The Unexpected Ally (23 page)

“Because that’s what he is!” Her words were
protesting, but she laughed again. “I know you have never trusted
Erik, Gareth, and that he was a spy, but it looks to me like he
knew about the sacking of Deiniol’s monastery and was riding to
Hywel to tell him about it. Perhaps he stopped in St. Asaph because
he’d feared that this monastery was going to be a target too.”

Gareth’s eyes turned thoughtful. “Wrexham
was a raid, and this a quiet theft of a few items. The men who
raided there burned it to the ground—” He stopped, his eyes moving
towards the destroyed barn.

Conall’s jaw hardened. “Then again—”

At that moment, Abbot Rhys, who’d been
watching from the other side of the barn, came around to the front
and stopped twenty paces away from them to study the destruction.
He was deep in conversation with Anselm, both men standing with
their arms folded across their chests.

Gwen’s brow furrowed. Three had become two.
“Where’s Lwc? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“He wasn’t at the conclave,” Gareth said,
“which now that I think about it is somewhat surprising. Up until
now, he has hardly left Rhys’s side unless he was at yours,
Gwen.”

“You know, there’s a few others who ought to
be here but aren’t. Deiniol, for one—” Gwen broke off from what
she’d been about to say, and all three of them looked towards the
monastery.

Gareth began walking rapidly back to where
he’d picketed Braith. “Let’s go see what we’ve been missing.”

Gwalchmai

G
walchmai had sworn
to his father, to Gareth, and to Gwen that he would stay out of
their investigations. Unfortunately, this time—as every time, truth
be told—that promise was proving impossible to keep. After singing
at the beginning of the conference to put everyone in the proper
frame of mind, he’d gone to the chapel to practice his scales,
while his father had chosen to wander the gardens. King Owain
wanted a new song, and it was Meilyr’s task to write one. Gwalchmai
didn’t envy him. Gwalchmai himself had been writing his own songs
for years, but he hadn’t yet mustered up the courage to share any
of them with anyone but Iorwerth, the king’s son and Gwalchmai’s
best friend.

At the moment, Iorwerth crouched beside him
in an alcove in the cloister, the eyes of both young men fixed on
the west range where the abbot’s quarters and the treasury were
located. Gwalchmai knew where the treasury was from eavesdropping
on Gareth and Gwen, who’d been discussing the progress of the
investigation last night when they thought everyone else was
asleep. They should have known better.

For his part, Gwalchmai had been involved
enough in their cases to know when something nefarious was going
on, and from what he understood, nobody was supposed to enter the
treasury without the express permission of Abbot Rhys. It could be
that his secretary, Lwc, had been given permission, but with
everyone else fighting the fire, somehow Gwalchmai doubted it. By
rights they should all be at a meal, as noon had come and gone.
Gwalchmai’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten
since breakfast.

Iorwerth heard it too, elbowed him, and
spoke in a low whisper, “Don’t remind me. I’m hungry too!” In the
last year, Iorwerth, who was born the year before Gwalchmai, had
grown tall, and the combination of his training to be a knight and
his voracious appetite had resulted in a broad chest and thick
muscles in his arms.

“Is your father going to be worried about
you since you’re missing dinner?”

“He went with Taran to the camp. He hardly
notices when I’m beside him, so I doubt he’ll notice if I’m not. If
he chastises me for my absence later, I’m thinking I’ll have
something to tell him.”

The little bit of doubt Gwalchmai and
Iorwerth had about what they were doing (spying) and if they’d
misunderstood the situation was the only thing keeping them from
confronting the young monk. Gwalchmai told himself it was best to
watch, follow, and then report to Gwen and Gareth as soon as they
returned from the barn. Iorwerth, of course, was all for whatever
Gwalchmai had in mind.

Gwalchmai hadn’t ever heard the phrase
inside man
until last night, and he hadn’t really known what
Gareth had meant by the term until he saw it with his own eyes: Lwc
was the inside man in the monastery, and he was using his role as
the abbot’s secretary to steal from him.

The very idea burned Gwalchmai’s gut.

“What better way to get everyone out of the
monastery than to start a fire?” Iorwerth said in a whisper.

“I was just thinking that too.” Gwalchmai
put a hand on Iorwerth’s arm. “There he goes!”

