The Amelia Project - Episode 81 - Gruffudd ap Llywelyn ap Iorwerth (1244)

Episode Date: October 11, 2024

"Most of the time I feel that people are trying to erase my story as fast as I can live it." The forgotten history of a Welsh prince, a political prisoner of King John of England and a client of The Brotherhood of the Phoenix... The Amelia Project is a production of Imploding Fictions. This episode is dedicated to Robert Acker. It features Alan Burgon as The Interviewer, Rhys Lawton as Gruffud, Hemi Yeroham as Kozlowski, Jordan Cobb as Jackie Williams, Erin King as Mia Fox and Benjamin Noble as the Goaler. The episode was written by Alan Burgon, with story editing by Oystein Brager and Philip Thorne, audio editing and direction by Philip Thorne, sound design by Paul Kraner, music by Fredrik Baden, graphic design by Anders Pedersen and production assistance by Maty Parzival. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If I play you something, will you promise not to tell anyone about it? What is it? There's a thing in the sky. You've got to get someone down here quick. It's fast. It's moving. It's buzzing. It's getting closer, I think.

I need to talk to someone. What are you doing now? No, don't pull me. It's getting louder. I can feel it. I can feel it inside my head. Listen to Hovering, the latest fiction horror show on Rome's premier horror channel, Undertow. Hovering is available now wherever you get your podcasts.

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Plus early access to new episodes of Midnight Burger. All still entirely ad-free. This episode is dedicated to our Patreon supporter Robert Acker, who died choking on a marble whilst hanging up a sign saying, don't suck on the marbles. Robert will reappear as a regular extra in a series of epic Bollywood musicals. Thanks Robert and thanks to all our patrons. Enjoy the episode. Ah, the water is boiling. Are you both finished grating your roots? Yep.

Yes. Good. Now this is very important. Can you both make sure you have only grated the root and not your fingers? My fingers are intact. Excellent. Um... Yes, Mia? It's very dark and this root is very slippery and...

I can't guarantee that there's not like a smidgen of skin cells in the bowl. I'm really sorry. Mia, let me see now. Hand over the bowl. Here. You grated your fingers. Not on purpose. Do you not know how to grate something without hurting yourself?

How old are you? Hmm. I buy stuff that's already grated. It's a lot quicker. Oh, no. Oh, Mia. Oh, Mia Fox. What?

Mia, what did you do? I don't know. Mia Fox. There is blood in the bowl. Blood? Oh, yeah. I am bleeding a little bit. That's just a tiny bit. You got blood in the bowl. Blood? Oh, yeah, I am bleeding a little bit. That's just a tiny bit.

You got blood in the bowl? Yuck! It is not the yuckiness that I'm worried about. You contaminated it. It can't be that much. It is the blood. You ruined it! Oh my God, you ruined the tea.

They want this to be dark magic, Mia. I'm sorry, dark magic? Yes. I, I, I, I, I, I don't, I don't know. Why would you turn this little ritual, dark magic? Yes. I-I-I-I-I-I-I don't know. Why would you turn this little ritual into dark magic? I didn't mean to. Whoa, what do you mean, dark magic? How is it dark magic?

It is blood magic now, Mia. Oh my God, blood magic. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. Mia! Well, how could I know? Do we have to start over? Oh my God, we had to search for it and dig for it and brush it and wash it and peel it and sing to it and brush it and wash it and peel it

and sing to it and tell it jokes and grate it and now you're telling me that we have to do everything all over again because Mia Fox turned it all into blood magic? Mia! I'm sorry. No, no, let us calm down. It is not so bad. No? It's not?

It will be fine. The blood only makes the effect of the tea a lot... Weaker? Calm down, it is not so bad. No? It's not? It will be fine. The blood only makes the effect of the tea a lot... Weaker. Stronger. Stronger? Oh yes, ten times. Oh, well, that's fine then.

That's not a... that's okay. It's not a problem. I don't have a problem with that. Do you have a problem with that, Mia? No, no, I don't. That's... okay. Good. But let's agree not to add any more surprise ingredients. No. Absolutely not.

