The Dragons of Archenfield (Domesday Series Book 3) Read online

  “Who are they, Gervase?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Why do they want to catch me?”

  “To keep you from going to Powys.”

  “But why?”

  “They have their reasons, Angharad.”

  Hoofbeats sounded in the distance and they crouched down at once. The hillside offered little cover. Movement would only attract attention. It was better to lie flat in the hope of not being seen. Gervase pressed her to the ground and kept a hand in the small of her back as they lay side by side. Horses reached the crest of the adjoining hill and the riders paused. Gervase counted a dozen of them.

  He lay quite still, but they did not evade notice. One of the riders pointed in their direction and the others looked towards the hill. The soldiers set off again at a canter. Gervase and Angharad had been seen.

  “Quick!” he said, jumping to his feet and helping her up. “Run, Angharad!”

  “The horses will catch us!”

  “Run!”

  The nearest cover was a clump of bushes at the top of the hill, but they had to race up a steep incline to reach it. Gervase was hampered by her fatigue. Though he tried to pull her along by her hand, Angharad kept stumbling and slowing him down. The thunderous hooves climbed up towards them and the soldiers yelled for them to stop. Gervase would not give in, forcing himself on and making one last effort to reach some sort of cover.

  But their luck finally ran out. The good fortune which had attended them at the castle and in the wood now deserted them. Angharad twisted her ankle and fell. Gervase tried to pick her up, but was kicked to the ground by the first soldier to arrive. He rolled over and reached for his dagger, but he was too late. A spear was already at his throat to pin him where he lay.

  He looked into stern eyes separated by an iron nasal.

  “Who are you?” said the man.

  Goronwy kept the castle of Ewyas Harold under observation, but remained out of view himself. He had had time to rest and take refreshment now, but the food had not satisfied the hunger for revenge that still clawed at him. He wanted more action. Having tasted blood on Richard Orbec's land, he was ready to wade triumphantly into it. Norman castles were well-built, but they had been stormed before. To leave Ewyas Harold a smoking ruin would be to send a signal the length of the whole border: Wales was rampant once more.

  It had started as a search for his stolen bride, but the contest had taken on larger proportions now. Goronwy would not settle for the safe return of Angharad. And he would certainly not pay any ransom for her. Her abduction was a profound insult to him and to the house of Powys. It could only be answered in one way.

  His captain came scrambling up to the vantage point and lay beside him in the bushes. Ewyas Harold castle was a bleak citadel under a lowering sky. The captain appraised it.

  “How many men will it take?”

  “A hundred.”

  “Five times that number are on their way.”

  “The messenger has arrived?” asked Goronwy.

  “Your uncle has responded to your request.”

  “He is sending five hundred men?”

  “No, my lord,” said the man. “He is bringing them.”

  Golde rode back towards Hereford with Canon Hubert and Brother Simon, but her presence still hovered in Archenfield. Ralph Delchard was deeply moved. In the space of a few minutes, he and Golde had made solemn decisions that called for days of serious meditation. Time had not been needed. Simply to see her again had lifted him out of his anxieties and preoccupations. Warnod's will would be a mighty weapon in the forthcoming duels with Richard Orbec and Ilbert Malvoisin. Both men had assumed that it had been destroyed in the blaze at the house. Its appearance as a piece of evidence in the shire hall would astound them.

  Even more pleasing than the will itself was the fact that Golde had brought it. It could just as easily have been sent by messenger, if not retained in Hereford until the commissioners were ready to resume their work there. Golde had taken precious time away from her business to deliver the message in person, even hiring an escort to ride with her. That action brushed away any doubts that Ralph might have had about her feelings towards him.

  He chuckled to himself as he recalled what Idwal had said to him. The archdeacon had finally got something right.

  “Where do we meet them, my lord?” asked his captain.

  “At the next village,” said Ralph.

  “How long will they be?”

  “My message urged all speed.”

  “Will the sheriff respond?”

  “As fast as he may,” said Ralph. “Unless I am very much mistaken, Ilbert Malvoisin looks to be Earl of Hereford one day. He will not gain the title by skulking in the city when there is trouble on the border. He will respond.”

  They were riding northwest in the direction of Richard Orbec's holdings for a rendezvous with the sheriff and his men. The reinforced party could then ride on with confidence to widen the search for Gervase Bret and to hunt for the killers of Warnod and Redwald the reeve. Ralph would be doing what he liked best—taking his men into action with a sword in his hand—but he did not feel the usual thrill of anticipation. Golde kept intruding gently into his mind. He had never met a woman who had so easily and so painlessly taken up lodging in his heart.

  It was baffling. Golde was everything that would normally have rebuffed his interest. She was a woman of Saxon birth, the widow of an unloved husband, and the brewer of a liquid that Ralph regarded as a species of poison. Yet he wanted her. There was a sense of independence about her that drew him ineluctably to her side. His main goal was still to track down his dearest friend. If Gervase were to be found alive, however, Ralph would celebrate the joyous event by racing off to be with Golde.

  “He is still trailing us, my lord,” said the captain.

  “What?”

  “The archdeacon.”

  “Can we never shake him off?” moaned Ralph.

