The Hawks of Delamere

Chapter Seventeen

The news hit Golde with the force of a blow. Flinging herself into his arms, she clung tightly to her husband and looked up beseechingly into his face.

‘Do not get involved, Ralph,’ she implored.

‘I may have to, my love.’

‘This is not your battle.’

‘Every able-bodied soldier will be needed.’

‘But that phase of your life is over now,’ she cried. ‘You have said so many times. You came here as a commissioner on royal business, not as a soldier.’

‘Nothing is more important than protecting the border, Golde,’

he said. ‘That, too, is royal business. You know it as well as anyone. You lived in Hereford all those years and saw the damage that the Welsh can do when they launch an attack. How can I stand aside when we are threatened by a marauding army?’

‘You are too old to fight.’

‘Thank you!’

‘It is true, Ralph.’

‘I still have strength enough to lift a sword,’ he said with a grin, ‘and energy enough for other exertions, as you can bear witness. Do not consign me to the mortuary just yet. I have a few more years in me before I expire from old age.’

‘Will nothing stop you?’

‘No, my love.’

‘Not even my entreaty?’

‘If I am called by Earl Hugh, I must go.’

‘Why?’

‘It is a question of duty.’

‘You owe none to the Earl of Chester.’

‘He is our host. I have a natural obligation.’

‘To lay down your life because he has become embroiled in a war against the Welsh?’ She clung even tighter. ‘I’ll not let you go, Ralph. I’ll keep you back by force.’

‘And shame me in front of the others? No, Golde.’

‘I don’t want to lose you.’

‘Nor will you,’ he said, holding her by the shoulders and gazing into her anxious face. ‘I was born and bred to fight, my love. I have come through a dozen battles with no more than a scratch.

Why should this one be any different?’

‘Your luck is bound to run out one day.’

‘Luck!’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘There is no luck in surviving a battle, Golde. It takes strength, skill and guts. I know that you fear for your husband but there is no need to insult him as well.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘Pride is at stake here, my love.’

‘I know.’

‘And my oath of loyalty to King William. What would he think of me if I skulked here in the castle while Earl Hugh was leading his army in the field? He would never forgive me. More to the point, I would never forgive myself.’

Golde sighed and pulled away. ‘She was right.’

‘Who was?’

‘The Lady Ermintrude.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That you could not resist a call to arms.’

‘It depends on who does the calling.’

‘I do, Ralph,’ she said with passion. ‘I call you to stay with your wife. You have nothing to prove to me. I saw your bravery in York, in Canterbury and in Oxford. I know that you are a fine soldier.

But the time has come to retire.’

‘I do not recognise the word.’

‘The Lady Ermintrude warned me of that as well.’

‘Then you should have listened to her.’

‘I thought that I knew you better, Ralph.’

‘Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, Golde,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Try to stop seeing this as a betrayal of you. If I do get involved in the fighting — and it is by no means certain at this stage — but if I do, I will be helping to protect you and everyone else in this city. What would happen if every husband laid down his arms and stayed at home with a frightened wife? It is not possible, my love. It is not just.’ He spread his arms. ‘It is not manly.’

She nodded in agreement and heaved a sigh of regret.

They were in their chamber at the castle. Golde had been talking with Ermintrude when she heard the agitation down in the courtyard and saw the soldiers being hastily assembled to receive their orders. Rushing back to her own apartment, she found Ralph torn between sadness and excitement, distressed by the apparent collapse of the peace initiative set up by Archdeacon Idwal yet almost exhilarated by the opportunity to take his part in the coming conflict.

For her benefit, he tried to play down the dangers he might face and to hide the inner thrill that he was experiencing.

‘It may be over in a matter of days, my love.’

‘An hour of fighting would be too long.’

‘I may not see any action at all.’

‘I will pray that you do not, Ralph.’

‘Marry a soldier and there is always a faint risk.’

‘So I have learned,’ she said, pursing her lips and breathing heavily through her nose. ‘But what brought about this change?

I thought they were trying to find a peaceful solution to the conflict.’

‘They were, my love.’

‘What happened?’

‘Idwal and Gervase went down to the dungeons to bargain with Gruffydd ap Cynan,’ he explained. ‘They actually got him to send word to his people to refrain from any further action. Gervase tells me that he and Idwal were on the point of leaving to deliver the message.’

