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Day Six
Simon
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Since Patrick’s arrest, Simon’s questions about his friends’ lack of forthcomingness had been eating at him—to the point that he knew he had to confront them. If he did not, he didn’t know that he could continue to call them friends anymore. And if that was the case, he was going to have to rethink his life.
After the conclusion of the events at Vale Royal Abbey, Simon had thought he and Rhys were in accord again, with each other and with the king. After the events here, he wasn’t so sure again. Thus, he had enlisted Elizabeth to help with the conversation, and together they arrived at Rhys and Catrin’s tent, where his friends were sitting together at a low fire.
He didn’t think he mistook the identical wary looks they exchanged with each other as he came into the light. Catrin, in particular, had a hard time not showing her emotions. At the sight of Elizabeth beside him, however, she brightened and leapt to her feet. “I’m glad to see you again before you go.”
“We thought it would be nice to have a last visit together. The children are finally asleep.” Elizabeth took Catrin’s hands and squeezed, while Rhys filled the silence between them by pouring Simon and Elizabeth each a cup of mead.
Simon just managed to force down a first sip. He had never told his friend how much he despised the drink. It was both too dry and sweetly cloying at the same time. Besides, he was here on a mission, and alcohol wasn’t going to help.
In fact, he had every intention of getting straight to the point, but then Catrin got in ahead of him. “Rhys and I are glad you are here because we have something important we need to talk to you about.”
“It’s about the bards,” Rhys said, “but even more, it’s about what we didn’t tell you over the course of this investigation.”
Now, it was Simon’s turn to look wary. He’d wanted to talk about this too and had rehearsed with Elizabeth how to begin. He’d known the conversation would be difficult. He hadn’t expected his friends to be bringing up the subject first. But since they’d started, he was happy to let them continue. “I’m listening.”
“After we arrested Patrick, I saw the look on your face when I told you about Moriddig’s poetry,” Catrin said. “You thought I should have said something to you earlier.”
“Yes.” Simon wasn’t going to deny what was true. “Especially with what happened with Trayhern.”
Elizabeth squeezed Simon’s hand. Normally, she had no role in his work, but he always told her everything afterwards as a matter of course. This was the first time she’d been any kind of participant. She sat silent, however, not speaking, just listening.
Rhys leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands holding his cup between them. “Here’s the truth, Simon, as much as we haven’t wanted to admit it. If we reported to you every person who expressed unhappiness with the king or his edicts, you’d be arresting ten people a day. As long as what they are doing or saying isn’t public, we have been ignoring it.”
Catrin chimed in. “We have known we would need to address this with you sooner or later, especially with what happened with Trahaearn. Yes, he was heard singing a forbidden song, but it was also at the crack of dawn, not in public, per se. He obviously saw the error of his ways very quickly or he wouldn’t have fled. Our intent hasn’t been to hide anything from you.” She gave him a rueful smile. “We do want you to trust us. We understand if you feel you no longer can. If you need us to report every single instance we come across, we can do that.”
“Or rather, we can try,” Rhys said. “We are still not going to be perfect.”
With a barking laugh, Simon sat back abruptly on his stool. Here, he had been thinking this conversation was going to be hard, and Rhys and Catrin had jointly gone straight to the main issue and diffused it. “No! Sweet Mary, no. The last thing I want from you is a blow-by-blow of everything you learn. Already, the king has had to divert one of his scribes from his usual tasks to deal with all the people reporting on their neighbors.”
Rhys straightened. “We hadn’t heard that. What exactly is happening?”
“No surprise you’ve been too busy to notice. He has recorded hundreds of names already, and it’s been all of a week. Every man or woman with a grievance has suddenly decided this is the opportunity to air it. Many of the names of those who’ve supposedly offended the king’s edicts aren’t even Welsh! It’s a nightmare to sort through all the claims and counterclaims.” He paused. “Someone has even reported Catrin.”
“Really?” Catrin blinked. “For what?”
Elizabeth put a gentle hand on Simon’s arm. “What my husband is trying to say, somewhat inelegantly, is that he wants to know what you know if it affects the health and safety of the king. That is all.”
“We would never not report such a thing.” Rhys reached for Catrin’s hand. “You know that.”
“I do know that, and I do trust you.” With an overwhelming sense of relief, Simon took a second sip from the cup of mead Rhys had given him. If asked, he might even say the taste was growing on him.
