‘I do,’ insisted Sion. ‘I have not come all this way to bungle the attempt. Months of planning have gone into it. I came out of exile in Ireland to take my part. We must not fail. That would be a disaster.’
‘You will not find me wanting,’ said Dafydd.
‘Nor me,’ added Eiluned.
‘I know. You have both done well so far. We are very grateful.’
Sion grinned. ‘Now it is my turn. I was born in Chester. I lived here for years until they sent me into exile. The city owes me a favour. I am here to collect it.’
Gervase Bret argued long and hard with Archdeacon Idwal about the morality of stealing the Gospel of St Teilo. Whatever action the Welshman took, Gervase wanted no part of it, though he promised that he would not break any confidences. Leaving Idwal at the cathedral, he made his way back to the city and was about to enter the postern gate when Canon Hubert came bustling through it. Gervase could see that he was agitated.
‘What is the matter?’ asked Gervase.
‘Brother Simon has let us down for once.’
‘That is unlike him.’
‘I know,’ said Hubert, ‘and I have chastised him roundly.’
‘What is his fault?’
‘Carelessness. When he heard about the imminent battle, he flew into such a panic that he could not get back into the city soon enough, even though it meant being in the castle with Earl Hugh. In his haste, he left a satchel of documents behind.’
‘That is indeed a bad mistake. Those documents are highly important and must not fall into the wrong hands.’
‘I made that point very clearly to Brother Simon.’
‘Let me fetch the satchel,’ volunteered Gervase.
‘No,’ insisted the other. ‘It is our responsibility. I will get it myself, Gervase. You may be better employed soothing the lord Ralph.’
‘Why?’
‘Earl Hugh refused to let him ride out with the army.’
‘How has he taken it?’
‘He is mortified.’
Gervase understood why. He waved Hubert off then went in through the postern gate and walked towards the castle. The streets were largely deserted. Fear kept most people indoors.
Even the yapping dogs seemed to have fled. Gervase was rather surprised, therefore, when he saw a young woman strolling idly past the castle and throwing it a casual glance. She seemed oddly out of place. He watched her until she turned a corner and vanished, wondering why she was wearing a voluminous cloak on such a warm day.
After the third feigned attack by the raiding parties, Robert of Rhuddlan began to lose his patience. He ordered a troop of his own men to saddle up so that they could issue forth and intercept one of the bands when next they rode past the castle. If he could inflict losses on the enemy, they might be forced into a direct fight. He was still giving orders outside the stables when the captain of the guard summoned him to the rampart. Robert went quickly up the steps.
‘What is happening?’ he said.
‘I do not know, my lord.’
‘Are they playing more tricks on us?’
‘Not this time, I think,’ said the captain. ‘It seems as if they are joining into one large force.’
‘They mean to attack at last,’ decided Robert.
‘Do not be so sure, my lord.’
‘Why?’
‘Look!’
When the bands of warriors came together, they faced the castle in a long line and waved their weapons aloft. After jeering derisively, they swung their horses around and rode off to the west. Robert felt cheated of his confrontation with them. Once again, they had comprehensively deceived him.
‘They never intended to fight us,’ he said.
‘Why, then, did they come here, my lord?’
‘To keep us penned in here.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘I wish I knew.’
Danger was over but mystery remained. Robert of Rhuddlan would have much to report to his uncle when Earl Hugh finally reached him. What troubled him most was the feeling that he had been the victim of a cruel hoax.
His opportunity came at last and he seized it eagerly. When Idwal of St David’s saw that the cathedral was completely empty, he hurried off to his tiny chamber to collect the object which he had left there. Back within a matter of minutes, he let himself quickly into the vestry and lowered the latch softly behind him.
The oak chest stood in a corner, stout enough to deter most people but posing an irresistible challenge to Idwal. Putting down the object on the floor, he took a long-bladed knife from beneath his cloak and probed the lock with its point. It was slow work, calling for skill and patience. Idwal evinced both in the gloom of the vestry and was suitably rewarded in time by the sound of the lock clicking open.
‘At last!’ he said to himself.
Lifting the lid, he gazed into the chest and saw exactly what he had hoped to find. The Gospel of St Teilo, an illuminated manuscript which bore a picture of the saint himself, seated on his episcopal throne. Idwal’s heart lifted and he reached out to pick up the unique relic but a noise from the cathedral checked him. He crept to the door and inched it open until he could peer into the nave.
Canon Hubert was coming down the aisle towards him with a satchel over his shoulder. Idwal’s first reaction was one of desperation but his agile brain soon framed itself to the emergency. Closing the door, he went back to the oak chest.
Hubert, meanwhile, having genuflected in front of the altar, made his way to the vestry. He tapped lightly on the door then opened it to enter the chamber.
A startled Idwal stepped back guiltily from the box. ‘Hubert!’
he exclaimed.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was just … looking round.’
‘Who opened that chest?’ asked Hubert, suspicion flooding.
‘I found it like this.’
‘Archdeacon Frodo would never have left it in that state. It contains the cathedral’s relics, including a copy of the Gospel of St Chad.’
‘St Teilo.’
‘St Chad of Lichfield.’
‘St Teilo,’ corrected Idwal, taking the Gospel out from beneath his cloak. ‘A Welsh saint from Llandeilo Fawr.’
‘What are you doing with it?’
‘Restoring it to its rightful place in Wales. It was taken from there centuries ago by a Saxon monk, hunting for relics. I am taking it home.’
Hubert blenched. ‘You are stealing it?’
‘Merely repossessing it, Hubert.’
‘It amounts to the same thing.’
‘Not to me,’ said Idwal pedantically. ‘Theft is a crime and I would never sink to that. Reclaiming stolen goods is a matter of honour. That is all that I am doing.’
‘I will report you to Archdeacon Frodo.’
‘Why? He will not miss the Gospel.’
‘He is bound to,’ said Hubert. ‘The moment that he opens the chest, he will see that it has gone.’
‘But it has not,’ explained Idwal, reaching into the chest to take out a copy of the Gospel identical to the one he already held. ‘You see? Though I take one relic, I replace it with another.
The one I have brought is a clever forgery. If I exchange it for the genuine Gospel, nobody will know the difference.’
‘I will,’ boomed Hubert. ‘And I will not condone such a heinous offence. Put the relic back before you damage it.’
‘But it belongs in Llandeilo,’ pleaded Idwal.
‘It is the property of this cathedral and I’ll not stand by and watch it being stolen. Put it back!’
He stood over Idwal until the archdeacon consented to replace the Gospel which he had just lifted out of the chest. Hubert closed the lid firmly and the lock clicked into place.
‘Thank heaven I came,’ said Hubert, preening himself. ‘I was searching for Archdeacon Frodo but I found you here instead, trying to steal the most precious relic that the cathedral possesses. This is a heinous crime.’
‘I was acting with the best of intentions.’
‘You should be reported to your bishop for this outrage.’
‘He will have a full account of what happened here.’
‘I trust that he will take the appropriate action. Really, Archdeacon Idwal,’ clucked Hubert sanctimoniously, ‘I am surprised at you. I have accused you of many things but I never thought that you would stoop to bare-faced theft.’