Hywel
Hywel was concerned about Mari’s absence. Of course he was. But he was also concerned by the fact that he was concerned. It had been a long time since he’d paid attention to any woman for more than one night. The trouble with Mari was that he hadn’t paid attention to her for any night—and every one of his friends, companions, brothers, and the rest—would have his head if he had.
To add to his difficulties, he had to be courteous and diplomatic to a castle full of Normans, any one of whom he would gladly have faced on a battlefield for the sheer pleasure of spilling Norman blood.
Just this morning, Rhun had lectured him about respecting the opinions of others, even when their beliefs differed from his own. Hywel had nodded politely, but rare was the time when Hywel’s internal thoughts coincided with his outward expression. If he spoke what he thought, he would jeopardize everything his father had built in Gwynedd.
So he didn’t.
Hywel eyed Gareth and Amaury, who had finally returned from seeing to his men so they could begin the search for Mari and Prior Rhys. Gareth was one of the few men with whom Hywel felt he could share his opinions to any degree. But knowing that Amaury had lied about the empress’s presence, even if ordered to by Philippe, made Hywel distrust every word coming from Amaury’s mouth.
“My lord.” Gareth turned to Hywel. “Amaury suggests that we begin the search along the river.”
“In case they drowned?” Hywel said. “Rhys is a wounded man and Mari couldn’t have gone ten paces with him outside the castle without someone noticing.”
Amaury coughed. “The castle is very busy. There’s the postern gate, though we checked with the guard and he saw nothing.”
“I assume he wasn’t drunk?” Gareth said.
“Or bribed?” Hywel said.
Amaury ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t think much of the discipline of my men, do you?”
“Most men can be bought if the price is right,” Hywel said.
“Perhaps the wall walk—” Amaury stopped, his face flushing.
“Do you suggest she descended by rope like Alard? Don’t be absurd.” Hywel knew he was being rude, but he had no patience for this. Mari had been gone most of the day, and Hywel felt like it was his fault. He had deliberately not gone to check on her because of his conflicting emotions, busying himself with meeting and greeting the dozens of Norman noblemen here at Newcastle. And now she’d disappeared to God knew where.
“Mari would go down that rope if she had to, but I can’t see her doing it in broad daylight,” Gwen said. “Someone would have noticed. Certainly, Prior Rhys would have been in no condition to do so.”
“Is there another way out of the castle besides the two gates?” Hywel said.
Gwen peered at Amaury. “You’ve just had an idea. What is it?”
“There is another way, but I can’t imagine...”
Hywel glared at him. To his credit, Amaury didn’t wilt under his gaze, and Hywel’s estimation of the man went up a notch.
“The tunnel,” Amaury said.
“What tunnel?” Rhun said.
“You’re not supposed to know about it,” Amaury said, “and Philippe will surely have my head for telling you. It runs north from underneath the old motte. Earl Robert started his work on the expansion of Newcastle before he knew of it and decided to continue despite the hole it created in his defenses. It isn’t so different from a postern gate except that access to it is more hidden.”
“Would Prior Rhys have known of it?” Hywel said.
“Rhys has lived a quiet life since he joined the monastery, or so I understand,” Rhun said, “but from what I’ve seen of the man, he always has his eyes open, watching, even if he’s too much of a man of God to pass judgment. I would be surprised if he didn’t know of it.”
With Rhun’s observation, Hywel reminded himself—and not for the first time—that just because his brother thought the best of everyone didn’t mean that he was simple. He had a strategic intellect that observed everything, even if he, like Prior Rhys, kept his judgments to himself.
Amaury looked nonplussed. “I don’t know about that, but I can tell you that while the initial entrance to the tunnel was in the old keep, built by the original owner of the castle, another entrance was added after the tunnel was explored and enlarged.”
“Where’s the entrance?” Gareth said.
“I can show you,” Amaury said. “It leads away from the river.”
“As you would expect,” Hywel said, “else it would be full of water year round.”
Amaury shrugged. “Earl Robert has great plans for the defenses of the castle, including the construction of a moat, but in order to do that, the tunnel will be drowned.”
“I can see how the earl would have to weigh the cost of one versus the benefit of the other,” Hywel said. “Will you lead us to it now?”
Amaury didn’t answer. He seemed to be warring with himself as to what to do.
“You’ve told us about it,” Gwen said, “and it’s too late to take the knowledge back.”
Amaury clenched his jaw and then jerked his head in a nod. “I am tasked with discovering the truth about David’s death. Earl Robert will forgive me for following where that investigation leads.”
“Thank you. Not every man would have your courage to do what was right, even if it means countering a direct order.” Hywel bent his neck. “We appreciate your candor.”
“I suggest you stay here, my lords,” Gareth said to Hywel and Rhun. “It would be better if neither of you involved yourself further in this, for your own safety and in pursuit of amicable relations between Gwynedd and England.”
