parchment. "This is a copy of the letter that he wrote to Queen Eleanor, informing her that the ransom had been stolen on its way to Chester."
Justin waited while the earl read and was amused when Chester echoed his own words almost exactly, saying brusquely that Davydd had been miserly with the details of the ambush. "Fortunately, one of my knights was in Gwynedd helping with the collection of the ransom, and he was able to give me a more thorough account of the crime."
This was the first piece of good news that Justin had gotten. "Was your man present at the ambush, my lord earl?"
"Luckily for him, no. There was but one survivor, and I'm told he was not expected to live. Thomas was at Rhuddlan Castle, though, and so he has some useful information for you. Davydd ab Owain has good reason to be closemouthed. Had I blundered as badly as he did, I'd be loath to share my shame with the world, too."
Justin was not surprised that Chester was eager to lay blame at Davydd's door. Marcher lords and their Welsh counterparts were natural rivals, for the borders were writ in sand, shifting or expanding as ambitious men jockeyed for advantage. "I would be most interested in hearing of these blunders, my lord. To judge by the prince's letter to my lady queen, all the guilt belongs to that Welsh bandit, who is apparently a kinsman of some sort."
"A kinsman of some sort?" Chester echoed, so sarcastically that Justin tensed. "You are not very well informed, are you, Master de Quincy? If you do not even know the players in this infernal game, how likely are you to come out as the winner? Llewelyn ab Iorwerth is no fourth cousin by blood or distant kin by marriage. Nor can he be dismissed as a 'Welsh bandit.' He is Davydd's nephew and in the eyes of Holy Church, he has a better claim to crown than his usurping uncle, for he was begotten in lawful marriage and Davydd was born in sin."
Justin was angry at the injustice of Chester's rebuke; this was why he'd come to the earl in the first place, to learn about the "players in this infernal game." But earls were not men to be reprimanded, and he contented himself by saying coolly, "I thought that the Welsh allow a bastard to inherit as long as he is recognized by his father."
Chester's heavy black brows slanted down in a frown, for Justin's tone was not as dispassionate as his words. Justin held his gaze and to his surprise, the earl was the one to look away first. "I am glad to see that you do have some knowledge of the Welsh and their ways," he said grudgingly, and Justin remembered that the earl had a reputation for more than pride and hot temper; it was said, too, that he was fair.
"I would like to meet with this knight of yours, my lord earl," Justin said, doing his best to sound like a supplicant, for his mission could be crippled if he made an enemy of Chester.
"I shall do better than that, Master de Quincy. It is my intent to send Sir Thomas de Caldecott with you into Wales."
Justin was less than thrilled by the earl's generosity, and there was a gleam in Chester's eyes that told him the earl well knew the presence of his knight would be a mixed blessing. It would be useful to have an ally who was so familiar with Wales and the Welsh. But this man would also be Chester's eyes and ears, and Justin was not yet sure if the queen's interests and the earl's interests were necessarily one and the same. Moreover, although he worked well enough with the serjeant Jonas and the under-sheriff Luke de Marston, he was more comfortable on his own. There was some truth in Luke's jest that he was a natural lone wolf, not happy hunting with the pack.
Justin now gave the only response he could, and thanked the Earl of Chester for his kind offer, "My pleasure," the other man said, with a brief smile. It was unexpectedly mischievous, and for the first time, he looked as young as he truly was, for Chester was only in his twenty-third year. "I've already sent for Thomas." Not at all uncomfortable with
Justin waited while the earl read and was amused when Chester echoed his own words almost exactly, saying brusquely that Davydd had been miserly with the details of the ambush. "Fortunately, one of my knights was in Gwynedd helping with the collection of the ransom, and he was able to give me a more thorough account of the crime."
This was the first piece of good news that Justin had gotten. "Was your man present at the ambush, my lord earl?"
"Luckily for him, no. There was but one survivor, and I'm told he was not expected to live. Thomas was at Rhuddlan Castle, though, and so he has some useful information for you. Davydd ab Owain has good reason to be closemouthed. Had I blundered as badly as he did, I'd be loath to share my shame with the world, too."
Justin was not surprised that Chester was eager to lay blame at Davydd's door. Marcher lords and their Welsh counterparts were natural rivals, for the borders were writ in sand, shifting or expanding as ambitious men jockeyed for advantage. "I would be most interested in hearing of these blunders, my lord. To judge by the prince's letter to my lady queen, all the guilt belongs to that Welsh bandit, who is apparently a kinsman of some sort."
"A kinsman of some sort?" Chester echoed, so sarcastically that Justin tensed. "You are not very well informed, are you, Master de Quincy? If you do not even know the players in this infernal game, how likely are you to come out as the winner? Llewelyn ab Iorwerth is no fourth cousin by blood or distant kin by marriage. Nor can he be dismissed as a 'Welsh bandit.' He is Davydd's nephew and in the eyes of Holy Church, he has a better claim to crown than his usurping uncle, for he was begotten in lawful marriage and Davydd was born in sin."
Justin was angry at the injustice of Chester's rebuke; this was why he'd come to the earl in the first place, to learn about the "players in this infernal game." But earls were not men to be reprimanded, and he contented himself by saying coolly, "I thought that the Welsh allow a bastard to inherit as long as he is recognized by his father."
Chester's heavy black brows slanted down in a frown, for Justin's tone was not as dispassionate as his words. Justin held his gaze and to his surprise, the earl was the one to look away first. "I am glad to see that you do have some knowledge of the Welsh and their ways," he said grudgingly, and Justin remembered that the earl had a reputation for more than pride and hot temper; it was said, too, that he was fair.
"I would like to meet with this knight of yours, my lord earl," Justin said, doing his best to sound like a supplicant, for his mission could be crippled if he made an enemy of Chester.
"I shall do better than that, Master de Quincy. It is my intent to send Sir Thomas de Caldecott with you into Wales."
Justin was less than thrilled by the earl's generosity, and there was a gleam in Chester's eyes that told him the earl well knew the presence of his knight would be a mixed blessing. It would be useful to have an ally who was so familiar with Wales and the Welsh. But this man would also be Chester's eyes and ears, and Justin was not yet sure if the queen's interests and the earl's interests were necessarily one and the same. Moreover, although he worked well enough with the serjeant Jonas and the under-sheriff Luke de Marston, he was more comfortable on his own. There was some truth in Luke's jest that he was a natural lone wolf, not happy hunting with the pack.
Justin now gave the only response he could, and thanked the Earl of Chester for his kind offer, "My pleasure," the other man said, with a brief smile. It was unexpectedly mischievous, and for the first time, he looked as young as he truly was, for Chester was only in his twenty-third year. "I've already sent for Thomas." Not at all uncomfortable with
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