Chapter Seventeen

Gwen

 

 

The older man beside Prior Rhys bowed low. “My lord.”

Gwen’s hand went to her mouth. Mari gave her a tremulous smile, and Gwen noticed the dried tear tracks on her cheeks that looked to be renewed at any moment.

Hywel was looking daggers at Ralph. “We thought you were dead. You let Mari believe you were dead.”

Gwen blinked at the fierceness in Hywel’s voice. He was angry.

Ralph bowed his head. “I have been serving my empress.”

“You left your daughter to fend for herself,” Hywel said, “while you’ve been alive this whole time?”

“I made sure she was cared for—”

“You let her think she no longer had a father!” Hywel’s hands clenched into fists.

Ralph didn’t flinch or raise his voice. “It was necessary.”

Mari put a hand on Hywel’s arm and spoke in rapid Welsh. “Thank you, my lord. But it’s all right.”

“It isn’t all right.” Hywel was still glaring at Ralph. “Why did you do it? How could you do it? And why reveal yourself now?”

“What I did then, I did out of loyalty to my sovereign, just as I serve her now by coming forward,” Ralph said. “As I was just saying to Peter—I mean, Rhys—I have learned of a plot that threatens Prince Henry’s life. Saving him is more important than continuing my deception.”

“We know of the plot,” Amaury said.

Gwen glanced at him, curious that, like Hywel, his hands were clenching and unclenching as if he were struggling to control his emotions.

“Where have you been all this time?” Gareth said.

“Like Rhys, I changed my name, though instead of retreating to a monastery, I made my way to the court of King Stephen.”

“But not because you switched sides?” Gwen said. “You’ve continued to work for the empress?”

“Yes.”

Hywel made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Tell us about this plot and how you discovered it.”

“It was a matter of following the emeralds,” Ralph said. “I understand you know of them too.”

Hywel’s arm came around Mari’s waist, and he looked down at her. It looked like he’d managed to rein in his temper, because his words were soft, “I wouldn’t have had you mention the emerald to your father.”

“He knew about the gems already but not for whom they were destined,” Mari said. “It seemed important that we pool our information before it was too late.”

Hywel nodded and then looked back to Ralph. “Tell us what you do know.”

“William of Ypres, King Stephen’s spymaster, has been paying off men in the empress’s retinue since Stephen was crowned king,” Ralph said. “It was to discover who these traitors were that I joined King Stephen’s service in the first place.”

“How did that come about?” Gareth said. “How did you convince King Stephen of your loyalty?”

“Earl Robert arranged for me to be attached to Ranulf when he was still a member of the king’s company. When Ranulf defected to the empress a few years later, I stayed, having established myself as a loyal retainer.”

Gareth nodded. “And yet you choose this moment to jeopardize everything for which you’ve worked so hard?”

Ralph sniffed. “William of Ypres found someone close to the empress who agreed to murder Prince Henry for the payment of four emeralds. I had no choice but to come in the hope that I’d be in time to stop him. I hadn’t realized that Prince Henry was due to arrive at Newcastle so soon until my daughter told me of it.”

“Why not send a message?” Hywel said.

“I did not dare in case it was intercepted. It has been many years since I lived among Earl Robert’s men, and I didn’t know whom I could trust. My instincts told me that other than my friend, Alard, I might be able to tell only the empress herself of what I’d learned. When I got word that she would be arriving at Newcastle tomorrow, I resolved to come myself.”

Gwen pursed her lips. That was a chain of events she could actually understand.

Ralph continued, “But in the hours since I arrived, David and John have died, Alard is accused of murdering them, my own daughter and former friend are involved somehow—and nobody is at all concerned about the welfare of the prince.”

“That would be because we had no idea who might be behind such a plot if that man is not Alard,” Gareth said, “and he has strongly asserted his innocence in this matter.”

“Was it you on the wall-walk with Alard when we first arrived?” Gwen said. “Was it you who met Alard by the river … and killed John?”

Ralph’s mouth twitched, hinting at a smile, though Gwen couldn’t see how taking a man’s life could ever be amusing. “I hoped nobody had seen me, either at the castle or beside the river. I was very careful to leave no signs of myself.”

“You left boot prints,” Gareth said.