Hywel scoffed. “How could those words have possibly come from your mouth?”
Gareth had the grace to look abashed. “I apologize for suggesting it, my lord, but it would be better if you stayed here. Evening is coming on. What if Earl Robert invites you to his table?”
“Then he’ll just have to eat with Rhun.” Hywel turned to his brother. “You can tell him I’m indisposed.”
Rhun nodded. He enjoyed an adventure as much as Hywel, but he was the elder son and took his responsibilities seriously. He knew Hywel would tell him all about it when he got back.
“He doesn’t have to know that it won’t mean what it usually means,” Rhun said in Welsh.
Hywel’s eyes narrowed at his brother, suppressing a sudden anger that what Rhun had said was all too true. His reputation among the ladies was well known. While he hadn’t always been as circumspect with his women as he might have, he was growing wiser in his old age. Hywel took in a breath and let his shoulders relax. Rhun was right. It was likely that Hywel’s reputation had preceded him and would serve him in this instance.
All things being equal, Hywel didn’t care one bit about what any Norman might think of him, but he hated to feel at a disadvantage or to be looked down upon. It was bad enough that among Normans, Rhun and he possessed a lesser status because they were born illegitimate. At Newcastle, however, the circumstances of their birth were never mentioned because Earl Robert was a bastard too, and that put them all on equal footing, at least in this.
Hywel gestured to Amaury. “Lead on.”
Amaury did, taking them into the basement of the northwest tower of the curtain wall. As they approached the entrance to the tunnel, the two soldiers who guarded it rose to their feet and stood at attention. They’d been sitting at a table. At the sight of Amaury, one of them said, “Sir.”
“Has anyone passed this way on your watch?” Amaury said.
“No, sir,” the man said.
Hywel looked closer at the man. He’d been looking down, which wasn’t unusual for a subordinate. “How long have you been on duty?”
“Since none, my lord,” the man said, again with downcast eyes.
“We would like to pass this way,” Amaury said. “No one is to follow us, is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord,” the man said.
The second man had remained silent, his chin up, staring at the wall behind Amaury. He was inordinately tall, which meant that Hywel, who wasn’t a short man, had to look up to see into his face as he passed him. The man kept his face impassive. Hywel walked by them and entered the tunnel.
“These English lie too well,” he said to Gwen in Welsh.
“It’s because they’re used to it,” Gwen said.
They’d both been speaking in a low voice, but even so, their voices had echoed down the passage. If someone else was down here, he and Gwen had given away their position.
“The time the guard gave us tells us nothing,” Gareth said, overhearing, “since we don’t know what time Mari and Prior Rhys left his room.”
“We know it was after he sent Tomos to Gareth,” Gwen said. “I wish he could have spoken to any of you who remained at the castle. Where did you spend the day such that he couldn’t find you?”
Hywel let out a sharp burst of air, cursing under his breath for the hundredth time since he’d discovered Mari’s absence. “Evan watched my back as I wooed different Norman lords. Rhun and Gruffydd rode to the Earl of Chester’s camp and returned to the castle only moments before you arrived. With everyone coming and going so often, I can see why Tomos gave up and rode to find Gareth, but I wish he’d tried harder to find me.”
“He’s just a boy,” Gwen said. “My hope is that Mari and Prior Rhys simply gave up on his return and left the castle of their own volition.”
“That is my hope too,” Hywel said.
The tunnel looked nothing like the tunnels underneath Aber Castle. Although Hywel’s father maintained them and kept them clear of debris, he couldn’t keep back the damp, and the ceiling ran only a few inches above Hywel’s head. Here, the tunnel was natural, not dug out of the dirt, made by God and of solid stone. The ceiling arched above Hywel’s head, curving this way and that as the tunnel meandered downwards from the entrance.
“You said there was more than one passage?” Gwen said.
“I did.” Amaury plucked a lantern from where it hung on the wall and handed it to Gareth while he lit a second one. “But only one comes out the other side.”
“I assume you know the right one?” Gareth said.
“I do,” Amaury said.
“Before we begin, allow me to walk a little ahead and check for footprints,” Gareth said.
He held his lantern and cat-walked forward twenty paces, holding the light close to the ground. He went a little further and then came back. “I can’t be sure what I’m seeing because I want to see footprints. I’ll walk ahead with Amaury because once we pass by, our feet will obscure the prints of those who went before us.”
Clear water dripped from the ceiling, reflecting the light of the lanterns off the golden stones that surrounded them. The companions followed Amaury for a quarter of an hour, twisting through this tunnel and that before finally heading upwards again. Hywel could hear Gareth counting his paces in front of him. For Hywel’s part, he’d already built a mental map of their journey and could have returned on his own, even in the dark. His senses told him that the tunnel had skirted the village of Newcastle to the west and come out the other side.
Amaury lowered his lantern and stopped. Ahead, a faint light cut through the darkness. “We’re almost there.”
