Dragon's Lair (12 page)

"Possible," Llewelyn acknowledged. "Men capable of murder and robbery would not have any qualms about betrayal. Still, though… there is one weakness in that argument. Whoever carried out the robbery made no mistakes. It was well planned well executed. I very much doubt that anyone hired by Selwyn could have done it. He'd have been looking for men who were stupid and strong, men who could be relied upon to take orders without getting any notions of their own."

"'Men without ballocks or brains,'" Justin said thoughtfully remembering what Thomas de Caldecott had told him in that Chester alehouse. "Those are Davydd's own words about the men sent out on the hay-wains. I see your point. Selwyn would be too shrewd to use men likely to turn on him."

"It is not enough that he sent those men to their deaths. No, he must slander their memories, too." Sion had come in so silently from the sacristy that neither Llewelyn nor Justin had heard him, and they both leapt to their feet at the sudden sound of his voice.

"You did not know those men, Master de Quincy," Sion said quietly. "I did. They did not lack for 'ballocks or brains.' Alun's only failing was his age; he'd lived more than sixty winters and had wobbly, aching bones. Madog… well, Madog may have been slow-witted, but he was a strong, strapping lad with a good heart. And Rhun may be just a stripling, but he is clever and capable, never has to be told twice to do a task. They deserve better than to be dismissed out of hand as simpletons. All the talk has been of recovering the ransom. But no one - not even you, my lord Llewelyn - has spoken of the need to give them justice. Someone ought to pay for their deaths."

"Iestyn was not voicing his own opinion, Sion. That scornful phrase 'ballocks or brains' came from Davydd's own mouth." Llewelyn had spoken in Welsh, but he now switched back to French for Justin's sake, "You are right, though. This attack upon three innocent men deserves our attention, our outrage."

"'Three men'?" Sion queried. "What of the fourth - Selwyn?"

Llewelyn shrugged. "If we are right in our suspicions, Selwyn was no innocent."

Sion's eyes flicked from one to the other. "You think Selwyn was involved in the robbery? For what it's worth, he never struck me as a man overburdened with scruples. But I very much doubt that he would have dared such an audacious undertaking on his own. It is more likely that he was obeying orders."

Llewelyn nodded. "Ah, but whose?"

Justin saw where the Welshman was going with that. "You are suggesting that Selwyn was the one who betrayed Davydd, only to be betrayed himself?"

Llewelyn nodded again and elaborated for Sion's sake, "We are proceeding on the supposition that Davydd planned to steal the ransom and blame it on me. But Iestyn is convinced that Davydd does not know where the ransom is, so we are assuming that there is another her player in the game. We've dismissed the idea of Selwyn's hirelings turning on him, so if not them, who then?"

Sion was frowning pensively. "Selwyn never lacked for ballocks. Mayhap he was the one who decided to turn on Davydd?"

Llewelyn and Justin exchanged glances and saw that here, too, they were of one mind. "We have the same problem with that," Justin explained to Sion. "Selwyn would not have hired men likely to show too much enterprise, whether they were robbing for Davydd or robbing for him. But we think it possible that Selwyn was induced or bribed to change sides, only to discover that his new allies were even less trustworthy than Davydd. You knew the Sion. How loyal was he to Davydd?"

Sion was not one to make quick judgments and he took his time in responding. "Selwyn was loyal only to Selwyn. But he was shrewd and would not have been easily duped. If he decided to throw his lot in with these 'new allies,' he must have been convinced they could outwit Davydd or protect him from Davydd's wrath. In other words, people who either had power of their own or were slick enough to convince Selwyn they did."

"So..." Llewelyn concluded, "Iestyn need only find out the identity of these unknown evildoers, and we can recover the ransom."

"'We can recover the ransom'?" Justin echoed, with enough emphasis on the pronoun to set a grin tugging at the corner of Llewelyn's mouth.

"Yes, 'we,'" he said blandly. "We have a common interest here, after all. You want the ransom and I'd rather not let Davydd get away with blaming me for the theft, not when it would bring down the wrath of the English Crown on my head."

Later, it would surprise Justin to realize how easily they had begun to exchange the barbed banter that was the coin of the realm in male friendships. Now, he shot back with a sardonic "What are you saying, Llewelyn? That we are allies all of a sudden?"

