A Gift of Sanctuary by Candace Robb Page B

third time. Lascelles set it on the table beside him. ‘John departed for Carreg Cennen. He had no business in St David’s.’ He looked oddly pale for the amount of wine he had just consumed, and so quickly. ‘But why should that disturb the bishop?’
    ‘We might leave that for later,’ Owen said. ‘After––’
    ‘Now,’ Lascelles said, lifting his cup. ‘I shall hear all now.’
    ‘We merely thought business should wait,’ Geoffrey said quietly.
    ‘I prefer to hear it now.’
    ‘Very well.’ Owen nodded to Edern.
    The vicar sat with folded hands and spoke quietly. ‘My lord Bishop wants your reassurance that it was not by your orders that Reine and shortly afterwards four other armed men from this garrison came riding into his lordship without first requesting his permission.’
    ‘Is that his concern? That I challenged his authority in his lordship? Well, he may rest assured that I did not. As if I did not know he would run to the Duke––’ Suddenly the steward passed a hand across his eyes, shook his head. ‘You must forgive me. It is a shock, this news. You are right, Captain. We shall discuss the bishop’s concerns at a more appropriate time.’ He rose clumsily, gave a curt nod. Sweat glistened on his pale face, his eyes did not focus on his company. ‘I forget myself, gentlemen, offering you a paltry cup of wine as comfort upon your arrival. My wife has arranged for warm water to be sent to your rooms so that you might wash the dust from you. And a more substantial refreshment.’ He turned and hurried from the hall.
    Edern wiped his brow.
    Geoffrey slapped the table and rose, tugging up his sagging girdle. ‘I have enjoyed warmer welcomes, but in the circumstances he behaved with excellent courtesy.’ He glanced round, nodded to the servant hovering in the doorway. ‘We would retire to the guest chambers.’
    Owen did not share Geoffrey’s satisfaction with the steward’s welcome. What he had witnessed seemed not the reaction of a man who had just received grievous news, but the behaviour of a man who faced at last what he had long dreaded. For the first time Owen wondered whether Lascelles had a hand in John de Reine’s death. Could he have ordered his son silenced?
    Edern was to stay with the present chaplain of Cydweli in the chapel tower. Geoffrey and Owen were led across the inner bailey to the guesthouse, where they were to share a room. Servants and soldiers stood about in doorways and corners of the yard, heads together, talking quietly but excitedly. Several glanced up curiously as the two passed. Already the news of Reine’s death spread.
    Owen dismissed the servant as soon as the young man had helped him off with his boots. The room was large, with a window that looked out towards the great hall and another that faced a small tree valiantly struggling to grow in the shadow of the castle wall. The chamber walls were painted white with yellow and red flowers. It was well furnished, with a brazier in the corner between the two windows, two fair-sized beds, a rack of pegs on which to hang their clothes, a trunk for storage, and a table and two chairs.
    ‘We should be comfortable here,’ Owen said. He removed his eye-patch and rubbed the scar beneath.
    ‘Something troubles you,’ Geoffrey said.
    Owen poured wine from the hospitably large jug on the table and settled down on the bed which smelled of lavender and felt free of lumps. He might sleep well here if he could quiet his mind. ‘Sir John did not behave like a grieving father. Or a grieving steward.’
    Geoffrey stood looking out the small window that faced on the inner bailey. Without turning, he said, ‘He hides his emotions before strangers. A common courtesy.’
    ‘Oh, aye, he would do that. He looks a man who has done everything everyone expected of him, from squire to steward.’
    ‘What of his natural son? There at least was proof of a night of passion.’
    ‘That, too, was expected.’
    ‘You are never