Lwc came out of the treasury, closed the
door behind him, and hastened down the stone passage to the exit
near the west entrance to the church. That would take him to the
pathway that ran past the guesthouse into the courtyard. Gwalchmai
would have thought
someone
would be watching, but even if
they were, maybe they wouldn’t notice how bulky Lwc had become
under his encompassing robe. Gwalchmai probably wouldn’t have
noticed if he hadn’t just seen him come out of the treasury.

“Let’s go!” Iorwerth sprang to his feet, and
the two boys left their hiding position at a run, making for the
same door Lwc had just gone through. When they reached it, however,
there was no sign of Lwc. They looked at each other for a
heartbeat, acknowledging that there were only two ways Lwc could
have gone, and with a nod, split up. Iorwerth took off down the
path that led to the monastery gardens, and Gwalchmai headed left
towards the courtyard. Either path could take Lwc out of the
monastery, and it was just a question of guessing right as to which
one Lwc thought would be least watched.

Gwalchmai set off at an easy jog, soon
hitting the cobbles that formed the walkway into the courtyard, but
when he reached it, nobody was in sight. He warred with himself for
a moment as to whether he should keep watch at the gatehouse—the
only avenue in and out of the monastery on the south side—or run
after Iorwerth. He cursed himself for not having chosen that way to
go, because even now he could picture his friend tailing Lwc,
discovering what had become of the treasure, and getting all the
glory of the discovery.

Still dithering, Gwalchmai ran to the
entrance to the monastery and stood in the road outside. Nobody
appeared, not even the gatekeeper, who seemed to be snoring where
he sat. Gwalchmai turned in a full circle on one heel. Nothing
seemed amiss, either in or out of the monastery.

But then, both to Gwalchmai’s relief that he
hadn’t guessed wrong and dismay that he was right to be worried,
Deiniol appeared in the stable doorway, leading his horse, followed
immediately by Lwc. It wasn’t as if either could help noticing
Gwalchmai, since he was standing smack in the middle of their way
out. However, Deiniol directed his steps towards the gatehouse, a
rueful smile on his lips. “A bad business.”

In contrast to Deiniol’s easy familiarity,
Lwc faltered at the sight of Gwalchmai—and it was that falter that
renewed Gwalchmai’s faith that he was on the right track.

“Where are you going at this hour of the
day?” Gwalchmai made sure his tone was full of curiosity, not
belligerence.

Deiniol smiled again. “The abbot gave me
permission to ride down the road some ways in search of my brothers
from Wrexham. I would have thought that they’d be here by now, and
I’m worried that something has happened to them along the way.”

Before Gwalchmai could think of how to reply
to that, first Conall, with Iorwerth behind him on his horse, and
then Gareth and Gwen, appeared, riding down the path that led past
the front door of the church. Their horses’ hooves couldn’t help
but make a clopping sound on the cobbles. At the sound, both
Deiniol and Lwc turned—in Lwc’s case with a jerky motion—to
look.

Conall paused to let Iorwerth off the horse,
and the young prince skirted the perimeter of the courtyard on
foot, heading towards the narrow path by the stable that led north
out of the courtyard. When he reached it, he simply stood in the
middle of it, effectively acting as a barrier in case Deiniol and
Lwc thought to flee. Iorwerth posed an actual threat, seeing as how
he was taller and more muscled than Gwalchmai, who was a bard, not
a warrior.

Both Lwc and Deiniol kept their backs to
Gwalchmai, who stayed where he was. If the two monks really had
been up to something, they would not want to take their eyes off
Conall and Gareth, even injured as both men were. For his part,
Conall urged his horse closer to the gatehouse where Deiniol, Lwc,
and Gwalchmai waited.

Gwalchmai decided to draw Deiniol’s
attention back to him to give the others a chance to get closer
before anything happened. “Your brothers have a long way to walk.
How can you possibly ensure that you’ll travel the same path as
they?”

“The Lord will guide me.” It was a platitude
Gwalchmai had heard before, but it didn’t seem right coming out of
Deiniol’s mouth, and it made him hesitate to ask anything else
because Deiniol seemed to have an answer for everything. Gwalchmai
himself was starting to feel stupid.

Fortunately, by now Gwen and Gareth had
dismounted, and Gwen moved to Lwc’s side. She stood so close to him
that it made Gwalchmai uncomfortable. Gareth leaned casually
against the wall of the gatehouse tunnel.