Good. Then it is time to boil the tea. I can't wait! A few more minutes, then. Minutes? Yes. The tea needs to steep. I like mine strong, so we can give it five and not three, but then... Jackie Williams. This is not an ordinary tea. No, of course not, but...

For the secret powers to seep into the water, Baldur's Root needs to boil for several hours. Hours? Oh Lord. Meanwhile, I have many stories still to tell. We have only got to the 13th century, after all. We have 2,000 years to go. Two thousand more years. This night is going to last for 2,000 years.

I wanted the tea now. Jackie Williams, Mia Fox, have you no patience? Patience? I have patience. I can be patient. I mean, I will have patience. Yes, please, very much. Patience.

Excellent. Then let me tell you about the time. My friend Arthur dressed up in one of his favorite costumes and went to interview a client in the Tower of London. The Amelia Project. Created by Philip Thorne and Osten Ulspeck Braga. With music and sound direction by Frederick Barden. And sound design by Paul Kraner. Episode 81.

Griffith Ab-Chlewellyn Ab-Yaworth. By Alan Bergen. I beg you, Lord, let the fiery gentle power of your love take possession of my soul, and snatch it away from everything unto heaven, that I may die for love of your love, as you so fit to die for love of mine. Oh, whew! What the? I wasn't expecting quite so many steps.

Oh, no. The White Tower is quite the climb, Father. Yes, and very narrow. Is he in there? He is. Oh climb, Father. Yes, and very narrow. Is he in there? He is. Oh, good Lord. Oh, right, leave us, would you? Ah, I'm afraid I can't do that, Father.

Oh, my child, the words of a man to his Lord are his alone, and ears that attempt to listen may live to regret such transgressions. Oh, a few steps down the stairway at least. Don't worry, you will still technically be standing guard. Well, the door? Yes, thank you. I'll call when I'm ready to leave. Very good, Father.

Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayer. Right. Right. I know you're still there. Oh, uh... Yes. Well then, Griffith Apllwelyn Apjoworth? Yes. Why, is that any way to greet a member of the Franciscan Order? My apologies, Father, it's just... Yes?

Well, I... Well, come on, spit it out. I have been preparing myself for this day a long time, but now that it's finally here, I feel my strength draining from me. Whatever for? I am not so worthy as Christ our Savior. I am unable to walk towards my own death with the same faith. I am afraid!

Afraid? When is my execution, Father? Tomorrow? Execution? You see, no one has informed me whether or not I'm being executed or whether I'm just a prisoner forever and that's not on to me. Oh, Griffith, no, no, relax. I'm not here to read your last rites. You're not?

No, well, I mean, not in the way you think in any case. But then why do you... Listen, do you mind if I sit down? For you see, the good Lord has seen fit to bless me with a... more than ample constitution on this night. Of course, how rude of me! Please, please. Um, do you have anything bigger? Oh, forgive me, Father. There is a larger seat along the wall there.

Oh, that should do nicely, yes. Oh, that's better. Any longer on my feet and I might have keeled over. You look parched, Father. May I offer you some ale? Oh, yes, please. That would be lovely. Forgive me for asking, Father. I do not mean to pry, and I'm happy for the company.

But why then are you here? Unfinished business. Unfinished business? With me? Hmm. Indeed. Forgive me once more, Father, but I do not believe we have met before. I think I would have remembered a friar of your ample constitution, Uriel. Thank you. In fact, it's not often that I meet a man with a constitution as ample as my own, let alone more ample.

Ah, yes. Ah, yes, you're quite right. Men of our build are not the easiest to find. Indeed not. Barrel-belly Griffith, that's what they used to call me. Oh yes, how inventive. Not really. First time I went to the local tavern back home the barkeep thought I was trying to steal a barrel of beer. He what? Wouldn't let me leave. I eventually had to lift my tunic to prove it was only my belly. After that, the name stuck.

Oh dear. Harmless bit of fun, really. Anyway, to your health. And to yours. Cheers. Absolutely lovely, huh? Oh yes, I needed that. Mother's milk, some would say. No, not me, but some might.

Bear that in mind. Oh, you, uh... Yes? You've got a little, um... What? Your whiskers are rather full of foam. Oh! Oh, are they? Oh, thank you. Ha ha, yes.

