“That is why I give it to her as a gift.” He looked into her smiling face. “It becomes her so well and takes away memories that I should have outgrown long ago.”
Idwal translated and Angharad nodded gratefully.
Orbec groped for another compliment. “Tell her that she is the first lady ever to enter my house. I could not have met a more charming guest. Apologise for my being so stern at first. My anger soon melted.”
He managed a smile. “If she ever wishes to visit me again, she and her family will always be most welcome.”
Father and daughter were both delighted with the offer. Gervase came up to claim his share of gratitude. Angharad kissed him and her father embraced him warmly. He had heard the full story of the escape from Monmouth. Omri, too, was part of the leave-taking.
“Will you ride back with Angharad?” asked Gervase.
“No,” said the old man. “I’ll follow the others home to Powys. When they’ve buried their dead and put all this behind them, they’ll need a song and a jest to brighten up their court. I’ll not want for employ-ment.”
“I hope we meet again.”
“Anywhere, but Monmouth Castle.”
They shared a laugh. Omri then departed with Cadwgan ap Bleddyn and his host towards the Black Mountains. Angharad and her father headed back towards South Wales with their soldiers. The reason that had brought the two families together no longer existed. Goronwy lay dead in the back of a cart along with the alliance between Deheubarth and Powys.
“Where will you go now?” asked Orbec.
“Back to Hereford,” said Gervase.
“Evening draws in. You will not get back until well after dark.” He glanced after Angharad then shifted his feet. “You may stay the night at my house, if you wish, and set off first thing in the morning.”
“I accept your invitation, my lord,” said Idwal with a cackle of pleasure, even though it had not been directed at him. “I have looked forward to meeting you and to seeing this chapel that you told me about.”
“You, too, will be welcome, Archdeacon,” said Orbec. “You helped to avert a battle this afternoon. That deserves a good meal and a warm bed at the very least. Gervase?”
“The meal and the bed sound too good to resist.”
“The invitation includes Ralph Delchard.”
“I will have to refuse on his behalf, I fear.”
“But he must be exhausted,” said Orbec. “His ankle is injured and he is bruised all over. Riding a horse will be agony for him. He needs to rest.”
“I know,” agreed Gervase, “but you will never persuade him to do so. He must ride with the sheriff to Hereford to attend to urgent business.”
“What can possibly drag him back through the night?”
“Ale.”
Golde was about to retire to bed when he knocked. When she realised who it was, she was thrilled to see him again, but embarrassed that he had caught her at the house. Aelgar’s presence made any privacy impossible and Ralph detected the faint aroma of ale. It was enough to change the venue of their meeting. He escorted her to the nearby castle, walking gingerly on the twisted ankle and telling her about events at Ewyas Harold. She was alarmed to hear about the duel, but relieved to see that he had come through it alive. Ralph felt it appropriate to enjoy a gentle boast about his prowess with the sword, but she was more concerned about his injury.
Before she knew it, Golde had been conducted into the apartment which Ralph had shared with Gervase. His manner changed at once.
Guiding her to a chair, he sat beside her.
“We must talk, Golde.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And that is the first thing we must talk about,” he said. “My name is Ralph. Call it me from now.”
“If you wish.”
“I do,” he said, kissing her lightly on the lips.
“Thank you, Ralph.”
He took her hand. “I have thought much about you.”
“And I about you.”
“Good things, I hope?”
“For the most part, my lord … Ralph.”
“Oh? Bad things, also?”
“Not bad, perhaps. But worrying. Doubts, fears.”
“Put them aside,” he said, lifting a hand to kiss it. “I am here, Golde. I endured a hellish ride and the even more hellish company of Ilbert the Sheriff to return to you. Have no more doubts about me.”
“The doubts are about myself.”
“In what way?”
She bowed her head. “I am not sure that you will think me worthy of you.”
“No woman could be more worthy of me, my love.”
“You do not know me.”
“I know you as well as I need, Golde.”
“There is more.”
“Explain.”
She hesitated.
“Warnod’s charter, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“You sent it to Winchester.”
She was shocked. “How did you know?”
“By your eagerness to become involved,” he said. “Part of that could be put down to your sister’s grief, but her future interests were also served. You knew about a charter which gave him a legal claim to part of Orbec’s land. If he was going to marry your sister, it was natural that he should show such an important charter to you.”
“But he did not,” she said.
“In that case, he gave it to your sister for safekeeping. Along with the will.”
“That is not how the document came into my hands.”
“Then how did it?”
She braced herself. “I stole it from the sheriff.”
Ralph froze. He remembered the earlier ride to Orbec’s demesne when Ilbert Malvoisin had conversed with him. The sheriff had called her a thief. Ralph would hear no criticism of her then and put the notion straight from his mind, but here she was now, sitting before him confessing frankly to the same crime. His hands gently disengaged themselves.
“I felt that you should hear the full story,” she said. “It is only fair to you. I would not like your interest in me to be based on a false assumption.”
“Stealing from that oaf of a sheriff is no sin,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “Do not let it trouble your conscience so.”
“If I do not tell you, Ilbert Malvoisin may.”
“Is his version of events different from yours?”
“Very different.”
“I’ll hear both and be the judge.”
Golde was hurt when he stood up and moved away from her. It was painful enough to have to tell him her secret, but that pain would have, been lessened by his proximity. Instead, he was standing a few yards away and watching her with a mixture of suspicion and mild distaste.
“The sheriff had the charter,” she said, plunging in. “Aelgar told him of it. She is a good girl, but a little naive at times and too impressed by status. Warnod had talked often of a claim to some land in the north of Archenfield, left to him by his father and confirmed as his by charter. When the first commissioners came, he wanted to show it to them to see if they would uphold his claim.”
“But the charter had gone.”
“Into Ilbert’s possession.”
“How?”
“When Aelgar boasted of the document to him, he rode to Archenfield himself and asked to see it. Warnod could hardly refuse such a request from the sheriff, Ilbert promised to take it away to make sure that it was not a forgery.’’ She gave a shrug. “He never gave it back. When your predecessors came to assess all the holdings in the shire, Warnod had no charter to produce. The sheriff refused to see him.”
“Wait one moment,” said Ralph, sifting through her story with great care. “There is something I do not understand. Your sister told him of the charter? How could a young girl like that even come into contact with Ilbert?”
“He came to the house.”
“Why?”
“I supply the ale for the castle.”
Ralph tensed. “Is that all you supply, Golde?”
“My lord!”
“The sheriff would not bother with matters that his underlings would handle. I buy wine for my cellar, but I send another to make the actual purchase.”
“Ilbert grew fond of me,” she said, quietly. “Against my wishes, I assure you, and without any encouragement from me. But I cannot control a man’s feelings.”