  “He is like a burr—he sticks.”

  Ralph turned in his saddle and saw the diminutive figure a quarter of a mile behind them. Forbidden to ride in their company, Idwal was following in their wake. His whole life was a verbal confrontation between Wales and England. If a real battle was to take place, he did not wish to miss the opportunity to be involved in some dramatic way.

  “Shall I frighten him off?” offered the captain.

  “It would be a waste of time.”

  “What does he want, my lord?”

  “Listeners.”

  They reached the meeting point, but had a long wait before the sheriff finally arrived with fifty men at his back. He thanked Ralph for sending the warning and gave him an account of the precautionary measures he had taken in Hereford itself. The two men rode together at the head of their troops. Ilbert wanted more detail about events on the Orbec demense and Ralph obliged him. The latter then took the opportunity to broach another matter.

  “You know Golde, I see.”

  “She is a presence in the community.”

  “She would be a presence wherever she went,” said Ralph. “But you seemed to have a closer acquaintance with her.

  ” “That is all past,” said the sheriff huffily.

  “Then there was something?”

  “A private matter of no account.”

  “It must have some weight if it still troubles you.”

  “I have put it behind me, my lord. Ask no more.”

  “But I do,” pressed Ralph. “The lady interests me. If you have anything to say against her, take care. You will find me ready to defend her name against all slander.”

  “Then I will hold my tongue.”

  “Why?”

  “The truth might cause offence.”

  “What truth, my lord sheriff?”

  “As I have said, it is all done. We are reconciled.”

  “You cannot leave me in the air like this,” complained Ralph. “There is a charge against the lady's character, I can tell. When I saw the two of you
together, I sensed a tension between you. What was its cause?”

  “Golde is a thief,” said the sheriff bluntly.

  “Never!”

  “I speak but as I know, my lord.”

  “Then speak no more falsehood of her or I will not be answerable for my temper. The lady is abused here. I know it.”

  Ilbert let Ralph sulk in silence for a while then raised the topic that had been exercising his mind. Ralph and he were riding shoulder to shoulder as comrades. The sheriff attempted to build on that relationship.

  “Your help is much appreciated, my lord.”

  “I harry the Welsh in order to regain a friend.”

  “Whatever your motives, it is comforting to have such an experienced soldier at my side. Neither of the men we ride towards would support me as they should. Richard Orbec is too bound up in his own concerns and Maurice Damville is too ambitious to take orders from any man.”

  “Ask the favour,” said Ralph.

  “What?”

  “I know when I am being licked into a giving vein.”

  “That is not the case at all.”

  “Ask the favour and let's have done with it.”

  “It is not a favour, my lord. Merely a request.”

  “Put it to me.”

  “I simply wish to say that I hope we can come to some amicable agreement with regard to your work here.”

  “Of course,” said Ralph. “We'll dispossess you and fine you as ami- cably as we can.”

  “Is there not another course we could pursue?”

  “Do I detect the odour of bribery?”

  “No,” asserted Ilbert, colouring under his helm. “All I ask for is a balance between justice and practicality. If something works well, why change it?”

  “If a man beats his wife well, why stop him?”

  “I have to go on living in Hereford, you do not.”

  “In view of what we have uncovered, I am very grateful.” Ralph clapped him on the shoulder. “Save your breath, my lord sheriff. This is one battle. The shire hall will be another.”

  “I am sure that we can come to an understanding.”

  “We already have.”

  “All it takes is a little effort on both sides.”

  Ralph chuckled as he thought of the document that was safely tucked away in the satchel that Brother Simon had borne off to Hereford.

  “Yes, my lord sheriff,” he said, cheerily. “Where there's a will, there's a way.”

  Richard Orbec watched impassively as they came into the room. Still in full armour, he was standing in the hall of his manor house with an armed soldier on either side of him. Gervase Bret and Angharad had been allowed to wash and change before they faced his interrogation. The men who had run them to earth had been from the demesne in the Golden Valley. Instead of being recaptured by enemies, they were in the hands of a putative friend. At the moment, however, there was nothing friendly in his manner. Orbec kept them on their feet while he fired questions at Gervase.

  “Who is she?” he snapped.

  “Angharad, my lord. Niece of Rhys ap Tewdr.”

  “The prince of Deheubarth?” His interest kindled. “What were you doing with the lady?”

  “It is a long story.”

  “Tell it in full without prevarication.”

  Gervase related all that had happened to him since he had been ambushed on Orbec's demesne. Not understanding a word, Angharad waited quietly with her eyes downcast and her hands folded. She was wearing a man's tunic and mantle. They were much too large and hung in folds about her, but they did not diminish the regal quality that she bore. Listening attentively to Gervase's account, Orbec never let his gaze leave Angharad.

  “Who is this man she rides to Powys to marry?”

  “Goronwy, nephew of the prince.”

  “A murderer!”

  Orbec's explosive denunciation made Angharad jump and she looked to Gervase for comfort. He put a hand on her arm. In a clean tunic and mantle himself, Gervase felt restored and renewed. He was not going to be browbeaten by their host.