Gwalchmai met Gwen’s eyes for a heartbeat,
and she gave him a hint of a nod. He took it as an indication that
not only did she want him to continue asking questions, but that
she and Gareth were on the same track he was.

He looked at Deiniol. “It seems an odd time
for you to go, given that the barn is burning down and we’re in the
middle of an important peace conference.”

“That makes it the best time. Abbot Rhys has
many responsibilities and hands to do the work, and I will be
little missed.”

“You may be little missed, but I would have
thought that Abbot Rhys needed Lwc now more than ever.” Gwen had
finally decided to speak. “We saw the abbot standing without you
just now, Lwc. It’s puzzling to me that you didn’t go to the barn
with him.”

Lwc started. “Brother Deiniol asked for my
assistance in preparing for his journey, and I gave it.”

Then Conall spoke from behind them. “I’d
like to take a look at your bags, Deiniol, before you go.”

“Of course you may, but why would you want
to?” For the first time, Deiniol’s placating smile faltered, and
anger flashed in his eyes for a single heartbeat before he mastered
it.

“That would be because Prince Iorwerth and I
spent the last half-hour watching Lwc carrying the monastery’s
wealth from the treasury to the stable,” Gwalchmai said in a voice
loud enough to carry to Iorwerth, who nodded vigorously back.

“Lwc! Why would you do such a thing?”
Deiniol took a step to one side, putting space between him and Lwc.
Gareth now edged closer, encroaching on Lwc’s space as Gwen was on
Deiniol’s.

For his part, Lwc’s face paled and stayed
pale, making him far easier to read, even for Gwalchmai. Gwen
noticed too, and her lips pressed together tightly as she looked at
the young monk.

Deiniol was a good enough mummer for an
Easter play, and even Gwalchmai might have been convinced of his
innocence if Lwc hadn’t taken that moment of distraction to rabbit.
He dashed past Gwalchmai, knocking him off balance with a hard
shove, and disappeared through the open gate.

Gwalchmai was after him in an instant. “I
got him!”

He took off at a hard run, knowing that
neither Conall nor Gareth were in any shape to run anywhere.

After leaving the gatehouse, Lwc took a
right so as to head west, towards the bridge across the river.
Gwalchmai pounded down the road after him, not really gaining but
not falling behind either. Then Lwc reached the corner of the
monastery and took a right, heading down the road in the direction
of the fire. Smoke wafted into the afternoon sky, blowing east. As
he ran, Gwalchmai was trying to predict what Lwc thought he was
doing, since he was running directly towards a hundred men, any one
of whom could stop him simply by standing in the middle of the road
and blocking it. Perhaps he hoped to swim the river and escape that
way.

After another fifty yards or so, Gwalchmai
realized that he was definitely gaining on the young monk, who’d
had to hike up his long robes and hold them above his knees to free
his legs. Gwalchmai could simply pound along, his arms and legs
pumping furiously. He was only a hundred feet behind when Conall
passed him on horseback. Another fifty yards farther on, Lwc
swerved to the left into the trees that lined the river, except
they’d reached the vicinity of the millpond and watermill. The
young monk launched himself over the stone wall that marked the
mill’s domains. With a desultory casualness, Conall’s horse leapt
it immediately after.

By the time Gwalchmai clambered over the
wall himself, Lwc was on the ground in the clearing before the mill
where grain carts parked, with Conall’s knee in his back and
Conall’s horse casually chuffing at the margins of the clearing for
grass. As Gwalchmai trotted up, his breath coming less in gasps
than it had a moment ago, Conall waved a hand to his saddle bags.
“Rope, if you will.”

“Yes, sir.” Gwalchmai unbuckled the satchel
on the back of Conall’s horse and rummaged inside until he came up
with a length of rope, which he tossed to the Irishman. If anyone
asked, Gwalchmai could say with certainty that Conall himself
possessed no jewels or coins beyond what was in his purse. Not that
Gwalchmai would have expected otherwise, but it was good to be
thorough.

Conall quickly tied Lwc’s hands behind his
back, pulled him to his feet, and gave him a little shake. “You
stole from the monastery, yes? Gwalchmai can testify that you did,
so don’t bother to lie.”