You see, I'm not used to drinking ale with a beard. Really? But it's so big and bushy, it... Ah. Must have taken you years to grow. Yes, it did. Well, I mean, what I mean to say is... That you're more of a wine drinker. Yes, yes, precisely, yes, that's it, precisely. I thought as much, Father. If I were to guess, I would say...

A white wine watered down, of course, with just a splash of mead. Oh my. Oh, that sounds lovely. Well, I have a bit of a knack for guessing people's beverage of choice. Well, I haven't tried that one before, but now I certainly will. You won't be disappointed. I wish I could knock you up a glass now, but alas, father, I drank the last of my wine with supper. The ale is just fine. Thank you. My pleasure.

Right. Now then, Griffithith Tell me about yourself. Oh Yes, of course Bless me father for I have sinned it has been no no no I I don't mean all that father ghost and holy roast business roast and never mind just tell me your story. Oh my story Yes your story. Oh, my story? Yes. I'm not sure I follow. Why is a Prince of Wales being held captive in the Tower of London? Oh, so when you say my story you mean my story? Precisely. I see. If you don't mind. Not at all. Happy to in fact never been asked for my story before.

Hmm. No? Not in detail at any rate. Well, once, but that was... Yes? No, never mind. Right, yes, good. Hmm. Well, I for one would be fascinated to hear your story. Most of the time I feel that people are trying to erase my story as fast as I can live it.

How do you mean? Oh, how to explain. Have you ever been the last person to leave an ale house? Sometimes when you leave an ale house very late, you know, after last orders has been called and they're wiping down for the night, the servant wench sometimes follows you out of the door with the broom, almost like she's trying to sweep your very steps out behind you. You understand what I mean?

I'm beginning to, yes. For most of my life, I felt as though someone's been following me with a broom, sweeping parts of my life away the moment I take a step forward. And once the dust has settled and I stop and I look back, it's all empty. Oh dear, I seem to have gone rather deep rather quickly tonight, haven't I? That's quite all right. Oh dear. I seem to have gone rather deep rather quickly tonight, haven't I? That's quite all right. One too many ales this evening's, or perhaps not enough.

Barkeep, you can leave the bottle, eh? Well, I'll drink to that. Well, cheers. Cheers. You're not exactly treated like a prisoner here, are you? You think not? Well, I doubt if many of the other prisoners here are granted private quarters at the top of the White Tower, offering ale to their guests?

Well, no. I don't suppose they are. And you referred to the fact that we are both men of ample constitutions. So clearly you are on a royal diet? Oh yes, I can have whatever I want, whenever I want it. Would you like some pigeon pie or ham? I could call to the jailer and have something brought up. That's very kind of you, but no, thank you. Your story is the only reason I'm here. Who is Griffith Aplllywelyn ap Iowarth? Well, you're looking at him. This is me, in

this room, a prisoner. I've been a prisoner for most of my life. Why? Politics. Explain. Well, you see, my father, Llywelyn ap Iaworth, handed me over to King John when I was just 15 years old. Why? Well, he had no choice really. King John defeated my father. My father was a great man. He was well on his way to uniting the whole of Wales.

But he wasn't a match for King John of England. So he just gave you up? He did. Oh, that must have been horrible. It was. You must have hated him for that. I did. But it didn't take me long to understand my father's actions, to forgive him.

Oh? Llewellyn the Great was cunning and tactical. He knew when to lay down his arms and when to seize them. Always weighing up every situation, always thinking ahead. Had my father refused to hand me over when King John demanded it, I'd have been killed as punishment. And so, as difficult as it was for both of us, I knew that he had to say yes.

Your mother must have been heartbroken. I never knew her. She died giving birth to me. Oh, I'm sorry. An all too common tragedy. Yes. Oh, she was beautiful though. Well, so I've been told. Tangastil was her name. And she had long red hair, the color of flames. Our father loved her hair. Loved her. Not that it would have made any difference to my situation had she lived.

How so? My mother was not of noble birth so she would have had no influence over the King's decision. In fact I am illegitimate. Oh I see. Although if you are illegit, then why were you pledged to King John? Surely an illegitimate son wouldn't have been a threat. That would be true in England. However, under Welsh law, I am entitled to be considered as my father's successor. I see.

