Geoffrey’s, and his feeling was less relief than irritation.
‘What I wish to discover is why John de Reine was in my lordship. He had arranged to meet with you at Carreg Cennen,’ Houghton said.
‘A sudden urge to go on pilgrimage?’ Geoffrey suggested with a grin.
Houghton clenched his teeth and took a deep breath as if to keep himself from saying something he would regret later. ‘The man was brutally murdered, Master Chaucer.’
Owen’s companion blushed and bowed his head.
‘The Duke told you why we were to meet with Reine in particular?’ Owen asked carefully.
‘He did.’ Houghton nodded. ‘I confess to being uneasy about the young man’s intentions, betraying his father to the Duke.’
He did indeed know the heart of it. ‘His was a choice few sons would make out of love,’ Owen agreed. ‘But Lascelles’s choice of a wife seems unwise in these uneasy times.’
‘Of course. Still . . .’
‘Who was Lascelles’s father-in-law accused of harbouring?’ Geoffrey asked. ‘A known supporter of Lawgoch?’
‘One whom the people call merely the Fleming. Amusing, considering how the country round Haverfordwest is overrun by Flemings. As to the man’s supporting Lawgoch, he is an opportunist. It was the Earl of Pembroke’s mother, a Mortimer, who heeded the rumour, and when Lascelles gave Goronwy sanctuary in the Duke’s March, she made haste to inform Lancaster. She knows the Fleming because he has worked for the Mortimers in the past. I do not know what she knows of his present activities.’
‘And hence the ambiguity.’
‘Indeed. Was Gruffydd ap Goronwy harbouring a real traitor, or had he found himself on the wrong side of the Mortimers?’ Houghton rubbed his forehead. ‘I did not know it was the son of Cydweli’s steward who lay in the undercroft when I sent his fellows away.’
‘Whose fellows did you send away?’ Owen asked.
‘Reine’s fellows, Cydweli men.’
‘When?’
‘This morning. They rode up to Tower Gate and demanded to see the body that had been left there.’
The bishop was full of surprises. ‘Cydweli men came here today?’
Houghton nodded. ‘Demanding to see the body.’
‘What did they say when they saw it?’
‘They did not see it. They had no littera marchi . I sent them away. They had been sniffing round here earlier – several days ago – though not so boldly.’ Houghton paced. ‘I assure you, Captain, I am and always shall be the Duke’s ally. I would do nothing to impugn him, his authority or his honour. But I am lord here, and I cannot allow the Duke’s constable – or his steward – to order his men into my lordship and challenge my authority.’
‘I have no quarrel with that.’
‘But now it seems I behaved rashly. I had no idea it was John de Reine. He may have known of some danger and sent for the men, who came too late. But they gave me no explanation.’
‘Then I very much doubt he had sent for them,’ Owen said. ‘Yet it is strange, so many from Cydweli in St David’s.’
Houghton’s pacing became more vigorous. ‘Reine took a risk in writing to the Duke of his father’s inappropriate marriage. Was he silenced by his own father? Or those loyal to his father?’
‘You do not have a high opinion of Lascelles,’ Geoffrey remarked.
The bishop stopped. ‘You misunderstand me. I have never before had reason to distrust the man. In faith, I know almost nothing of Lascelles. But his natural son has been murdered and left at my doorstep, and I was one of the few people privy to his–– Well, you must see that many would consider Reine disloyal to Lascelles.’
‘Was the Duke wrong in trusting Reine?’ Geoffrey asked.
Houghton paused. ‘What?’ he asked distractedly. ‘Wrong to trust him? No. Not at all. Reine was the personal guard of the Duke’s late steward, Banastre, who chose his men with great care.’
‘A steward who kept personal guards?’ Owen said.
Houghton clasped his hands behind his back,
‘What I wish to discover is why John de Reine was in my lordship. He had arranged to meet with you at Carreg Cennen,’ Houghton said.
‘A sudden urge to go on pilgrimage?’ Geoffrey suggested with a grin.
Houghton clenched his teeth and took a deep breath as if to keep himself from saying something he would regret later. ‘The man was brutally murdered, Master Chaucer.’
Owen’s companion blushed and bowed his head.
‘The Duke told you why we were to meet with Reine in particular?’ Owen asked carefully.
‘He did.’ Houghton nodded. ‘I confess to being uneasy about the young man’s intentions, betraying his father to the Duke.’
He did indeed know the heart of it. ‘His was a choice few sons would make out of love,’ Owen agreed. ‘But Lascelles’s choice of a wife seems unwise in these uneasy times.’
‘Of course. Still . . .’
‘Who was Lascelles’s father-in-law accused of harbouring?’ Geoffrey asked. ‘A known supporter of Lawgoch?’
‘One whom the people call merely the Fleming. Amusing, considering how the country round Haverfordwest is overrun by Flemings. As to the man’s supporting Lawgoch, he is an opportunist. It was the Earl of Pembroke’s mother, a Mortimer, who heeded the rumour, and when Lascelles gave Goronwy sanctuary in the Duke’s March, she made haste to inform Lancaster. She knows the Fleming because he has worked for the Mortimers in the past. I do not know what she knows of his present activities.’
‘And hence the ambiguity.’
‘Indeed. Was Gruffydd ap Goronwy harbouring a real traitor, or had he found himself on the wrong side of the Mortimers?’ Houghton rubbed his forehead. ‘I did not know it was the son of Cydweli’s steward who lay in the undercroft when I sent his fellows away.’
‘Whose fellows did you send away?’ Owen asked.
‘Reine’s fellows, Cydweli men.’
‘When?’
‘This morning. They rode up to Tower Gate and demanded to see the body that had been left there.’
The bishop was full of surprises. ‘Cydweli men came here today?’
Houghton nodded. ‘Demanding to see the body.’
‘What did they say when they saw it?’
‘They did not see it. They had no littera marchi . I sent them away. They had been sniffing round here earlier – several days ago – though not so boldly.’ Houghton paced. ‘I assure you, Captain, I am and always shall be the Duke’s ally. I would do nothing to impugn him, his authority or his honour. But I am lord here, and I cannot allow the Duke’s constable – or his steward – to order his men into my lordship and challenge my authority.’
‘I have no quarrel with that.’
‘But now it seems I behaved rashly. I had no idea it was John de Reine. He may have known of some danger and sent for the men, who came too late. But they gave me no explanation.’
‘Then I very much doubt he had sent for them,’ Owen said. ‘Yet it is strange, so many from Cydweli in St David’s.’
Houghton’s pacing became more vigorous. ‘Reine took a risk in writing to the Duke of his father’s inappropriate marriage. Was he silenced by his own father? Or those loyal to his father?’
‘You do not have a high opinion of Lascelles,’ Geoffrey remarked.
The bishop stopped. ‘You misunderstand me. I have never before had reason to distrust the man. In faith, I know almost nothing of Lascelles. But his natural son has been murdered and left at my doorstep, and I was one of the few people privy to his–– Well, you must see that many would consider Reine disloyal to Lascelles.’
‘Was the Duke wrong in trusting Reine?’ Geoffrey asked.
Houghton paused. ‘What?’ he asked distractedly. ‘Wrong to trust him? No. Not at all. Reine was the personal guard of the Duke’s late steward, Banastre, who chose his men with great care.’
‘A steward who kept personal guards?’ Owen said.
Houghton clasped his hands behind his back,
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