‘We both accept that, my lord,’ said Gervase.
‘Yes,’ added Ralph, cowed into a murmur.
‘My first task,’ said Hugh with a sweep of his arm, ‘is to protect this city from attack. Precautions have to be taken and restrictions imposed. We all suffer inconvenience but there is no other way. Until we see what the Welsh intend to do, Chester must lock itself indoors.’
‘Can we be of any assistance, my lord?’ offered Ralph.
‘Only by keeping out of my way.’
Hugh let out a bellow of rage at two soldiers who accidentally dropped the basket of stones they were carrying up the steps to the battlements. He charged off to berate the men. The commissioners took the opportunity to drift away in order to confer in a quiet corner.
‘What do you make of this?’ asked Ralph.
‘Earl Hugh seems to expect a full invasion.’
‘When he holds the Prince of Gwynedd in his dungeon? He boasted to me that Chester was safe from attack as long as Gruffydd ap Cynan was in captivity.’
‘That view will have to be revised.’
‘So it seems.’
‘Canon Hubert and Brother Simon will be greatly alarmed by this turn of events,’ said Gervase. ‘Should we send word for them to come here?’
‘They would refuse to do so. I believe that they would rather endure an attack from Wales than turn to Hugh for protection.
They think him a species of devil.’ He watched the irate earl, howling at some sentries. ‘When I see him like this, I am inclined to agree with them.’
‘Where does this leave our notions about Raoul Lambert?’
‘In tatters, Gervase.’
‘I wonder.’
‘We were wrong and Hugh was right.’
‘That is how it may appear at the moment.’
‘That is how it is, I fear.’ Ralph thought of his wife. ‘Golde will be alarmed by all this activity. I had better go back and explain what is happening.’
‘She came to Chester at a bad time.’
‘Is there ever a good time to visit this accursed city?’
Ralph departed on that note of cynicism and Gervase was able to take a closer look at what was happening all around him. Earl Hugh was a most effective general. The speed and thoroughness of his preparations were impressive. Gervase was still admiring the sense of controlled urgency when he became aware of a man at his elbow. The sentry was in his hauberk, eyes set apart by the thick iron nasal of his helm.
‘Master Bret?’ he asked.
‘Yes?’
‘You have a visitor.’
‘Who is it?’
‘You will have to come to the gate to find out,’ said the man.
‘We have orders to admit nobody to the castle. And you must not go far outside it yourself. But the visitor implores you to come.’
‘Is it Canon Hubert? Or Brother Simon?’
‘Neither.’
‘Then who?’
‘A young woman.’
Gervase was surprised. He knew no young women in Chester.
Mind racing, he followed the sentry back to the gate. When he was allowed to leave by the postern, a familiar face was waiting to greet him with a weary smile.
‘Gytha!’ he exclaimed.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I had to see you,’ she said.
‘Did you walk all the way to Chester?’
‘Yes.’
‘It will have taken an age. What time did you leave?’
‘Well before dawn.’
‘It must be important, then.’
‘I think it is.’
Several people were milling around the gate, arguing with the sentries and pleading to be let in. Gervase took her by the arm to move her away from the hubbub. When they paused in the doorway of a house, he was able to take a considered look at her. Flushed and exhausted, she still had an extraordinary resemblance to Alys. Gervase’s blood coursed and he was momentarily confused, not sure whether he was doting on his betrothed or showing an improper interest in a vulnerable young woman. Gytha’s embarrassment suggested that she, too, was grappling with warm feelings which caused her some concern.
‘How is your brother?’ he inquired.
‘He is better now that the funeral is over.’
‘Over? Already?’
‘Father Ernwin saw no reason to delay it.’
‘I applaud his wisdom.’
‘He has been very kind to us.’
‘Was it an ordeal for you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I am sorry I was not there to comfort you.’
She looked up at him. ‘So am I,’ she said softly, ‘but you have already done so much for us.’
‘I wish that I could have done more, Gytha.’
Their eyes locked and both felt the pull of attraction.
‘I am very grateful,’ she said at length. ‘We both are. Beollan and me. You had no obligation to help us.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Why?’
‘You were in distress.’
‘But we were complete strangers to you.’
‘It makes no difference.’
Their eyes met again but she was suddenly afraid of the intensity of his gaze and the surge of her emotions. She lowered her head shyly. Gervase wanted to reach out to console her but fought against the impulse, reminding himself that there was a narrow dividing line between offering comfort to a lovely young woman and deriving pleasure from any contact with her. He had pledged himself to Alys and knew that he had to resist the fleeting appeal of Gytha.
‘Why did you come?’ he asked.
‘To tell you the full story.’
‘Story?’
‘Of what happened in the forest the day that my father and brother were killed. I have talked to Beollan.’
‘He has spoken to me himself.’
‘But you did not hear the whole story,’ she said, ‘and I felt it important that you should. It may help. Besides …’
She raised her head to look at him once more.
‘Well?’
‘I wanted to see you again,’ she said simply.
‘I’m glad that you came.’ He touched her shoulder with his fingertips then became serious. ‘What did Beollan tell you?’
‘He saw an archer sneaking away in the forest.’
‘He caught a glimpse, he said.’
‘It was more than that. The archer ran within a few yards of him. Beollan had a close look.’
‘And?’
‘He misled you.’
‘Did he?’
‘What you believed he saw was a Welshman with a bow in his hand, making his escape through the trees.’
‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘That is what I assumed.’
‘Beollan held back one vital detail.’
‘What was that, Gytha?’
‘The archer was a woman.’
Birdsong rang through the Forest of Delamere to celebrate a bright and peaceful morning. Deer grazed safely, pigs were foraging eagerly and smaller animals were free to roam and nibble wherever they wished. Leaving her pony tethered, she walked leisurely through the undergrowth and let the sun play fitfully on her face as it poked its way through a fretwork of branches.
When she came to the edge of a clearing, she was more circumspect, pausing to make sure that all was well before emerging from cover.
The old woman was outside her hovel, trying to milk the fractious goat which was tied to a stake and cursing it aloud whenever it shifted its position again. Her visitor approached across the grass with a welcoming smile. When the old woman saw her, she gladly abandoned her chore and gave the goat a valedictory slap. The two friends spoke in Welsh.
‘Good morning!’ said the newcomer.
‘It is good to see you again.’
‘No problems, I hope?’
‘None, Eiluned.’
‘I am glad. I would hate to have put you in danger.’
‘Do not fear for me,’ said the old woman. ‘I have learned to look after myself.’
‘I know.’
‘What about you, Eiluned?’
‘I got back safely. They were very pleased.’
‘You are a brave girl.’
Eiluned smiled. She was a stocky young woman with dark brown hair and eyes of a matching hue. Her face was pleasant rather than pretty and her attire was plain. There was a quiet determination in her manner and she neither spoke nor moved like a woman seeking the admiration of men.