‘What prevented them?’

‘News of other developments.’

‘What are they?’

‘Does it matter?’ he said, not wishing to be drawn into a full discussion. ‘The simple fact is that the Welsh do not seem to want peace. Hence, the call to arms. That is all I know at this stage. Earl Hugh is a skilled commander who has beaten Welsh armies time and again. He will do so again.’

‘And sustain losses.’

‘Probably.’

Golde tried to master her anxiety. She forced a smile. ‘What must you think of me?’ she said. ‘Behaving like a young bride whose husband is about to go off to war. I should have more confidence in you. And more control over myself.’

‘It is good to show your concern.’

‘The Lady Ermintrude prefers to mask it.’

‘That is why I am married to you and not to her.’

‘I feel that I have let you down.’

‘Far from it, Golde,’ he said, taking her in his arms again. ‘You are bound to worry. So am I, if I am honest. But we must bow to the inevitable. When duty calls, I must go.’

‘Yes, Ralph,’ she whispered.

‘I’ve fought the Welsh before and lived to tell the tale.’

‘I’ll remember that.’

‘Good.’

He placed a kiss on her forehead then pushed her gently aside while he darted across to the door, flinging it open and stepping through it. There was nobody there. Golde was alarmed. She came out to join him.

‘What is the matter?’ she said.

‘I thought he would be here again.’

‘Who?’

‘The eavesdropper.’

‘Are you sure that he exists?’

‘I’m certain of it, my love,’ he affirmed. ‘He was out here listening to us the other night. And he was back again today.’

‘When?’

‘When I was in here with Hubert and Simon.’

‘Why should anyone want to eavesdrop on you?’

Ralph took her back into the chamber and closed the door.

‘That is what I’ll ask him when I catch the villain.’

Security which was already tight was now markedly increased.

Movement to and from Chester was even further restricted. City gates were barred and guards doubled on the walls. Those who had brought their goods to sell in the market found that they were unable to return to their homes. Boats which sailed up the River Dee were turned back before they reached the port. A city which had been preparing for the possibility of conflict now knew that it was unavoidable. The clatter of destriers’ hooves rang through the streets. Anvils sang in the armourers’ workshops.

Tactics were discussed.

The last vessel to be allowed into port before the new restrictions were imposed was a small boat which was loaded with pelts. Two guards watched the crew unload their cargo.

‘Where are you from?’ demanded one of the guards.

‘Ireland,’ said the captain of the vessel.

‘Have you traded here before?’

‘No, but we heard that we would get a good price.’

‘How many in your crew?’

‘What you see. Three men. Four of us in all.’

‘How long did you plan to stay?’

‘A day or so,’ said the other. ‘No more.’

‘Think again.’

‘Why?’

‘Orders,’ said the guard with a grim chuckle. ‘Nobody is to sail in or out of Chester until further notice. You may be here for a week. A month even.’

‘But we must get back to Ireland.’

‘Not until we are ready to let you go.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘You will be told.’

‘We have families!’ protested the captain.

‘They will have to wait.’

‘You can’t keep us here against our will.’

‘Nobody leaves.’

‘But we are expected back.’

‘Nobody.’

Having made his point, the guard sauntered off with his colleague to question the captain of a vessel which was unloading its catch of fish. The Irishman continued to voice his complaints and his crew did the same. All four of them were standing on deck, bemoaning their fate, when a fifth man crept out from the tarpaulin under which he had been hiding and slipped quietly ashore. Having seen him safely off the vessel, captain and crew stopped their protestations at once and resumed their work.

The fifth man, meanwhile, lost himself in a maze of streets, zigzagging through the city with a confidence born of close acquaintance with it. When he came to a house on the eastern side, he made sure that he was not being followed then rapped on the door. It opened immediately and he darted inside.

Eiluned and Dafydd embraced the newcomer in turn.

‘We knew that you would come,’ she said.

‘Nothing would have stopped me.’

‘What if they had turned your boat away?’ asked Dafydd.

‘I would have swum here,’ said the newcomer. ‘When I make a promise, I honour it. Whatever the obstacles.’

