Rhuddlan

Chapter 28

  April, 1177

  Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd

  Longsword didn’t understand it but it made perfect sense. Every time he saw Gwalaes he felt immeasurably happier; every time she spoke to him, he lost his concentration and his heart beat faster. He thought about her constantly and his slightest effort was performed as though her eyes were on him. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, tall and slender with thick dark brown hair and large brown eyes. He found her soft voice soothing and pleasant. He respected her skill in healing, her capable manner; he remembered the delicate way her fingers had touched his wounded neck…He was completely in love with her.

  He was equally convinced that she loved him. He didn’t give it much thought; he merely assumed that such strong attraction on his part must surely be reciprocated. But she was shy, perhaps owing to her position, and never approached him or spoke to him unless he spoke to her first. It didn’t matter; he needed a little time anyway. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with Teleri because of course he couldn’t marry Gwalaes if he were still married to the prince’s niece. He would like to have asked Delamere for advice but sensed that his friend did not approve of his interest in Gwalaes. But that didn’t matter, either; he was prepared to sacrifice a friendship for a relationship with the woman he loved.

  His immediate problem was finding ways to be with her. There were few excuses he could make to compel Gwalaes into his presence now that his shoulder and neck were much improved; few reasons that their paths should cross. And he couldn’t very well be upfront about it, not with a wife eager to find another reason to condemn him and not with a pregnant mistress in residence.

  The obvious answer was to reunite her with her daughter. If he could accomplish that, he was certain she would fall into his arms…

  When the Welsh delegation had come with its overture of peace, his first impulse had been to massacre every man but one and send heads back to the Llanlleyn chief. But Gwalaes’ daughter had been returned to the abbey and Gwalaes was so pathetically grateful that he hadn’t been able to repay concession with violence. He’d swallowed his anger and agreed to meet the chief. He’d insisted the Welsh bring the little girl to Rhuddlan so that Gwalaes would not ask permission to return to the abbey. He was determined to bring mother and child together in his fortress so Gwalaes would always associate the happy reunion with him.

  Delamere trotted through the gate with a scowl on his handsome face, his lips pressed tightly together. He had not been totally immune to Olwen’s emotionless farewell; it had, in fact, grated on him all the way back to Rhuddlan. Sometimes he felt she was the female equivalent of Longsword, who often looked put out as well when he left Rhuddlan to visit his home. His unplanned comings and goings should, by now, have become routine to her; instead, she seemed angrier with each new departure and he didn’t like this attitude. Was it only a matter of time before she started to greet him in the same unenthusiastic manner?

  He’d barely spoken a word to Alan on the ride back to Rhuddlan. His irritation with Olwen had spilled over into his consideration of Longsword’s affairs, making him more and more displeased with every mile gone. By the time they reached Rhuddlan, he was ready to explode.

  Longsword, waiting for him in the ward after being apprised of his arrival by the watch, recognized the look on his face and wisely decided against a cheerful greeting. He said nothing at all.

  Delamere jumped off his horse and tossed the reins to a groom. He quickly and briefly inclined his head to Longsword and spat out one word. “Well?”

  “Come inside—”

  “Alan said you’re prepared to make peace with Llanlleyn. Is that true? Am I too late?”

  “No, but come inside, Richard. I don’t want to provide a spectacle for all and sundry.”

  Grudgingly, Delamere allowed himself to be maneuvered into the keep. As they passed through the hall, he noticed Eleanor sitting alone on one of the benches against a wall. She glanced up as they walked by; he saw Longsword nod to her. She responded with a small smile. Alan’s insinuation ran through Delamere’s mind; it certainly seemed confirmed by what he’d just witnessed! He was well aware that arguing over women was the primary cause of discord between friends and he tried to keep his voice level when he confronted Longsword as soon as the door to the council room had closed behind them.

  “I’d have thought she would have returned to the abbey,” he said. “Alan told me what happened to her daughter.”

  “No. I wanted them to bring her when they come back.”

  “So you are prepared to treat. Alan wasn’t wrong.”

  “Again Alan!” Longsword was irritated. He had sent the young knight for Richard Delamere in order to get him out of Rhuddlan because he was jealous of him. Alan d’Arques seemed to spend too much time in Gwalaes’ company and that annoyed Longsword.

