Murder at the Castle by Jeanne M. Dams Page A

wonderful time at the castle. I decided to give the interior passages a miss, but there was certainly enough to see outside. We walked along the tops of the walls, where sentries would have patrolled back when the castle was a living fortress.
    â€˜You were going to tell me something about Edward the First,’ I said suddenly, apropos of nothing.
    Alan got that lecturing gleam in his eye. ‘Yes. He’s the reason most of the Welsh castles exist.’
    â€˜The Welsh built them to defend themselves against Edward?’
    â€˜Quite the opposite. Edward was waging campaigns against the Welsh. This was in the late thirteenth century, and Llywelyn – you know about Llywelyn?’
    â€˜Vaguely. Prince, or princeling, of at least part of Wales. Go on.’
    â€˜Well, Llywelyn was causing Edward lots of trouble, rebelling and so on, and Edward decided to put a stop to it once and for all. He mounted a huge army and quelled the rebellion, killing Llywelyn in the process. Then, to maintain his hold over Wales, Edward built castles at a great rate, impressive castles meant to keep the Welsh under his eye.’
    â€˜Under his heel, Nigel would say,’ murmured Inga.
    â€˜That too,’ Alan admitted. ‘But some of the castles were never finished, and others were used by the English for a relatively short time, because Edward turned his attention to the troubles he was having with the Scots, on his other border, and those occupied him the rest of his life. So there you have it. Potted history of Edward the First. Probably wildly inaccurate. My school days are a long way behind me.’
    â€˜Most of it’s in the guidebook,’ said Inga with an impish grin.
    â€˜Hush, child! I must preserve my image. Dorothy thinks I know everything.’
    I laughed rudely at that, and we walked on to the grassy expanse that, according to the signs, was once the banqueting hall.
    â€˜Inga, there’s nothing much in the way of a roof anywhere. What are they going to do if it rains for the festival?’
    â€˜Tents. Big pavilions for the audience are easy, and they’ve found someone who can rig canopies over some of the performing areas. Nigel tells me they’re going to use almost the whole castle, using the passages and stairs as entrances and exits, and that bit over there –’ she pointed to the window I had already noticed – ‘for antiphonal effects. It should be quite splendid, really. If only that idiotic woman doesn’t spoil it!’

FIVE
    W e continued the discussion over dinner. We’d decided to dine in style at The Stables Bar, the restaurant at a luxury country house hotel called Soughton Hall. ‘Some of the more affluent musicians are staying here,’ Nigel confided, ‘including Sir John and his family. Inga and I actually prefer Tower, though. It’s not only cheaper, but we’re very fond of Charles and Mairi.’
    â€˜They’re delightful people,’ I agreed. ‘But I wondered where the dogs were.’
    â€˜They keep them out of the way of guests,’ said Inga, ‘and this morning Mairi told me Judy has young puppies, so she’s a bit skittish.’
    â€˜But I want to see the puppies!’ I exclaimed. ‘If Judy will let me. Nigel, is Sir John here?’
    He looked around the crowded room. ‘In the corner, there, with the woman and the two small children.’
    â€˜Oh, but they’re adorable!’ I exclaimed. The children were dressed in pale blue, the little boy in shorts and a soft white shirt, the girl in the same shirt, with a blue skirt and a blue bow in her hair.
    â€˜They are, aren’t they?’ said Inga softly, and I knew she was thinking about Nigel Peter.
    The twins had been so well behaved that I hadn’t noticed their presence earlier, but it was late for such young children to be up, and the boy was beginning to fuss.
    The two parents worked together like a smooth