Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

‘This time his fury has just cause.’

‘How has it expressed itself?’

‘In prompt action,’ said the archdeacon. ‘When I went into the city, I saw extra guards at the gate. They let nobody through until they had checked his identity and purpose. It was the same at the castle. Soldiers are everywhere. The show of military strength is quite daunting.’

‘And unsettling,’ admitted the bishop. ‘Earl Hugh would not stiffen his defences in that way unless he feared some kind of attack. And there is only one place from which that would come.’

‘Wales.’

‘Yes, Frodo. I begin to tremble.’

‘Why, your grace?’

‘Because I suddenly fear for my cathedral.’

‘It is in no real danger.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Chester has a large garrison.’

‘But they are inside the castle,’ said Robert anxiously. ‘They have stone walls to protect them. We do not. We are outside the city with no fortifications to hide behind.’

‘We have God to watch over us.’

‘Yes, Frodo, but even He might not be able to stop a marauding army from over the border. It would not be the first time that a cathedral was sacked in Chester.’

‘That will not happen, your grace.’

‘It might.’

‘Only as a remote possibility.’

‘While that possibility exists, I continue to fret.’ He looked up wistfully at the building. ‘An immense amount of love and devotion has gone into the construction of this cathedral, quite apart from the money and the effort that have been lavished upon it. I hate the thought that it could all go up in smoke. I would be devastated.’

‘So would I, your grace,’ said the archdeacon, ‘but I am confident that we will never be in that predicament. Earl Hugh is reacting to a threat which may not even be there. The Welsh have been peaceful neighbours ever since their prince was imprisoned in the castle. They would never endanger his life by mounting an attack.’

‘How can you be so certain?’

‘The Welsh are very predictable.’

‘Are they?’ returned the other. ‘I disagree. Look at Archdeacon Idwal. He is as predictable as a mad dog. If he is typical of the Welsh, then we are all doomed!’

Brother Gerold listened to the request with the utmost sympathy, but he saw no point in offering his visitor false hope. His shoulders hunched into an apology.

‘There is not the slightest chance, I fear.’

‘How do you know until you ask him?’

‘Because I am privy to his mind, Archdeacon Idwal,’ said the monk. ‘Earl Hugh would not let you near his prisoner.’

‘A single hour is all that I seek.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘Half an hour?’ bargained Idwal. ‘Ten minutes? Five even? I would settle for any length of time with Gruffydd ap Cynan.’

‘You will have to settle for none at all.’

‘This is monstrous!’

‘It is Earl Hugh’s decree.’

‘Then get him to revoke it.’

Gerold smiled. ‘That is like asking me to turn the River Dee into red wine. Earl Hugh will not be persuaded.’

‘But I was told that you had influence with him.’

‘In some small way.’

‘Bishop Robert gave me to understand that you were the one person in the castle to whom he paid serious attention.’

‘At times.’

‘Then let this be one of those times.’

‘My plea would be ignored.’

‘At least make it on my behalf.’

‘It would be treated with utter contempt.’

‘Then I will make the plea myself,’ vowed Idwal, temper flaring and arms gesticulating wildly. ‘Others may quake before Earl Hugh of Chester but I do not. He may have an army but I have the might of the Welsh Church at my back. Contrive an appointment for me, Brother Gerold. I will be heard.’

‘Not by Earl Hugh.’

‘But I am an archdeacon!’

‘Even a bishop would not gain his ear at this time.’

Idwal stamped his foot in exasperation. The two of them were standing in the half-dark at the rear of the chapel. Idwal’s arrival had been unannounced but he was treated with courtesy by Brother Gerold. That courtesy seemed to ruffle rather than please the visitor, who was forced into a change of strategy.

‘Carry a message to him,’ he urged.

‘To Earl Hugh?’

‘No, Brother Gerold. The only message I would like to send him would burn the hands off anyone who carried it. I talk of sending word to Gruffydd ap Cynan.’

‘That would not be allowed.’

‘Why not?’

‘It is not for me to say.’

‘Could you not take a simple letter to him?’

‘No, Archdeacon Idwal.’

‘Not even as a favour to me?’ coaxed the other, producing a sweet smile of persuasion. ‘I would view it as an act of Christian fellowship and remember you in my prayers.’

‘I would be touched.’

‘Then you agree?’

‘No,’ said Gerold. ‘Communication of any kind with the prisoner is forbidden.’

‘Surely the chaplain is entitled to visit him?’

‘Only to offer what spiritual sustenance I may.’

‘There is your opportunity,’ declared Idwal. ‘Next time you are alone in the dungeon with him, give him my letter in secret. It is only a message of greeting but it may bring some small cheer to the Prince of Gwynedd. Will you do this?’ He saw the chaplain shake his head. ‘Why not?’

‘It would be wholly improper.’

‘What harm could it do?’

‘Untold harm. Earl Hugh would be furious.’

‘Only if he learned about it and he will not.’ Idwal brought his smile back into action. ‘Please, Brother Gerold. My countryman suffers enough punishment as it is. Do not deprive him of all contact with his nation. Carry my message to him. Show pity.

Who will ever know about it?’

‘I will,’ said Gerold firmly.

‘Iesu Mawr! How can you refuse me?’

‘There are rules.’

‘Break them, mun! It is your Christian duty.’

But the chaplain’s view of Christian duty differed greatly from that of the Welshman and he politely declined to smuggle any messages to the prisoner. After ridding himself of another torrent of protest, Idwal accepted that he would not be allowed to see the prince. He gave a moan of resignation then let his gaze move slowly round the chapel.

‘This place has the feeling of being used,’ he said with grudging approval. ‘Soldiers are not the most devout men. Some of them only remember God when they need His help on the eve of a battle. I have been in castles where the chapel is empty most of the time.’

‘That is not the case here.’

‘Even with a heathen like Earl Hugh in charge?’

‘He is no heathen but a true Christian.’

‘I prefer to judge him by his actions.’

‘Then know what they are,’ said Gerold briskly. ‘He has endowed churches and encouraged the spiritual life of the whole city. Earl Hugh is a willing student of the scriptures. He has many close 99

Edward Marston

friends in the Church and in the monastic community. Chief among them is Anselm.’

Idwal was astounded. ‘Anselm of Bec?’

‘The same.’

‘He is a friend of Earl Hugh?’

‘They exchange letters regularly,’ explained Gerold. ‘The earl draws great strength from that friendship. It is to Anselm he turned when he conceived the idea of founding an abbey in Chester.’

‘But that is Bishop Robert’s ambition as well.’

‘He may be involved,’ said Gerold easily, ‘but an abbey will only come into being with the weight of Earl Hugh behind it. Do you still call him a heathen?’

‘No,’ said Idwal, his interest quickening. ‘I am pleased to hear that he has been so generous towards the Church. Has he bestowed any gifts upon this chapel?’