"You could do worse, my lad," the Welshman gibed. "To be more accurate, though, I'd say we are friendly adversaries."

"If word of this gets back to Davydd or the Earl of Chester," Justin said, "we'll be seen as partners in crime!" He was fast learning that Wales was a mystery maze that few could penetrate, an enigmatic land in which naught was as it first appeared. But nothing seemed more unlikely to him than that he should find himself in this peaceful Cistercian church, sharing a laugh Llewelyn ab Iorwerth.

~*~

Justin spent the night at the abbey guest house, while Sion rode off with Llewelyn, promising to return on the morrow. It had been agreed upon that he would escort Justin back to Rhuddlan Castle, although he was not going to accompany him the way; he planned to stay away another few days, having gotten leave from Davydd to visit his brother. He did not want anyone to connect Justin's disappearance with his absence, he'd explained, and Justin could only marvel at the shadow world of spies like Sion and Durand, where even the most minor detail could mean discovery and discovery could mean death.

Sion turned up at the abbey guest house the next morning, and to Justin's surprise, Llewelyn was with him. When Justin asked about his safety, he smiled and shrugged, saying the White Monks of Aberconwy knew how to tell genuine coin from a counterfeit, and Justin remembered Angharad's comment about the support Llewelyn enjoyed amongst the Welsh. "Poor Davydd," he said wryly, and the Welshman laughed. But as they rode away from the abbey, it would be Llewelyn's last words that Justin would remember, not his laughter.

Llewelyn and a handful of his men were standing by the abbey gatehouse as Justin and Sion waved in farewell. "English!" he called out suddenly. "You are going into the dragon's lair. Bear that in mind, and watch your back!"

Chapter 7

August 1193

Rhuddlan Castle, Wales

"Iestyn!"

Dismounting in the castle bailey, Justin turned toward the sound of a familiar voice. He was getting used to responding to the Welsh version of his name. Angharad was hastening toward him, looking so distraught that he quickly handed the reins to a waiting groom and strode toward her.

"Iestyn, thank God you are back! Where have you been for the past two days? Do you know what a hornet's nest you stirred up?"

"Angharad, I left a message for Thomas. Are you saying he did not get it?"

"No, he got it, but he found no comfort in it. You told us nothing, after all, just that you were going off on your own. Thomas was vexed at first that you'd not confided in him, but when you did not return last night, he began to fear the worst. He was so disquieted that he insisted upon returning to Chester and letting the earl know that you'd gone missing."

"God's Blood!" This was a complication Justin did not need.

He was sorry he'd worried Thomas, even sorrier that he'd have no answersi for the knight. He could hardly tell Thomas that he'd been meeting on the sly with their chief suspect. "Is Davydd wroth with me, too?"

"Actually," she said, slipping her arm through his as they headed toward the hail, "I think he is hoping that you fell off a cliff or were eaten by a wolf."

"Well, the day is not a total loss, then. At least I get to disappoint Davydd."

And disappoint Davydd, he did. "You're back, are you?" the Welsh prince said sourly. "You'd damned well better have a good explanation for all the trouble you've caused. De Caldecott insisted that I send men out to search for you. Why he should care is beyond my comprehension, but he made an utter nuisance of himself until I agreed. So suppose you tell us why you took off like that and just where you've been for the past two days."

"I cannot do that, my lord, not yet. As I told you before, I can share my findings with no one until I've completed my investigation."

"Surely you can confide privately in my lord husband?" Emma's contribution to the conversation came as a surprise to Justin and Davydd both. She'd approached them soundlessly and was now regarding Justin so coolly that she seemed a totally different woman from the one who'd sought him out in the castle gardens, "These are Lord Davydd's domains, after all," she continued. "So he of all men ought to be kept informed of whatever you discover."

Looking startled but gratified by this wifely support, Davydd glared at Justin. "Indeed! I'll tell you straight out, de Quincy, that I find your secrecy offensive."

"As well you should, my lord husband." Emma was addressing Davydd, but those beautiful blue eyes were taking Justin's measure and finding him wanting. "What you do not seem to realize, Master de Quincy, is that by balking at sharing information with Lord Davydd, you raise suspicions in other men's minds. People might well think that you do not trust him or even that you suspect him of complicity in this wretched business."

