He squeezed Gervase’s shoulder. ‘You enabled me to get close to Gytha and her brother because they trusted you.’
‘I hope so.’
This time the yawn would not be denied. Gervase brought a hand up to his mouth but it was far too late. Gerold smiled.
‘Let us part. You, to your bed: me, to my duties.’
‘At this late hour?’
‘The chapel never closes.’
‘When do you find time to sleep?’
‘When nobody else is watching me.’
He stole quietly away until his black cowl merged with the darkness. Gervase headed for the keep and a well-earned rest.
The journey to and from the forest had been taxing and he was still jangled by the discovery they had made in the ditch. But there were consolations to be drawn. The chaplain was turning out to be a valuable friend and Gytha’s resemblance to the lovely Alys grew stronger every time that Gervase looked at the girl.
Without quite knowing why, he certainly did want to see her again.
Brother Gerold, meanwhile, let himself into the chapel and closed the door gently behind him. A solitary candle burned on the altar, its tiny flame illumining little more than the crucifix beside it and a patch of the white altar cloth. Everything else was shrouded in darkness. Gerold knew at once that he was not alone. He waited beside the door and listened until he heard the sound of breathing. As his eyes gradually became accustomed to the blackness, he moved forward warily down the aisle. His caution was justified. Long before he got anywhere near the pale circle of light on the altar, his toe met an obstruction.
He knelt down until he could pick out the contours of the figure lying prone on the cold floor. The sheer size of the man confirmed his identity. Hugh d’Avranches, Earl of Chester, was stretched out in an attitude of total submission. His breath came in shallow bursts as if he were in some kind of pain. Gerold was not surprised. He said nothing, but remained kneeling patiently beside the huge body until his master finally spoke to him.
‘Brother Gerold?’
‘Yes, my lord?’
‘Where have you been?’ hissed Earl Hugh.
‘On an errand of mercy.’
‘Where?’
‘Outside the city.’
‘We needed you here.’
‘I am back now.’
‘My wants are paramount.’
‘I am here to see to them, my lord.’
‘Only you can help me, Brother Gerold.’
‘It is God who comes to your aid. Through me.’
‘I need Him mightily.’
The massive figure came to life and crawled forward towards the altar rail. The chaplain knew what to do. He moved swiftly to the vestry. A few minutes later, he was standing in front of the single candle and holding a piece of unleavened bread between his fingers.
‘ Accipe, frater, Corporis Domini nostri Jesu Christi, qui te custodiat ab hosti maligno, et perducat in vitam aeternam …’
Alone in the dark, Earl Hugh was taking communion.
Chapter Eight
It took Ralph Delchard a long time to shake off Idwal. The Welshman was a tireless bloodhound, sniffing his trail with assurance, bounding along with glee and baying at his heels whenever he got close enough. They seemed to make a circuit of the entire castle. It was an undignified game for a royal commissioner to have to play and Ralph eventually wearied of it.
Unequivocal confrontation was needed. When Idwal pursued him into the keep, Ralph held his ground and swung round to face him. It was no time for diplomatic niceties.
‘Go away!’ he ordered.
‘But we have so much news to exchange, my lord.’
‘Do not pester me so, man! I have no interest in your news and I will not be chased like some runaway stag.’
Idwal was hurt. ‘I thought that we were friends.’
‘Friends do not hound each other.’
‘I am pleased to see you, that is all.’
‘Reflect on that pleasure elsewhere.’
‘But we grew close when we were in Hereford together.’
‘Too close!’
‘We joined forces to avert a Welsh rebellion.’
‘You are a Welsh rebellion on your own.’
There was a long pause as Idwal assessed the situation. His frown eventually melted away and his palms opened in a gesture of mild contrition.
‘I see the problem,’ he said, recovering his good humour with remarkable speed. ‘I come to you at an inopportune time. I am sorry, my lord. I should not have ambushed you as I did. Appoint a more fit hour when we may converse at length.’
Ralph was firm. ‘We have said all that we need to say to each other. I do not wish to hear any more about Llandaff.’
‘St David’s.’
‘Or St David’s.’
‘Though I do have news of Llandaff as well.’
‘Spare me!’
‘And good tidings from Bangor.’
‘Bangor?’
‘Not to mention Brecon.’
‘Convey your tidings to Bishop Robert. They may have some relevance for him. Or to Canon Hubert,’ said Ralph, grasping at any straw to rid himself of the persistent Welshman. ‘He will argue about the Church for as long as you like. Llandaff, St David’s, Bangor, Brecon or Bethlehem. Hubert is your man.’
‘We have spoken already.’
‘Speak to him again, Idwal.’
‘Oh, I will, I will.’
‘He relishes a debate with you.’
‘I have noticed, my lord.’
Idwal cocked his head to one side and scrutinised Ralph through glinting eyes. He said something in Welsh under his breath then let out a rich chortle.
‘Hereford!’ he teased. ‘That is why you try to elude me, is it not, my lord? Hereford! You have never forgiven me for spying in advance what it took you days even to notice.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Love. Marriage. Happiness. I saw the possibility of all three dancing in your eyes and in those of the dear lady who is now your wife. I can claim some credit for bringing you together, my lord. In some sort, I played the part of Cupid.’
‘Heaven forbid!’
‘I brought the pair of you turtle doves together.’
‘This is intolerable!’ groaned Ralph.
‘Deny it if you will but I know. I was there.’
‘Could I ever forget!’
Idwal took a step backwards. ‘I will trouble you no more at this time, my lord,’ he said abruptly. ‘I bid you farewell.’
‘At last!’
‘We can resume our conversation in the full light of day. When you are less taxed by your affairs and refreshed by sleep. Both you and Earl Hugh, I trust, may be more amenable tomorrow.’
‘Only a madman would wager on it.’
Idwal grinned. ‘I have always had a streak of madness.’ He became serious. ‘One last thing,’ he warned. ‘You need me. I can talk with men of consequence on both sides of the border. Nobody else in this castle can do that. Impress it upon Earl Hugh. I am the key to continued peace in Cheshire. If he grants me permission to see Gruffydd ap Cynan, I will help to prevent more warfare.’
Before Ralph could ask him how, his tormentor flung one side of his evil-smelling cloak over his shoulder and marched away with Messianic certainty in his stride. Ralph was left alone on a cold staircase. It was ironic. Pursued by the effusive archdeacon, his instinct had been to strike out at the man, but now that the chase had been called off he felt a vague sensation of guilt.
Idwal was only trying to show friendship. And he might indeed be able to glean information from the Prince of Gwynedd which could be of benefit to his captors. Idwal was by instinct a man of peace, as he had proved in Herefordshire. He did not really merit the summary rejection which had been meted out to him. Ralph could never warm to the man himself but the fact remained that Golde actually liked him. The Welshman had been the first to discern the strength of feeling between the pair of them. Like it or not, Ralph had to concede that Idwal was part of their private history.