Page 32 of Wolfehound
Ronec nodded. “I think it is a better idea, Your Grace,” he said, feeling relieved that the man was listening to him. “Tell him what you know and let him do what he will with the information. As that foolish priest told you, let the burden no longer be yours. It will be where it belongs—with Edward. Let the king decide what’s to be done.”
Canterbury considered the situation a few moments longer before standing up. “Very well,” he said. “Go to Edward’s men personally and arrange an audience with him. Tell him… tell him I have information I think he’ll very much want to hear.”
Ronec headed for the door. “Immediately, Your Grace.”
He’d made it to the door, but Canterbury stopped him. “Wait,” he said, pausing. “You never did answer me about William de Wolfe. Do you think he was capable of this kind of betrayal?”
Ronec had his hand on the door latch. “William de Wolfe possessed intelligence and support that Edward could only dream of,” he said quietly. “He had a more contentious relationship with the king than you do. See how you are treating the information now, how you intend to put Edward in your debt with it. Do you think, for one moment, that if de Wolfe had the opportunity to stab Edward in the back, he would do it? Of course he would. Considering how Edward treated him over the years, I would say Edward deserves it. If you truly want to ally with someone, Your Grace, pick a de Wolfe every time. They will be your strongest supporter or your worst enemy. With Edward, unfortunately for him, it is the latter.”
Canterbury accepted that explanation. “He’s not made many friends, has he?” he said. “I think that with this scrap of information, he might realize just how much his warlords hate him.”
“Edward? I doubt it.”
Perhaps that was true, but Canterbury didn’t debate it. He waved him on. “Hurry, now,” he said. “I would deliver this news to Edward quickly.”
Ronec lifted the latch, but he didn’t go out the door. In fact, he hesitated, so much so that Canterbury looked at him curiously.
“What?” he said. “What is it?”
Ronec drew in a long, thoughtful breath. “You know that St. Zosimus will not keep silent on this,” he said. “He could very well go to Edward himself and you would be left with nothing.”
Canterbury eyed him. “I’ve thought of that,” he said. “There is nothing to keep him from disobeying me and going to Edward directly.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Ronec said. “He is not to be trusted. Even if he does not tell Edward, he will tell others. I know the sort.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Ronec was hesitant, but only for a moment. “Will you trust me to solve the problem, Your Grace?”
“Implicitly.”
“Then consider it solved.”
Canterbury nodded. “I will,” he said. “And I will further assume the problem solver will be Tyrus le Mon.”
“It will be, Your Grace.”
“Once he has finished solving that problem, send him to me. I have further need of him.”
“May I ask what for?”
Canterbury fell silent a moment, pondering everything he’d been told and the direction they’d decided to take. But he was currently rethinking that.
“To confirm a rumor,” he finally said. “I can go to the king with what we know, but it is simply the ramblings of a dying man. Mayhap I do not need to hold the Welsh princess hostage, but what if I were to have proof of her existence?”
Ronec cocked an eyebrow. “If you were to send someone like le Mon to discover the truth, it would do no good because it would, once again, be one man’s word on the situation,” he said. “The only proof you could have would be to literally have the princess in your custody.”
“Then mayhap we should rethink that.”
Ronec knew what the man meant. In spite of deciding to simply lay the rumors at Edward’s feet, now Canterbury had changed his mind. Perhaps he needed her after all. At the very least, he needed to confirm if there was, indeed, a young woman bearing Welsh royal blood at Sempringham Priory.
Or not.
It would take a special man, indeed, to make the discovery.
All princes of the church had their faithful men, but Tyrus le Mon went beyond the usual covert operative. He was a fourth-generation assassin and spy, having once served with the Executioner Knights, a spy organization that had been formed by William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, during the reign of King Richard the Lionheart. If the Executioner Knights were considered the beating heart of England’s spy underworld, then Tyrus le Mon was part of the dark and dirty soul of it. So dark and dirty, in fact, that the Executioner Knights had exiled him from further service. And given what those men did for a living, that was saying something.
That was when Tyrus came into the service of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