“I haven’t seen any sign so far of Mari and Prior Rhys,” Gareth said. “I apologize, my lord, if this was a fool’s errand.”
“We had to know,” Hywel said. “We haven’t come out in one piece yet, either.”
Gareth took Gwen’s hand and now paced with her just behind Hywel. “What are the chances this turns bad?”
Amaury’s brows came together. “Why would you even say that?”
Gareth gave a mocking laugh. “Stick with Gwen and me. You’ll see.”
Hywel smirked, and they exited the tunnel. Like the entrance back at the castle, this one was located in a damp basement. Then his smile faded as he saw the two guards who were supposed to be protecting the tunnel. They sat on benches at a table, heads down on their arms, unmoving.
Gareth shot Amaury a grim smile. “See what I mean? It’s inevitable.” He released Gwen and put a finger to the neck of the first man. “He’s alive.”
“This one is too,” Gwen said from the opposite side of the table. “His pulse is faint, but present.”
“My impulse is to send you back to the castle for help, Gwen, but I don’t want you going off on your own,” Hywel said.
“We should just go on,” Gwen said.
Amaury gestured towards the inclined corridor leading out of the guardroom. “Earl Robert took this over when he claimed Newcastle. We are underneath an old country chapel, long abandoned in favor of St. Giles.”
Hywel looked up. The foundations of the church had been grafted onto the natural stones. Thick wooden beams grew from floor to ceiling to support what was above them.
Amaury had already started walking and Hywel followed, but then he stopped when Gwen hesitated, her hand on her stomach. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Gwen said.
“Then let’s move. We need to find Mari.” Hywel continued on without waiting for her. He’d learned over the years that there were few situations he couldn’t handle merely by declaring that he could. Even at fourteen, when his father sent him to roust one of his knights who’d betrayed him, Hywel had sat on his horse, watching the man’s steading burn, while a feeling of cold certainty settled onto his shoulders and wrapped itself around him like a cloak. He’d worn that mantle ever since. Hywel could always do what had to be done.
But the anxious feeling he’d felt in his chest ever since he’d learned of Mari’s disappearance had him concerned that his surety had abandoned him.
The passage opened into the crypt of the church. Stone sarcophagi had been placed on ledges on either side of the passage. Twenty feet long at most, it ended at a door. “This opens onto a stairway which rises behind the altar in the choir.”
“Do you hear voices?” Gwen said, her ear to the wooden panel.
Hywel didn’t stop. It was time to move this along. He didn’t want to be reckless, but he heard the voices too, and one of them sounded like Mari’s. He pulled on the door, which was closed but not locked, and stepped through it, his sword extended. As Amaury had indicated would happen, he stood on a stone slab at the bottom of a set of stairs that rose above him to his own height, approximately six feet.
Gareth had come through the door just behind him, and together they took the stairs up two at a time. They came out behind the altar and turned toward the voices, which were coming from an alcove to their right. Hywel hadn’t been able to see the alcove at first due to the pillars that ran from floor to ceiling—or had once done when the chapel had a ceiling.
Amaury hadn’t been misleading them when he’d said the chapel was abandoned. Most of the roof was gone, along with three-quarters of the walls. All that was left of the nave were the pillars, the stone altar, and the wall at the back of the church. The chapel had become hardly more than a grassy clearing, though flagstones still poked through the grass near the altar.
Three people stared at them from the former alcove: Mari, Prior Rhys, and a third man Hywel didn’t recognize. “Cariad, are you all right?” Hywel strode towards Mari and caught her up in his arms before she could answer.
Mari hugged him back, and then he reluctantly released her.
“I’m-I’m fine.” Mari’s eyes were wide as she clutched his arms.
She then glanced at the third man, a worried expression on her face. Given his greying hair and the lines on his forehead and around his eyes, the stranger was at least twenty years older than Mari and Hywel, similar in age to Prior Rhys, who stood next to him.
“How did you find us?” While Rhys’s face was very pale and he clutched his cloak around his shoulders, he didn’t waver on his feet. “Did Gareth get my message?”
Hywel gestured to Amaury, who had entered the chapel with Gwen and joined them in the alcove. “Eventually,” Hywel said.
“We didn’t know where you’d gone, of course, but I thought this was a place worth looking,” Amaury said.
Mari released Hywel’s hand to hug Gwen and give her a peck on the cheek. “We were very worried,” Gwen said.
“I’m sorry to have frightened you,” Mari said.
“Mari wanted to tell you where she was going, my lord,” Rhys said to Hywel, “but neither she nor Tomos could find you. I did the best I could by sending a message to Gareth.”
Hywel made a gesture of dismissal, accepting the apology even though his instinct was the opposite. “All is forgiven if you tell me why.”
Mari took in a deep breath. “My lord Hywel, may I introduce you to my father, Ralph de Lacy.”