  He sat in his heavy, carved chair and gave his friend a measured look. “You don’t think I should?”

  “Of course I don’t!” Delamere finally exploded. His voice was loud and forceful. “Aren’t these the same people who almost killed you? My God, Will, I don’t think you realize how close to death you were!”

  “It was Rhirid who tried to kill me. I’m informed that he’s been banished from Llanlleyn. His father sent him to make amends with Prince Dafydd.”

  “And that’s good enough for you?”

  Longsword shrugged. “Why not?”

  Delamere was so perplexed by Longsword’s attitude that he forgot his previous anger. Usually, Longsword was overly sensitive to any perceived slight and often reacted to it like a rabid dog, snapping and snarling at anything in his path. Now, however, he just sat back in his chair, meeting Delamere’s confused frown with a bland face. “After your initial recovery, you wanted a quick revenge…” Delamere said, less stridently.

  “Yes, and Llanlleyn was destroyed as a result. The chief—whatever his unpronounceable name is—wants to come to terms to make certain that doesn’t happen again. So you see, we can think of it as victory, Richard—”

  “And when Rhirid returns?” Delamere cut in.

  “The chief—”

  “His father wasn’t able to control him three months ago, Will!” Delamere’s voice rose again, this time in frustration.

  “I’m not going to worry about something that hasn’t happened yet, Richard! As I see it, there isn’t any reason not to come to some kind of understanding with Llanlleyn. Gwalaes will get her daughter back and our debt to the family of that man one of my knights murdered will be forgiven. All the loose ends tied up.”

  For a moment, all Delamere could do was stand and stare uncomprehendingly at Longsword. Was it insanity? Complacency? Or was it, as Alan d’Arques had hinted, Gwalaes’ influence?

  Finally he said, “All right. All right—forget about the wrongs Rhirid’s committed. There’s still your plan, Will. To get land for your son. We were going to start with Llanlleyn, you said.”

  Longsword’s eyes dropped briefly and his mouth seemed to tighten but then he looked up and his face was as composed as before. “I will have to reconsider that plan, I think, Richard. My son will be the king’s first grandchild. I’m sure he’ll provide sufficiently for him.” He smiled slightly. “And you were the one who pointed out that the child could just as easily be a girl…”

  Suddenly Delamere couldn’t listen to another word. He didn’t know this person who looked like his oldest friend. In a low voice, scarcely more than a mutter, he excused himself and hurriedly left the room. He didn’t hear Longsword call after him.

  Eleanor was still sitting in the hall but she got to her feet when she saw Delamere striding in her direction. “I hope you’re happy,” he told her in Welsh.

  “Isn’t peace preferable to violence?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not when it will be taken as evidence of weakness.”

  “I remember the priests telling us about turning the other cheek,” she said. “I think Lord
William is demonstrating strength, not weakness.”

  “Even if he has to swallow his pride to do it?”

  “Pride!” she snorted derisively. “Pride is a very vain emotion!”

  “Perhaps, but it’s one men like us build our lives around.” He glanced back over his shoulder. Longsword was coming towards them. He turned once more to the healer and added before stalking off, “Wake up, Gwalaes! This is the real world you’re in now, not your abbey!”

  There was no rumor spreading around Rhuddlan that Teleri did not know. She seldom left her apartment and never ate in the hall with her husband and his noisy retainers and yet the steady stream of servants to her rooms was sufficient to keep her abreast of all the news and gossip rebounding off the stone curtain walls of the fortress. She was particularly interested in anything to do with Longsword. Having decided to achieve his death or to at least make him suffer a humiliation like the one he had caused her, she had become obsessed with him. The increasing attention he gave to the healer, Gwalaes, did not escape her notice, and neither did the rumor that he was coming to terms with Llanlleyn because Gwalaes was in favor of it.

  She was rather sorry to see the feud with Llanlleyn end; she had been hoping Rhirid ap Maelgwn might finish the job he’d started several months before. It was obviously not to be—not soon, anyway—but she decided to satisfy her curiosity concerning the chief’s son by going down to meet the men from Llanlleyn when they returned. She was interested to see what the man looked like; after all, they had something in common in their wish to see Longsword dead.

