*
With his research complete, Rhyllann strode back to Green’s old offices, clutching a sheaf of papers. He found Wren asleep on the kitchen floor, surrounded by sweet wrappers, a mug-a-soup congealing in the sink. Slumping on one of the armless sofas next to him, Rhyllann began reading through the printouts obtained from the library.
For all John’s faults as a king, the man adored his children. All thirteen of them. Which as one historian pointed out made it unlikely he had murdered his own nephew. Rhyllann grimaced and read on. John arranged good marriages for his children, another sign that he wasn’t too despised by fellow kings. One of his illegitimate daughters had married Llwellynn, Prince of Wales. It seemed she frequently travelled into England as her husband’s representative. The last recorded meeting took place in 1216, the year of John’s death. The year he lost his treasure. Rhyllann’s eyebrows rose. Beside him, Wren stirred. Slumping to the floor beside him, Rhyllann handed over his material. Wren perused it sleepily, then sat bolt upright.
‘Ohmigod! Annie!’ Throwing his arms around Rhyllann, Wren hugged him so tightly ribs crackled in complaint.
‘It’s true! It’s all true. Means, motive, opportunity!’
It is true, Rhyllann thought. My geeky little cousin. The lost treasure of the Plantagents. With a rush of pleasure he remembered Wren talking nonsense about flying schools and private planes. Wriggling free he asked.
‘I thought you’d already checked all this out?’
‘I did. It just seems so long ago.’ Wren answered, rummaging around him.
‘This what you’re looking for?’ Rhyllann asked, pulling the slim leather bound book from under Wren. He flicked through the pages, there was writing to just one side. The ink was faded, the pages yellowed. The words were almost indecipherable.
‘You little geek! How on earth did you manage to make anything out?’
Wren shrugged. ‘Once you get used to the handwriting and syntax, it all follows. Welsh hasn’t changed that much.’
‘This paper feels strange, like velvet.’ Rhyllann ran his fingers to and fro, stroking the lushness like a cat’s fur.
‘Hmm. Probably vellum. Or something like that.’ Wren said, looking preoccupied. ‘Annie – d’you think Mr Green's photocopier still works?’
Rhyllann wrinkled his brow. ‘Dunno. If it's got paper in it. Probably. Why?’
‘It might be an idea to make a copy of this. There’s only about thirty pages. Then I can make notes as I go – you know – if anything seems important.’
Rhyllann studied him. Wren's nose was back in the book, eyes scanning as he turned pages rapidly.
Rhyllann rubbed at his face wearily. ‘I thought this was too good to be true. She doesn’t say where she stashed the treasure does she?’
This earned him a rueful look.
‘She meant this book for her brother, Henry. Or his heirs, the future Kings of England. There must be a hidden message in this text.’ Wren speculated. ‘See – if this had fallen into the wrong hands –even her priest could have taken it for the church. She had to be obtuse.’
Rhyllann mulled this over. ‘Obtuse. So – does she give any hints about the treasure?’ He asked, trying not to sound sarcastic. Wren patted the book.
‘Reading this, I’ve learned a lot about Joanie.’ He flicked at the notes taken from the net. ‘She represented her husband at her father’s court. Both were crafty old warriors. John entrusted her with the royal regalia. She was smart Annie. Real smart.’
Rhyllann could practically hear Wren's mind ticking over.
‘And?’
‘And I’d bet money this isn’t the only clue she left. There’s probably been others, maybe lost forever, maybe locked away, maybe even laying in someone’s attic.’
Rhyllann handled the book again, stroking the covers with a sense of wonderment. This could so easily have been overlooked. Would have been, if Wren didn’t hang with old man Stern.
‘So what next?’ he asked.
‘Photo-copy the book. I’m gonna read through again, I’m missing something.’
Rhyllann felt cheated. There should be a beautifully drawn treasure map, with a large X marking the spot.
‘Your princess wasn’t that clever. She let Llwellynn catch her with another man!’ He said spitefully.
Wren stared. ‘What!’
‘Read it yourself! There – see! Llwellynn hung him, and exiled her.’
Wren grabbed the print out from him, and read, open mouthed.
‘Cornwall – he banished her to Cornwall. But he took her back. Forgave her. Annie – do you think …’
That was Wren’s trouble; he thought too much.
‘Whatever. I’ll photocopy your book, then I’m gonna get something to eat.’