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Llelo
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“You handled those people very well,” Hamelin said, in what Llelo interpreted as a clear attempt to make him feel better.
“You handled them well. I completely froze.”
“Still, you managed it in the end.”
“I’m making it up as I go along, I assure you.”
“You’d do better if you dressed the part.” Hamelin put a hand on Llelo’s arm to slow his progress across the inner ward. “Your French is good enough for an Englishman. Nobody need know you’re Welsh.”
Llelo took in a breath, surprised at the insult. But then, as he looked into Hamelin’s face, he understood that Hamelin had spoken innocently and would be surprised to learn that Llelo was bothered by what he’d just said. That recognition slowed his reaction, and he took in another breath before speaking. He wanted Hamelin’s cooperation and, truth be told, his companionship.
So instead of getting angry, he said simply, “I am not ashamed of who I am.”
Hamelin’s expression faltered. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t intend—”
“I know you didn’t, but imagine you’d come to Gwynedd, and similar words had come from my mouth instead of yours?”
Hamelin grunted, and Llelo could tell he was genuinely thinking about what Llelo had suggested. He wasn’t a bad person, just ignorant, which he proved a moment later when he bowed and said, “Please accept my apologies.”
“There is much we don’t understand about each other. Allowances must be made ... on both sides.” Llelo started walking again.
Hamelin took some extra steps to come abreast, and they walked in silence for a few moments. Gradually, their breathing eased, and their postures became more companionable. Llelo decided it was up to him to change the subject, as a peace offering. “I would be surprised if any of those people in there come forward to tell us anything.”
Hamelin had fallen into a long-legged saunter that Llelo couldn’t help but admire. “Earl Robert was beloved. It may look as if nobody was open to your query, but inside, people are worried. You may be surprised at what comes from this.”
“That’s what murder does,” Llelo said, and then at Hamelin’s inquiring look added, “It exposes a community, divides it at times, and unites it at others. Nobody can know of a murder and remain impartial.”
“I believe you.” Hamelin looked at him sideways. “Is that your father speaking, or do you know this from your own experience?”
“Both. I started out at my father’s side, of course—and my mother’s—but I have investigated deaths myself. Once. Mostly I have watched and learned.”
“From the best, I understand.” Hamelin’s expression turned thoughtful. “I admit to having been skeptical when my brother insisted that murder had been done. Even with three deaths at Bristol, it did not seem obvious to me. But now I feel like I must assume it.” They’d come across the inner ward and arrived at the gatehouse.
“My lord says never to assume.” Llelo came to a halt at Hamelin’s side and looked up at the towers that confronted them. The stones of the inner curtain wall were thirty feet high, the battlements crenellated in the same fashion as the keep, and every gatehouse had a fair complement of portcullises and murder holes. “Let the facts speak for themselves, and you will never have to.”
“Aren’t you making an assumption that Sir Aubrey’s death was murder, which is why we’re investigating it?”
Their steps crunched on the gravel. To the right of the first portcullis was the entrance to the guardroom that Thomas had indicated. Llelo’s stomach growled with hunger, and he was sorry it didn’t look as if he was going to get to eat until the evening meal. He’d come a long way since the sight of Sir Aubrey’s head a few hours ago had made him think he might never want to eat again.
“Yes, but even if the stone hadn’t been chiseled out of position, it is equally an assumption that he was not murdered. In that case, better to err on the side of caution and investigate. If Sir Aubrey’s death was an accident, we have lost nothing but time, but if it was intentional—” Llelo broke off as two guards turned to look at them. Their gaze was similar to that of the people in the foyer of the keep: disdainful and curious at the same time.
“Indeed.” Hamelin elbowed him in the ribs to urge him forward.
As Hamelin and Llelo arrived on the threshold of the captain’s office, Harold was striding around the center table, cursing under his breath. The door had been left open, giving Llelo and Hamelin a clear view of the captain’s stiff posture and grim expression before they made themselves known. Beside him, Llelo felt Hamelin brace himself for the interview, and Llelo took a deep breath as well.
At the sight of the young men, however, Harold stopped pacing and turned to look at them. As usual, his first words were directed at Hamelin. “My lord, what brings you here in this grave hour?”
Hamelin gestured, again making sure that Llelo preceded him. If he kept it up, Llelo might start to believe he really respected him. On impulse Llelo stuck out his arm. “I am Llelo ap Gareth. My father is captain of the guard for Prince Hywel of Gwynedd.”
To his credit, Harold didn’t hesitate and grasped Llelo’s forearm. “Harold Edgarson, at your service.”
“You’re Saxon?”
“Are you surprised to see one rise so high in Earl Robert’s service? Out here, we’re all English. Earl Robert rewarded those who were capable. I’m hoping his son will do the same.”