Gervase Bret was seething with frustration. Having been involved in the negotiations with Gruffydd ap Cynan, he was proud to feel that he might, in some small way, have helped to bring peace to the region and it was dispiriting to watch his hopes so cruelly swept aside. The consequences were quite unimaginable.

Open warfare might keep him and the other commissioners trapped in the county for some time and his immediate thought was of Alys, pining for him in Winchester and fretting when he did not return.

Gervase also worried about Ralph Delchard. Unable to fulfil his commitments at the shire hall, his friend would not sit idly on his hands while a battle was going on nearby. Ralph would be certain to join in and Golde would be equally certain to suffer the agonies common to all soldiers’ wives. Gervase would share those agonies with her. Ralph was very dear to him and he could wish him elsewhere than in the middle of a quarrel in which he had no legitimate part.

Frustrated by the turn of events, he was not blind to the suffering of others. Archdeacon Idwal, he realised, would be even more devastated, having laboured so hard to bring his countryman round to the notion of peace. Time spent with him in the dungeon had increased Gervase’s admiration for Idwal but it was tinged with suspicion. Notwithstanding the letter which the archdeacon had wrested from the Prince of Gwynedd, his behaviour in the dungeon had left Gervase with the vague feeling that he had been subtly duped.

The only way to allay that feeling was to confront Idwal himself and Gervase resolved to do just that. While the rest of the city was in a state of turbulence, he used his status as a royal commissioner to gain the right to leave the city by a postern gate and he strode off towards the cathedral. The first person he met there was Frodo, coming out of the main door. The archdeacon was very surprised to see him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he said.

‘Searching for Archdeacon Idwal.’

‘You would be far safer in the city,’ advised the other. ‘Bishop Robert has withdrawn to his palace and taken most of the holy brothers with him.’

‘What about you?’

‘My place is here, Gervase. At the cathedral.’

‘It will offer you scant protection from attack.’

‘I will worry about that when the time comes,’ said Frodo with a brave smile. ‘But I have a bounden duty to be here and you do not. Even Canon Hubert and Brother Simon have fled. You should do likewise.’

‘Only when I have seen the archdeacon.’

‘He is not in a talkative vein.’

‘He is here, then?’

‘Oh, yes!’ sighed Frodo. ‘Idwal is here. Throbbing with remorse.

He does not have to speak for us to be aware of his presence.

His silence is just as deafening as his voice.’

‘He feels betrayed.’

‘So do we all.’

Frodo shook his head disconsolately and padded off.

Gervase soon found Idwal. The archdeacon was kneeling at the altar rail and staring up at the crucifix. Instead of being in an attitude of submission, he was still frothing at what he felt was a great betrayal and he mixed prayer with accusation. Gervase waited at the rear of the nave until his friend finally rose to leave.

The Welshman’s eye kindled when it fell on Gervase. ‘Fresh news?’ he said hopefully, hurrying down the aisle.

‘Alas, no.’

‘No change of heart by Earl Hugh?’

‘He is adamant.’

‘War would lead to catastrophe.’

‘There is nothing to stop it, Archdeacon Idwal.’

The Welshman’s face crumpled into despondency. ‘They are idiots, Gervase!’ he declared. ‘They had peace in the palms of their hands and they threw it away. Fools!’ He remembered where they were. ‘Come outside,’ he urged. ‘My words are unfit to be heard in the house of God.’

Gervase followed him out through the main door. ‘I came to commiserate with you,’ he explained.

‘That was a kind thought.’

‘You tried so hard to bring peace about.’

‘I did no more than my Christian duty,’ said Idwal, ‘but I did it to remarkable effect. Just think, Gervase. Two armies ready to close with each other and we stood between them.’

‘Unsuccessfully.’

‘It need not have been so.’

‘No,’ agreed Gervase. ‘If you had been allowed to visit the prisoner a day earlier, the situation might have been quite different. As it was, we were too late.’

‘Thanks to some impulsive Welshman,’ said Idwal sadly. ‘That is what hurts me most. Peace was wrecked on the other side of the border by people who stood to gain from it. I am an impulsive man myself but there are times when one must check those impulses. They have ruined everything.’

‘And sent their leader back to the dungeon.’

‘Gruffydd will be lucky if that is where he stays. Earl Hugh will not scruple to kill a hostage if he is pushed. He needs little enough excuse.’

