‘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.