“You understand that my first act, after I left King Stephen’s court, would have been to contact Alard? He was the only one, besides Rhys and the empress herself, who knew of my mission all these years. Alard and I met in secret every few months—though I hadn’t seen him since he was sent to Scotland.”

“And the real traitor?” Hywel said.

“I don’t know who’s behind the plot. The man is surely high up in the empress’s ranks,” Ralph said.

Amaury stepped into the ring around Ralph. “We need to know everything you do.” The Norman’s face was both intent and anxious. “Begin with the emeralds, if you will.” Then his brow furrowed, and he turned to Hywel. “Tell me, my lord, how is it that you know of them?”

“Could it be Ranulf who is betraying the Empress?” Hywel said.

“I don’t know,” Ralph said.

“I would know if the traitor was Ranulf,” Amaury said, irritation rising in his voice. Hywel had ignored his question in favor of interrogating Ralph. “I am the castellan at Chester, after all—”

Thwtt!

An arrow whipped by Gwen’s cheek and lodged in a pillar to the right of Ralph. It had come so close to her she’d felt the feathers on her skin. Then Amaury staggered and fell to one knee, an arrow high in his chest, near his left collarbone. Gwen gasped, without even the presence of mind to dive to the ground. Fortunately, Gareth, Hywel, and Prior Rhys moved instead: Gareth to throw himself on top of Gwen and bring her to the ground, Hywel to do the same for Mari, and Prior Rhys to clutch at Amaury and cover his body with his own.

“Stay down, all of you!” Gareth said, though he himself lifted his head and gazed around the chapel.

Gwen turned her head to one side. Mari lay in the grass with Hywel crouched over her. She looked at Gwen with wide eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Gwen said.

Mari shook her head.

“Where is Ralph?” Hywel looked right and left, much like Gareth.

“I don’t know!” Gareth moved off of Gwen, cursing under his breath, though he still kept a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. He swiveled on the toe of his boot, scanning their surroundings.

“We need to get the women to safety,” Hywel said.

“I know. Come this way.” Gareth grabbed Gwen’s arm to help her up and urged her towards the back of the altar and the stairs that led down to the crypt. “Stay here.”

A moment later, Mari crouched beside her.

“What about Amaury?” Gwen said.

Hywel scuttled to where Prior Rhys held the Norman knight in his arms. “How is he?”

“Bleeding, but breathing,” Rhys said. “If we can get him help, I don’t think the wound has to be fatal. I don’t dare withdraw the arrow, however, until we have a way to stop the flow of blood.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Amaury said, his voice low and guttural. “Find Ralph.”

“We can do both.” Gareth jogged to Rhys’s side.

Gwen’s stomach roiled again, afraid she’d see an arrow appear in his chest.

Hywel glanced towards Mari and Gwen. “I’m sorry, Mari. I don’t see your father.”

“Likely, the archer is long gone, too,” Gareth said.

“You and I should go for help, Gwen. Gareth and Hywel can track my father and the shooter.” Mari’s face was very pale, but she wasn’t in tears.

“That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all day,” Hywel said. “Go, Mari. Now. Through the tunnel.”

Gwen caught Mari’s arm before she dashed away. “Do you know the tunnel well enough to find your way back? Because I don’t.”

Mari looked to Hywel, who said, “It would be safer, surely.”

“Not if we get lost,” Gwen said.

“She’s right, my lord,” Gareth said. “The archer wasn’t after the women. I want them safe, too, but getting lost underneath Newcastle is surely not the best way to accomplish that.”

“Send them to the friary for help. Amaury’s life depends upon it.” Rhys pointed to an arrow lying in the grass ten feet from him. “The archer may not have accomplished what he came for, but he would know better than to remain in his roost this long.”

Gareth bent to pick up the arrow. He looked at it and then held it out to Hywel. “There’s blood on it.”

“Do you think the arrow hit my father?” Mari’s voice went high.

Hywel strode to her. “He was well enough to run, and he’s an old soldier. He’ll be all right.”

“They should do as Rhys suggests,” Gareth said. “The healer at the friary can send a cart and bandages for Amaury. Perhaps if your father is injured, he will take refuge there as well. You and I, my lord, should do what we can from here.”

