Free A Spy for the Redeemer by Candace Robb Page A

this house for so many years – it was unnatural for her to smile so after the events of the evening.
    As they crossed the hall, Tildy was leaning over Daimon’s pallet, spreading more covers over him.
    ‘I shall be down here with Dame Phillippa tonight, Tildy. I can hear if you call.’
    Tildy nodded, but did not look up from her charge.
    Lucie woke towards dawn, surprised that she had fallen asleep. Phillippa was not in her bed. Hurriedly dressing, Lucie ran out into the hall. Tildy dozed in a chair beside Daimon. Michaelo slept on a pallet just out of the light of the fire. Two menservants slept nearby. Harold must be on watch. Lucie checked the chapel. Empty. Where could her aunt be? When Lucie was small her aunt had told her to run into the maze if a stranger frightened her. They would lose themselves among the tall yews, and she would have time to run out the other way. She had spoken of the maze last night. Lucie hurried out into the pale dawn. The smell of damp ashes reminded her of the ruined gatehouse. She paused, cocking her ear. Slowly she walked towards the maze, still listening. As she drew near the entrance, she heard voices from within. Or beyond. She held her breath. As a child she used to stand here, just so, listening for her mother. She felt a chill. The voices grew louder.
    ‘I promise you, Dame Phillippa,’ Harold was saying. ‘It will be our secret. But you must rest now. The early morning air is not good for you.’
    Slowly Harold and Phillippa emerged from the maze, her hand resting on his arm. The sight of her aunt did not comfort Lucie. Her headdress was askew and torn. Her thin white hair fell round her face in greasy strands. Her eyes were large and dark, like those of a cat just in from the night’s hunt. Smudges of dirt on her cheeks and nose matched her crooked, muddy hem. This was not the Phillippa who brought Lucie up.
    ‘Aunt Phillippa! What has happened?’
    ‘I fell in the maze,’ Phillippa said, glancing up at Harold.
    He nodded. ‘I heard her cry out.’
    ‘Why were you in the maze?’ Lucie asked.
    ‘I wanted to see if it is still possible to go through the proper way.’
    ‘Why would it not be? Just last summer you taught Gwenllian how to find her way through it.’
    ‘I forgot.’
    How much of her forgetfulness was an act, Lucie wondered as she followed the two into the hall. She was thankful Phillippa wished to lie down. Lucie needed a moment to close her eyes and calm her heart.

Six
    THE CAPTAIN’S TALE
     
    O wen and Jared climbed out of the valley in which St David’s nestled, a valley so deep that the bell tower of the cathedral was invisible from the sea – indeed from all but the highest hills surrounding the city. They walked slowly, pausing here and there, hoping to trip up clumsy pursuers. Iolo, Sam, Edmund and Tom were scattered about, two ahead, two behind, watching for a ripple behind the bait. At the rocky crest of the ascent Owen felt invigorated by a sharp, salt-laden wind. Gulls shrieked above, waves crashed against the rocks below. Gradually, as the two descended towards the harbour, the rumble and creak of several ships at anchor in the high tide off Porth Clais, the port of St David’s, joined the harmony.
    What Owen most needed was to talk to Martin Wirthir, find out what he knew about Cynog, how involved the mason had been in the Lawgoch efforts. When last Owen needed to find Martin Wirthir he had climbed Clegyr Boia, a mound just beyond St David’s walls. Martin had a hiding place within the ruins of the ancient fort atop the mound. Owen doubted that the Fleming would be there now. His friend’s best defence was invisibility and he rarely stayed in one place for long; but he kept a watch on Clegyr Boia so that he might know when someone sought him there. And who it was who sought him. But if Rokelyn’s guards were shadowing Owen, he might lead them to a man they would delight in capturing. It would not make Owen’s life easier, either. How