The Dragons of Archenfield by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston [Marston, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Bright Dart, Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780449225455
Google: qCgPAAAACAAJ
Amazon: B004BLK6DK
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 1996-11-26T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

CREEPING SHADOWS BROUGHT THE FRUITLESS SEARCH TO AN END. IT HAD BEEN A long day in the saddle and Ralph Delchard and his men were dispirited as they headed back to Llanwarne. The whole of Archenfield had now been thoroughly explored, but it yielded no clue as to the whereabouts of Gervase Bret. The Golden Valley had been traversed and they had gone deep into Maurice Damville’s estates in Ewyas.

Ralph had even taken his men across the Welsh border in the direction of the Black Mountains, but there was still no trace of his friend.

Canon Hubert and Brother Simon welcomed them back.

“What news?” asked Hubert, eagerly.

“Nothing good,” said Ralph, dismounting from his horse. “We have not paused for one minute, but it was all to no avail. Gervase has vanished into thin air.”

“Most disquieting,” said Simon. “Canon Hubert and I must bear some of the blame here. We should not have left him alone to ride back to Richard Orbec’s demesne.”

“Gervase would not be stopped,” argued Hubert.

“It was our duty to make him stop.”

“Then why did you remain silent at the time?”

“I was praying for the intercession of common sense.”

“There is no point in bickering,” said Ralph. “I feel as guilty as either of you, but the fact of the matter is that Gervase made the decision himself. And it was the right decision. He doubtless learned much of value from his secret inspection of the Orbec holdings.

Unfortunately, the right decision produced an unforeseen result.”

“Where did you search?” asked Hubert.

“Anywhere and everywhere. There is not a bush in Archenfield that we have not looked under. Nobody could help us and most of them could not even understand our language. I never thought I would miss so sorely the company of Idwal the Archdeacon.”

Hubert flinched. “That mad Welshman?”

“We could have endured his madness for the benefit of his Welsh.

Idwal would have been a quick interpreter.”

“We could certainly have spared him here.”

“Where else did you ride, my lord?” asked Simon.

Ralph recounted the story of the visit to Maurice Damville’s demesne.

They were disturbed to hear of the appearance of a second blood-red dragon and speculated endlessly on its significance.

“How did Maurice Damville receive you?” said Hubert.

“With ill grace,” explained Ralph. “He demanded to know why we were trespassing on his land and urged us to leave as quickly as we had come.”

“You were not invited to Ewyas Harold Castle?”

“We were not, Hubert. This Damville is a surly host. He swore that Gervase was nowhere on his estates, then sent men to escort us out of Ewyas.” Ralph was simmering. “The laws of hospitality have left this benighted county untouched. Richard Orbec threatens us and Maurice Damville chases us away like boys stealing apples from his orchards. These indignities will not be borne!”

“Unleash the Celtic imbecile upon them,” said Hubert. “Idwal is a red dragon in himself.”

The archdeacon materialised at once out of the gloom.

“Do I hear my name being taken in vain?” he said with an amiable cackle. “That is usually an invitation to debate.

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