The Medieval Murderers - King Arthur's Bones

Moments later, a bundle was handed out, followed quickly by another. With silent efficiency, they were passed down to the leader, who deftly packed them into sacks. More items followed, and Gwenllian was amazed by the skill and speed of the operation. It was not long before several bags had been filled. Then there was a low whistle, and Gilbert began to climb out.

With a blood-curdling yell, Iefan leaped into action, tearing forward with his dagger raised. The pyramid immediately disintegrated, leaving Gilbert dangling from the window-ledge by his fingertips. He began to screech, but his accomplices were more interested in saving themselves than rescuing him. As one, they turned from Iefan and began to run towards Merlin’s oak. But it was to find themselves facing Cole and his men, who stood in a line across the street, weapons at the ready. A few tried to jig around them, but most seemed to accept that the situation was hopeless and offered no resistance as they were rounded up.

But their leader fought like a tiger. Unlike his accomplices, he had brought a sword, and he slashed viciously at the soldiers who tried to bar his way. Unnerved by the ferocity of the attack, they fell back. Cole dived towards him, and they exchanged a series of brutal blows that made both men stagger. Iefan hurried to help, but his timing was poor and Cole was obliged to twist awkwardly to avoid striking him instead. The leader took advantage of the constable’s momentary loss of balance to escape down a nearby alley.

Cole set off after him. Seeing their leader make a bid for freedom encouraged several burglars to do likewise, and Iefan was hard-pressed to keep them in order. Meanwhile, the sudden racket had woken Priory Street’s residents. Lights gleamed under window-shutters, and doors opened as people came to see what was going on. Their curiosity turned to outrage when it became known that here were the thieves who had been relieving decent folk of their belongings, and then Iefan was obliged to turn protector, as well as captor.

Gwenllian stared at the alley, heart thumping as she willed Symon to return unscathed. It was not long before he did, empty-handed and furious. He growled to Iefan that his quarry had backtracked unexpectedly and ambushed him. He had managed to deflect the killing blow, but it had sent him sprawling, granting the felon vital moments to disappear into the night.

‘These vermin say they do not know his name,’ said Iefan, jerking his head towards the subdued prisoners. ‘They claim he just appears in the forest and guides them to the houses he wants them to burgle. A likely story!’

Cole did not reply. He strode towards Kyng’s house, flung open the door and marched inside, appearing moments later at the window from which Gilbert still dangled. Gwenllian abandoned her hiding place and moved forward to help – she could tell by the stiff way Cole walked that he had jolted his old stab wound, and he would not be able to rescue Gilbert one-handed.

‘Your leader,’ Cole said, making no attempt to reach down to the thief. ‘What is his name?’

‘No, I will never betray him,’ cried Gilbert. He sounded terrified. ‘His secret is safe with me.’

‘Really?’ said Cole. His voice held an odd timbre that Gwenllian had never heard before. She froze, uncertain and uneasy.

‘Please!’ wailed Gilbert. ‘My fingers are numb – I will fall at any moment!’

‘Then you had better give me a reason to help you,’ said Cole coldly.

He leaned forward when Gilbert whispered something. For a moment he did nothing, but then he reached out of the window and gripped Gilbert’s wrist, hauling him upwards until the thief was able to gain a better purchase on the window-sill. He could not manage more with one arm, but it was enough for Gilbert to gasp his gratitude.

Gwenllian heaved a sigh of relief, afraid Symon might really have let the man fall for refusing to cooperate, but sure it would have plagued his conscience later.

She was not sure what happened next. Suddenly Cole bellowed John’s name in a voice loud enough to have been heard at the castle, and she turned just in time to see the clerk slinking along the opposite side of the road. He was cloaked and hooded, like the burglars. Cole’s yell had stopped him dead in his tracks, but then he started to run, aiming for the alleys that led to the river. Next, there was a cry and a thump, and when Gwenllian whipped around to look back at Kyng’s window, it was to see Gilbert crumpled beneath it. Cole shot through the door moments later, and tore after his clerk.

John had a head start on the constable, but Cole was faster and fitter and caught him with ease. In the faint lamplight from one of the houses, Gwenllian saw the glint of steel as a dagger was wielded. Without stopping to consider the consequences, she raced towards them.

By the time she arrived, John was lying on the ground and Symon was standing over him. A spreading stain of red seeped from under the clerk, and he was gasping for breath. He saw Gwenllian, and murmured just one sentence before he went limp.

‘Beware the one you love.’

‘Damn!’ muttered Cole angrily. ‘He killed himself rather than face justice. But what are you doing here, Gwen? I thought I told you to stay in the castle.’

Gwenllian gazed numbly at him. ‘Face justice? You mean he was one of the thieves?’

Cole gestured to the clerk’s clothing. ‘Apparently so. Why else would he run when I called?’

‘What happened to Gilbert? Did he also kill himself, rather than face justice?’

Cole swivelled around, looking towards the unmoving figure under the window. ‘He fell? I thought I had pulled him far enough inside to save himself. I suppose his hands must have been too fatigued to hold him. What a nuisance! Now there are no witnesses to identify the leader.’

‘Not the other burglars?’ asked Gwenllian. But then she recalled what Iefan had said.

‘He disguised himself – they would not know him if he stood in front of them.’

‘I see,’ said Gwenllian, aware of a cold hand of fear gripping her heart. The only two witnesses were permanently silenced, and Cole had been near both when they had died. And John had warned her to beware the one she loved. What was going on?

When Gwenllian said nothing else, Cole took her hand and tugged her towards Kyng’s house. She tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He did stop, however, and turn to look at her.

‘If you have been watching,’ he said impatiently, ‘you will be aware that Kyng is the only Priory Street resident who is not out demanding to know what is happening. Something is wrong, and we need to investigate. As you are here, you may as well come with me.’

As he spoke, Gwenllian saw that the cheese-maker’s house was the only one not ablaze with lanterns, and although the stairs to the upper chambers could be negotiated using light from outside, the parlour was pitch black. Cole fiddled with a tinder and lit a lamp. It illuminated a scene neither could have anticipated.

Hywel was lying on the floor, grey-faced and immobile. With a cry of horror, Gwenllian ran towards him. There was a cup near his hand, and when she picked it up she saw a frothy residue at the bottom. Poison.

‘Kyng offered me wine,’ Hywel said in a low, strained voice. ‘And, like a fool, I accepted.’

‘Why should you not have accepted?’ asked Cole, puzzled. ‘Drinking with neighbours is-’

‘Not with neighbours you have wronged,’ interrupted Gwenllian quietly.

She knelt next to her nephew and rested his head in her lap. She could tell by his pallor and laboured breathing that he was dying, and she was grateful the cheese-maker had used a substance that did not seem to be causing his victim pain.