'Cwen?’ Wat bounded across the room to the space below the grill, while Hermitage watched in some bemusement.
'I knew you'd be no good on your own,’ Cwen's voice pierced the gloom of the room and of Hermitage's heart when he finally got what was happening.
'But…' was all the monk managed to say.
'Cwen, is that really you?’ Wat's voice cracked and made Hermitage realise that his friend really had been genuinely concerned about their fate.
'Of course it's me,’ Cwen replied sharply, 'who else in this place is going to be worrying about you? Apart from how to dispose of your bodies.’
'How long have you been here?’ Wat had moved on from blessed relief to irritation.
'Not long,’ Cwen replied.
'But…' Hermitage said again. He had lots of thoughts to express but his 'But' kept getting in the way.
'Do the locals know you're here?’ Wat asked anxiously.
'Of course they do,’ Cwen replied.
'But...’ Hermitage kept it up.
'They've even made me a shepherd boy,’ Cwen said with some pride.
'Shepherd,’
'Boy. I know, but it didn't seem sensible to contradict them. I know my Norman isn’t very good but theirs is terrible. They just seemed to assume I was a shepherd from the way I talked. They don't seem very bright.’
'Cwen,’ Wat laughed a laugh of pure joy, 'I have never been so pleased to hear your voice.’
'I shall have to remember that when we get home,’ Cwen replied, 'keep you locked up more often.’
'But…' said Hermitage
'What is it Hermitage?’ Cwen asked, giving the monk some space to get round all his “buts”.
'How did you? I mean why are you? I mean. Oh I don't know what I mean.’ Hermitage had too many questions so he tried to get them in some sort of order. 'Can you get us out?’
'I don't think that would be very sensible,’ Cwen admonished.
'Oh.’ Hermitage thought that would be the priority.
'The locals seem to think you're some sort of demonic killers, or at least that's what Poitron's telling them. If anyone sees you on the loose they're likely to kill you first and ask questions afterwards.’
'Well that wouldn't work at all,’ Hermitage explained.
'I know it wouldn't,’ Cwen stopped him before he got going, 'the point is that while you're in there you're safe. Once you get out, the only thing to do is run away, very quickly. And I think two Saxons running away in Normandy is going to be a problem.’
'Did you follow us here?’ Hermitage asked, his questions forcing their way to the front.
'Er, yes,’ said Cwen, as if there were any other explanation for her talking through the grill of a Norman prison.
'Why?’
'To save you from death in a deep, dark dungeon?’
'Oh, right. Yes. Thanks.’
'Don't mention it.’
'But if it's not safe to let us out?’
'I'll just have to think of something. I only saw you being taken away just now. It's taken some time to find you so I thought I'd better come and let you know I'm here.’
'Were you the shepherd boy in the field?’ Hermitage asked, with a moment of revelation. Rather offended revelation, but revelation none the less.
'Yes,’ Cwen lowered her voice, 'sorry about that, but I couldn't have the locals thinking I'm on your side, especially as there was a pitchfork carrying mob coming up the lane, which I naturally assumed was for you.’
'Yes,’ Hermitage admitted.
'How did you follow us?’ Wat asked anxiously, 'we raced in Bernard's mad cart and then crossed the sea for goodness sake.’
'I just started as soon as you'd left,’ Cwen explained, 'put Hartle in charge and borrowed a ride with some dubious Saxon nobles who'd manage to avoid going to Hastings. They seemed pretty anxious to get to Normandy as quick as they could, swear allegiance and offer services to the new King. You know, stay alive, that sort of thing.’
'But William's in England.’
'Ah, but they don't know that,’ Cwen explained, 'well they do now obviously, but they didn't then.’
'And you didn't tell them?’
'They seemed so keen on getting here, I didn't like to upset them.’
'Ha,’ Wat clapped his hands in delight, 'oh Cwen, you are priceless.’
'I am taking notes,’ said Cwen and her grin could be heard from a distance.
'So what do we do now?’ Wat asked, a new light and enthusiasm in his tone.
'We can't escape,’ said Hermitage in serious agreement with Cwen.
There was a moment's silence.
'Can't escape?’ Wat asked in clear surprise, 'you were the one who wanted us to overpower dungeon guards a minute ago?’
'I know, but I see now that we can't escape. Cwen's right, if we get out of this place the locals will pounce on us straight away.’
'I thought the running away sounded like a good idea,’ said Wat.
'Run away to where?’ Hermitage asked, 'if we made it back to England Le Pedvin would want to know how we dealt with Bonneville. And when we say that we didn't actually, I think he'll be a bit disappointed.’
'Hm,’ said Wat, clearly appreciating what Le Pedvin being “a bit disappointed” might involve.
'And even if we did try running away I suspect Poitron would get us before we'd got two miles.’
'He does have a reputation,’ Cwen put in, 'him and that Norbert are a bit of a terror around here. Going round telling people they're carrying out Bonneville's instructions, except most people don't believe them. Or at least that's what Harboth says.’
'Who's Harboth?’ Wat asked, a weight of suspicion in his voice.