So you've been kept here ever since? Oh no. I was released after four years or so. Oh, so you were sent home? I was, but not to the kind of welcome I would have liked. Things at home had changed considerably. In what way? Well, there was one other way in which King John had established his authority in my father's household. And that was? King John's daughter had become my father's wife.

Right. Well, that's a little awkward. You can say that again. And I came home to a baby brother, Dapheth. I sense a hint of resentment in your tone. A hint? A hint. All right, a lot. Half of my father's princedom should have gone to me. I sense a hint of resentment in your tone. A hint? A hint! Alright, a lot.

Half of my father's princedom should have gone to me! I mean, Christ! Sorry. Sorry. It's fine. But...Christ! I mean, it's not asking for much, is it? Only what I'm entitled to under Welsh law.

But no, Griffith has been away, hadn't he? Griffith had been kept out of the loop, and now he was back. Griffith was being treated like an annoying little barfly, buzzing around and trying to steal the froth from Davith's pipe. Little did I know that in my absence the grown-ups had all decided... No. No. My father had decided to name bloody Davith as his sole bloody heir, hadn't he? Another political decision? Another political decision? Another political decision. Well, I mean, being married to the King of England's daughter.

Illegitimate daughter. Really? Oh yes, but still his daughter. Right. Well, um, being married to the King's daughter and fathering a grandson of the king... Yes? I can see your father's predicament. Yes, yes, I know, I know.

Being King John's grandson, Darfith would naturally be more accepted by the English crown as my father's heir. Still leaves a bitter taste though, doesn't it? Like ale brewed from bathwater. It's the illegitimate daughter part that really gets me. It just smacks of irony. Yes it does. The circumstance of your birth, which has been used to bring you into disrepute, is the very same circumstance that led King John to favor your stepmother into becoming your father's wife.

God, I hate that word. Wife? Stepmother. Oh yes, that makes much more sense. So you really didn't have a great time upon your return home. It wasn't all bad. My father had gifted me some land, which was nice. While it lasted.

While it lasted? It was... It got taken away from me again. Why was it taken away from you? It's not important. Griffith? I'd rather not say. Griffith.

I am a man of God. Your secret is safe with me. Well... I don't suppose it really matters anymore, does it? And it's not exactly a secret, just... embarrassing. Maladministration. Ah. You see, apparently, I was too drunk too much of the time.

Hence the analogy of the Yale House and the serving wench. Well, it's not as though I was drinking that much. Too much for your father's tastes. Oh, he drank as much as I did. Really? Who do you think I was drinking with? Oh, I see. But then why did he...? Well, all right, all right.

I suppose I couldn't handle my mead quite as well as he could. But I mean, how could I? My father was a seasoned drinker. And let's just say that, unlike my current situation here under King Henry III, King John's treatment of me when I was his prisoner was not exactly that of a prisoner with benefits. No ale?

No ale. So you weren't able to handle your drink upon your release? Well, no. But that wasn't the only problem. What was the other problem? I may have got a little too drunk one night on Irish Pachene, and I may have tentatively agreed to start a rebellion against my half-brother, Dafeth. You didn't!

I did. But it wasn't my idea, not really. You see, I went with some of the lads to the local tavern one night, and the barkeep brought out a bottle of pachin that his brother-in-law had brought back from Ireland. He seemed very excited to open it and invited us to share it with him. That was generous of him. Oh, wasn't it just? Oh, there was an ulterior motive?

Oh, there was indeed. I soon found out that the boys had been gathering supporters for me without my knowing. And after one too many glasses of pachin... Well, I started to shoot my mouth off, didn't I? Woke up next morning feeling like I'd been hit over the head with a mace. Only to discover that it wasn't a mace, it was the back of my father's hand. Oh dear, oh he must have been furious. He was.

And I presume that losing your lands to maladministration was an easier story for King Henry to accept than that of planning an uprising. Yes, especially given the trouble that it took for my father to get Darfith recognized by the new King Henry in the first place. Henry III didn't accept Darfith as your father's heir? Well, Darfith is Henry's nephew.

And? King John had his nephew killed. Right, right. Not a very close family then. What family is? Oh, well, I would say that lots of families are close. Are they? Well, most families don't have a problem with nepotocide at any rate. Don't they?

