Dragon's Lair

  This time there was no mistaking Llewelyn's amusement. "Ah, but that would make Davydd your uncle, too," he pointed out and laughed outright at Justin's expression of mock horror.

  Justin found himself wondering if the Welshman had been testing him with that dubious jest about broken English hearts, wanting to see how quick he was to take offense. "Be sure to tell Sion that he lies very convincingly. That was an inspired move on your part, whether you deliberately placed him in Davydd's household or won him over. I cannot imagine a more useful spy than Davydd's scribe."

  "What of Davydd's confessor?"

  "Jesu!" Justin was genuinely shocked before he realized that Llewelyn was joking. It was a shame that he could not introduce this Welsh rebel to his lady queen; he suspected they'd get along famously. "Just out of curiosity, how can you and Sion be so sure that I will not reveal his true identity to Davydd?"

  "Because you've had a week to enjoy the pleasure of Davydd's company," Llewelyn said, very dryly. "Sion felt the risk was worth raking. He believes that you truly want to find out what happened. Is he right, English?"

  Justin nodded. "I want the truth, yes. I also want the ransom. And if I must choose between the two, I'll take the ransom. I was sent by the queen on a mission of recovery, not retribution."

  "So… you're saying that if I were to know the whereabouts of said ransom, you'd be willing to settle for its return, no questions asked?''

  "Yes."

  "That is an interesting offer. But it is not one I can accept. You see, Davydd's claims to the contrary, I do not have it."

  "I do not think you do, either," Justin admitted. "But it was an offer I had to make, just in case I was wrong. I spoke true when I said that the queen's only concern is getting back what was stolen… or what is left of it."

  "What is left of it'?" Llewelyn echoed, sounding surprised. "Are you saying you believe that the wool was really burned?"

  Justin felt a sudden surge of hope. "You do not think it was?"

  "By the rood, no! Even if Davydd were the world's greatest fool, and he well may be, he still would not have burned the wool. Have you ever seen any man throw money into a fire?"

  There were two intriguing suppositions in Llewelyn's retort, but Justin chose to focus first on the one that would matter the most to his queen. "How can you be so sure of that? I visited the scene, saw for myself that wool was burned."

  "So did I," Llewelyn said laconically, and Justin blinked in astonishment.

  "You dared visit the ambush site? I'm surprised you did not stop by the castle afterward for an ale!"

  "I prefer mead." Llewelyn moved closer, and when Justin tensed, he said, "Look, we've been circling each other like wary cats. We can keep on dancing about if you wish, but I'd rather not." As he was speaking he was removing his rain-dampened mantle. Slowly and deliberately, he then unbuckled his scabbard, placed it the floor at his feet. Justin had left his own mantle in the outer parlor, but after the hesitation of a heartbeat, no more than that, he took off his sword, too, laying it down next to Llewelyn's weapon.

  Llewelyn looked pleased. "Good," he said, "Now we can talk." There were no seats but he found two prayer cushions, sat down cross-legged on one and invited Justin to do the same. "Have you found out about the hay-wain horses yet?"

  "What... the horses stolen in the robbery? What is there to find out?"

  "One of them turned up a few days after the ambush, still wearing a halter. And a second one was seen in the hills, running loose."

  Justin frowned. "I was told none of this. How do you know about it? How can you be sure these were the same horses?"

  "I have friends in surprising places. Sion talked privately to the grooms at Rhuddlan, and their descriptions of the horses matched perfectly."

  "That makes no sense. No one would steal horses and then turn them loose like that…"

  "No," Llewelyn agreed, "they would not. Any thief worth his salt would want the horses, too, if only to sell them. You can al ways find a buyer who'll ask no questions if the price is cheap enough."

  Llewelyn did not bother to state the obvious, that his men would never have let the horses go, either. Justin tucked this new information away for further reflection and leaned forward. "So what evidence do you have that the wool was not burned?"

  "The wagon tracks were still visible when I inspected the scene. We'd actually had several dry days in a row, which qualifies as a drought in Wales. The wheel ruts were shallow, nowhere near as deep as they ought to have been if they'd been loaded with woolsacks."