‘Why are they doing it, Archdeacon Idwal?’

‘Who?’

‘The people who are making decisions over the border. Surely they know that they will imperil their prince’s life?’

‘Yes, Gervase.’

‘Is that their intention?’

‘I begin to fear that it is.’

There was a long pause. Gervase felt unable to break the silence and Idwal used it to study his companion, cocking his head to one side and peering intently at him.

‘You have another reason, Gervase,’ he said at length.

‘For what?’

‘Seeking me out. I see it in your face.’

‘I merely wished to share my feelings of disappointment.’

‘And suspicion.’

‘No,’ lied Gervase.

‘Your eyes betray you, my young friend. You question my honesty. I sensed it when we were in that dungeon together.

You felt that I was scheming with Gruffydd.’

‘It did cross my mind,’ admitted the other.

‘And so it should have. Trust nobody. Not even me.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I am first and foremost a Welshman,’ said Idwal. ‘That means that I view the world through different eyes. In any border dispute, I will always side with my countrymen. I only interceded here in the hope of saving them from a defeat which will surely come.’

‘What are you telling me?’

‘That you were wise to suspect me but that your suspicion was unfounded. I was not trying to pass some secret message to Gruffydd. You saw the difficulty I had bringing him round to reason. That was not dissembling.’

‘I know.’

‘How?’

‘Instinct.’

‘It is very sound.’

Idwal punched him on the arm and let out his celebrated cackle.

Just as the archdeacon seemed to be recovering his buoyancy, Gervase hit him with a blunt question.

‘What exactly are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘Doing here?’

‘In Chester.’

‘I have told you. Forging links.’

‘That requires the hand of friendship,’ said Gervase, ‘yet you seem to go out of your way to antagonise people. Bishop Robert does not feel any links have been forged, nor does Archdeacon Frodo.’

‘Give me time. I will wear them down.’

‘You are here for another purpose and it has nothing to do with diplomacy. Why did Bishop Wilfrid send you here?’

‘On a mission of good will.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Why else should I be here?’

Gervase studied him levelly. Idwal’s smile slowly wilted under his gaze and he saw that he had met his match. Gervase was unrelenting. Fond as he was of the Welshman, he was not going to let him squirm out of answering his question.

‘Tell me,’ he invited. ‘What is the real reason?’

‘What do you think it is, Gervase?’

‘You are after something.’

‘Am I?’

‘Something which you feel may be locked away here,’ said Gervase, indicating the cathedral, ‘or in the vestry of the chapel, perhaps. Something which has made you probe Archdeacon Frodo, Brother Gerold and even me. What is it?’

‘Nothing of consequence.’

‘You came all the way from St David’s for nothing of consequence? No man would subject himself to such a journey unless there was something important at the end of it.’

Idwal beamed. ‘There was. The pleasure of meeting you and Ralph again,’ he said. ‘Not to mention Canon Hubert and that walking skeleton of a scribe.’ The gaze was turned upon him again with even greater intensity this time. ‘You are a shrewd young man, Gervase Bret.’

‘And immune to flattery,’ cautioned the other.

‘Then I will insult your intelligence no longer.’

‘Thank you, archdeacon.’

‘First, however, I must swear you to secrecy.’

‘Why?’

‘You will understand in time,’ Idwal assured him. ‘Do I have your word that you will divulge nothing of what I am about to confide in you? Give me your promise or the bargain is void.’

‘Very well,’ decided Gervase. ‘You have it.’

‘Then I can let you know the truth, my friend.’

‘What brought you to Chester?’

Idwal stepped in close to speak with conspiratorial glee. ‘St Teilo!’

Rhuddlan Castle began to feel more isolated than ever. The road to the east was blocked and those that led in other directions were also cut off. Human obstacles were used in the latter cases.

As Robert of Rhuddlan looked out over the battlements, he could see bands of warriors encamped at strategic points on every route.

Effectively, the castle was surrounded, with no means of summoning help from Chester.

The captain of the guard was at his side again.

‘What are they doing?’ asked Robert.

‘Biding their time, my lord,’ said the other.

‘For what?’

‘Attack.’

‘They have no ladders, no siege engines.’

