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Lord Edmund looked at him with an indulgent smile. ‘Patience, Gewis, for soon you shall know. For the moment, I must ask you some questions — oh, they are not difficult! Do not look so alarmed! — and, according to how you answer me, I shall reveal the truth.’

‘I don’t know anything!’ Gewis cried, not in the least reassured by Lord Edmund’s words. ‘I’m just a carpenter’s son, and until recently I’ve never left the village where I was born!’

‘You were not, in fact, born there,’ Lord Edmund corrected him, ‘but let us not bother with that just now.’

Not born there? How did he know? Gewis felt his heart beating fast, although he could not have said whether it was in alarm or in sudden excitement. ‘I don’t-’ he began, but Lord Edmund held up a thin hand. It was his right hand and the jewel in the gold ring flashed like fire as the torchlight caught it.

‘You tell me you are a carpenter’s son,’ he said. ‘What is your father’s name?’

Gewis shot him a quick glance. Was this a trick question? Did he not know that Gewis’s father was dead? ‘My father’s name was Edulf,’ he said boldly, ‘and he died four years ago.’

‘How did he die?’ Lord Edmund was leaning forward again as if he could barely wait for the answer.

‘He was summoned to work on an important new building in some nearby settlement,’ Gewis said, ‘and while he was there he was busy on a carving when he slipped and fell, breaking his neck.’

‘His body was brought home for burial?’

That was the strange thing, Gewis reflected; it had puzzled him at the time, but, in his shocked and grieving state, he had not thought to question the voice of authority. . ‘No. The priest came to see my mother and he told her that my father had been buried in the place where he died. It was summer,’ he added, as if trying to excuse the actions of others, ‘and the priest said the burial had to be done quickly before. . er, before-’

‘Yes, yes, quite so,’ Lord Edmund said quickly. ‘And you have visited your father’s grave?’

‘No.’ Gewis hung his head. ‘My mother tells me repeatedly that we shall make the journey soon.’

‘But the day has not yet come?’ Lord Edmund persisted.

‘No.’

There was a short silence. Gewis felt deeply ashamed for, although he could not honestly say that he had loved his father, what sort of son was he that he had never knelt at the graveside and offered prayers to speed his father into heaven?

Lord Edmund seemed to read his thoughts. ‘Do not berate yourself,’ he murmured. ‘Try as you might you would not find the place where your father lies buried, for it is not there to be found.’

‘Not. . What do you mean?’ Gewis was half out of his chair, horrified. How could there be no grave?

‘Calm yourself,’ Lord Edmund said soothingly. ‘There is no grave because those who murdered your father wanted no place where his supporters might make a shrine. They would have no hallowed spot where people would flock to uphold his memory.’

Gewis slowly shook his head, his incomprehension rendering him dumb.

‘Tell me, Gewis, was your father a good carpenter?’

‘No. He only got the plain work that other men didn’t want.’

‘Quite so. And-’

‘When he was called away for that special job he forgot his tools, and my mother had to go after him with them,’ Gewis added. ‘He’d only gone a couple of miles down the road, which was just as well because Mother didn’t know where he was bound, and if he’d got any further she might not have found him.’

‘I see,’ said Lord Edmund. ‘And just why, Gewis, do you think that a carpenter of your father’s standard would have been chosen to work on that grand new structure?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gewis admitted. ‘It makes no sense.’

‘It makes no sense because it did not happen,’ Lord Edmund said gently. ‘Your father was tricked, Gewis. His enemies needed to draw him away from his family and his village, for they wanted no witnesses. They made up this fiction of the new building as an excuse for your father to go with them, but all along they had told him a different tale.’

‘What was it?’ Gewis whispered.

‘Ah, Gewis, this is so sad,’ Lord Edmund sighed, ‘for they were clever and they played on your poor father’s secret dreams of glory. They told him they had come to restore him to his rightful place, but that in order to do so he must travel with them to some unspecified destination. That, of course, is why he did not take his tools when he left; he believed that, far from going to work on a building, he was at last going to receive the honour he had always known was his due.’

Oh, but it makes such sense! Gewis thought. His father’s lifelong resentment and barely suppressed anger at his lowly station in life would be explained perfectly if, all along, he had believed he deserved something far better.

Was it true? Could it really be that his father had been an important man? Somebody had wanted him dead, it seemed, and that somebody had succeeded. ‘Who killed him?’ Gewis demanded. ‘Why did he have to die?’

‘He was killed by his enemies,’ Lord Edmund repeated. ‘They had grabbed power in the land and a man such as your father threatened them, for while he lived there was always the chance that men would rally to his cause.’

Who was he?’ Gewis shouted.

But Lord Edmund shook his head. ‘Not yet, Gewis. First, I must explain my involvement in your affairs.’ He paused, his eyes unfocused. Then he said, ‘I have, as I told you, lived most of my life abroad, for my father served in the household of a prince in exile who, with his brother, was sent out of England apparently for his own safety but in reality so that he could be quietly killed. He received help, however, from an unexpected source and, by a circuitous route and through the kindness of strangers, eventually he and his brother settled in Hungary. His brother left no descendants, but my father’s prince married and had a son. This boy was still a child when my prince made his attempt to take the inheritance that was his due; an attempt that led to his death.’ Lord Edmund paused, momentarily covering his face with his hand. Then, with an obvious effort, he continued. ‘The prince’s son grew to manhood, and we had high hopes of him, for he was of the blood and he was ambitious. However, he failed us. Instead of accepting his part in the continuing struggle, he threw in his lot with the enemy. He is lost to us.’

‘Is he dead?’ Gewis was absorbed in the tale.

‘No, he lives, as far as we know. He supported Duke Robert of Normandy in the attempt to take England from King William, and when it failed he fled to Scotland, where his sister is wed to the king. Now they say he plans to fight abroad.’ Lord Edmund shrugged. ‘He is, as I say, no more a concern of ours.’ His look of disdain said more than his words.

‘So. .’ Gewis let his mind run back over all that he had just heard. ‘You lead a faction that opposes the Normans and that-’

‘Hush!’ Lord Edmund hissed urgently, looking around him anxiously. ‘Do not speak such things, even in private, for there are spies everywhere and they are ruthless!’ Leaning closer, he murmured, his voice barely audible, ‘Agents of the Conqueror killed your father, and they will not rest until they have killed you too.’

‘Me?’ Gewis cried. ‘What have I to do with this?’

‘You are your father’s son,’ Lord Edmund replied. ‘The role that was planned for him is now for you to fulfil. How old are you?’

‘Fifteen, I believe.’

‘Fifteen. Yes, yes, quite old enough.’ Lord Edmund was beaming again. ‘We shall take you from here to the secure place where our supporters will be gathering, and there we shall reveal to you the full story.’

I do not want to go, Gewis thought. He did not understand — how could he, when this wily, devious man with his insincere smile and the hunger in his eyes refused to explain? — but every instinct was commanding Gewis to have nothing to do with him.

I must escape, he decided. He stitched on an eager smile and said, ‘That is wonderful news, and I am in your debt for all that you are doing for me.’ Lord Edmund inclined his head in acknowledgement, his face full of smug satisfaction. Gewis put his goblet to his lips and pretended to take a long pull of wine. Then, carefully placing it on then floor, he put a hand to his stomach and muttered, ‘Oh dear.’