Keller leaned forward on the saddle to address the man. “Greetings,” he said in Welsh. “Have you more jewelry to sell me?”
He meant it as a jest but the old merchant appeared nervous and grim. He waved a dismissive hand at him. “I could see you coming from the crest of the road to the east,” he said, pointing to the rising sun. “I went to the alley behind the shop where the view is better. I must warn you, my lord, that I saw many men back in the fields, men with weapons and crossbows. They have gone into hiding now.”
Keller’s mood turned serious. “Are you sure?” he asked. “How many did you see?”
The merchant shook his head. “Too many,” he said. “They were moving through the fields and trees. Mayhap these are the same men who attacked you yesterday.”
Keller’s gaze moved around the avenue without moving his head. He kept it pointed towards the merchant. If they were being watched, he didn’t want to give away the fact that they were being warned by looking around as if hunting for someone or something. He wanted to appear as casual as possible, at least for the moment. But inside, his heart began to race. We have women with us… my wife is with us!
“Mayhap,” he said nonchalantly. Then, he motioned to William, who was nearest to him, to come closer. William brought his steed alongside and Keller leaned in the man’s direction, his voice quiet. “The merchant says he has seen men with weapons around the town. He says they went into hiding when we approached. Spread the word and make sure my wife and her sister are well protected down in the wagon. Use the coffin as a barrier if you have to. I am sure Trevyn would not mind.”
As William nodded and moved off, Keller returned his attention to the merchant. “We are going to the church to bury my wife’s father and then we are returning home,” he said. “I will be at the church should you need to send a message to me.”
The merchant nodded nervously and darted back into his stall. Keller gave the signal to move and the column lurched forward. As William moved back among the men, spreading the ominous word, Rhys moved forward to ride point with Keller. He reined his big black and white charger close enough so that he wouldn’t have to shout.
“What are your thoughts, Keller?” he asked, his gaze studying the town, the people, just as Keller was. “Do you think they are the same rebels who attacked you yesterday?”
Keller didn’t look at Rhys. “It is possible,” he said. “If it is not, then that is very concerning.”
“What do you mean?”
Keller glanced at him. “I mean that if these are not the same men, meaning that they are somehow indigenous to this village, then it would stand to reason that we are either being followed unaware, or that someone told local rebels that we were returning today so that the rebels would be here to greet us.” He shook his head. “The only people who knew we were returning were the priests.”
“I doubt the priests would have been party to setting up an ambush.”
Keller wriggled his eyebrows. “I would hope not,” he said. “Which leads me to the second possibility, we’re being followed. If so, by whom? I’ve not seen any sign of being followed and I am fairly astute at that kind of thing.”
Rhys wasn’t sure how to answer that. “There is a myriad of possibilities,” he said. “For one, we look, act, and smell like Saesneg. Of course the locals would know that we are not Welsh. It would not take long for word to get around.”
Keller turned to look at him. “You are half-Welsh, are you not?”
Rhys nodded. “My mother is Welsh,” he said. “But only by name and by blood. Our heart and our family culture is more English than most.”
“Then what do you think of the situation, as a man with Welsh blood in him?”
Rhys exhaled calmly, looking around the town at the peasants dressed in heavy wools and durable, if not well-used, clothing. “I think that the Welsh have conveniently shown up both times in a town you happen to be visiting,” he said. “To me, that reeks of a traitor.”
Keller cast him a long glance. “Someone is informing the resistance of my movements?”
“It is possible.”
Keller turned around to look at the women in the wagon, now being moved to the bed of the wagon by William. He watched Chrystobel as she carefully followed her sister into the back of the wagon. After a moment, he faced forward, wracked with thought.
“Not my wife,” he said. “I do not think she would be capable of that kind of deception.”
Rhys was careful with his words. “But you have only known the woman three days,” he said quietly. “She is Welsh, Keller. Is it possible she has been deceiving you?”
The mere thought made Keller sick. He shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said. “She would not do such a thing. There are other possibilities more viable than that.”
Rhys didn’t pursue the wife. He moved on to the next possibility. “What about the sister?” he asked. “Gart tells me she can write. Is it possible she has been sending messages?”
Keller shook his head, more firmly this time. “You are chasing phantoms,” he scolded softly. “With what went on at Nether before we arrived, do you truly think either of those women would want to chase us off so it would be as it was before? That’s madness.”
Rhys shrugged. “I am simply listing possibilities,” he said. “Eliminate the improbable and, no matter how impossible, whatever remains must be the truth.”
“Find another truth.”
“Very well,” Rhys was undaunted. “What about the brother? You said that he escaped and you have mentioned your fear that he is lurking about, watching the activities at Nether. Mayhap he is behind the Welsh rebels that appear in this town every time you do.”
Keller sighed heavily. “That is as good an explanation as any,” he said. They were drawing near the church so he shifted his focus to what lay ahead. There would be time for speculation later. “We are nearly to the church. Assign six men to remove the coffin from the wagon. I want to get inside the church as quickly as possible.”