‘How could I know the trail would lead to St David’s? I shall express my deepest apologies,’ Burley snarled, and strode from the room.
‘Arrogant knave!’ Geoffrey hissed as the door closed behind Burley.
Owen found the parting more reassuring than Burley’s sincere guise. ‘I wonder what version of the story the constable provided for the steward?’ Owen said.
Geoffrey warmed his hands before the dying fire. ‘I wondered, too.’ He turned round, lifted the back of his gown to warm his ankles and calves. ‘I asked after the receiver — did I tell you? “He is still abed, his wits addled by the attack,” Burley said. More than a fortnight to recover, and yet he was able to identify his attacker at the time.’
‘What did Burley say to that?’
Geoffrey made a face. ‘I had not the courage to ask.’
‘His story is not very convincing. I should like to know more about the receiver.’
Geoffrey hopped up on to the edge of the table by Owen. ‘I was able to discover that he lives in the town, and that he was alone in the exchequer and thus the only witness, but no more. He is Welsh, though you would not guess it from his name — Roger Aylward. I thought you might have more luck with him than I would.’
‘Why so curious about all this? We should see to our business with the steward and the constable, then depart.’
‘How do we know none of this has to do with Owain Lawgoch? Or whatever Gruffydd ap Goronwy did that turned Pembroke’s mother against him.’
True enough. ‘The receiver lives in the town, does he? I like to hear that, but I wonder what it means?’
‘Means? It is not proper for the receiver to live in the town?’
‘There was a time when the Welsh were banned from the town. No doubt that is still the law, but it has become inconvenient. Still, I should think the Welsh who are accepted within the walls have proven themselves loyal to Lancaster.’
‘And thus a fitting choice for receiver.’
‘Or he has bought his way in, won the support of the steward or the constable. .’
Geoffrey closed his eyes, nodded vigorously. ‘Of course. Well. You shall take the measure of the man when you attend his sickbed, eh?’
But Owen’s thoughts had turned to the strained relationship between Lascelles and the constable. ‘What of Burley’s comment that he had not known the thief’s trail would lead to St David’s? Is it possible that Burley’s men followed Reine’s trail? By design or by accident?’
Geoffrey jumped down from the table. ‘Enough of this. How did you find your brother?’
‘Ask me tomorrow,’ Owen said. ‘I have much to think about. And some mourning.’
Owen thought to excuse himself from supper, but he and Geoffrey were invited to dine with Lascelles in his chamber. Geoffrey considered it an honour; Owen dreaded it. What further unpleasantness was in store for him this day?
The steward’s quarters were not above the dais end of the hall as Owen would have expected, but rather above the south end, adjacent to the chapel tower. Two large rooms, one glimpsed through an inner door, with a huge, tapestry-hung bed and a high window that looked on the river, and the anteroom, in which they stood, with an ornate table and throne-like chairs.
‘Magnificent,’ Geoffrey said, running his hand along the back of a chair, feeling the intricate carving.
‘My parents thought to offer some civilised comforts to my new bride,’ Lascelles said as Owen and Geoffrey took their seats.
‘I am most grateful to them,’ Geoffrey said as he wiggled into a comfortable position. He was in remarkably good humour for a man who had spent the better part of the afternoon with Burley. The knack of a professional diplomat, Owen guessed.
Owen, on the other hand, found Lascelles a puzzle he could not resist. ‘You have been long in Cydweli,’ Owen said. ‘You must be anxious to return to England and present Mistress Lascelles to your family. Or did they journey to Cydweli for the wedding?’
Lascelles’s laugh was surprisingly bitter. ‘The table and chairs, the bed, those gestures might be made quietly, without being noted by gossips. I have not married well in their eyes — in anyone’s eyes.’
‘They will think differently when they meet her,’ Owen said, feeling guilty for having broached a painful subject.
‘Will Mistress Lascelles be joining us?’ Geoffrey asked.
Lascelles made a noise deep in his throat and motioned to a servant to pour the wine. ‘My wife took it into her head to pay a visit to her mother today. She will be gone the night.’
‘Is her mother unwell?’ Geoffrey asked.
‘Slow of wit is more like. Mistress Goronwy-’ As Lascelles’s tongue twisted on the name, Owen realised the man had already imbibed a goodly amount of wine. The steward shook his head as if to clear it. ‘My wife’s mother behaves as if I had not put all right with her good husband. She mourns her home in Tenby and complains that all her neighbours shun her. And yet she refuses our hospitality. Gruffydd must come without her to see his daughter. Thus I am denied my wife tonight so that she may stay in a common farmhouse and coddle her addle-brained dam.’
Owen found Tangwystl’s absence an odd thing for Lascelles to complain about after what he had heard from Geoffrey regarding the maid Gladys. Weary of courtesies, Owen asked, ‘Does her maid attend her?’
Geoffrey nudged Owen under the table and looked about to choke on a mouthful of wine.
Lascelles snorted. ‘Why? You have a taste for Gladys tonight? She is yours for the asking, Captain. She is any man’s for the asking, truth be told. They tell me even the one-legged beggar in the market square has tasted of her. No, she is not abroad with my wife. She has fallen out of favour with Mistress Lascelles since-’ He passed a hand over his eyes. ‘Forgive me. I invited you here to enjoy a quiet supper in thanks for your respect for John de Reine. Forgive me.’
‘Father Edern is as worthy of thanks as we are,’ Geoffrey said.
Lascelles adjusted his chair slightly, studied Geoffrey for a moment. ‘You offer him up as if the bishop honoured me with his presence. Yet just last night Father Francis told me of something you witnessed that should give you pause in praising the man.’
Geoffrey coloured. ‘In faith your chaplain is a meddlesome creature. I saw no purpose in telling you of the incident. But it seems Father Francis fears Edern has been sent to replace him. I am sure he wished you to know that Edern was no better than he. A sorry lot, these clerics.’
‘Which is why I never invite them to dine in my rooms,’ Lascelles said. ‘But you remind me of my duties. I shall send for him to join us afterwards for some brandywine.’ He called over the servant, explained the errand.
As the fish course was served, Owen thought to turn the conversation to something other than Gladys and Edern. ‘Gruffydd ap Goronwy was kind to seek out my brother and arrange our meeting,’ he said.
Lascelles nodded enthusiastically as he scooped up several cockles and popped them into his mouth. ‘He is a good man, Gruffydd.’ He wiped his mouth and took a long draught of wine. ‘A victim of panic, poor Gruffydd. Pembroke’s mother heard that Owain Lawgoch’s fleet was out in the Channel and she blamed the first man she saw. They were bound for Anglesey, for pity’s sake. That is where Lawgoch’s supporters lurk. Not Tenby.’ He shook his head. ‘Would an invader look so close to Pembroke Castle? Pah.’ He dipped into the seafood pastry.
‘Had you met Mistress Lascelles before this trouble?’ Geoffrey asked.
Slowly the man raised his head with a dangerous look in his eyes. ‘Why do you ask?’
As if oblivious to the threat in that look, Geoffrey said pleasantly, ‘I am curious whether the tale I have spun in my head is close to the truth.’
‘If you imagined me making a fool of myself over a beautiful young woman, you would be right,’ Lascelles grumbled. ‘I learned of her family’s trouble, thought to save them and find my happiness all in one noble gesture.’
‘You are a fortunate man,’ Geoffrey said.