‘No.’
‘She outwitted them.’
Ralph pondered. ‘You may be right,’ he said at length.
‘What other explanation is there?’
‘None.’
‘Then we are faced with a dilemma.’
‘In what way?’
‘Do we divulge this intelligence to Earl Hugh or not?’
‘I think not,’ decided Ralph. ‘I would love to see the expression on his face when I tell him that his huntsman was killed by a woman, but I will forgo that pleasure until we are quite certain of our facts.’
‘That is my feeling as well,’ said Gervase. ‘Apart from anything else, I want to protect Gytha and her brother.’
‘Hugh would haul the pair of them in for interrogation and I would not wish that on anybody. I have seen his methods.’
‘There is another consideration, Ralph. Their parents were buried in secret yesterday at their parish church.’
‘Hugh ordered that the bodies lie in a ditch.’
‘Exactly. If he learns the truth, he is likely to have them dug up and thrown back where he left them.’
‘We are agreed on one thing then. Hugh hears nothing.’
‘Until we verify the facts.’
‘And how do we do that, Gervase?’
‘We go to the cottage where those two women made baskets,’
said the other. ‘That is where we must start.’
‘How on earth would we find the place alone?’
‘We would not, Ralph. We need a guide.’
‘Brother Gerold?’
‘Not this time,’ said Gervase. ‘We must seek help from someone who lives in the Forest of Delamere itself. Someone who is indirectly involved in this business. Someone with her own reasons for finding out the truth.’
The affection in his friend’s voice made Ralph smile.
‘Would her name be Gytha, by any chance?’
Gruffydd ap Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, finally lost his patience.
Picking up the little stool, he used it to bang on the door of his cell, yelling at the top of his voice at the same time. The noise brought two of his gaolers hurrying down the dark passage towards him.
‘Stop that noise!’ ordered one of them.
‘Or we’ll stop it for you!’ warned the other.
‘What has got into him?’
When they peered through the grille in the door, their prisoner backed away and tossed the stool aside. He pointed upwards and gestured for them to unlock the door. They shook their heads.
Snatching up the stool again, he hurled it at the door with all his might and it splintered against the stout timber. One of the guards turned to his companion.
‘He’s run mad. Fetch Earl Hugh.’
‘Try to calm him down,’ said the other, hurrying away.
‘I’ll calm him down!’ muttered the first man, fingering his sword.
‘If he keeps up this clamour, I’ll calm him down for good. Do you hear that, Gruffydd?’ he shouted. ‘We like peace and quiet down here.’
The prisoner came to the grille and issued a stream of abuse in Welsh. His gaoler laughed then spat contemptuously at the floor. Gruffydd ap Cynan ranted even more wildly.
Earl Hugh eventually came to see what the commotion was about. Bearing a flaming torch, he strode along the corridor with a howl of anger. Four soldiers marched at his heels.
‘Open the door!’ he ordered.
‘He’s in a dangerous mood,’ warned the gaoler.
‘So am I. Do as I say!’
The door was unlocked and the prisoner tried to rush out, but Earl Hugh forced him back with the naked flame. Walking into the noisome cell, he stood over the Welshman and glowered at him. Gruffydd ap Cynan was not afraid. He met his captor’s gaze without flinching.
‘What is the trouble here?’ demanded Hugh.
‘He is complaining, my lord,’ said the gaoler, ‘because we haven’t taken him for exercise today. I don’t understand a word of his language but that’s what he seems to be saying. He wants to stretch his legs and breathe in some clean air.’
‘He is a prisoner here and not a guest,’ snarled Hugh. ‘And he will certainly not enjoy the freedom to stroll about in the bailey as long as his countrymen threaten us.’ His hands moved in graphic gestures. ‘Do you hear that, you Welsh pig?’ he said, holding the torch near Gruffydd’s face. ‘You will stay locked up down here. No light, no exercise and no privileges of any kind.’
He wagged a finger. ‘And no more complaints or I will get really angry.’
Gruffydd ap Cynan knew little of the language in which he was being addressed but his captor’s meaning was clear. He stood there in dignified silence as his visitors went out and locked the door after them.
The gaoler followed Earl Hugh along the corridor.
‘What will we do if he gets violent again?’
‘Put him where he belongs — in chains!’
Chapter Twelve
The more Golde saw of the Lady Ermintrude, the more she warmed to her. It was not simply the bonding of two women in a largely male environment, though that was a definite factor in a shifting military situation. There was a deeper kinship, unrecognised at first by either of them, then undeclared when it did slowly impinge upon their consciousness. They sought each other out, talked, compared, speculated together, and developed, in a surprisingly short time, a real friendship. Neither of them dared to probe the roots of that friendship which was, by its very nature, only temporary. They just enjoyed it while they could, like two strangers marooned on a desert island, united in adversity and making light of any individual differences.
Ermintrude was tolerant of her guest’s occasional stumbles in Norman French and Golde made allowances for the sometimes jarring values of a woman brought up in a dominant aristocratic culture which she, as a Saxon, had come to hate. Golde was helped by the fact that her companion had none of the arrogance and high-handedness so often associated with conquest. If anything, there was a faint air of apology about the Lady Ermintrude, as if she was graciously aware that she was trespassing on someone else’s property.
‘Tell me more about brewing,’ she invited.
‘Oh, my lady!’ said Golde. ‘We should be here all day.’
‘Listening to you is far more interesting than watching the soldiers exercising in the yard. I am intrigued by the idea of your actually taking over your husband’s business when he died. Did you have a natural inclination for the trade?’
‘Not in the least.’
‘How, then, did you come to master it?’
‘Of necessity,’ said Golde with a sad smile. ‘My first husband was not wealthy and I had a younger sister to provide for as well as myself. Brewing was a means of survival, my lady. I had picked up the rudiments of it from my husband but I never thought to make a living from it.’
‘Yet clearly you did.’
‘In time.’
‘Your beer must have been of a high quality if you supplied it to Hereford Castle.’
‘It was, my lady. But only after I had learned the trade by a process of trial and error. Hereford had other brewers and they mocked the glaring mistakes I was bound to make at first. But I rarely made the same mistake twice and their sniggers soon turned to irritation when I began to take customers from them.’
Ermintrude was delighted. ‘You got the better of men at their own trade?’
‘And women,’ explained Golde. ‘I was not the only female brewer in the city. It is a job that requires patience and intuition. Women tend to have an abundance of both.’
‘Yes,’ said Ermintrude, lowering her eyelids and clasping her hands in her lap. ‘Patience is indeed a virtue. I have struggled to show it myself. As for intuition,’ she added with a dismissive shrug, ‘that has always been beyond me.’
‘Surely not, my lady!’
‘I lack instinct, Golde.’
‘That is patently untrue.’
‘On the surface, perhaps. Deep down, it is another matter.’
‘Yet you are so responsive to others,’ said Golde, taken aback by the confession. ‘You seem to know exactly what your guests want before they can even guess at it themselves.’