  "So you think they removed the wool ere they fired the hay-wains? Mayhap burned part of a woolsack or even some wool to convince us that it had all gone up in smoke? I want to believe it, I really do. But if so, what happened to the wool? What did they do with it?"

  "I have not worked that part out yet," Llewelyn conceded. "We could find no other wagon tracks in the vicinity. I have no doubts, though, that the wool is still intact, hidden away somewhere till it is safe to transport it."

  He saw that Justin was not yet convinced, and leaned forward intently. "My people have a saying, 'Gorau amheuthun, chwant bwyd.' 'Hunger is the best sauce.' We know that particular sauce well in Wales, for mine is a poor country. I will not believe that any Welshman would have set fire to a year's worth of wool, not unless one of God's own angels whispers it is so in my ear, and even then, I'd have doubts. No, this was a clever trick, no more than that. It is still out there, waiting to be found,"

  Justin decided it was time to tackle the second of Llewelyn's suppositions. "And you think the mastermind behind this scheme is…"

  "A 'mastermind,' no, I'd not call him that. But he is guilty. I'd wager you know whose name I am going to say, too... my uncle Davydd."

  Justin did not trouble to conceal his skepticism. "Is this some sort of a family game? Davydd is one for playing it, too. We both know he has reasons to blame you that have naught to do with the missing ransom. But it seems to me that your charges are equally suspect. Why keep on fighting this war if you can get the English Crown to fight it for you?"

  "First of all," Llewelyn said, "I am winning this war. And even if I were not, I'd not be mad enough to seek English aid. I'm not going to invite a man to dinner unless I am sure he'll go home afterward. No offense, but you English are too hungry for lands that are not yours."

  "It has been my experience that it is the highborn who .u hungry for lands not theirs... no offense, of course."

  Llewelyn's dark eyes narrowed slightly, and then he began laugh again. "I'd wager you are giving my uncle fits!"

  Justin grinned. "Well, I do my best. I've been honest with you about my doubts. But I've an open mind. If you can make a persuasive case against him, let's hear it."

  Llewelyn was quick to take the challenge. "To begin with, that scheme of his was too absurd for even my uncle to concoct. Lure me away with a false patrol and then send the ransom off in two unguarded hay-wains? Talk about begging to be robbed! Even his use of hay was suspect, for no one sells his hay at market; the need for it is too great. As soon as I heard about it, I knew Davydd was up to no good. I think he arranged to 'steal' the ransom, doubtless leaving it in Selwyn's capable hands to make the necessary plans. Selwyn was with Davydd long enough to know where all the bodies were buried, and my uncle has never been a man for details."

  "Yes, but Selwyn was slain."

  "Davydd's plans never end well." Llewelyn's smile came and went, almost too quick to catch. "Obviously, something went wrong. I cannot believe that my uncle would have wanted Selwyn dead; he was too useful."

  Justin considered for a moment and then shook his head, "No, it still does not make sense to me. I grant you that your theory explains some of the holes in Davydd's story. But there is just one problem with it. I have been watching Davydd closely for the past week and I am sure that he does not know where the ransom is."

  When Llewelyn would have argued, Justin held up his hand. "Wait, I heard you out. You're going to have to t
rust me on this. Unless your uncle's true vocation was to be a player, he could not be so convincing. He is well and truly fearful. Unless..." A memory had just surfaced. "A reliable witness told me that Davydd was calm when told of the robbery. She says he did not panic until he found out that the wool had been burned and Selwyn slain. Suppose... suppose he did set up the robbery as you claim. What if Selwyn's hirelings decided they'd rather have the whole than a share?"

  "Possible," Llewelyn acknowledged. "Men capable of murder and robbery would not have any qualms about betrayal. Still, though… there is one weakness in that argument. Whoever carried out the robbery made no mistakes. It was well planned well executed. I very much doubt that anyone hired by Selwyn could have done it. He'd have been looking for men who were stupid and strong, men who could be relied upon to take orders without getting any notions of their own."