"Me?" Davydd protested, swinging around to stare at his wife, "How could I possibly be involved?"

"I can only promise you, my lord Davydd, that once I learn what happened to the ransom, you will be the first one to know." Justin saw that he had satisfied neither Davydd nor Emma, and as he looked about the great hall, he was acutely aware of his isolation, an unwanted alien in a land not his, not knowing enough to solve the mystery of the missing ransom, knowing just enough to put himself in peril.

~*~

Justin had been stung by Sion's accusation that no one seemed to care about getting justice for the murdered men. There was too much truth in it for comfort when he thought of those involved in what Emma had called "this wretched business." His lady queen. The Earl of Chester. His father. 'William Fitz Alan. Thomas de Caldecott. Prince Davydd. Lady Emma. Llewelyn ab Iorwerth. And if he were to be honest, himself. For them all, the greatest concern, mayhap even the only concern, was the recovery of the ransom. Who amongst them had given much thought to Selwyn, Alun, Rhun, and Madog? And of the lot of them, his failure was the worst. A queen, an earl, a bishop, a baron, a knight, a prince, the sister of a king. Llewelyn was highborn, too, the grandson of one of the greatest Welsh princes. But what was his excuse?

Justin had brooded upon this during the ride back to Rhuddlan and eventually an idea had come to him, an ember sifted from the ashes. "Clever and capable," Sion had called Rhun, and Justin no reason to doubt him. As the only surviving witness, Rhun could confirm Davydd's claim that Llewelyn was the culprit – or refute it. A quick-witted lad would realize the danger he was in. Was that memory loss of his genuine? Or a way to stay alive?

Justin decided it was worth trying to question Rhun again. But he did not know if his Welsh would be up to the task. Padrig had gone back to Chester with Thomas de Caldecott. He could wait till Sion returned to Rhuddlan. If he did, though, whatever he might learn would be passed on to Llewelyn, and Justin was not sure how much he trusted this newfound ally of his. There was only one person at Rhuddlan Castle whom he had no reason to doubt, and he did not know if he ought to involve Angharad in this or not. Was it fair to ask her to keep secrets from her lover? More important, could he be putting her at risk?

Deciding he could not chance it, he slipped away while the rest of Davydd's household was dining in the great hall. But when he entered Rhun's lodging, he found that fate had taken a hand. As he'd hoped, the gardener and his wife had gone to eat. Rhun was lying listlessly upon his straw pallet, sipping mead from a cracked tip, and Angharad was sitting beside him, changing his head bandage with quick, deft fingers. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at the sight of Justin's surprised expression.

"What... you thought I was merely the Lady Emma's hand maiden?" she teased. "I happen to be a woman of many talents. In my free time, I serve as Rhuddlan's angel of mercy."

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Justin knew that women were often skilled in the healing arts for doctors were readily available only to the highborn and the wealthy. He did not suppose that Davydd's private physician gave high priority to treating a lad like Rhun, so Angharad's kindness was a godsend to the boy. That she should be here now was clearly God's Will, and Justin no longer resisted it.

"Rhun, I need to talk to you," he said, speaking slowly and deliberately and in Welsh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angharad's head swivel toward him. "I can speak better Welsh than I've led people to believe. I am trusting you to keep my secret, and I promise to keep any secrets of yours. Upon the surety of my soul, I promise that."

Rhun's eyes were as green as any cat's, and as difficult to read. "What secrets do I have?"

Justin knelt by the boy's pallet. "I do not believe Llewelyn ab Iorwerth was the one who stole the ransom. I think you can prove that, and that puts you in danger, for Lord Davydd wants Llewelyn to be guilty."

"Why would I be in danger? I cannot remember what happened."

"That is your good fortune. But I do not know how long it will last. If there are men who do not want you to talk about the ambush, they may well worry that your memory could come back."

He saw a flicker in Rhun's eyes, no more than that, but it was enough to confirm his suspicions. Angharad had seen it, too, for she leaned forward then and placed her hand upon Rhun's.

"Is Iestyn right, Rhun? Can you remember more than you've let on? If so, he is right, too, about your danger. Whoever ambushed you has no scruples about killing. They've proved that in a very bloody way already."