Around them, the wind was picking up and the smell of rain wasn’t far off. They could see it over to the west. Gryffyn and Colvyn hunkered down against the rocks, watching the activity in and around Nether. Mostly, they were there so that Gryffyn could prove to Colvyn that the English had indeed overrun the castle.
Based on their observations, Gryffyn hoped that Colvyn would plan some sort of attack or other restless action. If de Poyer wanted to hold Nether, then Gryffyn was going to make it exceedingly difficult for him.
“Well?” he asked Colvyn. “Do you believe me now that they have confiscated Nether?”
Colvyn’s dark hair whipped up in the wind as he pulled his rough woolen cloak more tightly around his neck. “Aye,” he replied, his dark gaze on the castle. “I believe you. It would seem that we must do something about it.”
“Agreed,” Gryffyn said as if Colvyn’s statement was the most obvious thing in the world. “You must contact your teulu for support. We will need many men to regain Nether.”
Colvyn pondered that scenario and as he did, there was something that didn’t quite make sense to him about this situation. “Nether is built to withstand a siege,” he said. “It is surrounded by the Gorge of the Dead and has sheer walls. How did the English manage to take it?”
Gryffyn blinked at the unexpected question. He had lied about the English attacking the fortress simply to force the man’s support, so he thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible fabrication.
“A distraction,” he said, working his way through the lie as he went. He’d always been rather good at that sort of thing. “My father was unprepared for their assault and met them at the gatehouse while a group of them came in through the postern gate.”
Colvyn’s gaze lingered on the distant fortress. “Odd,” he muttered. “They do not seem like an invading army. Everything is…open. There are soldiers going in and out of the gatehouse as if nothing is amiss.”
Gryffyn shrugged as he sat back against the cold slate rocks, huddling for warmth against the cold breeze. “What do they have to worry over?” he grunted. “They have the castle. They have nothing to fear.”
Colvyn eyed him. “But they know you escaped.”
“I suppose so. They probably do not care.”
“But they must presume you would go for help.”
Gryffyn shook his head. “Mayhap they would,” he said, blowing on his cold hands. “But why would the gatehouse be open if they presumed that?”
It was a clever question, one designed to make it look as if Gryffyn was just as confused about the open castle as Colvyn was. Colvyn’s gaze lingered on Gryffyn a moment, mulling over the question, before returning his gaze to the castle. Increasingly, something about this wasn’t sitting right with him. True, there were English at Nether, but they were very casual-appearing soldiers for the siege they just put Nether through. More than that, the castle didn’t look damaged in the least as it would have had the English bombarded it. Nay, something wasn’t right about this entire circumstance. He was coming to think that Gryffyn wasn’t telling him everything he knew. Just as he opened his mouth, Gryffyn, who had been studying the castle, suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Look!” he hissed. “See the group of knights riding from the castle?”
Colvyn ducked behind his rock, peering out at the road below. “Aye,” he said after a moment. “Heavily armed Saesneg warriors.”
Gryffyn was watching the group as they headed north on the road. “I count four,” he said. “I only saw four knights before I fled. Is it possible all four are leaving the castle? Where could they be going?”
Colvyn shook his head. “I would not know,” he said, his gaze tracking the four big knights and at least ten men-at-arms as they thundered down the road. “Mayhap we should follow them to discover their business.”
Gryffyn thought on that before his attention turned to the castle. “I have a better idea,” he said. “My sisters… they are still in the castle. Mayhap we should try to rescue them while the knights are away.”
Colvyn looked at him. “In daylight?” he asked as if Gryffyn had made an utterly foolish suggestion. “We would be too easily seen. It would be madness to try.”
“I can try.”
“But the English soldiers know you, do they not?”
“Not all of them.”
Colvyn wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. His gaze was intense on Gryffyn. “Why is it important to you to rescue them?” he asked. “I have known you for many years, Gryffyn. Chrystobel and Izlyn have never meant anything to you. Why would you risk yourself to go in after them?”
Gryffyn didn’t want to tell him the truth, that he wanted to slip in and kill them both and then blame their murders on the English. It would be a good way to incite rebellion within the Welsh. With the knights away, it was perfect timing and he could hardly believe the good fortune.
“Stay here, then, if it pleases you,” Gryffyn said, gathering his cloak as he began to move out from between the rocks. “I am going to see if I can gain entry to Nether.”
Colvyn regarded him dubiously. “Not to save your sisters.”
Gryffyn cocked a blond eyebrow. “I am not for certain yet,” he muttered. “I will know better when I get there.”
Colvyn watched him go, quite convinced now that Gryffyn wasn’t telling him everything. There was something very secretive and ominous about him. The further the man moved away from him, the more wary he became. Perhaps he shouldn’t be here. Perhaps Gryffyn had lured him into danger intentionally.
Still, the English were there for some reason, and Colvyn wanted to know that reason. As Gryffyn made his way down the slippery hill and headed for Nether Castle, Colvyn and a few of his men made their way back to their shaggy ponies, horses that were starting to grow their heavy winter coats, and spurred their mounts after the English riders that had headed off to the north. He wanted to follow their trail and see what business they had.
He was very curious, indeed.
Chapter Fourteen
And suddenly, I know that it is time to start something new
And trust the magic of a new beginning.
My heart may be broken, but it is not destroyed.
My soul may be injured, but it is not shattered.
When I look at you, I see all things bright and pure.
I see the magic of a new beginning with you.
Chrystobel had read the note at least ten times. She was reading it again even now, thinking that it was perhaps the most wonderful note she had ever read. It made her feel warm and fluid and giddy inside. Seated on her father’s bed, surrounded by a half-packed trunk as she finished storing away the man’s possessions, she couldn’t take her eyes off the faded yellow parchment. After she’d read it a twelfth time, she looked up at Izlyn.
“You are sure that Keller composed this?” she said, holding up the scrap. “This is your writing. Moreover, it is in English.”
Izlyn nodded frantically and made motions that would indicated someone had spoken the words to her and told her to write it. It took Chrystobel a minute or so to figure out what her sister was gesturing about. She looked back at the parchment again.