'He's the shepherd I've taken over from, apparently he has to do service as a Bonneville guard every month,’ Cwen explained, 'nice chap, told me where you were.’
'Oh he did did he? I'm not sure I...’ Wat began.
'He does think I'm the shepherd boy,’ Cwen insisted.
'Right,’ said Wat, not convinced, 'I've heard about his sort.’
'Oh for goodness sake,’ Cwen spluttered, 'you are trapped in a dungeon. The one Harboth says people get carried out of and taken straight to the nearest hole in the ground. What would you like me to do?’
Wat said nothing but his mumbles were quite loud.
'We have to solve the murders,’ Hermitage announced.
'How?’ Wat asked, spreading his arms to point out their current situation.
Hermitage frowned and let the options swim around in his head for a moment. There was only one, so that would have to be it. 'Cwen will have to do it.’
'Eh?’ Cwen sounded shocked, 'listen, I said it was bad enough that a monk gets involved in murder at all, let alone that you two seem to have been up to your necks in it without bothering to mention the fact. What do I know about solving murders?’
'We can give you instruction. You seem to be well in with the locals.’
'Yes, she does, doesn't she,’ said Wat in a rather unhelpful manner.
Hermitage ignored him and carried on. 'You can go and ask questions we couldn't get away with. You can find out what we need to know and when we've worked it out you can present the findings to Poitron who'll have to let us go.’
'Unless Poitron did it,’ Wat pointed out. He was being particularly unhelpful just at the moment for some reason.
'I suppose I could,’ Cwen sounded reluctant.
'Just bring us what we need and we'll stay here, in our little grey cell, to figure out the answer.’ Hermitage smiled for the first time in many hours.
'And you could drop off some food while you're at it,’ Wat added.
'Anything else master?’ The sarcasm carried the words straight to the floor.
'Skin of wine would be good.’
'Where do I start?’ Cwen asked, ignoring Wat.
'With the blacksmith and the wheelwright,’ Hermitage explained, 'we never did get to their places. We need to know what happened to them.’
'I think we know what happened to them,’ Wat put in.
'I mean what happened to them before what happened to them. What's gone on at their workplaces? Where are their families? How could they be dragged out of workshops and killed without anyone noticing? Just anything at all really, it will all help.’
'Just find out anything at all about the blacksmith and the wheelwright?’ Cwen asked with a bit of a sigh.
'That's right.’
There was a pause from the top of the grill. If Cwen had given her next words careful thought it certainly didn't sound like it. 'This is how you usually go about things then is it?’
'I'm sorry?’ Hermitage couldn't follow what Cwen was going on about.
'Murders and stuff, this is how you usually, what did you call it, investigate?’
'Pretty much, yes. Why, is there something wrong with it?’
'I don't know,’ Cwen mused, 'I just thought it would be a bit more, well...’
'Well what?’ Wat demanded.
'I don't know, sort of more, organised you know?’
'More organised?’ Wat seemed most unhappy at their methods being criticised.
'Yes, I mean, isn't a bit haphazard just going off and finding out all you can about the blacksmith and the wheelwright?’
'They are the dead people,’ Wat insisted.
'The majority of them,’ Hermitage added.
Wat carried on. 'And finding out what you can about the dead people is usually quite important in murders. Unless you've got any better ideas.’ The tone in his voice said that he expected Cwen not to have any better ideas at all.
'Alright, alright, keep your breeches on,’ Cwen replied, 'you just want me to find out everything I can about the blacksmith and the wheelwright.’
'That's it.’ Wat's teeth were firmly clamped together.
'Nothing specific? You don't want to know where they were at a certain time or who they were seen with or anything.’
'Just everything,’ Wat ground out, 'we can then work out what's important and what isn't.’
'Oh you can,’ said Cwen, 'I wouldn't know what's important then, is that it?
'Well if you can find out who killed them and how, that would be handy.’ Wat snapped back.
'But don't let anyone know you're asking,’ Hermitage stepped into what was becoming an increasingly tetchy exchange. He disliked it when Wat and Cwen were going at one another like this. He always told himself they didn't really mean it and would make up afterwards. It was a bit more difficult now, with Wat in a dungeon and Cwen out there on her own in a village full of killer idiots.
'Beg pardon?’ Cwen's flow was brought to an abrupt halt.
'You mustn't let anyone know you're asking.’
'I have to go and find out all I can about the blacksmith and the wheelwright without anyone knowing I'm asking about the blacksmith and the wheelwright?’
'That's it. If people think you're investigating you could end up in front of Poitron. And look what that did for us.’
'And how do I ask without asking exactly?’ Cwen's voice was full of disbelief.
'Erm,’ Hermitage found himself stumped by what was a very good question. He had seen the sense of the approach when the thought was in his head, but the words that came out of his mouth didn't seem to understand what he meant.
'Be subtle,’ Wat suggested, 'like with clients in the Inn. Just sit and listen, encourage conversation in a certain direction. Find a reason to raise the topic of iron work, or wheels.’
'Shepherd boys not generally having much call for either,’ Cwen observed.
'Just be observant and don't go in like a bull at a gate and start annoying people.’
'Are you saying I'm annoying?’