‘But they have archers in abundance. We can see their bows.

They can rain down arrows on us whenever they choose.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘Who knows, my lord?’

Robert was mystified. Twelve of his best men had been captured then inexplicably released. The castle looked out on a show of force that stayed just out of range of any weaponry. Guards patrolled the battlements day and night but their nerves were becoming frayed by the interminable wait for action that was being denied them. Robert felt disadvantaged. He wondered how long it would be before his uncle came from Chester to relieve the situation.

That situation was transformed in an instant. The bands of armed men on all sides mounted their horses and, at a signal from some unseen commander, began to ride towards the castle.

Robert of Rhuddlan raised the alarm himself and the captain supplemented his yell with a stream of orders. The whole garrison swarmed up the stairs to the battlements to repel the first assault, weapons at the ready, baskets of stones in waiting to be tipped on to anyone who reached the walls. Days of delay at last seemed to be over.

But the attack never came. As soon as they had kicked their horses into a gallop, the various bands veered away from the castle and took up different vantage points from which they could watch and intimidate. The cavalry charge had been feigned. There was no intention to engage in fighting. They had merely wished to scare their enemy.

Robert of Rhuddlan was more confused than ever. He rounded on the captain of the guard in sheer annoyance. ‘What are they up to now?’ he hissed.

Idwal was incredulous. ‘You have never heard of St Teilo?’

‘Only vaguely,’ confessed Gervase.

‘You should be ashamed of your ignorance.’

‘Educate me.’

‘I will,’ said Idwal. ‘St Teilo was a monk and bishop whose work was centred on Llandeilo Fawr. He lived at the same time as St Dyfrig and was indeed a pupil of his for a while. He also studied under Paul Aurelian.’

‘A learned man, then?’

‘You will not find a Welsh saint who is not.’

‘What connection does he have with Chester?’ asked Gervase.

‘Did he visit here, preach here, die here?’

‘No,’ said the other. ‘When plague struck his native country, St Teilo went to Brittany to work for seven years, staying with no less a man than Samson of Dol.’

‘Now, there is a name I do recognise.’

‘Then you will know its worth, Gervase.’

‘I do.’

‘When he left Brittany, St Teilo made his way back to Llandeilo and eventually died there. It was then that the miracle occurred.’

‘Miracle?’

‘The bones of a saint are treasured relics. Llandeilo naturally wanted to keep his body but Llandaff and Penally also laid claim to it. The dispute, I understand, was fierce.’

‘How was it resolved, Archdeacon Idwal?’

‘Miraculously,’ said the other, palms uplifted to heaven. ‘The single body multiplied into three so that each of the claimants could have their own St Teilo. I have seen his remains at Llandaff, Penally and Llandeilo.’

‘That does not explain what brought you here.’

Idwal looked around to make sure that they were alone. ‘I came for his Gospel, Gervase.’

‘His what?’

‘The Gospel of St Teilo. It is a priceless document, containing the earliest known sentences in the Welsh language. When he died, it was left in the keeping of Llandeilo church.’

‘How, then, did it reach Chester?’

‘It was stolen, Gervase.’

‘By whom?’

‘Saxon monks who wanted relics for their own foundations.

Welsh churches were regularly pillaged. The Gospel was taken, along with hundreds of other valuable relics.’ He tapped his chest.

‘Bishop Wilfrid set me to find it to return it to its rightful place.

I have traced it as far as Chester.’

‘From where?’

‘Lichfield.’

Gervase was surprised. ‘Bishop Robert has it?’

‘I believe so,’ said Idwal, ‘though I have yet to lay eyes on it. But I know that it is here somewhere. When the bishops had their seat in Lichfield at the cathedral church of St Chad, they had the gall to refer to St Teilo’s Gospel as that of St Chad. Sacrilege!’

‘What do you intend to do?’

‘Restore it to Wales once again.’

‘You hope to steal it?’ said Gervase in horror.

‘It is not an act of theft.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘Legitimate restitution.’ Idwal beamed. ‘Just think, my friend.

St Teilo’s Gospel can return home at last. I am so glad to share the wonderful news with you. It makes such a difference to me.’

‘In what way?’

‘I am no longer working alone. I have an accomplice.’

‘Who is that?’

‘You, Gervase.’