The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

‘Fetch Gwenllian. She will know what to do.’

Gwenllian was relieved when Iefan appeared. She was perfectly able to manage the castle in peacetime, but she had received reports that a contingent of soldiers was moving in Carmarthen’s direction. Then she had seen the plume of smoke. She had ordered the castle secured, the armoury opened, and the townsfolk had been invited to take refuge in the bailey, but Cole was the one who did the fighting, and she did not know what to do next.

She heard Iefan’s report in the solar, where she had gone to be with her children – three boisterous sons and a daughter who was the apple of Cole’s eye. They were not alone. Bishop Geoffrey had turned up the previous day on an official visitation. Gwenllian had not known that the prelate was coming – he tended to travel after Easter, when the roads were better – but it had not taken her long to discover that Cole had, and that the hunting trip had been timed to coincide with the prelate’s arrival. Cole had nothing against Geoffrey in particular, but he found clerics dull company in general, with little to say about important matters like horses, dogs and warfare.

The bishop had been entertaining the children, to take their minds off the trouble outside, and they had been enjoying themselves. The younger ones sat in his lap, while the older pair hung on his every word. There was a chorus of dismay when he announced his intention of accompanying their mother to the monastery.

‘Stay here, Your Grace,’ Gwenllian advised. Geoffrey was no longer young, and she was not sure what to expect from the situation. Moreover, Cole would not thank her for lumbering him with an elderly churchman if he was obliged to do battle.

‘I am not afraid,’ Geoffrey declared, although his unsteady voice suggested otherwise. ‘And the priory is in my See. Of course I must be there to defend it.’

‘But my husband wants to assess the situation before taking action. Look after my children until we discover what is happening. Then we will send for you.’

Geoffrey was reluctant, but Gwenllian convinced him eventually. He gave a wan smile when the children whooped their delight at the prospect of keeping him a little longer.

‘I have heard rumours that Prior Walter was spreading his wings,’ he said soberly. ‘But I did not know that he aimed to spread them in my diocese.’

‘Will his claim on our priory be legal?’ she asked.

‘I hope not! Cadifor is a very good prior, and I should not like him replaced by a less competent man. Or a less likeable one.’

‘Nor would I. Did you know that Cadifor was a monk at Llanthony before he came here?’

‘Of course – I was once a monk at Llanthony, too. We were there together.’

Gwenllian had forgotten that. ‘Yes – you were prior before Martin, the man whose legendary laziness lost Llanthony her wealthy daughter house.’

Geoffrey nodded. ‘I repelled Walter’s bids for independence when I was in charge, and now I see what power has done to him, I realise that I was right to resist his demands. Such lust for expansion makes me very uneasy. But go now, and send me word as soon as you can.’

The streets were deserted as Gwenllian and Iefan hurried through them, although a few merchants had declined to leave their properties unguarded, risking death to prevent the loss of their riches. They called out to Gwenllian for news as she sped past, but there was no time to answer them.

‘If Walter wants our priory for himself, why did he set it alight?’ she asked the sergeant. ‘It will be no use to him if it is irreparably damaged. Moreover, its residents are monks from his own Order.’

‘He only incinerated the gates,’ explained Iefan. ‘Prior Cadifor refused to let him in, so he ordered them to be burned down. Stacpol, Elidor and Asser, who have met him before, say he is greedy and ruthless.’

‘It sounds to me as though this is a matter for the Austins to sort out between themselves,’ said Gwenllian uneasily. ‘They will not thank us for meddling.’

‘Cadifor will – Walter has enforced his claim by flooding the monastery with soldiers. He will certainly want our help.’

Iefan indicated she should remain silent as they stepped off the road, taking a narrow path that led to where Cole and his knights were waiting impatiently for her.

‘Walter claims that Carmarthen Priory was founded by a monk from Hempsted in the distant past,’ Cole whispered indignantly, ‘which means it should be Hempsted’s now. He has documents to prove it, one of which bears the King’s seal. I just heard him brag about it.’

‘Then we must distance ourselves from the affair,’ said Gwenllian in alarm. ‘The King will accuse you of treason if we challenge his decisions. Let Bishop Geoffrey mediate – he is an Austin, as well as Prelate of St David’s. He arrived here the day after you went hunting.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Cole had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I forgot to mention his letter…’

‘I am sure you did,’ said Gwenllian coolly. ‘Just as I am sure it was pure happenstance that led you to suggest a hunting expedition the day before he was due to appear.’

Cole started to make excuses, but stopped abruptly and lunged towards the bushes. He shrugged when he returned and saw her questioning frown. ‘I thought someone was in there.’

Gwenllian supposed it was a townsman, spying so he would have a tale to tell in the taverns that night. ‘Come home, and let the bishop take over.’

‘I cannot, Gwen. This priory is under my protection, and it would be a dereliction of duty to ignore armed invaders. Besides, you need to look at Walter’s document and tell me if it truly does come from the King. Walter might be lying – Cadifor certainly thinks there are grounds for debate, as he has been yelling about it ever since Walter shoved the tiny thing under his nose.’

‘It has been difficult to stand here and do nothing while Walter struts about like a peacock,’ said Elidor sourly. ‘I should love to storm the place and throw him out.’

‘So would I,’ agreed Asser. ‘Yet I suspect the writ will be genuine. The two men standing by the dormitory are royal clerks. Their names are Belat and Henry.’

He pointed. Belat had long dark hair and was dressed entirely in black; Henry was fair and might have been handsome were it not for the selfish pout of his lips.

‘I know them well,’ said Stacpol grimly. ‘They will turn the King against Carmarthen if they survive our assault, so I suggest we make sure they don’t. When we attack, I will kill them before they can slither away. They are…’

He trailed off, and Gwenllian could tell that he wished he had held his tongue. Her interest was piqued. She had never liked these particular knights, considering them vicious and stupid, and Stacpol had always seemed the worst. She wondered what business such a mindless brute could have had with John’s officials that resulted in him ‘knowing them well.’ She asked.

‘I cannot discuss it,’ Stacpol replied stiffly. ‘It was a private matter.’

Asser laughed. ‘Do not think you will keep secrets from Lady Gwenllian! She will have them from you in no time at all. And if not from you, then from me.’

‘No – you will not speak out of turn,’ said Stacpol, so coldly that the merry twinkle in Asser’s eyes was immediately extinguished.

Elidor looked from one to the other in bemusement. ‘Did something happen when we met Belat and Henry at Llanthony then? I remember Walter arriving to declare Hempsted’s independence, and those two clerks were there to oversee the matter…’

‘It was before that,’ replied Stacpol shortly. ‘Please do not question me further, because I am not at liberty to discuss it.’