  Someone came to tell her when a pair of the Norman knights galloped into the ward with the news that the Llanlleyn chief and his entourage were soon arriving. She hastily changed gowns, choosing one in a sky blue color which had always attracted attention in her uncle’s court, and had her women brush her hair until it gleamed like burnished copper. She rushed down the stair to the hall, her heart thundering with excited anticipation, her personal attendants following at a slower pace and wondering at all the fuss.

  The hall was filled with soldiers and servants. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Teleri had to stand on her toes and crane her neck to see over the heads in her way. The crush of people kept a respectful distance from her so that she and her women appeared to comprise a little island at one end of the cavernous room. She didn’t see the Welsh delegation and breathed in relief. She wasn’t too late. She looked up again and her eyes immediately met those of her husband. His face registered involuntary surprise so she tried to look nonchalant; then he frowned and said something to Richard Delamere, who was standing next to him. Delamere glanced in her direction and replied. Longsword must not have liked the answer because his frown deepened and he raised his voice loud enough for her to hear it, although she couldn’t make out the actual words. She ignored them, confident Richard Delamere would win the argument. He seemed to be the only person to whom her husband would listen.

  Unless it was true what they said about Gwalaes. The healer stood near the front of the throng, close to but separated by Delamere’s body from Longsword. Ostensibly waiting for her child to be returned to her…Teleri watched her through narrowed eyes. She certainly didn’t give the appearance of a scheming, manipulative woman. She looked quiet and meek. That explained much of Longsword’s desire for her, Teleri thought, her lip curling; she’d often suspected her husband felt that if he had to endure the presence of women, they had better be silent ones. Small wonder he used to visit Gladys and stare at the walls, neither he nor she knowing how to say the simplest sentence in the other’s language.

  Delamere was coming towards her. He gave her a courteous bow. “May I escort you to Lord William’s side?”

  He had won. She gave him her hand and they proceeded through the crowd to the front of the hall.

  Longsword was plainly not happy to see her. “What do you think you’re doing here, Teleri?”

  She hated the way he spoke to her. There was no finesse, no attempt at polite address. Just blunt words. She smiled innocently at him. “I heard you had guests, my lord husband. Surely they would wonder if your wife doesn’t come forward to meet them—”

  “They’re not guests. It isn’t a social visit!”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It gets so boring in my chamber, my lord husband. Hearing your Norman language all day. I look forward to greeting some of my own people.”

  “Hmph!” Longsword snorted rudely. “I’m warning you now to keep your mouth shut and not interfere in my affairs.”

  His abrasive manner angered her but she refused to be drawn into an argument in front of Gwalaes. Besides, she knew she was better equipped for an exchange of sarcastic insults than her husband.

  “Which affairs are those, I wonder?” she said innocently. “Don’t tell me you’ve invited the chief of Llanlleyn here to seek his advice on your private life!”

  Longsword’s face darkened but before he could retort, Richard Delamere cut in. “My lord only meant these negotiations are very serious, affecting the lives of everyone at Rhuddlan as well as Llanlleyn. We can’t allow distractions.”

  “I fail to see how I could possibly be a bigger distraction than Gwalaes recovering her child.”

  “Leave Gwalaes out of this!” Longsword growled.

  Teleri stared at him calmly, masking her surprise. To be so blatant…“Well, it’s true, isn’t it, my lord husband? Which one of you has the larger grudge against the chief’s son? Men have to be diplomatic but we do not. I expect Gwalaes will not be able to restrain herself from sharp words at the least.”

  “I think Maelgwn counts his son as a distraction which can’t be tolerated,” Delamere said.

  Her heart sank. “Do you mean Rhirid ap Maelgwn isn’t taking part in the negotiations?” she asked. She felt keenly disappointed. It seemed she had changed her gown for no reason.

  “Yes,” Longsword said. Suddenly his whole demeanor seemed more cheerful. He even grinned at her. “He’s been exiled to your uncle to learn how to love Normans. What do you think about that?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps the prince will find him a suitable Norman bastard to marry, my lord husband.”

  Longsword’s grin vanished. Teleri saw his hand clench and knew she had gone too far. But she held her ground even as he took a step in her direction, trusting in his sudden recollection of where he was and how many people were watching them, or at least in Richard Delamere’s timely intervention.

