Justin nodded. "I want the truth, yes. I also want the ransom. And if I must choose between the two, I'll take the ransom. I was sent by the queen on a mission of recovery, not retribution."
"So… you're saying that if I were to know the whereabouts of said ransom, you'd be willing to settle for its return, no questions asked?''
"Yes."
"That is an interesting offer. But it is not one I can accept. You see, Davydd's claims to the contrary, I do not have it."
"I do not think you do, either," Justin admitted. "But it was an offer I had to make, just in case I was wrong. I spoke true when I said that the queen's only concern is getting back what was stolen… or what is left of it."
"What is left of it'?" Llewelyn echoed, sounding surprised. "Are you saying you believe that the wool was really burned?"
Justin felt a sudden surge of hope. "You do not think it was?"
"By the rood, no! Even if Davydd were the world's greatest fool, and he well may be, he still would not have burned the wool. Have you ever seen any man throw money into a fire?"
There were two intriguing suppositions in Llewelyn's retort, but Justin chose to focus first on the one that would matter the most to his queen. "How can you be so sure of that? I visited the scene, saw for myself that wool was burned."
"So did I," Llewelyn said laconically, and Justin blinked in astonishment.
"You dared visit the ambush site? I'm surprised you did not stop by the castle afterward for an ale!"
"I prefer mead." Llewelyn moved closer, and when Justin tensed, he said, "Look, we've been circling each other like wary cats. We can keep on dancing about if you wish, but I'd rather not." As he was speaking he was removing his rain-dampened mantle. Slowly and deliberately, he then unbuckled his scabbard, placed it the floor at his feet. Justin had left his own mantle in the outer parlor, but after the hesitation of a heartbeat, no more than that, he took off his sword, too, laying it down next to Llewelyn's weapon.
Llewelyn looked pleased. "Good," he said, "Now we can talk." There were no seats but he found two prayer cushions, sat down cross-legged on one and invited Justin to do the same. "Have you found out about the hay-wain horses yet?"
"What… the horses stolen in the robbery? What is there to find out?"
"One of them turned up a few days after the ambush, still wearing a halter. And a second one was seen in the hills, running loose."
Justin frowned. "I was told none of this. How do you know about it? How can you be sure these were the same horses?"
"I have friends in surprising places. Sion talked privately to the grooms at Rhuddlan, and their descriptions of the horses matched perfectly."
"That makes no sense. No one would steal horses and then turn them loose like that…"
"No," Llewelyn agreed, "they would not. Any thief worth his salt would want the horses, too, if only to sell them. You can al ways find a buyer who'll ask no questions if the price is cheap enough."
Llewelyn did not bother to state the obvious, that his men would never have let the horses go, either. Justin tucked this new information away for further reflection and leaned forward. "So what evidence do you have that the wool was not burned?"
"The wagon tracks were still visible when I inspected the scene. We'd actually had several dry days in a row, which qualifies as a drought in Wales. The wheel ruts were shallow, nowhere near as deep as they ought to have been if they'd been loaded with woolsacks."
"So you think they removed the wool ere they fired the hay-wains? Mayhap burned part of a woolsack or even some wool to convince us that it had all gone up in smoke? I want to believe it, I really do. But if so, what happened to the wool? What did they do with it?"
"I have not worked that part out yet," Llewelyn conceded. "We could find no other wagon tracks in the vicinity. I have no doubts, though, that the wool is still intact, hidden away somewhere till it is safe to transport it."
He saw that Justin was not yet convinced, and leaned forward intently. "My people have a saying, 'Gorau amheuthun, chwant bwyd.' 'Hunger is the best sauce.' We know that particular sauce well in Wales, for mine is a poor country. I will not believe that any Welshman would have set fire to a year's worth of wool, not unless one of God's own angels whispers it is so in my ear, and even then, I'd have doubts. No, this was a clever trick, no more than that. It is still out there, waiting to be found,"
Justin decided it was time to tackle the second of Llewelyn's suppositions. "And you think the mastermind behind this scheme is…"
"A 'mastermind,' no, I'd not call him that. But he is guilty. I'd wager you know whose name I am going to say, too… my uncle Davydd."
Justin did not trouble to conceal his skepticism. "Is this some sort of a family game? Davydd is one for playing it, too. We both know he has reasons to blame you that have naught to do with the missing ransom. But it seems to me that your charges are equally suspect. Why keep on fighting this war if you can get the English Crown to fight it for you?"
"First of all," Llewelyn said, "I am winning this war. And even if I were not, I'd not be mad enough to seek English aid. I'm not going to invite a man to dinner unless I am sure he'll go home afterward. No offense, but you English are too hungry for lands that are not yours."
"It has been my experience that it is the highborn who.u hungry for lands not theirs… no offense, of course."
Llewelyn's dark eyes narrowed slightly, and then he began laugh again. "I'd wager you are giving my uncle fits!"
Justin grinned. "Well, I do my best. I've been honest with you about my doubts. But I've an open mind. If you can make a persuasive case against him, let's hear it."
Llewelyn was quick to take the challenge. "To begin with, that scheme of his was too absurd for even my uncle to concoct. Lure me away with a false patrol and then send the ransom off in two unguarded hay-wains? Talk about begging to be robbed! Even his use of hay was suspect, for no one sells his hay at market; the need for it is too great. As soon as I heard about it, I knew Davydd was up to no good. I think he arranged to 'steal' the ransom, doubtless leaving it in Selwyn's capable hands to make the necessary plans. Selwyn was with Davydd long enough to know where all the bodies were buried, and my uncle has never been a man for details."
"Yes, but Selwyn was slain."
"Davydd's plans never end well." Llewelyn's smile came and went, almost too quick to catch. "Obviously, something went wrong. I cannot believe that my uncle would have wanted Selwyn dead; he was too useful."
Justin considered for a moment and then shook his head, "No, it still does not make sense to me. I grant you that your theory explains some of the holes in Davydd's story. But there is just one problem with it. I have been watching Davydd closely for the past week and I am sure that he does not know where the ransom is."
When Llewelyn would have argued, Justin held up his hand. "Wait, I heard you out. You're going to have to trust me on this. Unless your uncle's true vocation was to be a player, he could not be so convincing. He is well and truly fearful. Unless…" A memory had just surfaced. "A reliable witness told me that Davydd was calm when told of the robbery. She says he did not panic until he found out that the wool had been burned and Selwyn slain. Suppose… suppose he did set up the robbery as you claim. What if Selwyn's hirelings decided they'd rather have the whole than a share?"
"Possible," Llewelyn acknowledged. "Men capable of murder and robbery would not have any qualms about betrayal. Still, though… there is one weakness in that argument. Whoever carried out the robbery made no mistakes. It was well planned well executed. I very much doubt that anyone hired by Selwyn could have done it. He'd have been looking for men who were stupid and strong, men who could be relied upon to take orders without getting any notions of their own."