Page 33 of Wolfehound
Canterbury used le Mon like his own personal attack dog. In the dangerous world of England’s politics, a man like le Mon was worth his weight in gold. He could end problems, create problems, or anything else that was needed. He charged his weight in gold, too, but his services were impeccable. When Canterbury said he needed the man for a task, he wasn’t jesting.
It would be a most important and secretive task.
One le Mon was most suited for.
Something deadly…
As soon as Ronec left the chamber, the wheels were already in motion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Westminster Palace
“Although I cannottell you who gave such information because confessionals are privileged communication between God and man, I can tell you that the information came from someone who was close to Carlton de Royans for many years. He witnessed everything with his own eyes.”
Canterbury finished speaking, watching the expression of the man seated across from him with great anticipation. Edward III, or Edward Longshanks as he was colloquially known, had never been one to keep his feelings or opinions hidden. He’d been king for many years and had a reputation of being shrewd, hard-hitting, and, at times, conniving. But Edward was so much more, a many-faceted man, who gazed steadily at the ecclesiastical prince across the table. Even though he and the Archbishop of Canterbury weren’t on the greatest terms at the best of times, he’d never known the man to lie.
Frankly, he was trying to conceal his shock at what he’d just heard.
“Preposterous,” he finally said in a tone that suggested the entire story was utterly foolish. “Who told you such nonsense?”
“A loyal priest,” Canterbury said steadily. “Why? Do you know differently?”
Edward eyed him, annoyed. “I do,” he said. “Years ago, I sent someone to ensure she was at the priory and in good health. I have even granted her a pension to pay her expenses at the priory. Sheisthere.”
“How do you know it istheGwenllian of Wales?”
That gave Edward pause because he didn’t know. Not for certain, really, and that seemed to annoy him further. “Because Mother Cecelia, the prioress, confirmed it,” he said irritably. “She confirmed that the very child was delivered by Patrick de Wolfe, Earl of Berwick, having been brought straight from Wales.”
“And if the child given over to Sempringham was a decoy, and Berwick delivered her on the instruction of his father, do you not think he could have lied to the prioress?”
Unfortunately, that was very true, but Edward didn’t want to admit it. To admit that he might have been duped after all these years was to admit weakness, and that wasn’t something Edward would ever acknowledge. He was the Hammer of the Scots, after all. There was no weakness.
Except when there was.
Unfortunately, the archbishop’s words were beginning to cast doubt.
“It is possible he could have,” Edward finally said. “Anything is possible. But Patrick de Wolfe has held Berwick for years in my name. Why should he lie about something like this?”
“Because you are not his father,” Canterbury pointed out. “Who do you think he will be more loyal to in the end? You or his father?”
They both knew the answer to that one. Edward wasn’t going to dignify the question with a reply. That doubt was starting to claw at him, making him feel sick and irritable. With a heavy sigh, he shifted the focus slightly.
“This priest who told you about this,” he said. “How trustworthy is he?”
Canterbury shrugged. “He is ambitious, but I do not think he is a liar,” he said. “Liars are discovered sooner or later, and he would not risk that. He hoped to gain a favorable position in my household by relaying this tale to me.”
“And is that the same reason you relay it to me?”
It was, but Canterbury wasn’t going to admit anything. He wasn’t going to admit the leverage he was seeking by relaying the information or the fact that St. Zosimus wouldn’t be around to confirm the tale. If le Mon did his job correctly, therewasno more St. Zosimus.
Just the way Canterbury had planned it.
“I am telling you because Llywelyn’s daughter is living incognito with de Royans and she is already betrothed,” he said evenly. “Since it seems to have been orchestrated by de Wolfe, he has already selected someone, though who, exactly, was not made clear to me. De Lara evidently died before he could give a name. But my concern is that de Wolfe selected one of his own grandsons. The House of de Wolfe is already dangerously close to the Welsh princes, but imagine if they had all of Wales behind them? The dowager Countess of Warenton is Scottish and, historically, most of the Lowlands have been loyal to de Wolfe. That being the case, their power would rival yours.”
“So this is about power?”
“What else could it be?”
