Idwal was penitent.’ I am sorry.’
‘You should be thoroughly ashamed.’
‘I am, Hubert. I persuaded myself that what I was doing was justified. Especially as I was taking one Gospel and replacing it with another that was almost identical.’ He held up the copy in his hand. ‘Will you forgive me, Canon Hubert?’
‘Only God can do that.’
‘Will you tell Bishop Robert about this?’
‘I must. It is my duty.’
‘Yes,’ said Idwal sadly. ‘I see that. You are right. It is as well that I am leaving Chester today. My face no longer fits and I have caused enough trouble.’
‘That is certainly true.’
Idwal gazed longingly at the chest then ran a covetous hand along its surface. Hubert clicked his tongue and the archdeacon backed away at once.
‘I leave you in peace,’ he said.
‘I will not pretend to grieve at this parting.’
‘Nor would I expect you to, Hubert. Give my regards to Brother Simon and … do not think too harshly of me.’
Idwal went swiftly through the door and closed it behind him.
Canon Hubert basked in his own righteousness for a few minutes then went to the chest to stroke it. He had the satisfaction of knowing that he had just prevented a dreadful crime from being committed and dispatched the troublesome Welshman out of the city at the same time. They were achievements of which he felt inordinately proud.
An hour later, Archdeacon Idwal was riding happily out of the city with the genuine Gospel of St Teilo packed away in his satchel.
Having switched them before Hubert came into the vestry, he was able to take exactly what he had come for and to leave the replica in the oak chest. Nobody at the cathedral would ever know that their Gospel was a fake and that Hubert’s proud claims were really the boasts of a gullible man who had been thoroughly tricked.
Idwal’s cackle of delight sent his horse into a gallop.
Ralph Delchard had overcome his disappointment at being left behind at the castle. He was beginning to think that his presence there was fortuitous. Gervase Bret agreed.
‘I believe that it is part of an elaborate plot.’
‘What is, Gervase?’
‘The way that Earl Hugh has been lured out of Chester.’
‘But the Welsh are massing on the border.’
‘Are they?’
‘So it is reported.’
‘That is how they wish it to seem,’ argued Gervase, ‘in order to cause a distraction. Study the pattern of events. A favourite hawk is killed. What better way to enrage Earl Hugh? His close friend is murdered to keep that rage bubbling. His messenger is killed on the way to Rhuddlan to give the impression that an army is on the march.’
‘It may well be, Gervase.’
‘I wonder.’
‘Why has the road to Rhuddlan been blocked?’
‘To convince Earl Hugh that a rebellion is stirring on the other side of the border. Am I making sense, Ralph?’
‘Too much sense,’ said the other. ‘You are thinking like a soldier for once. It is what I should have been doing instead of feeling sorry for myself at being left behind. Creating a diversion is one of the arts of war. The Welsh appear to have created a number of them.’
‘To what end, though?’
Their eyes locked and they realised the answer to the question simultaneously. Ralph leaped up from his chair and reached for his sword. Gervase opened the door of the chamber and led the way down from the keep.
‘What will we do, Ralph?’
‘Dispatch messengers after Hugh. Urge him to turn back. They have only been gone a couple of hours. Fast horses will soon start to gain on them.’
‘Suppose he refuses?’
‘He is not stupid. He will see the wisdom of our advice.’
‘And meanwhile?’
‘Meanwhile,’ said Ralph, delighted at the prospect of action, ‘we must hope that we get there in time.’
The first arrow pierced the guard’s throat and sent him gurgling to the ground. Dafydd hurried forward to drag the body out of sight. The second arrow picked off another man with uncanny accuracy. Once again, it was left to Dafydd to haul the corpse away. Eiluned stepped back into the doorway as she fitted another arrow to her bow. Two of the obstacles had been removed without any difficulty. She awaited further orders from Sion.
From his position in the upper room of a house, he had a good view of the castle. When a third guard emerged from the postern gate, Sion gave the signal and Eiluned’s arrow claimed yet another victim. Dafydd was on hand to pull the man behind a stone trough.
He looked up at the house and saw the wave from Sion. It was time to move in.
All three of them were soon crouched outside the postern gate.
Sion used the hilt of his dagger to pound the studded oak. A bolt was drawn, a key put in a lock and the heavy door swung back far enough for them to slip through. Once inside, they paused to take stock of their surroundings.
The plan had worked. Earl Hugh and his army had departed, leaving only a minimal garrison at the castle. What guards remained were patrolling the walls and looking outwards. They did not see the figures emerging from the shadows by the postern gate. Sion went first with Dafydd close behind him, both carrying daggers in their hands. Eiluned was several yards behind them, ready to provide cover, keeping low as she ran and scanning the bailey with sharp eyes. The three of them reached the entrance to the dungeons unchallenged.
Leaving their archer on sentry duty, Sion and Dafydd opened the door and slowly descended the steps. Only one guard was in the passageway and he was knocked senseless with a blow from Sion’s mailed fist. Hooked on the man’s belt was a large iron key ring. While Dafydd grabbed the keys, Sion ran to the cell where he knew their prince was kept. Peering through the grille, he saw Gruffydd ap Cynan fast asleep in the straw.
‘My lord!’ he called. ‘Wake up, my lord!’
‘Surely, they have not killed him?’ said Dafydd, trying the different keys in the lock. ‘My lord! We’ve come for you!’
The figure turned lazily in the straw and they were reassured.
Dafydd eventually found the right key and the door was opened.
They dashed in to kneel beside the Prince of Gwynedd. Sion shook him by the arm.
‘Wake up, my lord!’ he urged.
Ralph Delchard obeyed at once, opening his eyes and launching himself upwards with such force that he knocked Sion off his feet. A punch to the stomach took all the wind out of Dafydd’s lungs and bent him double. Ralph chopped down hard on the back of his neck and sent him reeling.
Sion had now recovered enough to realise that they had been outwitted. Hurling himself at Ralph, he got a grip on his throat and started to apply pressure but he reckoned without his victim’s strength. With a loud grunt, Ralph lifted him bodily and hauled him against the wall, cracking open his head and spraying blood everywhere.
He looked down in disappointment at the two groaning figures in the straw. ‘I was hoping for more fight out of you than that,’ he mocked. ‘Why give up so easily?’
Before they could recover, the two men were overpowered by the guards who rushed in from the adjoining cell where they had been hiding. Sion and Dafydd were pinioned within seconds. Their attempt at liberating the Prince of Gwynedd was over.
Crouching beside the entrance to the dungeons, Eiluned wondered what was causing the delay. A voice behind her made her swing round, an arrow already fitted into her bowstring.
Gervase Bret was watching her with keen interest.
‘I was hoping that we would meet,’ he said in Welsh.
‘Who are you?’
‘An admirer of your skill. I have never heard of anyone shooting arrows with such precision. The one that killed Raoul Lambert was even better than that which brought Earl Hugh’s hawk down out of the air.’