No. You sure? Quite sure. Huh. Well, that's not my experience. Right. Um, so you lost your lands. Then what happened?

Things were alright for a few years. My father even let me command a body of men into battle for him. Oh, how did that go? It... could have gone better. Really? How so? Oh... I may have actually started an uprising against my brother, Dapheth. Again? Oh, Griffith! Well, it was the people, you see.

Seeing me on horseback kinda got their blood pumping. They wanted you as their leader Well, yes, of course they did and and not you understand because they wanted me exactly No, why would you say that? Surely they did. No, no, they wanted what I symbolized and what was that? Wales Wales. Yes. Oh Oh Yes, I see. Darfydd has his followers, and as much as I dislike the little spit bucket, he's not

all bad. There is a lot of my father in him which the people love, but... There's a lot of his grandfather in him that the people don't love. Precisely. The people want a Welsh king, and my father was so close to achieving it. They don't want an heir to the English throne to be their prince. We are our own people. And that's what my fellow countrymen saw when I led them into battle.

They saw Wales standing up to their oppressors. When Dapheth rise into battle they see little more than a family squabble. The people were drawn to you? To what you represented? Yes. And it gave you a sense of pride? Of purpose. And your father? I mean, what did he say? Oh, father.

Well, he must have been a little impressed, no? Oh, he was very impressed. Oh, he was? Oh, yes. The bastard locked me up. He what? Yeah. Your own father? My own impressed. Oh, he was? Oh, yes. The bastard locked me up. He what? Yeah. Your own father? My own father.

Well, really. Said it was for my own good. And did it do any good? Helped Dapheth to grow in popularity. And to be honest, by the time he let me out again, I kind of gone off the idea anyway. Right. Another ale, Father.

Looks like you could do with a refill. Why, yes. I don't mind if I do. So, how long did your father lock you up for? Long enough to turn a decent bottle of mead at any rate, er... five, six years? And when you got out? I was given more land. More men to lead into battle too.

No. Here you are, Father. Thank you. And so this here is your third imprisonment? Fourth. Fourth? You mean there was another time between now and when your father imprisoned you? There was.

Who? Someone who had been waiting for their chance for a very long time. Dapheth. Dapheth. Oh, this is going to be good. You see, in the years after my father released me, life was pretty good. My son, Llewelyn, was born the same year that my father had me imprisoned. Llewelyn? Yes. You named year that my father had me imprisoned. Llewelyn?

Yes. You named him after your father? I won't lie. It was a blatant attempt at mitigating my punishment. But alas... It didn't work. No. Then I had two more sons.

Dapheth and Rhodri. Dapheth? Yes. Another attempt at... Another attempt at... yes. I see. Then what happened? Well, father took a turn shortly after his wife died.

Oh, a bad one? Very bad, yes. It left him paralysed and Darfith took over. Oh, I imagine that didn't go too well in your favour. No! It didn't take long before I was thrown back into prison. This time at Cricheath Castle. What was that like? My cell came with a sea view. Oh, it didn't take long before I was thrown back into prison. This time at Crakeith Castle. What was that like?

My cell came with a sea view. Oh, lovely. Which meant that the cold west wind blew straight in through the arrow slits in the wall. Ah. Father eventually died. Darfith became ruler, and that was that for a time. Until King Henry III decided that Darfith was no longer allowed to keep our father's conquests, and started to claim them for himself.

Henry marched straight into Wales and overpowered Dapheth. Our men didn't stand a chance. So once again, King of England demanded I accompany him, this time to the Tower of London. And you've been here ever since. I have. But why did Henry bother to take you? To use me against Dapheth as a threat. How do you mean?

Henry knows that given the chance, the people would follow me. Dapheth knows that too. So either Dapheth remains in Wales and loyal to the English crown, or he is replaced by the last person he wants to be replaced by. Correct. I have to admit, it's a clever move. And during all this time, all the years you've been incarcerated, you've never thought of escape.

Of course I have! I think about escape constantly. I nearly did once. Oh, you did? I- Oh. No. Nothing. No, you did? I- Oh. No. Nothing. No, no, I'm intrigued.