  "'Men without ballocks or brains,'" Justin said thoughtfully remembering what Thomas de Caldecott had told him in that Chester alehouse. "Those are Davydd's own words about the men sent out on the hay-wains. I see your point. Selwyn would be too shrewd to use men likely to turn on him."

  "It is not enough that he sent those men to their deaths. No, he must slander their memories, too." Sion had come in so silently from the sacristy that neither Llewelyn nor Justin had heard him, and they both leapt to their feet at the sudden sound of his voice.

  "You did not know those men, Master de Quincy," Sion said quietly. "I did. They did not lack for 'ballocks or brains.' Alun's only failing was his age; he'd lived more than sixty winters and had wobbly, aching bones. Madog… well, Madog may have been slow-witted, but he was a strong, strapping lad with a good heart. And Rhun may be just a stripling, but he is clever and capable, never has to be told twice to do a task. They deserve better than to be dismissed out of hand as simpletons. All the talk has been of recovering the ransom. But no one - not even you, my lord Llewelyn - has spoken of the need to give them justice. Someone ought to pay for their deaths."

  "Iestyn was not voicing his own opinion, Sion. That scornful phrase 'ballocks or brains' came from Davydd's own mouth." Llewelyn had spoken in Welsh, but he now switched back to French for Justin's sake, "You are right, though. This attack upon three innocent men deserves our attention, our outrage."

  "'Three men'?" Sion queried. "What of the fourth - Selwyn?"

  Llewelyn shrugged. "If we are right in our suspicions, Selwyn was no innocent."

  Sion's eyes flicked from one to the other. "You think Selwyn was involved in the robbery? For what it's worth, he never struck me as a man overburdened with scruples. But I very much doubt that he would have dared such an audacious undertaking on his own. It is more likely that he was obeying orders."

  Llewelyn nodded. "Ah, but whose?"

  Justin saw where the Welshman was going with that. "You are suggesting that Selwyn was the one who betrayed Davydd, only to be betrayed himself?"

  Llewelyn nodded again and elaborated for Sion's sake, "We are proceeding on the supposition that Davydd planned to steal the ransom and blame it on me. But Iestyn is convinced that Davydd does not know where the ransom is, so we are assuming that there is another her player in the game. We've dismissed the idea of Selwyn's hirelings turning on him, so if not them, who then?"

  Sion was frowning pensively. "Selwyn never lacked for ballocks. Mayhap he was the one who decided to turn on Davydd?"

  Llewelyn and Justin exchanged glances and saw that here, too, they were of one mind. "We have the same problem with that," Justin explained to Sion. "Selwyn would not have hired men likely to show too much enterprise, whether they were robbing for Davydd or robbing for him. But we think it possible that Selwyn was induced or bribed to change sides, only to discover that his new allies were even less trustworthy than Davydd. You knew the Sion. How loyal was he to Davydd?"

  Sion was not one to make quick judgments and he took his time in responding. "Selwyn was loyal only to Selwyn. But he was shrewd and would not have been easily duped. If he decided to throw his lot in with these 'new allies,' he must have been convinced they could outwit Davydd or protect him from Davydd's wrath. In other words, people who either had power of their own or were slick enough to convince Selwyn they did."

  "So..." Llewelyn concluded, "Iestyn need only find out the identity of these unknown evildoers, and we can recover the ransom."

  "'We can recover the ransom'?" Justin echoed, with enough emphasis on the pronoun to set a grin tugging at the corner of Llewelyn's mouth.

  "Yes, 'we,'" he said blandly. "We have a common interest here, after all. You want the ransom and I'd rather not let Davydd get away with blaming me for the theft, not when it would bring down the wrath of the English Crown on my head."

  Later, it would surprise Justin to realize how easily they had begun to exchange the barbed banter that was the coin of the realm in male friendships. Now, he shot back with a sardonic "What are you saying, Llewelyn? That we are allies all of a sudden?"

  "You could do worse, my lad," the Welshman gibed. "To be more accurate, though, I'd say we are friendly adversaries."

