Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

‘I disagree, Ralph. I spoke with him.’

‘Then why did he not mention this fantasy of his before?’

‘It is not a fantasy.’

‘A woman using a bow and arrow? No, Gervase!’

‘It would not be the first time in these isles,’ the other reminded him. ‘Warrior queens have ruled here in ancient times. They took up arms and rode out to battle in their chariots.’

Ralph was scornful. ‘Is that what this archer is supposed to have done? Ridden up in her chariot and fired a deadly arrow as she raced past? You insult my intelligence, Gervase.’

‘I was astonished myself at first,’ confessed his friend, ‘but Gytha swore to me that that was what her brother said. The reason Beollan did not tell me the truth earlier is obvious. He did not trust me enough. Why should he? I am staying under the roof of the man who ordered the death of his father and brother.

He was bound to be suspicious of me.’ Gervase was convinced.

‘The archer was a woman, Ralph.’

‘That is patent nonsense.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it takes strength to pull a bow.’

‘It takes strength to do all the household chores that most women do each day. The weaker sex is not as weak as you suppose.

Beollan really did see a woman with a bow.’

‘Only in his imagination.’

‘Why should he invent such a tale?’

‘To confuse us still further.’

‘No, Ralph. The boy has sharp eyes. He was trained as a lookout.

He would not make a mistake.’

‘He did on this occasion. Women do not shoot arrows.’

‘Is it any more difficult than brewing beer?’

Ralph was checked. He had forgotten Golde. Only a robust woman could have run the business as effectively as his wife had done in Hereford. She would not have survived in such a tough, competitive trade if she had been meek and mild in her approach. Both in mind and body, Golde was undeniably strong.

They were in Gervase’s apartment at the castle. Sounds of activity rose up from the bailey. Ralph crossed to the window and looked down at the busy scene. When he saw quivers of arrows being set out in readiness at intervals along the battlements, he turned back to Gervase. He shifted the ground of his argument slightly.

‘Great skill is needed in archery,’ he said.

‘Women can acquire skills as easily as men.’

‘A bow is a deadly weapon, Gervase.’

‘That was proved in the forest.’

‘Not by any female archer,’ maintained Ralph. ‘Skill must be matched with an instinct to kill. Women are brought up to nurture life, not to take it. Look at Golde. She has power enough to kill but has far too gentle a disposition ever to use that power.’

Gervase smiled. ‘I am not so sure about that,’ he teased.

‘Judging from her expression at the table last night, I think she would cheerfully have murdered the brewer who provided that dreadful beer.’

‘She would have drowned him in his own brewhouse!’

‘I rest my case.’

‘Be serious, Gervase,’ returned the other. ‘There is every difference between a momentary impulse such as Golde felt and a calculated act of murder. What sort of woman would have the nerve to assassinate someone?’

‘One with a strong motive. It has happened many times before, Ralph. Emperors and kings have fallen victim to wives or discarded mistresses.’

‘They did not lurk in the forest with a bow and arrow.’

‘No,’ conceded Gervase. ‘Women tend to favour poison or a stealthy dagger over archery, but the result is the same.’

Ralph could manage no reply. He wrestled with his doubts for a few minutes before looking across at his friend.

‘Are you completely persuaded about this?’ he said.

‘Gytha would not lie to me.’

‘Supposing her brother lied to her?’

‘To what end? Beollan told her honestly what he saw.’

‘A woman running away.’

‘Leaving two men to pay for the crime she had committed,’ said Gervase. ‘His father and brother were executed, Ralph. Hanged by the neck then hacked to pieces. Do you think that Beollan will ever forget the archer who was responsible for their deaths? They unwittingly covered her escape.’

‘Only on the first occasion.’

‘First?’

‘When the hawk was killed,’ said Ralph. ‘What about the second incident when Raoul Lambert fell to an arrow? If, as you argue, the same archer claimed both victims, how did she escape the second time when there was nobody to divert attention from her?

You heard Earl Hugh. They searched under every bush in that part of the forest and found nothing.’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘What?’

‘Two women making baskets outside a cottage.’

‘So?’ The truth slowly dawned on him. ‘You think …’

‘It is only a guess, Ralph, but it has taken firm hold on my mind. What better way to elude capture? The soldiers were searching for a male archer. They would not look too closely at a woman who was working away at a basket. If you were hunting a wild boar, would you stop to look at rabbits?’

‘No.’

‘She outwitted them.’

Ralph pondered. ‘You may be right,’ he said at length.

‘What other explanation is there?’

‘None.’

‘Then we are faced with a dilemma.’

‘In what way?’

‘Do we divulge this intelligence to Earl Hugh or not?’

‘I think not,’ decided Ralph. ‘I would love to see the expression on his face when I tell him that his huntsman was killed by a woman, but I will forgo that pleasure until we are quite certain of our facts.’

‘That is my feeling as well,’ said Gervase. ‘Apart from anything else, I want to protect Gytha and her brother.’

‘Hugh would haul the pair of them in for interrogation and I would not wish that on anybody. I have seen his methods.’

‘There is another consideration, Ralph. Their parents were buried in secret yesterday at their parish church.’

‘Hugh ordered that the bodies lie in a ditch.’

‘Exactly. If he learns the truth, he is likely to have them dug up and thrown back where he left them.’

‘We are agreed on one thing then. Hugh hears nothing.’

‘Until we verify the facts.’

‘And how do we do that, Gervase?’

‘We go to the cottage where those two women made baskets,’

said the other. ‘That is where we must start.’

‘How on earth would we find the place alone?’

‘We would not, Ralph. We need a guide.’

‘Brother Gerold?’

‘Not this time,’ said Gervase. ‘We must seek help from someone who lives in the Forest of Delamere itself. Someone who is indirectly involved in this business. Someone with her own reasons for finding out the truth.’

The affection in his friend’s voice made Ralph smile.

‘Would her name be Gytha, by any chance?’

Gruffydd ap Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, finally lost his patience.

Picking up the little stool, he used it to bang on the door of his cell, yelling at the top of his voice at the same time. The noise brought two of his gaolers hurrying down the dark passage towards him.

‘Stop that noise!’ ordered one of them.

‘Or we’ll stop it for you!’ warned the other.

‘What has got into him?’

When they peered through the grille in the door, their prisoner backed away and tossed the stool aside. He pointed upwards and gestured for them to unlock the door. They shook their heads.

Snatching up the stool again, he hurled it at the door with all his might and it splintered against the stout timber. One of the guards turned to his companion.

‘He’s run mad. Fetch Earl Hugh.’

‘Try to calm him down,’ said the other, hurrying away.

‘I’ll calm him down!’ muttered the first man, fingering his sword.