Do go on. I-I-I can't, father. I am sworn to secrecy. Oh, calm now. You can tell me- No. Really, please. Let's change the subject.

Alright, alright. But, um... What if I told you that the Brotherhood of the Phoenix is no secret to me? How did you...? Where did you hear that name? Well, perhaps your memory will improve once I remove my beard! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Do you have to be so tight?

Ah! Ow! Ah-ha! Oh, oh, oh, oh, that is better. Oh, I can move my face again! You! It's you! You're! Yes, yes, yes, yes, it's me, yes. But!

Hello! You were supposed to! I told you I was here on unfinished business! But! I was! You will have to excuse the time it has taken for us to get to you. We were not prepared for King Henry's attack during your imprisonment at Crickieth Castle. We tried our best to speed up the process, but we were not quick enough. We would have got to you sooner if we could, but the Tower of London is very different

to Crickath Castle. You came for me? Well, of course we did. I thought you'd forgotten about me. Forgotten you? I wouldn't have blamed you. I didn't blame you. I didn't. I didn't. I just... Well, yes... You came! Yes! Well...

Thank you. Thank you. Don't mention it. The Brotherhood of the Phoenix always sees a job through to the end. We may wear false beards, but we do not make false promises. But how are you going to get me out of here? Nothing is impossible, Griffith. You won't even be the first person we've broken out of this place. What? Oh yes, Ranulf Flambard, Bishop of Durham. Yes, we got him out using a rope smuggled to him and a gallon of wine. Used it to scale down the wall from the window.

Ranulf? Yes, unfortunately they check the wine these days, and the outer wall with its towers is also new. But I know that story. That was over a hundred years ago. That couldn't have been you. Oh, uh, never mind that. We're here to talk about you. Right, right, yes. Now, I am of course ashamed that it has taken us three years to work out a plan. But you see, everything had to fall into place perfectly.

We have only one shot to get this right. So I hope you don't mind, but we have taken the liberty of sorting out all the details ahead of time. Details? For your new life. Oh, but I thought I was going to be a fisherman in one of the Northern Isles of Scotland. Well, that was the old plan. The old plan?

Yes. But I received accent training. You did? I studied fishing methods and learnt the names of fish. Listen, we really don't have time for this now. We have come up with a perfect solution and I think you're going to love it. Hang on a minute! What?

You already knew my story from last time! Yes? So why did you ask me to tell it to you again? Because it's a fascinating story and there is a lot of detail... But I'd already told you! Yes, but that was three years ago. And it really is rather good. And very dense.

So, you know, second time through. Every bit is exciting. Now, do you want to hear my plan or not? I'm listening. Good. Now, you like ale houses. I love them. Good. How would you like to own one? Own one?

Yes. An ale house? Of your very own. Well, I've never given it much thought. Well, give it a thought right now. Right. But don't take too long. Oh, so, so...

So I'd be pouring drinks. And serving food. And drinking too. Well, I believe that prerogative does come with the job, yes. And talking to people. All day, every day. So, what do you say? I'm not sure I'd cut out for that sort of thing.

Oh, Poppycock! It's perfect! How so? Since I arrived, you've poured me two mugs of ale. Yes? The first upon arrival, noticing my need for one, and the second after having noticed that my mug was empty. People need to stay hydrated. You use drinking metaphors all the time.

Who doesn't? You have a lot of experience in ale houses and taverns. Drinking! And you even said yourself, you have a knack for being able to tell a person's favourite drink. Well that's true. You're a natural. You're serving drinks already without even noticing it.

I suppose I am. You don't even need to study for this new life, Griffith. You are already more than prepared to step into it. You really think so? Oh, I know so. Well, I mean... If I'm being honest, it does sort of sound like a dream come true. Doesn't it?

Yes! Yes it does! Alright, I'll do it! Ah yes, perfect! Ha ha ha! Wonderful! Oh it does! Alright, I'll do it! Ah yes, perfect! Wonderful! Oh sh- The jailer! The jailer!

Your father, yes. Yes, yes. Wonderful, yes, perfect. Alright, now then. Just get that leg round here. Where's that rope? Ah, there it is. Oh, wrong rope.