“We have been charged with speaking to the guards about the circumstances surrounding Sir Aubrey’s death,” Llelo said.
Harold sighed. “If I’d been doing my job, Aubrey would still be alive, but as it is ...” He sat heavily in his chair.
Llelo stood awkwardly before him, disconcerted by the man’s frankness. “May I ask you to elaborate?”
“He was only crossing that courtyard to check up on me.”
“Because ...” Llelo left his question deliberately hanging.
“Because I was drinking too much. Although now I’m not, Aubrey wanted to be sure.” He snorted. “Are you surprised I admit this openly? Some would tell me to keep my mouth shut, but I know the prince is asking questions, and I will answer them. In truth, I don’t see what there is to investigate. Nobody could have stopped that stone from falling.”
“While that is true, we must still inquire.” Hamelin shot a look at Llelo, asking permission to say more. “Nobody reported that part of the stonework as weak?”
“Not to me—and evidently not to Sir Aubrey either.”
“We’d like to ask each of your men in turn if they saw anyone on the wall-walk before the meeting,” Llelo said, “or if any strangers entered the castle in the hours beforehand.”
Harold narrowed his eyes at Llelo. “Other than you?”
It was a fair point, and Llelo raised his eyebrows to acknowledge it. “Other than us.”
“Why does it matter?”
Llelo thought it was obvious, but he answered anyway, just to make everything as clear as possible. “In case someone made the stone fall.” He left off the of course. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to keep it back at the last moment.
Harold studied his face. “You think this was murder too? Bad enough to spread the rumor that Earl Robert was killed.” Men like Harold were the foundation of any baron’s retinue. He showed all deference to those in authority above him, but he had clear opinions, which most often he was forced to keep to himself. It was a wise lord who listened to such a man when he talked.
In this instance, however, Harold was Earl William’s man, not Prince Henry’s, and if he was as loyal to William as he’d been to Robert, the flash of disdain could have been for Prince Henry’s suspicions—or equally for Henry himself.
Llelo pressed his lips together for a moment, debating how to respond. Harold was an established soldier akin to Evan. He wouldn’t look on a fifteen-year-old boy as someone with any authority or wisdom. Still, it was Llelo’s job to ask questions, and for that reason, he had to continue. It wouldn’t do to go back to his father with his questions unasked. “It is not my place to believe or disbelieve. Prince Henry asked us to investigate, and that is what we are doing.”
Harold’s expression cleared, and he sat up straighter. “Quite right.”
“May we speak to those on duty this morning?” Hamelin asked.
They were back to Harold’s initial regrets. “Nobody was on any parapet but those above the main gatehouses. The meeting was for a quarter-hour only,” he added, somewhat defensively.
“This meeting occurs every day at the same time?” Llelo asked, just to confirm what Thomas had told them.
“It does, and before you imply that no soldier should be such a creature of habit, this routine was condoned by both Earl Robert and Sir Aubrey. They agreed that the benefit of having every man aware of his tasks and coordinated with every other on duty was worth the slight chance of mischief.” He grunted. “I will be sorry if it cost Sir Aubrey his life.”
“The mason says the stone was deliberately loosened,” Hamelin said. “It was murder.”
Llelo’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t remembered to tell Hamelin that important information like that should be held back if at all possible.
The color drained from Harold’s face. “You tell me truly?”
“Yes.” Llelo tried not to glare at Hamelin, but his shoulders had stiffened. “Though I can also say that if a killer is determined, he will find a way. The quarter of an hour was opportunity, nothing more. Sir Aubrey could just as likely have been set upon in a dark alley in the town, or in his chambers, or in some other circumstance.”
Harold tapped the tips of his fingers on the table before him. “It is common knowledge that I pull most of the men off the battlements for our meeting. The fact that I do it every day—three times a day, in fact—is beside the point.” He paused. “Or maybe that is the point.”
Llelo knew he had to tread lightly, and he constructed his next question carefully in his head before he asked it. “Any good captain calls his men together daily to assign duties.”
“Of course they do, or I wouldn’t have done it!” Harold was on his feet again, back to pacing. He threw out a hand. “Excuses after the fact are worthless, I know, but if I had any defense, it is that we have done this for years, particularly since Earl Robert returned from his captivity. We have lost so many men.” He shook his head. “These boys are young, untrained. They need guidance.” He looked up. “In a way, I’m glad they were all here, so none can be blamed.”
Llelo wanted to say that his father was not one to accuse a man without evidence, but he didn’t think Harold was listening to him anymore.
“And, of course, we did it for Sir Aubrey.”
Llelo blinked. “I’m sorry. Why would that be?” According to the guard—and by Harold’s own surprising admission—they’d done it for Harold.
