the stables. Ostlers took charge of their horses. They stretched themselves to ease their aching limbs. As he walked across the bailey with the chaplain, Gervase Bret had to stifle a yawn.

‘Thank you again, Brother Gerold,’ he said.

‘I was glad to be of assistance,’ said the other. ‘And it was a pleasure to see Father Ernwin again, albeit in such sad circumstances. He will sustain Gytha and Beollan through this desperate period.’

‘And the bodies will be buried in consecrated ground.’

‘Father Ernwin gave us his word.’

‘I was much reassured after speaking with him.’

‘He will know what to do.’

Gerold came to a halt near a torch and studied his companion’s umbered face with shrewd eyes. Gervase became slightly self-conscious.

‘What is the matter?’ he said.

‘You look pale and drawn, my friend.’

‘I am fine.’

‘This has been a strain for you. Go and rest.’

‘I could say the same to you, Brother Gerold.’

‘Grief is an almost daily element in my life. It does not oppress me in the way that it did when I was younger. I have learned to withstand its crushing power and to lessen its hold over the minds of others.’

‘That is a rare gift.’

‘I am always happy when I can use it,’ said Gerold.

‘Gytha was profoundly grateful to you.’

‘She should have been thanking you instead, Gervase.’

‘Me?’

‘You were the one who listened to her plea.’

‘I was moved by their plight.’

‘So was I,’ said the chaplain, ‘but I would have been unable to relieve their minds without Gervase Bret. He was my passport.’

‘Passport?’

‘To that stricken family. Had they known that I was chaplain at the castle and in the service of Earl Hugh, they would not have let me within a hundred yards of them. It was the earl who caused those two deaths. I would have been tainted with his actions.’

He squeezed Gervase’s shoulder. ‘You enabled me to get close to Gytha and her brother because they trusted you.’

‘I hope so.’

This time the yawn would not be denied. Gervase brought a hand up to his mouth but it was far too late. Gerold smiled.

‘Let us part. You, to your bed: me, to my duties.’

‘At this late hour?’

‘The chapel never closes.’

‘When do you find time to sleep?’

‘When nobody else is watching me.’

He stole quietly away until his black cowl merged with the darkness. Gervase headed for the keep and a well-earned rest.

The journey to and from the forest had been taxing and he was still jangled by the discovery they had made in the ditch. But there were consolations to be drawn. The chaplain was turning out to be a valuable friend and Gytha’s resemblance to the lovely Alys grew stronger every time that Gervase looked at the girl.

Without quite knowing why, he certainly did want to see her again.

Brother Gerold, meanwhile, let himself into the chapel and closed the door gently behind him. A solitary candle burned on the altar, its tiny flame illumining little more than the crucifix beside it and a patch of the white altar cloth. Everything else was shrouded in darkness. Gerold knew at once that he was not alone. He waited beside the door and listened until he heard the sound of breathing. As his eyes gradually became accustomed to the blackness, he moved forward warily down the aisle. His caution was justified. Long before he got anywhere near the pale circle of light on the altar, his toe met an obstruction.

He knelt down until he could pick out the contours of the figure lying prone on the cold floor. The sheer size of the man confirmed his identity. Hugh d’Avranches, Earl of Chester, was stretched out in an attitude of total submission. His breath came in shallow bursts as if he were in some kind of pain. Gerold was not surprised. He said nothing, but remained kneeling patiently beside the huge body until his master finally spoke to him.

‘Brother Gerold?’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘Where have you been?’ hissed Earl Hugh.

‘On an errand of mercy.’

‘Where?’

‘Outside the city.’

‘We needed you here.’

‘I am back now.’

‘My wants are paramount.’

‘I am here to see to them, my lord.’

‘Only you can help me, Brother Gerold.’

‘It is God who comes to your aid. Through me.’

‘I need Him mightily.’

The massive figure came to life and crawled forward towards the altar rail. The chaplain knew what to do. He moved swiftly to the vestry. A few minutes later, he was standing in front of the single candle and holding a piece of unleavened bread between his fingers.

‘ Accipe, frater, Corporis Domini nostri Jesu Christi, qui te custodiat ab hosti maligno, et perducat in vitam aeternam …’

Alone in the dark, Earl Hugh was taking communion.

It took Ralph Delchard a long time to shake off Idwal. The Welshman was a tireless bloodhound, sniffing his trail with assurance, bounding along with glee and baying at his heels whenever he got close enough. They seemed to make a circuit of the entire castle. It was an undignified game for a royal commissioner to have to play and Ralph eventually wearied of it.

Unequivocal confrontation was needed. When Idwal pursued him into the keep, Ralph held his ground and swung round to face him. It was no time for diplomatic niceties.

‘Go away!’ he ordered.

‘But we have so much news to exchange, my lord.’

‘Do not pester me so, man! I have no interest in your news and I will not be chased like some runaway stag.’

Idwal was hurt. ‘I thought that we were friends.’

‘Friends do not hound each other.’

‘I am pleased to see you, that is all.’

‘Reflect on that pleasure elsewhere.’

‘But we grew close when we were in Hereford together.’

‘Too close!’

‘We joined forces to avert a Welsh rebellion.’

‘You are a Welsh rebellion on your own.’

There was a long pause as Idwal assessed the situation. His frown eventually melted away and his palms opened in a gesture of mild contrition.

‘I see the problem,’ he said, recovering his good humour with remarkable speed. ‘I come to you at an inopportune time. I am sorry, my lord. I should not have ambushed you as I did. Appoint a more fit hour when we may converse at length.’

Ralph was firm. ‘We have said all that we need to say to each other. I do not wish to hear any more about Llandaff.’

‘St David’s.’

‘Or St David’s.’

‘Though I do have news of Llandaff as well.’

‘Spare me!’

‘And good tidings from Bangor.’

‘Bangor?’

‘Not to mention Brecon.’