There we are. Ah! Oh, that's better. Oh, I've lost all the feeling in my legs. Ah! Who in God's name is that? Hmm? Oh, that? That's Mr. Walter Wood, your new identity, and your replacement corpse.

You mean to say, you've had a dead man strapped to your body this whole time? Yes, and it was quite an inconvenience. It took me a full hour just to stop gagging at the smell. Well, I didn't want to say anything. So, what happened to him? Um, he dropped dead last night. Was it sudden? Very sudden, yes. I see. But this man and I look nothing like each other. Your features are slightly different, yes, but your clothes are the same size. That may well be, but people will never believe that I'm him.

Well he did have a full beard until we shaved it off in preparation for tonight. I don't have a beard. You can have mine. That's one of the reasons I wore the beard in the first place. Just use this one until you have time to grow your own. But his face, the guards won't be fooled by this man! Ah, well, we have a plan for that too. Oh?

Yes, you see, in homage to our first escape, we thought we'd go for another attempt at scaling down the wall. You have a rope? No. Well, how then? Well, being a guest of Henry III, you have been afforded many luxuries, correct? I suppose.

Luxuries such as extra bed sheets for when it gets cold, and a wardrobe of clothes? I have, yes, of course. Are you cold? Do you want me to grab a couple of things for you? Yes! No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Are you sure? I mean, no, I'm fine. Yes, I'm sure, thank you. No, we are going to tie as many sheets and items of clothing together as we can lay our hands on in order to create a rope. I see! Then I am going to climb out of the window and escape!

No! No? No! Then how am I going to escape if I don't climb out the window? Listen carefully. We will create two sections of rope, one of which we will tie to your bedpost and hang from the window. The other section will be in Mr. Wood's hand as his body falls headfirst from the tower, dressed in your clothes. Upon impact with the ground, his face will become so unrecognizable that no one will question whether or not he is you. Upon examining the evidence, the guards

will reach the conclusion that one of the knots in the sheets came loose and he plummeted to your death, allowing you, Walter Wood, to head back to your alehouse, the Phoenix, and see to your patrons. The Phoenix? Yes. Is it really called that? No. It's currently called the cock. But it would be very easy to alter the cockerel image so that it looked like a phoenix.

Why do I smell a strategy? Probably because you were raised by a brilliant strategist. You can read the signs. All right. And why would I be changing the name of the ale house to the phoenix? Because you'd be working for us. Sorry? As a place for potential clients to come and be evaluated.

A meeting place. Why? And your one job is to not ask questions. So this would be... Payment. Right. Yes, you see, our old agreement no longer counts really, does it? As you no longer own any land and probably couldn't convince your half-brother Dapheth

to grant us the deeds in your stead. Probably not, no. No. So, in order to pay for our services, we ask simply for your cooperation from now on. My... allegiance. Oh, yes, yes, if you will. So, what do you say?

Do we have a deal? But what if the patrons notice that I'm not Mr. Wood? Oh, I wouldn't worry about that too much. Why not? Well, most of them will be too drunk to notice. And if anyone does raise suspicion, Mrs. Wood will be there to set them straight. There's a Mrs. Wood? Oh yes, we have her to thank for the replacement corpse.

What? Never mind. What do you say? Well... I need an answer now, Griffith. I learned so many fish. I know. All right. Yes? Yes. Yes, now that's the spirit. Ah, yes, your new life awaits. Now this calls for a toast. Ah, let me top you up there first. Don't mind if I do. There we are. Oh, thank you. No, thank you. Thank you for refusing to be swept away behind me. You are most welcome, Griffith. Yeh-hee-dah. Yeh-hee-dah. Yeh-hee-dah. Yeh-hee-dah. Like a wave of the tongue.

Just let it roll off. It's a beautiful language. Ah, marvellous. Yeh-hee-dah. Must brush up on it a little. Yeh-hee-dah. Yeh-hee-dah. Ah.