  “My lord, they’ve arrived,” a voice spoke urgently. It was Gwalaes. She touched Longsword’s arm anxiously, almost as if she would hold him back. “Please look.”

  The words and the contact had an immediate effect on Longsword. He turned away from his wife. “Of course,” he said, and his face and his voice were now gentle.

  Teleri stared in disbelief at the two of them and then at Gwalaes with narrowed eyes. As Longsword made to step outside, Richard Delamere moved into his former place and Teleri saw him watching Gwalaes with a different, though intense, emotion. Jealously. Sir Richard was jealous of Gwalaes.

  Longsword suddenly glanced back at his wife as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Listen to me well, Teleri! You had better not say anything untoward to the Welsh or you’ll regret it. And stop referring to me as your lord husband!”

  “You have just named my most fervent wish,” she muttered underbreath.

  The chief of Llanlleyn was disappointing. He and his group of conciliatory counsellors looked old, tired and very eager to come to an agreement with William Longsword. Teleri stayed in the hall only long enough to give him a proper greeting. Although she despised her husband and his countrymen, she hadn’t been joking when she’d said she imagined the Welsh chief would wonder if the mistress of the castle did not come forward to welcome him. She would have been mortified if he had returned home and complained that Prince Dafydd’s niece hadn’t been brought up with proper manners.

  She thought Rhirid ap Maelgwn wouldn’t have
looked so…well, mortal . She had never met him, nor seen him, but she felt she knew him. He was strongly built and serious. He saw the Norman threat as plain as day. He would not have stood in Longsword’s hall wearing the expression of a supplicant. One day he would beat Longsword, perhaps even kill him, and then she would be free to return to the prince’s court.

  Gwalaes’ reunion with her daughter, a solemn, self-possessed child, proved to be of more interest than the political proceedings. Longsword seemed anxious that everything was well with the girl and that she had been treated benevolently by the Welsh. He hovered over Gwalaes for so long that Teleri thought he was making a fool of himself. Richard Delamere didn’t look pleased by the display of obvious infatuation either. But it was only when Gwalaes was satisfied that her daughter had suffered no ill effects that Longsword finally allowed Delamere to draw him away to the council chamber.

  Teleri watched the little girl for some time. She—her name was Bronwen—was at first sober and then smiling. She didn’t seem the least bewildered by the whirlwind of events that had swept her up in the last month and she didn’t appear overwhelmed by the sight of her mother ensconced in a huge stone fortress, surrounded by armed men and a crush of servants. She greeted her mother happily but it was Gwalaes who brushed back tears and clutched the girl to her body as if she would never let her go again. Bronwen’s only concession to the circumstances was to insist that the grey mongrel which had accompanied her to Rhuddlan not leave her side for an instant.

  Teleri was enchanted by Bronwen. She wished she had a proper Welsh husband so she could have a little daughter of her own. Instead she was chained to a man whom she hated and with whom she would never again share a bed. If only Rhirid had come! Her desire to get away from Longsword had never been stronger.

  When she finally exited the hall she noticed Gladys standing, almost forlornly, near one of the far walls. The slut’s face was white, stricken. Obviously she had seen her lover’s little display of tender solicitude a few moments earlier. Teleri had a sudden flash of inspiration; the kernel of an idea formed in her mind. She returned to her apartment thoughtfully and no longer concerned with Rhirid.

  Gladys was not having a wonderful pregnancy. From the very first she had been struck by bouts of nausea so severe as to keep her in her bed for days at a time. She had vomited so often that she had a strong reluctance to eat. Time had not, as some of the kinder women had promised her, eased the cramping in her stomach and the dizziness she felt if she moved her head too quickly. In fact, everything got worse. As she entered her fifth month, her teeth ached constantly, her hair was limp and lusterless and her legs had swollen painfully. She couldn’t wait to rid her body of the life-sucking creature growing within it but, perversely, it was the continuation of these symptoms which reassured her that the baby still lived; because she ate so little, she hadn’t gained much weight and it was only with close scrutiny that someone might have noticed the slight swell of her abdomen when her gown clung to her as she walked. She thought with alarm that she had even caught Longsword looking at her doubtfully.

