Rhuddlan

Chapter 22

  March, 1177

  Hawarden Castle, Gwynedd

  Despite the season, Hugh’s work at Hawarden proceeded rapidly. Rather than waste time tearing down the old tower and erecting a new, larger one as had been his first impulse, Hugh, on the advice of his master builder, had simply built upwards. The tower was circular and the original wood had already been replaced with dressed stone by some previous tenant; he merely added two storeys and had the interior chambers whitewashed and hung with tapestries.

  The palisade was torn down and a stone wall put up in its stead. New guard towers were erected on either side of the stout gate. The bailey, connected to the motte above it by means of a wooden bridge across the ditch, was expanded to three times its original size. The barracks and stables were enlarged to accommodate Hugh’s sizable garrison and a warren of alleys and rough dwellings was evolving to shelter the workmen and their families.

  Roger of Haworth complained there wasn’t enough land to support this sudden invasion of people but Hugh wasn’t worried about such a small detail at this point. His demeanor was much more relaxed since he’d arrived at Hawarden and he was feeling too optimistic about the future to take Haworth’s criticism seriously. The only cloud on the horizon was his mother. He’d had a messenger only a week earlier from Stroud by way of Chester. Maud was working with great vigor on procuring him a new wife and she had sent him a list of five possibilities. Miles de Gournay, apparently apprised of the contents of the letter to Hugh, had included a note of his own in which he outlined the more desirable characteristics of each contender. Hugh had glanced cursorily through both letters while the messenger stood by impassively, having previously informed Hugh that Maud had ordered him not to leave without a response. Hugh cursed his mother under his breath. How far did he have to flee to finally escape her? He had written back that such an important decision required more than several hours’ consideration and that he wanted to ride to Chester to discuss the matter in earnest with de Gournay. Then he’d sent the messenger off and promptly tossed the two letters into the nearest brazier.

  Haworth, fiercely solicitous as always, had immediately protested the earl’s decision to visit Chester, pleading instead that de Gournay be brought to Hawarden. Hugh had had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting out into laughter. He neither planned to go to Chester nor consult with his steward. He had no intention of marrying again. He was quite enjoying his freedom after the long years of incarceration at Falaise.

  “You can delay all you want but she’ll only keep at you,” Haworth warned.

  “Perhaps her next messenger will disappear under mysterious circumstances, Roger.”

  “She’ll just use another one,” Haworth said. “She’s not the type to give up.”

  Hugh snorted. “As usual, you’re correct. I’ll adjust my thinking. Perhaps she’ll simply drop dead.”

  The Normans were not alone at Hawarden. Gruffudd ap Madog, the ruler of northern Powys, was keeping a very close eye on their activity at the castle. It was soon obvious to him that his old enemies were settling in for a long stay and the knowledge worried him. He had spent the last few years since his father’s death fighting with his brother over the right to Powys, a struggle only recently resolved with a judicious division of the principality. Northern Powys was probably the worst part of the bargain but he was damned if he was going to lose any inch of it to the Normans. He knew about the Rebellion; he knew the earl of Chester had fought against the king. He suspected the earl had been exiled to the outpost at Hawarden and he believed the Norman, fearing to cross his king one more time, had nowhere else now to flex his muscles but in Powys.

  Gruffudd wasn’t a man to sit and wait for trouble to come to him. Although strictly speaking Hawarden was in Gwynedd, he sent his warriors to the castle to harry the laborers and check their progress. For nearly a week after Hugh’s conversation with Haworth, the Normans found it impossible to do any work in the bailey. The Welsh struck quickly, randomly and without warning. They burned the wooden houses beyond the protective curtain wall; they halted a convoy bringing rough stone through the forest to the fortress, burned the wagons and shepherded away the ox-teams. They shot at the workmen, killing two and wounding half a dozen others. When Hugh sent his soldiers after them, they did not stand and fight but disappeared into the dense woods where the Normans dared not follow. Every day they grew bolder and the Normans more frustrated. Gruffudd even began imagining taking Hawarden for his own. And after that, Gwynedd.

  Hugh decided to apply to Prince Dafydd for aid. Haworth’s reaction was less than thrilled. “Why the Welsh?” he asked. “Let’s send to Cheshire; call up your levy. Let’s fight with Norman manpower.”

  “And risk the king’s involvement?” Hugh scoffed. “No, it’s better if this dispute is simply viewed as a Welsh problem which is being resolved by the prince. Henry will be apt to keep his nose out of it.”

  “What if the prince refuses to help us?”

  “He won’t. Especially if his old nemesis is threatening his own land.”

  The next day a messenger was dispatched to the Perfeddwlad, the seat of Dafydd’s government, to seek an audience with the prince on behalf of the earl of Chester.