Her words tumbled out in a great gush, giving Justin no chance to respond. "You two are friends," she repeated plaintively. "Can you tell me anything that will enable me to help Thomas? Anything at all? Did something happen in Chester? Did he… did he meet another woman?"
Justin was at a loss for words. Feeling as guilty as if he were it somehow Thomas's accomplice, he said, "No, lass, no. I did not see Thomas all that much whilst we were in Chester. But I am sure there is no other woman."
"I did not think so, either… not truly. It is just vexing to see him so troubled and not know how to help…"
Justin understood exactly how she felt. He'd been hoping fervently that Angharad was not involved in Thomas's villainy. He'd not given much thought to the consequences if she were innocent, not until now, sitting with her in the castle garden and listening to the echoes of her broken heart.
~*~
Justin rose early the next morning and put the next part of his plan into motion. Heading for the stables, he chose a time when the grooms were over in the hall breaking their night fast. After saddling Copper, he moved down the row. A grey stallion stuck its muzzle over the stall door, nickering loudly. Justin paused to admire Thomas de Caldecott's palfrey, for it was a handsome animal. Thomas's saddle was suspended on a hook by the stall. Drawing his knife, Justin cut partially through one of the saddle girths, and belatedly realized the significance of Thomas's lack a squire.
Few knights were not attended by men — usually but not always young — who took care of their horses, equipment, and weapons. Prior to discovering the truth about his paternity, Justin had served as a squire to one of Lord Fitz Alan's household knights. He'd thought it odd that Thomas traveled without a squire, but now it made sense. A squire always underfoot would have been hindrance to a man who needed utter freedom to come and go as he pleased, no questions asked. With a final pat for Thomas's stallion, he led Copper out of his stall, and was soon riding across the castle drawbridge.
After reaching the ambush site, he took cover and waited to make sure he'd not been followed. While he was reasonably sure that his sabotage had given him enough time to outdistance his pursuers, he could take nothing for granted, not when the stakes were so high. Once he was convinced that he had no unwelcome shadow, he spent the next few hours in search of a possible hiding place for the missing wool. He found two caves and each time his hopes soared, to no avail. He had not really expected to find the wool so easily, but was still disappointed when he did not. When there was an hour or so of daylight remaining, he turned Copper back toward Rhuddlan.
Dinner that evening was an ordeal to be endured. Davydd was in an even fouler mood than usual, although Justin actually found himself feeling a twinge of pity for the Welsh prince. Like the miller brothers, Davydd would soon be hung out to dry in a cold wind, and the royal wrath would be fearsome to behold.
Emma was no happier than her husband; preoccupied and tense, she looked as if she yearned to be anywhere but the great hall of Rhuddlan Castle. Thomas ate in morose silence, his gaze anchored upon Justin's end of the table. And Angharad did not eat at all, watching Thomas with such naked misery that Justin had to glance away.
~*~
The meal was done and servants were clearing away the dishes, starting to dismantle the trestle tables. Justin was leaning against a wall, waiting for Thomas to approach him. It did not take long. Striding toward him, the knight said brusquely, "We need to talk." He pointed toward the comparative privacy of a window seat, and Justin followed him obligingly. Once they were seated, Thomas wasted no time. Glancing about, he signaled toward a passing servant, laying claim to two wine cups on the youth's tray. Thrusting one of them at Justin, he said accusingly, "You lied to me."
"When?"
"When you told me in Chester that you were not a man to bear grudges."
Justin raised the cup, but only wet his lips, remembering that drunken walk from the tavern to the warehouse, possibly the luckiest night of his life. Before he could respond, the hall erupted into pandemonium, into sudden screams and what sounded like snarls, the thud of overturned chairs, curses, and total chaos. Justin and Thomas shot from the window seat like arrows from a crossbow. They made little progress, though, for they were struggling against an incoming tide, as people surged away from the source of the turmoil.
By now the snarls and growls were loud enough to be heard above the yelling, and it was becoming obvious to all what the trouble was: several of Davydd's enormous wolfhounds were embroiled in a noisy, savage fight over a large beef bone. Davydd was demanding that the dogs be separated, but after one youth was badly bitten when he rashly waded into that maelstrom of flesh, fur, and flashing teeth, no one else was eager to volunteer, and that included Justin and Thomas. By common consent, they retreated back to the window seat, where they watched as Davydd fumed and threatened and the big dogs were finally dragged apart.
"I once won the huge sum of five marks on a Chester dog fight," Thomas observed, sounding almost friendly. "That is one of my fondest boyhood memories, as I used the money for my first bawdy house visit… at the ripe young age of thirteen." Reaching for wine cup, he clinked it against Justin's. "What were we talking about? Ah, yes, the grudge you bear me. Do not bother denying it, de Quincy, although I truly do not understand why you seem to mistrust me. I told you at the outset that I wanted us to work as allies, and that still holds true. But you guard your secrets as if I am the enemy. Take today, for instance. You rode off at dawn with nary a word, and I felt like a right proper fool when Davydd wanted to know where you'd gone and I had to admit I did not know."
Justin was impressed by how well Thomas had struck all the right notes: bafflement, righteous indignation, a willingness to let bygones be bygones, overlaid with a dose of hearty, man-to-man candor and charm. It was chilling to realize that evil could be so attractive, "You want to know where I went today, Thomas? I am quite willing to tell you. I was out looking for the missing wool."
"But the wool was burned," Thomas reminded him, with such convincing perplexity that Justin resisted an urge to applaud. To give the Devil his due, Thomas could lie better than any man he'd ever met, and that included such gifted liars as the queen's youngest son and his henchman from Hell, Durand de Curzon.
"No," he said, "it was not. It was a trick, like those you see performed at fairs with walnut shells and peas. Sleight of hand, Thomas, no more than that."
"I hope you are right," Thomas said, after a long pause. "If you are, at least we have a chance to recover it, then." But this tine his delivery was no longer pitch perfect and Justin raised his wine cup to his mouth to hide a smile. "Have you proof of this, Justin? Or is this merely a good guess?"
"You'd be surprised how much proof I've managed to unearth, Thomas."
Thomas had already drained his cup and beckoned to the nearest wine bearer. Justin took advantage of that chance and poured most of his wine into the floor rushes. When Thomas turned back to him, he was gratified to see that the knight's smile had begun to fray around the edges.
'"What sort of proof?"
"Let me tell you a story, Thomas, a right interesting one, if I say so myself. It begins in a Chester alehouse with three Flemish sailors named Joder, Geertje, and Karl," Justin said and Thomas inhaled wine, began to cough. When he got his breath back, he shot Justin a look that was stripped of all pretense, his eyes cold and flat and deadly.
"I think you've had too much wine," he said, "for you're beginning to babble, de Quincy. You are making no sense."
"That is passing strange, for you are the one man who ought to understand exactly what I am talking about."