"You have to understand that welsh is a spoken language. It has an oral tradition, it wasn't really written down. Morgan's bible was virtually the first thing in print. But that's beside the point, this here is will written in a combination of Norman French and Latin, a lawyer's language. Glyndwr trained at the the inns of court in London."
Sam had called the professor as soon as she had deciphered the signature on what she now understood to be the last will and testament of the last real prince of Wales. Utilizing some academic translation software the professor had accessed on Pete's computer, they had managed to translate the majority of the text and make educated guesses as to the rest. It was more than just a will as it turned out. Glwyndwr had laid down his blueprint for the future of Wales and it's governance. The professor was quivering with excitement. This was going to give him tenure for the rest of his academic career perhaps even securing a job at the university in Aberystwyth if it was to be proved genuine.
Towards the end of the document, in the same neat script, there were some of the requisite details of the disposal of his estate around Glyndyfrdwy in the north east of the country. The documents was signed by Glyndwr and witnessed by Mortimer. A postscript had been added in much more untidy hand. It referred to his chattels of office and Harlech Castle.
Overall it had taken four hours. They decided to lock the document in the shop safe and took the translation to the pub for some refreshment and food. Having ordered they sat huddled in a corner pawing over the translation while eating baguettes.
They were unaware of the deluge outside until some kagool clad tourists started to steam gently by the hastily lit fire. Looking through the window had prompted Sam and the professor to exchange worried glances. They explained to Pete what damage could be done the dig site and all three headed into the castle though the downpour.
Two of the trenches were filling with water and they managed to get tarpaulins over them. The third equally exposed to the elements seemed drier, no pool had built up. The water was spiraling towards a small whole that had appeared at the lowest point in the trench. It was felt that it was too dangerous to explore straight away and so they covered that trench as well. They then erected three white frame tents over the trenches and called it a day. They were all soaking, physically and, to some extent, emotionally tired but agreed to meet at the pub that evening. Pete did not bother to reopen the shop, the weather had cleansed the street of potential customers. So he showered and went to sleep for a few hours.
He arrived at the pub just after nine, soaked to the skin again, to find Sam somewhat distressed.
"The professors not in his room," she hastily explained, "apparently he went out soon after we returned and hasn't been seen since." They agreed that he must of gone back to the castle. Slipping over the low wall they made way to the northern postern which offered the easiest egress into the monument. As they approached the gate they heard the sound of a generator and bright halogen lamps could be seen to light the inside of the tent of the third trench.
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