  The healer had given her herbs to chew which would settle her stomach but she had thrown them down the garderobe when she had seen how it was between the lord and the woman who had brought him back to life. She was angry that this tall, ill-dressed peasant had captured Longsword’s interest. Obviously, it was because of her that Longsword no longer came to her chamber. Gladys had no idea what to do.

  When one of Lady Teleri’s servants knocked on her door with a summons from her mistress, Gladys was already red-eyed. When questioned, she admitted to a great deal of unhappiness with her lot. When pressed, she confided her fear that Longsword was no longer interested in her. She felt only the slightest tremor of shame in speaking her innermost concerns to Teleri; she was desperate for advice or guidance, even from someone who had no reason to pity her.

  Teleri listened and thought it was all going to be much easier than she’d imagined. She surveyed the bloated, sickly-looking girl before her and suppressed a desire to kick her stomach to see if there really was a baby inside it or if it would merely deflate as Gladys herself had deflated into gasps and sobs when she spoke about Longsword.

  She encouraged the other woman. “You know I keep mostly to my rooms but even I’ve noticed this infatuation of my husband,” she said. “And the servants! They can’t stop talking about it. Every day someone brings me another story. He’s making a fool out of himself!”

  Gladys sniffled miserably. “She’s making a fool out of him, my lady. What’s so special about her? She isn’t the least bit attractive.”

  “He isn’t much to look at, either,” Teleri said equitably. “However, are you quite certain Gwalaes has anything to do with this? From all reports, she seems to keep a discreet distance and since her child arrived I don’t think she’s spoken to him.”

  “But that’s just a game, my lady! It’s an old game and nothing but a snare to entrap him!”

  She sounded so confident that Teleri suspected she spoke from experience. “I see,” she said. “Well, she did save his life…”

  “But I carry his life inside me, my lady!”

  Teleri considered the trembling, hysterical woman before her. Gladys was desperate to hold on to Longsword. Desperate enough to do anything? “I wonder…” she murmured.

  “Yes, my lady?” Gladys said eagerly.

  “Well, I’m just thinking that if Gwalaes’ spurning of Lord William serves to make Lord William want her badly, then perhaps the same might prove true if you spurned Lord William.”

  “But I can’t do that!” Gladys protested. “What if he didn’t care? Where would that leave me? And with this?” She covered her abdomen with her hands.

  “That’s precisely the point, can’t you see? Your child is the one thing he cares about more than you or Gwalaes. He knows he’ll never get one on me but—” Teleri’s eyes narrowed “—just imagine, Gladys; what happens to you when he finally succeeds in making Gwalaes pregnant?”

  Gladys gasped. Her face turned white.

  Teleri was pleased with herself. She didn’t know how intelligent Gladys was. Smart enough to manipulate Longsword into her bed but not smart enough to keep him there. Somewhere in between. “Can’t you see, Gladys?” she added persuasively. “He needs you, if only to make sure he gets his son.”

  “And he’s got me, my lady! The problem is, he doesn’t want me—he’d rather have her!”

  “But if you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have you,” Teleri said quietly.

  Gladys was suddenly still. “What do you mean?”

  “We agree he wants the baby, correct? Illegitimate, born of a servant, he doesn’t care…he only wants his child. So, if you were nowhere to be found, how do you think he’d react?”

  “He’d be frantic, my lady.”

  “Of course.” Teleri smiled. “He’d have searchers out every minute of daylight combing the hills, the caves, the shoreline…He’d have nothing on his mind but you, Gladys. Not even that chit Gwalaes. Nothing would be so important to him as finding you. Don’t you think that’s true?”

  Gladys nodded vehemently. “But where could I go, my lady? I don’t know any place—”

  Teleri waved her hand unconcernedly. “Oh, that’s no problem at all! I know places. Just think, Gladys: when he finally finds you, he’ll fall all over himself to be kind to you. He’ll treat you better than he ever did. You’ll be able to lord it over Gwalaes. Wouldn’t that be a sweet revenge?”

  “Oh, yes, my lady—”

  “Just leave it all to me, Gladys…”

  “Where’s Bronwen?”

