Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

It was baffling. After a last sweep over a wider area, they eventually conceded defeat.

‘Where is she?’ said Ralph through gritted teeth.

‘Heaven knows!’ sighed Gervase.

‘The woman is a witch. She has put a spell on us.’

‘No, Ralph. She has simply outflanked us again.’

‘This makes my blood boil!’

‘We noticed.’

‘She has to be somewhere in the forest.’

‘It is too full of hiding places. My guess is that she has gone to ground and is lying low until we leave.’

‘Our journey was a total waste of time.’

‘I disagree,’ said Gervase. ‘We have gathered valuable intelligence. We have learned how the archer eluded capture by Earl Hugh’s men and we identified her accomplice. We also discovered something about Welsh women.’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘Do not trust them for one second.’

‘We must report this to Earl Hugh.’

‘Not yet, Gervase. Let us pursue our own inquiries first. I do not relish the idea of explaining how we came to let an old woman delude the whole pack of us. He would roast us with his scorn.

Wait until we have some good news to report,’ he decided. ‘Then he might actually show some gratitude.’

Canon Hubert was on the verge of apoplexy. His eyes widened dangerously, his breathing became laboured and his cheeks reddened until they shone like apples in the sunlight. He refused to accept what he had just been told.

‘Is this some sort of cruel jest?’ he asked.

‘No jest, I do assure you,’ said Frodo.

‘Then Bishop Robert is in earnest?’

‘He is, Canon Hubert, and he has my full support.’

‘For a policy of calculated madness?’

‘We believe that it is a wise course of action.’

‘Where is the wisdom in such patent idiocy?’

Archdeacon Frodo smiled benignly. He could understand Hubert’s feelings, because he had shared them himself until recently, but his opinion had slowly been changed by the pressure of events. The two men were in the cathedral vestry and their voices were suitably low and reverential. Hubert’s expression, however, was one of frank horror.

‘Did you seriously recommend this course of action to the earl?’

he said in a hoarse whisper. ‘Knowing what you know of Archdeacon Idwal?’

‘Yes.’

‘I am staggered.’

Frodo beamed. ‘Let the idea lie around in your mind for a while and you may come eventually to appreciate its true worth.’

‘It has no true worth.’

‘We contend that it does.’

‘On what possible grounds?’

‘The archdeacon’s special qualifications.’

‘And what are they?’

‘He is a Welsh churchman of some distinction and can talk to Gruffydd ap Cynan in their own language. Idwal is very much aware of the situation here and will do anything to prevent bloodshed in the city.’

‘Then why does he not quit Chester?’ murmured Hubert.

‘We need him to speak on our behalf.’

‘That is like asking Satan to speak on behalf of the Archangel Gabriel. It is an unnatural request. Idwal will turn it down summarily.’

‘On the contrary, he was a willing volunteer.’

Hubert gaped. ‘You asked him?’

‘No, he came to us with the idea,’ explained Frodo. ‘At first, we were very uneasy about the notion and I know that Bishop Robert still has lingering reservations, but the archdeacon does offer an option that is not found elsewhere. Gruffydd ap Cynan will talk openly to Idwal. He will respect the archdeacon, listen to him, respond to his advice.’

‘The only advice that Idwal will give him is that Wales must overrun England,’ said Hubert with muted disdain. ‘I find it incomprehensible that you could put your trust in a man whose special qualifications are no more than a gift for spreading discord, falsifying the history of Christianity in these islands and subduing his detractors with a mixture of aggression and crushing boredom.’

‘Try to discern the man’s virtues, Canon Hubert.’

‘He has none.’

‘Then how has he risen to a position of such eminence?’ Frodo gave a complacent smirk. ‘Only a man with remarkable qualities becomes an archdeacon.’

‘That may be true of England or Normandy — but Wales !’

‘I have a higher opinion than you of the Welsh Church.’

‘That would not be difficult.’

‘I have met Bishop Wilfrid of St David’s on more than one occasion and found him a man of real perception. He would not appoint an archdeacon lightly. Idwal has his faults — and we all know what they are — but the time has come to look beyond them to his true self.’

‘He is a Welsh patriot. That says all.’

‘And a devout Christian. Nobody can dispute that.’

‘I would.’

‘What do you have against him, Canon Hubert?’

‘The searing memory of his depredations in Herefordshire when we visited that county. His antics are burned into my mind for ever.’

‘Yet he helped to forestall open warfare.’

‘Is that what he told you?’

‘It is what others have confirmed, apparently. Your own colleagues, for instance. According to Brother Gerold, whose word I trust implicitly, Master Bret is more than ready to acknowledge Idwal’s contribution on that earlier occasion. Bishop Robert and I believe that he may be able to exert the same influence over Gruffydd ap Cynan.’

‘What use is that? The man is imprisoned.’

‘He remains a symbol for the people of Gwynedd,’ argued the other. ‘Even behind bars, his word carries immense weight. An order from their leader would compel the Welsh to cease hostilities at once.’

‘Idwal is more likely to condone such hostilities.’

‘And see his countrymen crushed once more by Earl Hugh?’ He shook his head. ‘No, Canon Hubert. He may be a patriot but he is also a realist. Barons from other parts of the county have been arriving at the castle all day with reinforcements. Earl Hugh is a mighty soldier in the field. Welsh blood will be spilled in vast quantities if he rides out with his army. Our contentious archdeacon knows that only too well.’

‘I still do not trust him.’

‘Overcome your prejudices.’

‘What is to stop him conniving with the Prince of Gwynedd behind our backs?’

‘The presence of an observer.’

‘Observer?’

‘Gervase Bret,’ said Frodo. ‘He speaks enough Welsh to understand what passes between the two men. Surely, you would put your faith in your young colleague?’

‘I would.’

‘Archdeacon Idwal and Gruffydd ap Cynan will not be able to conspire together while they are under such close scrutiny. Will this not content you, Canon Hubert?’

‘No.’

‘Would you rather risk the possibility of attack?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Then why oppose the one way out of this dilemma?’

Hubert pondered. His breathing was normal and his face was no longer apoplectic. Archdeacon Frodo’s plausible tongue was a powerful weapon. It had even managed to weaken some of the canon’s objections to what he at first saw as a ludicrous suggestion. Gervase Bret’s presence in the scheme cast a whole new light on it.

‘What did Earl Hugh say to the idea?’ he wondered.

‘His mind is set on conflict.’

‘So the intercession of Idwal will not take place?’

‘Not as things stand,’ said Frodo honestly, ‘but we will continue to work on the earl. And on Brother Gerold. The chaplain has his master’s ear. If anyone can bring Earl Hugh around to our viewpoint, then he can.’

‘And in the meantime?’

‘We do what the Church has always done in emergencies.’

‘Watch and pray?’

‘Yes, Canon Hubert,’ said Frodo. ‘Watch closely and pray hard.