  “There is no need to frighten your guest,” he chided. “We did not ask to come here, my lord. If we offend you in some way, lend us horses and we will happily quit your land.”

  “You have been far too happy to trespass on it,” said Orbec. “This is the second time that you were caught here without licence for your visit.”

  “We strayed onto your land by mistake.”

  “And the first time?” He rode over Gervase's gabbled apology. “Yes, my friend. Another mistake.” He turned to Angharad once more. “Does she know she is to wed a killer?”

  “Only too well, my lord.”

  “Oh?”

  “That is why she resists the match. All the time we have been together, she has implored me to save her from this Goronwy. The man's reputation puts the fear of God into her.”

  “His reputation does not deceive,” said Orbec.

  “You know of the man?”

  “He paid me a visit—and killed my reeve.”

  “This same Goronwy?”

  “It had to be him,” insisted Orbec. “He put an arrow in Redwald's unprotected back. And now I know his reason for coming here. There she stands. He thought that I held his bride in captivity. Now I do.”

  Angharad begged for a translation of the words that had darkened Orbec's face even more. Gervase gave her an edited version in Welsh of what was said. She began to tremble.

  “Tell her that I will not harm her,” said Orbec.

  Gervase relayed the message. She replied to it.

  “She begs you not to hand her over,” said Gervase. “She knows that Goronwy is a bad man and will have none of him.”

  “In that, at least, she shows some taste.”

  Orbec looked at her strangely for a long while. Dismissing the two soldiers, he summoned food and wine. When he waved his guests to seats, they sank down with the utmost gratitude. Gervase had never been so pleased to see a tray of meat brought in. The wine tasted like nectar. Angharad ate more sparingly, but emptied her cup within minutes. It seemed to enliven her. Colour returned to her face and animation to her manner.

  “It was not her fault, my lord,” argued Gervase.

  “Fault?”

  “The murder of your reeve. She is hardly more than a child, caught up in the politics of an alliance. If Goronwy did come here in search of her, you should forget Angharad herself and ask another question.”

  “Which is?”

  “Why did this assassin come? What gave him the idea that his betrothed was in custody here?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Then let me put one into your head, my lord,” said Gervase. “Someone told him. Whoever ambushed her escort on the road left your name as the culprit. The same men wanted me out of the way as well, so I was captured on your land. That, too, threw suspicion on you and no doubt brought Ralph Delchard hammering noisily on your door.”

  “Twice,” said Orbec with a faint smile.

  “Does any name suggest itself?”

  “It does.”

  “We both agree on that at least,” said Gervase. “It has been a long day for me, but it has given me ample time to reflect on events. In different ways, Angharad and I were weapons to be used against you. Blame the man who forged us.”

  Angharad leaned across to whisper in Gervase's ear.

  “What does she say?” said Orbec.

  “She asked if you were married, my lord.”

  He recoiled slightly and shook his head. She spoke again.

  “In the chamber where she changed, Angharad saw the gown of a lady. They would not let her put it on.”

  “It is not to be worn,” said Orbec, softly.

  “She took it for your wife's attire.”

  “And so it would have been.”

  Richard Orbec fell silent. The green eyes were fixed on a spot in the air. Neither of them dared to intrude on him. Gervase was touched to see a vulnerable side to an otherwise ha
rd and unyielding man. Angharad needed no translation. The man's grief was all too visible and it was bathed in a deep guilt. His mind was years in the past.

  A tap on the door brought his introspection to an end. In response to his call, a servant entered with deference.

  “Visitors at the gate, my lord.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Ilbert the Sheriff and others besides.”

  “I'll see what they want.”

  Orbec left the hall and Angharad immediately aimed a flurry of questions at Gervase. He made her speak slowly so that he could understand her.

  “What will he do with me?” she asked.

  “I do not know.”

  “Will he hand me over to Goronwy?”

  “No, Angharad,” said Gervase, wanting to put her mind at rest without telling her about the deadly visit of her intended. “That is the last thing he will do. He has a personal score to settle with Goronwy.” “Then he will hold me as a hostage?”

  “I think not.”

  “He is a strange man,” she said. “I cannot tell if he likes me or hates me. His eyes say both things at once.”

  “He will not harm you, Angharad.”

  “When you asked him about a wife … ?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why was he so sad?”

  “Memories.”

  Angharad plied him with more questions and he did his best to answer her. Having been with her only in the most trying circumstances before, it was a joy to sit in comfort and enjoy her company. Footsteps interrupted them. They came running into the house and approached the hall. The door was flung open and Ralph Delchard stood framed in it.

  “Gervase!” he exclaimed. “You're alive and well.”

  “Half-alive.” The two men embraced warmly. “But what are you doing here?”

  “My tale can wait,” said Ralph, dismissively. “How came you here? And who is your charming companion?” He bowed to Angharad then gave Gervase a knowing wink. “Is this lady the reason that you went astray?”

  “In a manner of speaking, she is.”

  “I long to hear this story, but first embrace me again. I thought we'd lost you forever, Gervase.”

  They embraced a second time, then sat down opposite Angharad. Gervase recounted the salient points of his adventures at speed. When the narrative reached Orbec's demesne once more, Ralph became serious.