'With me in a dungeon and you as my only possible way out? I wouldn't dream of it.’
'If,’ Hermitage interrupted again, 'if we could get on with the matter in hand, perhaps we can discuss other issues when we're not in a Norman dungeon?’
'Blacksmith and wheelwright?’ Cwen checked.
'That's it.’
'Right, I'll see what I can do.’
There was movement above as she obviously prepared to leave.
'Erm,’ said Hermitage as there was one key point bothering him.
'Yes?’ Cwen hissed.
'What have you done with the sheep?’
Wat looked at him, clearly not understanding why this as a question of any interest at all.
'They'll be alright,’ Cwen replied, 'between you and me I think most of the time the sheep are herding the villagers, not the other way round.’
There was a scuffle from above and the presence of Cwen departed, sharpening Hermitage's despair at their situation.
'Why do we care about the sheep for goodness sake?’ Wat asked.
'They were nagging me.’
'The sheep were nagging you?’
'Of course. Cwen's now a shepherd apparently, she should be looking after the sheep. If she's not doing it who is? And if no one is, what are the sheep doing with themselves? I like to have everything in its place.’ Hermitage could explain this no more than he could explain why he always put his left sandal on first. 'It's like those threads you trim off the edge of the tapestries.’
'Loose ends?’
'That's it, the sheep are loose ends, and if they aren't taken care of they ruin the whole picture.’
Wat just looked at the monk with a glazed expression, 'I think I'll go and bang my head on the door for a bit, see if anyone comes.’
'Right oh,’ said Hermitage, wondering why Wat would want to do such a thing, but not liking to criticise.
'Isn't it remarkable that Cwen should turn up like this,’ Hermitage managed to forget the sheep for moment, but Cwen felt like a loose end herself, 'imagine her coming all this way on her own.’
'I wouldn't put anything past her,’ Wat called from the door.
Hermitage could see there wasn't any banging of heads going on, Wat was testing the solidity of the door with his boot. It passed.
'I wonder when she decided she was going to come.’ Hermitage asked, thinking something might have happened back in England to prompt Cwen's journey.
'As soon as I told her she couldn't, I expect.’
'Really?’ That didn't sound at all right to Hermitage. He tended to do what he was told straight away, only weeks afterwards realising he should have done no such thing.
'I've learnt that trying to get Cwen to do something she doesn't want to is like trying to make a tapestry by going to the field and asking the sheep to line up in the right order. You can talk to them all you like and they may move about a bit, but they're not taking any notice.’ Wat snorted to himself at the image, 'the only way to make them do what you want is with a dog or a stick, and I don't think I'd try either of those on Cwen.’ He shivered at this idea.
'So you knew she'd come?’
'No,’ Wat returned the main chamber and propped himself on the wall under the light, 'I thought this little exercise would be too mad even for her. I vainly hoped the attraction of being in charge of the workshop would be enough of a temptation.’
'It seems not.’
'It does, doesn't it?’ Wat had a smile lurking around his lips. 'She'd have launched herself at Le Pedvin and the entire Norman army if we hadn't stopped her. God knows what the poor Saxons who brought her here had to put up with. And I pity anyone who doesn't give her the information she needs.’
This caused Hermitage some additional worry, additional to all the other worries that moved around his head, taking it in turns to stand in front and shout at him. 'Do you think she'll be safe?’ he asked Wat.
'No, I think she'll be positively dangerous.’
'Oh dear, oh dear. If she isn't careful she'll come to Poitron's notice. We did tell her to be subtle,’ Hermitage wrung his hands as the worry seeped into his limbs.
'How old do you think she is?’ Wat asked, which momentarily put Hermitage off his stride.
'She'd be, what, seventeen or so?’ It was always hard to judge someone's age, even your own if you didn't keep a very careful count.
'And in seventeen years no one's cut her head off or thrown her off a cliff, although I imagine many have been tempted. She's lucky she's small and still a girl really. When she gets to full womanhood though..,’ Wat left the thought in the dank air.
'You think she'll be in greater danger?’
'I think she'll be really scary.’ Wat's smile had broken out across his face as if he was imagining what Cwen in full flight, at the height of her powers would be capable of.
'You care for her though,’ Hermitage observed.
'Of course,’ Wat replied quickly, 'young girl on her own in the world, only my Christian duty.’
It was Hermitage's turn to smile now. It puzzled him that there appeared to be genuine affection between the weaver and the girl, yet both did their utmost to deny it and behave intolerably to one another most of the time. He shrugged inwardly, there were many complex and puzzling features of God's creation which he needed to understand before he even started thinking about anything as complicated and mysterious as human relationships. And the ones between men and women had so many unique and frankly disturbing aspects that he doubted he would have time to get to them at all. In fact he rather hoped that would be the case.
'Let's just hope her mission is a success,’ Hermitage mused quietly. He was starting to feel very hungry and hoped her mission would be a success quite quickly.
'And let's hope she's gentle with them,’ Wat said, the smile back on his face. 'Of course there is another option.’
'Oh yes?’
'After they've had Cwen for a day or so they might let us out if we promise to take her away.’