“He—” Harold stopped, his eyes flicking from Llelo to Hamelin and back again. “You don’t know?”
Llelo spread his hands wide. “No.”
“Sir Aubrey’s wits weren’t ... as sharp as they used to be. It was helpful to him to have the castle run on a strict schedule, unchanging, even.”
Llelo rubbed his chin. “He was having trouble with his memory?”
“Yes.” Harold looked relieved that Llelo had spoken straightforwardly, and with that business done, he turned to Hamelin. “I have doubled the watch and the guards around the prince. I have already spoken to Charles, and he will personally taste any dish that reaches the prince’s table. Accidents or murders, we don’t want any more.”
Hamelin canted his head. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of it.”
Harold gritted his teeth. “It is my place to think of it, though I would never have imagined such precautions necessary inside the castle.”
Llelo would have thought it was precisely his job to imagine those very things, but instead of saying so, he cleared his throat, wanting to get back to Sir Aubrey. “Do you have any further thoughts about what happened today—or these other deaths, for that matter?”
Harold shook his head. “No, and none of the men in my charge do either. They’re good lads, if young.”
“How much interaction did they have with Sir Aubrey or the earl’s servants?”
Harold’s chin firmed. “I know the prince believes murder happened here, but Earl Robert died after being ill for most of this past year. His maid died because her heart gave out; and Bernard drowned.”
“Have such a string of deaths ever happened before at Bristol?” Llelo asked.
Harold didn’t like the question. He was on the edge of patience. “No.” He flicked his fingers. “It is a run of bad luck, I do admit, but nothing that should cause such alarm in the prince. He has many other concerns that should have his attention, surely.”
Llelo tried a different tack. “You are a soldier, sir, and responsible for many men. If several died within weeks of each other, even if all really were accidents, your men might grow concerned that God was punishing them or something wasn’t right at Bristol. Wouldn’t you see it as your duty to dispel their concerns?”
“Perhaps.” Harold pressed his lips together. “The people are uneasy.”
“That’s all this is,” Hamelin stepped in. “Bristol is a stronghold from which Prince Henry intends to retake England for his mother. If the people here are fearful, their uncertainties could spread to his other allies. Any rumor that his mother has given up her claim or that our advantages will no longer be pressed must be squelched immediately.”
“That does make a certain amount of sense. It is well that the prince is thinking so far ahead.” Harold’s eyes turned thoughtful. “Very well—I will make inquiries among my men.”
Llelo risked asking one more question. “Were any missing from duty today?”
“Yes.” Harold was back to frowning, though this time not at Llelo. “The garrison is large, so I call out their names. We were missing only one this morning: George, whose grandfather died yesterday—not at the castle,” he hastened to add. “He’s been ailing and was almost eighty. He lived in the town with George’s sister ...” His voice trailed off.
Llelo looked at him curiously. “Is there something else?”
“This past hour, I did a circuit of the walls, reassuring the men. Aelfric wasn’t at his post, and nobody could tell me where he’d gone, though I know for certain he was here at the morning meeting.”
If Aelfric had been at the meeting, he wasn’t on the battlement tipping off the stone. But if Llelo had learned anything during his years as his father’s apprentice, it was to record every detail and make sense of them later. “Please let me know if you find him, Sir Harold.”
“He couldn’t have had anything to do with Sir Aubrey’s death,” Harold protested.
Llelo looked directly at him. “But he could know something or someone who does—and for some reason may not want to tell us.”
“Because he’s protecting a villain?” Harold grimaced. “I admit he never has been the most reliable of my men.”
A bell tolled above them in the gatehouse, echoing others more distant. Harold looked up at the sound. “I have my own duties to attend to.” He put his heels together and bowed slightly at the waist in Hamelin’s direction. “My lord.” He departed.
“Means, motive, and opportunity,” Hamelin said.
Llelo turned to him. “What was that?” He’d heard those words strung together before, though in Welsh and coming, if he remembered correctly, from Evan.
“It just occurred to me that a murderer needs each of these three things in order to kill someone. He has to have the ability to murder, a reason to do so, and a chance to commit a crime. In a way it’s a blessing that we can eliminate all the guards, because that’s a large number of people to question. It can’t be Sir Harold either, whatever we think of his methods.” Hamelin’s expression turned thoughtful. “Who knew that Bristol Castle had so many undercurrents within it? How could I have been so unobservant? Why does nobody tell me these things?”
“The line between nobleman and servant is sharp and deep, but murder cuts across all groups and classes. I should warn you that it exposes secrets too. Look what we’ve discovered about both Harold and Aubrey that in the course of our normal lives we would have had no business knowing. And I assure you, what we’ve learned so far is only the beginning.”