Mari bobbed her head in jerky agreement. Gwen took her elbow, and the two women set off at a half-run. Their skirts hindered the movement of their legs, but they discarded modesty and lifted their hems, following an overgrown track that started at the front of the abandoned chapel and ran southeast. Gwen wasn’t sure if she couldn’t feel her ankle because she hadn’t injured it very badly or if her anxiety was blocking out the pain.

“Do you know the way to the friary?” Mari said.

Gwen gestured ahead of them. “That’s Newcastle there.” She could see one of the many towers poking above the trees to the southwest. “I’m following my nose, but the tunnel dumped us out to the north of the town. We might be on the friary lands already without knowing it.” Gwen glanced at her friend. “Are you all right?”

“I wouldn’t even know,” Mari said.

“How did you end up in that clearing with your father and Prior Rhys?”

“A man sent by my father came for us,” Mari said. “He was very straightforward about what he wanted. He simply handed me a letter written in my father’s hand, asking for Prior Rhys and me to come to him. Prior Rhys didn’t want to leave until he’d told someone where we were going. He sent a message to Gareth through his servant, Tomos.”

“Unfortunately, we were not at the camp to get it,” Gwen said.

Mari nodded. “We’d only talked for a few moments before you arrived.”

“But you’ve been gone for hours,” Gwen said. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Once we arrived at the chapel, the messenger told us that my father would show himself only when he was sure that we hadn’t been followed.”

Gwen shook her head. “Perhaps he waited too long, given that the archer got so close. Was it he who subdued the two guards at the tunnel’s exit?”

“What guards?” Mari said. “What do you mean subdued?”

Gwen pinched her lips together. “I’ll tell you later. It’s more important to know the rest of what your father said to you.”

“We had so little time before you came,” Mari said. “He did apologize for leaving me alone.”

“Did he tell you why?” Gwen said.

The track led them into the friary from the rear, through the gardens. By now the sun had gone down behind the hills to the west, but Gwen could still see well enough to navigate.

After a short pause, Mari said, “He said disappearing was the only way to protect me.”

“From what?” Gwen said.

The two women slowed to a walk as they pushed through a gate between an orchard and the kitchen garden.

“I don’t know.” Mari shrugged. “I’m surprised to find myself calmer than I ever would have expected about it. I can’t change my father. I can’t change the past. Let’s get to the healer.”

Gwen and Mari hustled through the garden and almost ran into a brother bending over an herb bed with a hoe, pulling at a last few weeds before the onset of full dark.

He straightened. “May I help you?” He was youngish—thirty perhaps—and had kilted his robe so the hem didn’t trail in the dirt while he worked. Another man hoed the garden ten feet away. He wore breeches and a shirt, which meant he was a lay brother, not a monk.

“A man has been shot, one of the knights in Earl Ranulf’s company,” Gwen said without preamble. “We need a stretcher, bandages, and the healer if you have one.”

“I am Matthias, the herbalist.” Then he pointed at the second man. “Find me three others to help.” He turned back to Gwen. “Where?”

“The old chapel.” Gwen gestured to the northwest. “Do you know it?”

Matthias’s brows drew together in an expression of concern, but he nodded. The other man ran off, still holding his hoe, and Matthias followed, headed towards the center of the monastery. Mari and Gwen trotted after him.

Gwen had seen larger monasteries, but none richer than this friary. The stained glass in the windows, the slate roofs, the well-tended grounds, and the bustle in the courtyard all pointed to considerable wealth. Maybe all monasteries in England were better supported than their Welsh counterparts, but either way, Gwen had hope that their infirmary would be well-stocked. And more importantly, that this healer was knowledgeable. He certainly exuded confidence.

Gwen and Mari arrived in the courtyard, breathless, and pulled up at a sign from the healer. “Wait here.”

Gwen bent over, her hands on her knees. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d run as far as this. She tried to calculate the relationship of the castle to the friary and to the chapel and decided that the three locations formed an uneven triangle, with the chapel at the northernmost point.

Matthias had disappeared, but he came hustling back a quarter of an hour later with another monk. “A cart will meet us on the track that leads to the chapel. Take me to your man.”

Breath or no breath, Mari and Gwen set off again. And it was only after they arrived back at the chapel that Gwen remembered Mari’s father. She had forgotten to ask about him, and she and Mari had seen no sign of him.