  "If word of this gets back to Davydd or the Earl of Chester," Justin said, "we'll be seen as partners in crime!" He was fast learning that Wales was a mystery maze that few could penetrate, an enigmatic land in which naught was as it first appeared. But nothing seemed more unlikely to him than that he should find himself in this peaceful Cistercian church, sharing a laugh Llewelyn ab Iorwerth.

  ~*~

  Justin spent the night at the abbey guest house, while Sion rode off with Llewelyn, promising to return on the morrow. It had been agreed upon that he would escort Justin back to Rhuddlan Castle, although he was not going to accompany him the way; he planned to stay away another few days, having gotten leave from Davydd to visit his brother. He did not want anyone to connect Justin's disappearance with his absence, he'd explained, and Justin could only marvel at the shadow world of spies like Sion and Durand, where even the most minor detail could mean discovery and discovery could mean death.

  Sion turned up at the abbey guest house the next morning, and to Justin's surprise, Llewelyn was with him. When Justin asked about his safety, he smiled and shrugged, saying the White Monks of Aberconwy knew how to tell genuine coin from a counterfeit, and Justin remembered Angharad's comment about the support Llewelyn enjoyed amongst the Welsh. "Poor Davydd," he said wryly, and the Welshman laughed. But as they rode away from the abbey, it would be Llewelyn's last words that Justin would remember, not his laughter.

  Llewelyn and a handful of his men were standing by the abbey gatehouse as Justin and Sion waved in farewell. "English!" he called out suddenly. "You are going into the dragon's lair. Bear that in mind, and watch your back!"

  Chapter 7

  August 1193

  Rhuddlan Castle, Wales

  "Iestyn!"

  Dismounting in the castle bailey, Justin turned toward the sound of a familiar voice. He was getting used to responding to the Welsh version of his name. Angharad was hastening toward him, looking so distraught that he quickly handed the reins to a waiting groom and strode toward her.

  "Iestyn, thank God you are back! Where have you been for the past two days? Do you know what a hornet's nest you stirred up?"

  "Angharad, I left a message for Thomas. Are you saying he did not get it?"

  "No, he got it, but he found no comfort in it. You told us nothing, after all, just that you were going off on your own. Thomas was vexed at first that you'd not confided in him, but when you did not return last night, he began to fear the worst. He was so disquieted that he insisted upon returning to Chester and letting the earl know that you'd gone missing."

  "God's Blood!" This was a complication Justin did not need.

  He was sorry he'd worried Thomas, even sorrier that he'd have no answersi for the knight. He could hardly tell Thomas that he'd been meeting on the sly with their chief suspect. "Is Davydd wroth with me, too?"

  "Actually," she said, slipping her arm through his
as they headed toward the hail, "I think he is hoping that you fell off a cliff or were eaten by a wolf."

  "Well, the day is not a total loss, then. At least I get to disappoint Davydd."

  And disappoint Davydd, he did. "You're back, are you?" the Welsh prince said sourly. "You'd damned well better have a good explanation for all the trouble you've caused. De Caldecott insisted that I send men out to search for you. Why he should care is beyond my comprehension, but he made an utter nuisance of himself until I agreed. So suppose you tell us why you took off like that and just where you've been for the past two days."

  "I cannot do that, my lord, not yet. As I told you before, I can share my findings with no one until I've completed my investigation."

  "Surely you can confide privately in my lord husband?" Emma's contribution to the conversation came as a surprise to Justin and Davydd both. She'd approached them soundlessly and was now regarding Justin so coolly that she seemed a totally different woman from the one who'd sought him out in the castle gardens, "These are Lord Davydd's domains, after all," she continued. "So he of all men ought to be kept informed of whatever you discover."

  Looking startled but gratified by this wifely support, Davydd glared at Justin. "Indeed! I'll tell you straight out, de Quincy, that I find your secrecy offensive."

  "As well you should, my lord husband." Emma was addressing Davydd, but those beautiful blue eyes were taking Justin's measure and finding him wanting. "What you do not seem to realize, Master de Quincy, is that by balking at sharing information with Lord Davydd, you raise suspicions in other men's minds. People might well think that you do not trust him or even that you suspect him of complicity in this wretched business."