Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

‘Yes,’ said Frodo, gently. ‘Master Gervase Bret. He can understand Welsh but he is not sufficiently fluent in the language to question Gruffydd on his own. What he can do, however, is to act as our witness. That is our counsel, my lord. Employ this Archdeacon Idwal to talk to the prisoner under the supervision of Gervase Bret.’ He spread his arms in a gesture of persuasion.

‘The whole city may benefit from such a conversation.’

The moment he set eyes on her, Gervase experienced a thrill of certainty. When they came out into the clearing, the old woman was seated on a tree stump, gazing idly around while her nimble fingers worked at her basket. She was in no way alarmed by their arrival and gave them a vacant grin.

‘Thank you, Beollan,’ said Gervase.

‘Is this the right place?’ asked the boy.

‘I believe so.’

‘Can we go now?’

‘Wait until we have spoken to her.’

Beollan and his sister withdrew into the trees as the visitors closed in on the old woman. Her hands continued to work away at the basket with unhurried precision. Ralph ambled across to her and barked a question but she simply mimed incomprehension. When Gervase spoke to her in Welsh, however, she stiffened at once and her fingers froze.

‘Good day to you!’ he said.

‘And to you, young man.’

‘That is a fine basket you have there.’

‘I have been weaving them all my life.’

‘Is your daughter as adept at it as you?’

‘I have no daughter,’ she said.

‘What of your neighbours?’

‘I work alone.’

‘Always?’

She nodded grimly. ‘Always.’

‘Then who sat beside you the other day when soldiers came in search of an archer?’ he asked, watching her carefully. ‘If she was neither daughter nor neighbour, who was she?’

‘I do not know.’

Gervase’s gaze was penetrating and she slowly began to wilt beneath it. When she looked at the others, she saw that she was surrounded by hostile glares. She shifted uneasily for a moment then rose to her feet to put her basket aside.

‘There was someone,’ she confessed.

‘Who was it?’

‘I have no idea, young man. She came running out of the forest and begged me to let her sit beside me and work at another basket.

She gave me money. What was I to do?’

‘Was she carrying anything?’ pressed Gervase.

‘I forget.’

‘Try to remember.’

‘It is gone,’ said the old woman evasively.

‘Then let me jog your memory. I believe that she may have had a bow and arrow with her.’

The sharp intake of breath gave her away. Gervase had no need to pursue his questioning. She capitulated at once and became eager to co-operate.

‘You are right, young man,’ she said. ‘She did have a bow and arrow. What is more, she hid them in my cottage so that the soldiers would not catch her with the weapon. They are still there,’

she said, hobbling into her home. ‘I will fetch them instantly.’

‘Well done, Gervase!’ said Ralph.

‘Now do you believe that it was a female archer?’

‘I do.’

‘The old woman was an unwitting accomplice,’ said Gervase.

‘How was she to know that the visitor who sat beside her weaving a basket had just committed murder? She probably could not believe her good fortune when she was offered money for letting the girl sit out here beside her.’

‘Why was the bow and arrow left here?’

‘For safety, Ralph. If she had been caught with them in her possession, the game would have been up. Far better to conceal them here. Who would expect to find a bow and arrow in such a place? The archer will no doubt return for them in due course.’

‘We will be waiting for her.’

‘That bow and arrow are the most valuable clues yet.’

‘Yes.’ Ralph nodded at the hovel. ‘What on earth is keeping the old woman? Is she writing her will in there?’

‘I will go and see.’

Gervase approached the hut and knocked gently on the door before ducking his head to step into the single, cluttered, evil-smelling room. Ralph followed him and looked over his shoulder. Both gasped in utter amazement when they saw that the place was empty.

The old woman had mysteriously disappeared.

Ralph and Gervase were too stunned at first even to speak. After exchanging a silent glance of dismay, they began a frantic search of the grim habitation. Gervase treated the woman’s mean belongings with a degree of courtesy, moving them aside with care, but Ralph had no compunction about hurling them about indiscriminately to relieve his anger. The hut was soon in even greater chaos than when they first entered and the cloud of dust they created made them choke.

It was when Ralph flung aside a pile of baskets that the mystery was solved. There was a low door in the wall of the hut, small enough to be easily concealed but large enough to allow someone to crawl through it. Evidently, the woman had made her escape through the door and pulled the baskets over the exit to buy herself some time. Both men were profoundly shocked. They had taken her for a harmless old crone but she had outwitted the pair of them.

Gervase Bret had a grudging admiration for her but Ralph Delchard was livid. Finding his voice again, he stormed out of the hovel to address his soldiers.

‘After her!’ he ordered.

‘Who?’ said one of the men.

‘The old woman.’

‘She went into the cottage, my lord.’

‘And out again through a door at the back.’

‘We did not see her leave.’

‘No more did we but she has gone. Run her down!’

‘Which way did she go, my lord?’

‘How should I know? Look for her.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Spread out!’ yelled Ralph, waving his arms. ‘And search very carefully. She was clever enough to deceive us once. It must not happen again.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Do not come back without her!’

The men divided into three pairs and set off in different directions, using their swords to hack their way through any obstructions and disturbing nesting birds and wildlife. The commotion brought Gytha and Beollan out of the trees and they watched in bewilderment from the edge of the clearing. They could not believe that the basket-weaver had somehow eluded the grasp of eight men.

When Gervase came out of the hut, Ralph was still fuming.

‘Duped by a ridiculous old woman!’

‘She was shrewder than either of us imagined,’ said Gervase.

‘But one thing seems clear. She did not unwittingly help the archer. She was probably her sworn confederate.’

‘Full of the same low cunning.’

‘I can see that your pride has been wounded, Ralph.’

‘It has,’ said the other with feeling. ‘I would hate it if I were beaten in a fair fight with a man. But to be tricked by a woman like this! What sort of brutish people are the Welsh? Using their womenfolk as spies and assassins. It is against all the rules of warfare.’

‘There are no rules, Ralph.’

‘So I am discovering.’

‘And do not take it as a personal affront.’

‘But I do, Gervase. I will have some stern questions for that stinking old badger when my men catch her.’

‘If they do so, that is.’

‘What chance does she have against six armed men?’

‘She has the advantage over them so far.’

‘Temporarily.’

‘She knows the forest, they do not.’

‘They will find her,’ said Ralph confidently. ‘Or they will answer to me. Apprehend the old woman and she may lead us to the archer herself.’

‘The trail will not end there, Ralph.’

‘No, it will go all the way across the Welsh border.’

They plunged off into the forest to help with the search. Gytha and Beollan followed to add two more pairs of eyes but it was all to no avail. Though they scoured the area on foot and on horseback for over an hour, there was absolutely no trace of the old woman. Somehow, she had managed to escape their clutches.