We have to trust to his instinct.’
‘Raoul Lambert is the one who lies in the mortuary.’
‘I have not forgotten that. The points which you raise must be examined, Canon Hubert. There may yet be some link between his death and his activities on the Welsh border. I will look further into it.’ He smiled and spread his arms. ‘Your study of those documents was not in vain at all. It has thrown up some intriguing facts. They may yet have a bearing on what took place in the forest this morning.’
Hubert preened himself. ‘I have always been thorough.’
‘We have gained from your thoroughness.’
‘Will you report all this to the lord Ralph?’
‘Naturally.’
‘I would not have it reach the ears of Earl Hugh.’
‘There is no chance of that,’ promised Gervase. ‘We would not even be able to speak to him. Earl Hugh was to have entertained us again this evening but he has excused himself in order to attend the meeting.’
‘What meeting?’
‘He is holding a council of war.’
It was a complete transformation. Men who had revelled in the hall on the previous evening now sat stern-faced round the oak table. Walls which had echoed to music and laughter now eavesdropped on earnest discussion. The air of celebration had been decisively supplanted by an atmosphere of high seriousness.
Important decisions were about to be taken.
Earl Hugh sat the head of the table. William Malbank, Robert Cook, Richard Vernon, Hamo of Mascy, Reginald Balliol, Bigot of Loges and Hugo of Delamere were in attendance.
Hugh’s voice was low but his eyes were ominously bright.
‘I will not suffer this humiliation,’ he said. ‘I wish to retaliate without delay.’
‘Against whom, my lord?’ asked William Malbank. ‘We do not know who shot that fateful arrow.’
‘A Welsh archer.’
‘Acting on whose authority?’
‘The followers of Gruffydd ap Cynan,’ said Hugh. ‘Because they cannot release their prince, they try to kill the man who holds him prisoner. Their motive is clear.’
‘I agree,’ said Hamo of Mascy. ‘Trouble is brewing. That arrow was but a warning of the battle that is to come.’
‘They will find us ready for them,’ vowed Hugh.
‘My men will be at your back, my lord,’ said Hamo.
Others were quick to offer their support as well but Malbank’s remained a dissenting voice. He looked round the table at the other barons and ignored the hostile stares which he was receiving.
‘You are very angry,’ he observed, ‘and you have every right to be so. What happened in the forest was unforgivable. Raoul Lambert was murdered by an assassin’s arrow which was destined for a much higher prize.’ He glanced at Hugh. ‘We must thank God that it missed its real target.’
There was loud endorsement for that comment. Hamo and Reginald Balliol both banged the table to indicate assent.
‘Earl Hugh was spared,’ continued Malbank.
‘In order to strike back at my enemies,’ said Hugh.
‘Yes, my lord, but do it in no spirit of anger. I feel as you and the others feel, but I school myself to hold back.’
‘What ails you, William? Cowardice?’
‘No!’ declared the other. ‘I will raise my sword as readily as any man in this room when I have reason to do so. But I will not strike out in blind anger and nor should you.’
‘What should we do?’ taunted Hamo. ‘Sue for peace?’
‘Identify our foe more carefully before we go to war.’
‘Wales is our foe.’
‘No, Hamo. Certain Welshmen, that is all. Let us make sure who they are before we launch any attack across the border.’
‘There is some sense in that,’ decided Bigot of Loges. ‘Commit ourselves too soon and we run the risk of spreading our forces across too wide a front. William Malbank is right. We should strike at the point where it would be most effective.’
‘In Wales,’ growled Hugh. ‘Left to me, I’d kill every man, woman and child in that accursed country! I’d wipe it completely off the map! How dare they try to assassinate me! I’ll be revenged on the whole lot of them!’
‘Choose the right target for that revenge,’ said Malbank.
‘I will. He languishes in my dungeon.’
Even Hamo opposed that course of action. ‘You must not kill their prince, my lord,’ he said with alarm. ‘He is our most valuable hostage. Lose him and we lose our major bulwark against the Welsh.’
‘That bulwark did not prevent an assassin’s attack.’
‘One man was sent where an army would not have succeeded.’
‘Listen to Hamo,’ urged Malbank. ‘We must not take out our anger on Gruffydd ap Cynan. He is their figurehead and is far more use to us under lock and key. While he is in Chester, his men are reminded daily of our superior power and advantage.’
There were murmurs of consent. Earl Hugh was irritated.
‘I demand action now!’ he said, slapping the table with the flat of his hand. ‘God’s tits! This is a council of war, not a peace negotiation. We must hit back now. We must send a raiding party to mete out punishment.’
‘How and where?’ asked Malbank.
‘Stop trying to hinder me, William.’
‘I am merely trying to help. Every knight I can muster will be at your disposal and I will be proud to ride at your side. But I would prefer to know against whom we launch our might.’ He looked around the table again and saw that his argument was prevailing.
‘Battles are won by a combination of power and strategy. At the moment, we have one without the other. I appeal to you, all. Shall we dissipate our power because we have no strategy? Shall we shoot our own arrows without taking careful aim?’
‘Revenge is our strategy,’ affirmed Hugh.
‘Then let us prepare the way for that revenge.’
There was murmured discussion around the table as the barons compared notes with their immediate neighbours. Hamo of Mascy was the first to speak.
‘I support William on this,’ he said.
‘So do I,’ said Reginald Balliol.
‘And I,’ added Bigot of Loges, won over by persuasion.
‘Send intelligencers into Wales,’ said Malbank. ‘Let them search for the truth behind this foul murder. And dispatch an urgent messenger to Rhuddlan Castle. If there is indeed trouble stirring, your nephew Robert of Rhuddlan will be the first to detect it.’
The notion met with general approval and even Earl Hugh recognised the wisdom of it. For once, he elected not to force his own decision upon the others.
‘A messenger will ride for Rhuddlan at dawn,’ he said.
‘Thank you, my lord. That contents me.’
The council of war broke up and the barons dispersed. William Malbank was left alone with the earl. He felt intimidated and gave an apologetic shrug.
‘I had to speak out, my lord,’ he said deferentially. ‘You must accept that. Careful preparation now may save a lot of unnecessary bloodshed later.’
‘I agree.’
‘Then you are not angry with me?’
‘No, William. I am deeply grateful to you.’
‘For delaying a possible attack on the Welsh?’
‘No,’ said Hugh with a lewd grin. ‘For providing me with such delicious compensation. Raoul was not the only loss I sustained in the forest. My hawk was also killed. But not before he had won my wager.’ His grin broadened.’ Send your mistress to me tonight, William. I have need of her.’
Rhuddlan Castle was a symbol of Norman domination in North Wales, a timbered fortress built on a rock outcrop to command a view across the whole valley. Protecting the road between Chester and the Welsh coast, it was a daunting reminder to the indigenous population that they were occupied by invaders. Its castellan, Robert of Rhuddlan, was an experienced soldier who was constantly working to improve his defences. Nothing was left to chance. The area might be quiescent at the moment but Robert knew how quickly the Welsh could ignite. Whatever else happened, he resolved that he and his garrison would not be caught off guard.