Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

Only relics of Saxon saints are interred in the reliquary.’

‘I will inform him of that.’

‘Give him some advice at the same time.’

‘What is it?’

‘In the event of war — and the signs are ominous — it might be sensible of Idwal to leave the city. Earl Hugh will work up a hatred against all Welshmen, even those in holy orders. Idwal will be safer on the other side of the border.’

‘He is not a man who considers personal safety.’

‘He must. Earl Hugh can be vengeful.’

‘Make one last effort to halt this war, Brother Gerold.’

‘I wish that I could but my counsel no longer carries the weight it used to. Events have taken on their own momentum. The murder of Raoul Lambert was provocation enough but the killing of the earl’s messenger was another clear sign that the Welsh are spoiling for a fight.’

‘Why?’

‘Ask them.’

‘Their prince is held hostage. They will put his life in danger.

Why should they do that?’

‘Ask them,’ repeated Gerold. ‘Only they have the answer. Blessed are the peacemakers, Gervase. If you wish to join that exclusive brotherhood, you should not be here in Chester Castle. The place for you to coax and persuade is in Wales itself.’

Robert of Rhuddlan carried out an inspection shortly after first light. Walking along the ramparts of the castle, he checked that the guards were alert and well positioned and scanned the horizon from every point of vantage. At his side was the captain of his guard, a grizzled veteran with a livid battle scar down one cheek.

‘Any incidents during the night?’ asked Robert.

‘Yes and no, my lord,’ said his companion. ‘There were some minor occurrences but nothing of any real significance. Fires were lit in a circle around the castle but they were a long way off and soon burned themselves out. Someone approached the castle in the dark but with no intent to gain entry.’

‘What, then, was his purpose?’

‘To leave an effigy of Earl Hugh outside the main gate.’

‘An effigy?’

‘Yes, my lord. An obscene one.’

‘I wish to see it.’

‘Do not show it to the earl himself,’ advised the other. ‘It ridicules his manhood.’

‘What else happened in the night?’

‘A few stray arrows were fired into the castle.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘No, my lord. Nor was that the intention. The Welsh are playing games with us. They are keeping us guessing. None of these incidents amount to much in themselves but, taken together, they form a pattern. We are being taunted.’

‘They are trying to draw us out of the castle.’

‘That would be folly without reinforcements.’

‘I know,’ said Robert, ‘but those reinforcements may not come for some time. I sent men enough to bear the message to Chester.

It must surely have got through.’

‘I hope so, my lord.’

‘Why has Earl Hugh not dispatched a reply?’

‘I’m sure that he has.’

‘Then why has it not reached us?’

‘Perhaps it has gone astray.’

‘How could that happen?’

Robert of Rhuddlan saw the faint anxiety in his eye. When such an experienced soldier was uneasy, then the situation was indeed bad. The castle was well built and its garrison was drilled regularly in defensive tactics, but even a stout fortress like Rhuddlan could not hold out indefinitely. More men and supplies were urgently needed but they could only come from Chester.

The road had to be kept open.

Robert stared out over the battlements in the direction of the border. Messengers were sent regularly to and fro without any problem. Communication with Chester was so straightforward that it was taken for granted. Worrying changes seemed to have taken place and they were all the more alarming because Robert did not know exactly what they were. After years of feeling very secure, he now realised how vulnerable he might be if the castle were cut off.

Chester suddenly seemed an impossible distance away.

‘Send more messengers!’ he declared.

‘How many, my lord?’

‘A dozen at least.’

‘Is it wise to lose so many soldiers?’ wondered the captain.

‘They may be needed here.’

‘We must know why Earl Hugh’s reply has been delayed,’ said Robert. ‘A lone rider, even two, would be at risk. A dozen will be able to defend themselves against attack.’

‘What are their orders?’

‘I will deliver them myself.’

‘They will be ready instantly, my lord.’

The captain barked a gruff command and men came running from their quarters. Horses were quickly saddled, weapons collected and orders given by Robert of Rhuddlan. Twelve soldiers in helm and hauberk went out in a column along the twisting road. Warned of danger, they proceeded with caution and remained vigilant.

An hour away from Rhuddlan, they began to relax. Nothing even vaguely suspicious had been seen. The only thing that troubled them was the light drizzle which had started to fall.

They surged on with growing confidence. A few miles farther on, that confidence was brutally shattered. The road curved around a hill and their destriers kept up a steady canter until the route straightened and gave them a clear view of what lay ahead.

A narrow pass cut through the dark mountains but trees had been felled to block it. Boulders had been rolled against the timber to seal off the road completely. The troop came to a halt while they considered what to do. To reach Chester, they would now have to make a detour that would add several miles and great inconvenience to the journey, but that option, too, was suddenly removed. As they swung their horses round to retrace their steps, they saw with horror that a large Welsh raiding party had descended the hill to cut off their retreat.

They were trapped.

At the insistence of Hugh d’Avranches, Earl of Chester, the funeral of Raoul Lambert was held in the cathedral church of St John with no less a personage than Robert de Limesey himself officiating. To outsiders like Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret, it seemed strange that someone who was not of high baronial rank should be accorded such an honour, but nobody else in the congregation found the situation unusual. Raoul Lambert had been a popular figure among men for whom hunting was a daily pleasure and his murder had sent tremors through the whole county. They came in large numbers to see him laid to rest in his grave.

The somnolent mood in which Earl Hugh had begun the day in the chapel had now deepened into a black gloom. With his wife beside him, he sat at the front of the congregation to have an uninterrupted view of the wooden coffin which bore the body of his friend. William Malbank, Richard Vernon, Hamo of Mascy, Gilbert Venables, Ranulph Mainwaring, Reginald Balliol, Bigot of Loges and Hugo of Delamere were in close attendance. The burial of Earl Hugh himself could not have been surrounded with more ceremonial.

Robert de Limesey rose to the occasion magnificently. His reedy voice echoed down the nave and he delivered such a moving encomium that several tears had to be wiped away. Judged by the praise heaped upon him, Raoul Lambert had been a remarkable man, loyal, upright, caring, devout and free from any blemish. His skills as a huntsman were legendary. Cheshire, it was emphasised, was suffering a huge loss.

Ralph and Gervase were not caught up in the general emotion.

When Mass was sung and the coffin taken out to be lowered into its grave, they lurked on the fringes and took a more objective view of it all.

‘This huntsman sounds like a paragon,’ noted Ralph.

‘That is not the picture of him which we have,’ said Gervase.

‘Read between the lines of our documents and Raoul Lambert emerges as a rapacious landowner who treats his sub-tenants with a disdain bordering on cruelty.’