Oh, right. Now, let's get to work, shall we? All right. Grrr. Grrr. Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first the credits. The Amelia Project is a production of Imploding Fictions. This episode featured Alan Bergen as the interviewer, Rhys Lawton as Griffith, Hemi Jeroham as Koslovski,

Jordan Cobb as Jackie Williams, Aaron King as Mia Fox, and Benjamin Noble as the jailer. The episode was written by Alan Bergen with story editing by Einstein Braga and Philip Thorne, audio editing and direction by Philip Thorne, sound design by Paul Kraner, music by Frederick Barden,ic Design by Anders Pedersen

and Production Assistance by Marty Pazival This show is only possible due to the support of listeners on Patreon and Apple Podcast subscriptions. So thank you to all our patrons and paid subscribers, without whom this show would disappear and reappear as a daily weather chat show, in which we review, rate and rant about the day's weather. As ever, thank you to all our supporters and a shout out to our super patrons. That's Celeste Joes Heat 312 Jem Fidic Albina Sant Amelie and Allison

Stephanie Weidniller Raphael Eduardo Vifas Verastaki Allison Thrope Patricia Bornwagner Bryce Godma Cliff, Cliff Heisinger, Michael West, Diana Burchenbreiter, Tim McMacken, Blythe Varney, Natalia Arora, Lee Anvi, Huardine, MrSqueagles, Tony Fisher, Tibby, Florian Byers, Kourtney Mays, Renson, Boo, Mark Sgrobenek, Astra Kim, Olivia Dodson, Philip Hansen, Michael David Smith, Alicia Hall, LG, Heldan Inkart, Ryan Burnett, Robert Acker, Supercali Fragilistic, Expealex, Nicol Timotseus, Doctimus, Ben Carlisle, Miss Nixie, Mystic Sybil, Tiffany Duffy, If you'd like to become a supporter, even just for a few dollars, you'd really be

helping us make more episodes and you can get early and ad-free releases and bonus content in return. Visit AmeliaPodcast.com and click on support the show for more info. And now, the epilogue. Are you sure this is going to work? Trust me. Now, we just have to wait for kids to give the... Signal! Now! Quickly!

Perfect. What was that explosion? Oh, just a distraction. Did it work? Oh yes, I believe it did. Ah, it's so well done. Do you think the face is mangled enough? Um, oh, yes, well, by the looks of things, we have nothing to worry about. How so?

Oh my. Well, the head appears to have disappeared inside the chest cavity. Oh my. Yes, who would have thought? Anyway, job done. But we're still here. Yes, we are. How do I get out?

The same way he got in. I was afraid you were going to say that. In you go. Oh, yes. Oh, it smells. Oh, it's... Oh, oh. It's...

Yes, sorry about that. It's the inside of an old stale wine barrel. I assure you that was him, not me. Oh. Just grab that. Right. Yes, right there. Oh, no, me. Oh. Just grab that. Right. Yes, right there.

Oh, no, no. Feel secure? That bit there. Just a little bit. There we go. Better? Right. Wonderful. Now, not a peep, you understand?

I understand. Good. Guard! I'm ready to come out now! Wait! Don't you need the beard? Oh, good lord, the beard! Yes, quickly, pass it up, pass it up! You! Yes, right. Thank you. Ah, there we are. Right. Everything alright in here?

Yes, yes, oh, fine. But oh my, I heard a loud bang. What is going on? Oh, nothing to worry about, Father. I'm sure it's under control. Well, all the same, I'd like to get out of here as soon as I can. Loud noises make me nervous. Oh, oh good Lord. Alright, this way, Father. Thank you, you're so kind. Prince Grufford? Prince Gruffydd? Prince Gruffydd?

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no. The window's open. Alarm! Alarm! Oh! Caweelah, quick!

Hurry up! The window's open. He must have fallen out the window. Quick! Alarm! Can somebody come and help? Oh, no. Oh, no.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Kyler, quick! Hurry out! The window's open! He must have fallen out the window! Quick! Alarm! Can somebody come and help? Oh, can I lose my job for this? where fiction producers flourish. They are and they know it The hell is this about what do you mean? We're going to escape if somebody goes down in battle We keep fighting the others have to keep running It's not even a real plan all you've got is disabled chips run South Keep running south until we reach the biggest slum on the planet and then what live happily ever after they're already for us. That means perimeters. It means searches.

It means every agent on the planet has been put on high alert. If you would like to support The Dex Legacy Season 3 Kickstarter, go to Kickstarter.com and search The Dex Legacy.