The False Virgin by The Medieval Murderers Read Free Book Online

– and he was not looking forward to telling the victims of the raids that he had failed to catch the culprits yet again. As
Constable of Carmarthen Castle, he had a duty to protect the town and its livestock, and its people had a right to expect more of him.
    He wiped the sweat from his face, wishing he could dispense with his mail and surcoat – it would have been far more comfortable to ride without them. Unfortunately, southwest Wales had
never really appreciated being ruled by Normans, and there were plenty who would love to strike a blow against the King by shooting one of his officers. As Cole had no wish to invite assassination,
the armour had to stay.
    His horse was panting from the heat, so he took it to the river to drink, although it was a while before he found a stretch that was not choked by the foul-smelling algae that proliferated when
there was no current to wash it away. While the animal slaked its thirst, he stared downriver at the little town that had been his home for the past fifteen years.
    It was dominated by four main features: the Austin priory, pretty St Peter’s church, the castle and the bridge. Cole was proud of the castle. It had a motte and two baileys, and when he
had first arrived, it had been a grubby collection of huts and wooden palisades. Now it boasted comfortable living quarters, a chapel and a gatehouse, while the curtain walls were of stone. He was
in the process of building watchtowers along them.
    ‘Lord!’ muttered Sergeant Iefan, veteran of many campaigns and Cole’s right-hand man. ‘I have never seen the valley so dry.’
    Neither had Cole, and it grieved him to see the rich forest turned brown and parched, and the once-lush pastures baked to a dusty yellow. If there was no rain soon, the crops would fail
completely, and they would all starve that winter.
    When the horses had finished drinking, they rode on, and Cole’s thoughts turned to the family that would be waiting for him. He had not wanted to marry Gwenllian ferch Rhys any more than
she had wanted to marry him, but the King had been keen for a political alliance with a princess of Wales, so neither had been given a choice. After a stormy beginning, they had grown to love each
other, and their marriage was now blessed with two small children. He hoped there would be more, and ached to see them again.
    As he reached the Austin priory, the gate opened and Prior Kediour stepped out. Kediour’s face was grim, and it became more so when Cole shook his head to indicate that he had not caught
the raiders. The prior was an imposing man with thick grey hair, deep-set eyes and a dignified, sombre manner. He was respected by his brethren and the townsfolk alike. Like Cole, he had taken part
in the Third Crusade, when he had been a Hospitaller – a warrior-knight. Penance for the lives he had taken in God’s name had later caused him to transfer to a more peaceful Order.
    ‘This cannot continue,’ he said testily. ‘We lost another cow last night, and we shall have no herd left if you do not stop these villains.’
    ‘They are well organised,’ said Cole, a little defensively. ‘One group distracts us while the others strike. Yet if I divide my men, we are stretched too thin.’
    ‘Then you will have to catch them by cunning. Ask your wife for ideas.’
    Cole smiled. Gwenllian was by far the cleverest person he knew, and while other men might have bristled at the implication that their spouses were more intelligent than they, Cole was
inordinately proud of his, and was always pleased when her skills were acknowledged.
    ‘Much has happened since you left,’ Kediour went on. ‘You have visitors.’
    ‘From the King?’ asked Cole uneasily.
    John had been crowned the previous year, following the death of Richard the Lionheart. He was a weak, vacillating, deceitful man, and Cole, plain-speaking and honest, had been unable to shower
him with the flowery compliments John felt he deserved. The silence had