  Eleanor jerked into full consciousness. She’d been leaning against the stone wall, eyes closed and face tilted towards the morning sun pouring down on the kitchen garden, and lulled by the warmth and the relative silence of the spot had felt so drowsy she hadn’t heard Alan’s footsteps.

  “At this time of day? More likely than not hovering around the ovens, waiti
ng for the new bread.”

  Alan laughed and put his own back against the wall next to hers. “She isn’t shy at all like you, is she, Lady Eleanor? Nor is she quiet and cold like the earl. She is rather like…”

  “Like my brother? Is that what you want to say, Alan?” The knight glanced guiltily at her but Eleanor gave him a small smile. She closed her eyes again and went on, “I suppose there is a similarity. Bronwen is friendly as Robert was, and everyone seems to like her immediately. But Robert was also manipulative and selfish and I’ve never seen that kind of behavior from my daughter. She is open and honest. And too easily impressed. She’s in awe of all the fine things she sees here—and fine people. She is in love with Lady Teleri.”

  “Then she’s the only one!” Alan shuddered. “It’s no wonder Lord William turned to another.”

  “Mmm…Gladys. I’ve told her many times what to do when she feels ill but she never seems to listen.”

  Alan looked sideways at her. “Perhaps it’s because she’s jealous of you.”

  Eleanor’s eyes flew open. She couldn’t have been more surprised if d’Arques had just confessed that he was in love with her. “Pardon?”

  “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed it, Lady Eleanor!”

  “Noticed what, Alan?” she said so sharply that he straightened up and twisted his torso in her direction.

  “You know, Lady Eleanor—the way Lord William looks at you. The way he was so concerned about Bronwen. The way he agreed to this peace with Llanlleyn because you asked it of him—”

  “I never asked any such thing! I only said Mother Abbess was anxious to avoid more death and destruction! As for Bronwen, he made a vow that he’d return her to me even when I said I would ransom her from Llanlleyn with my own self!”

  He shrugged. “We were surprised when he gave up his plans for Llanlleyn,” he told her. “He feels certain Gladys will give him a son and he had decided to carve out a patrimony for him.” He kicked at a stone. “Besides, there’s precious little to do in this place, Lady Eleanor. We were looking forward to the contest.”

  “You said ‘we’. I thought only Sir Richard blamed me for Lord William’s decision… Anyway, Lord William’s mind is his own to make up. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “That isn’t the word going round the men, Lady Eleanor,” Alan said. “It’s generally agreed that Lord William is so in love with you that it’s befuddled his mind. Anyone who knows him knows he would never have decided on peace on his own—”

  She flushed angrily. “You men gossip like the chattering girls whom you constantly deride for gossiping! You are all wrong! If Lord William feels kindly towards me it’s only because I healed his wound and nothing more! I would appreciate it, Alan, if you would put a stop to these rumors!”

  He looked at her curiously. He’d never seen her so angry; she’d always been even-tempered, shy and quiet. It had been left to Gwalaes to make any argument or demand or defense that needed to be made while Eleanor hovered in the background. He nodded. “Very well, La—Gwalaes.”

  He was no longer looking at her but at a point just beyond her shoulder. She whirled around. Bronwen was skipping up the narrow path separating the garden beds, Kigva close on her heels and Richard Delamere bringing up the rear.

  “Mama!” Bronwen shouted happily. Eleanor smiled despite her mood. Her daughter was finding the experience of Rhuddlan exciting and wonderful; in two weeks she had yet to express the desire to return home. “Sir Richard asked me to find you!”

  “Lord William would like you to attend Gladys. She’s complaining of cramps,” Delamere told her. As usual, he did not look pleased to see her but now she suspected it was for the reason Alan had just given her…

  “I’ll come,” she answered briefly but when she started forward, he moved slightly in front of her so that she could not pass.

  “I find it strange,” he said in Welsh, “that you learned Norman French from the sisters at the abbey yet Bronwen is completely ignorant of the language. Even though she appears to be an exceptionally intelligent child.”

  “Bronwen is young…”

  “My son is slightly younger but still he is able to greet me in my own language.”

  “You must be very proud of him!” she retorted and brushed past him. He was so surprised by the unexpected heat that he let her go without another word.