Rhuddlan

Chapter 29

  April, 1177

  Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd

  Eleanor played Alan’s words over and over until she was forced to admit to herself the truth of them. She noticed it now not so much by Longsword’s own actions but by the way everyone else at Rhuddlan treated her. Suddenly she noticed people giving her long looks. They stopped talking when she walked by or they started whispering furiously. Gladys refused to have anything to do with her no matter how uncomfortable her condition. Delamere was curt.

  It was the last thing she wanted. Although no man had ever before expressed a romantic interest in her and she was somewhat flattered by it, she was also very much aware that what William Longsword had in mind could only harm her. Even if he were sincere, what kind of relationship could they expect? He was married and he thought of her only as some low-born chit. What could he possibly want from her other than that which Gladys—and who knew how many others—had already given him?

  While she didn’t fear him physically as she had her husband, she was nonetheless frightened because he would not let her leave Rhuddlan. Twice she had asked; the first time just after Maelgwn had gone and the second time when Alan had opened her eyes to the situation. On both occasions he had politely, even regretfully, refused. It was necessary, he had told her, to wait and see that the peace would hold. He’d had a message from Llanlleyn. Maelgwn had recalled his son from the prince’s court but Rhirid was no longer there. Dafydd, to punish him for instigating the attacks on Longsword and on the abbey of St. Mary, had sent him and his men to put their aggression to better use in another part of Gwynedd. There was no knowing when he would return—and whether he would accept the peace his father and Longsword had negotiated.

  Besides, he said to her, there were many more people at Rhuddlan than St. Mary’s. Couldn’t she put her healing talent to work in the castle just as well as at the abbey? Whatever she needed, he would provide.

  She didn’t dare argue with the king’s son. She contemplated fleeing Rhuddlan as she had fled Chester. Why not? she thought. She owed William Longsword nothing. He had given her back Bronwen but she had saved his life. Bronwen…Could she travel on foot all that way to the abbey? Would she even want to leave? Where did that child disappear to, anyway?

  Kigva’s frenetic barking led her to the stables. The scraggly dog was dancing around a group of laughing men which included Richard Delamere and Alan d’Arques. The reason for their good humor was soon apparent to Eleanor: precariously balanced on an unsaddled stallion was her missing daughter. Delamere was holding onto the little girl’s leg and she in turn was holding onto the animal’s mane. It was all Eleanor could do to keep from screaming.

  The men were smiling and giving Bronwen encouragement. Delamere’s voice was calm as he instructed her on posture. But everyone stopped talking when they saw Eleanor—except for her daughter, who called out a cheerful greeting.

  Delamere told Bronwen to let go and slide into his arms. He swung her to the ground and she ran to Eleanor, excited by her adventure. He had the grace to look guilty but said, “There was no danger at all.” He slapped the horse’s shoulder. “This one’s my own and he’s gentle as a lamb.”

  “He’s fifty times larger than a lamb, Sir Richard!” she said angrily. “And it wouldn’t matter how gentle he is if he happened to be suddenly spooked, would it?”

  “It was Bronwen’s idea,” Alan d’Arques tried to explain. “She wanted to sit on one of our horses. She’s utterly fearless.”

  It was obviously a quality the men found amusing in the child. They smiled and looked indulgently at her. Eleanor wanted to knock their heads together. She supposed next they’d be teaching the little girl how to wield a sword.

  She considered the men for a moment; they were waiting for their horses to be saddled and brought out. Reluctantly, she dismissed the idea of leaving Rhuddlan on her own. If Longsword were so inclined—and obviously he was if he refused to allow her to go—his knights would find her in no time.

  Delamere had no love for her, she knew. A thought occurred to her. “Sir Richard, may I speak privately with you for a moment?” she asked.

  “I haven’t any time. We’re almost ready to leave,” he said, assuming she was going to further berate him for giving her daughter a treat.

  “Please. I only have one question.”

  He looked annoyed but nodded. They moved several yards away from the others, Eleanor tugging at a somewhat resistant Bronwen, who was more interested in the huge beasts than in her mother’s business.

  Delamere didn’t say anything, just stared expressionlessly at her, his arms crossed over his chest. Eleanor began to feel nervous. She’d lived so long at the abbey that in her mind she believed she could say anything to a man but Delamere’s clothing, attitude and stance were so reminiscent of Hugh that the words faltered on her tongue.

  “Well?” he said finally.

  She swallowed. “Sir Richard, Bronwen and I would like to return to St. Mary’s. However, Lord William thinks it’s not yet safe for us to do so. Do you think you might speak with him and persuade him to change his mind?”

  A sardonic grin slowly twisted his lips. “If you knew Lord William for as long as I’ve known him, you’d never even think to ask a question like that, Gwalaes. Besides,” he added in Welsh, looking down at Bronwen with a more benign expression, “I really don’t think your daughter wants to leave Rhuddlan. Do you, Bronwen?”

  The little girl shook her head vehemently. Delamere laughed and walked back to the waiting men, leaving Eleanor frustrated with the sudden realization—not felt since she lived at Chester—that she was not in charge of her own affairs.

  Teleri wanted to slap Gladys senseless. Actually, she reconsidered, that would be difficult as it seemed the slut was already senseless. She decided she just wanted to slap Gladys for the pleasure of it.

  Gladys had changed her mind. She was frightened at the actual prospect of leaving the fortress. Her face was red and swollen, ugly. Perhaps, she stammered, the situation wasn’t as bad as it had originally appeared. She hardly ever saw Gwalaes around Longsword anymore. She hardly ever heard people gossiping about them—

  “You don’t get out much, do you?” Teleri interrupted. She raised a fine eyebrow. “I mean, you’ve been especially ill lately, haven’t you?”

  “It’s the weather, my lady,” Gladys said in a miserable voice. “I always have trouble breathing this time of year and it doesn’t do me any good to carry this weight around.”

  “Of course you should rest often!” Teleri exclaimed. “Don’t think I’m suggesting otherwise. I only meant that if you had been out, you would have heard the latest…”

  Gladys looked interested, reddened eyes notwithstanding.

  “Gwalaes has asked Lord William’s permission to return to her abbey…”

  Gladys’ puffy eyes opened wide and she leaned eagerly forward on the cushioned bench upon which Teleri had generously allowed her to sit in order to ease the swelling in her ankles.

  “…but Lord William has refused it.”

  Gladys’ breath swooshed out loudly. “He did?” she gasped.

  “We should have guessed that when he had her child brought here, he had a definite reason inside his small mind,” Teleri continued. She bent her head over a section of needlework she had just finished and appeared to squint critically at it. In reality she was watching Gladys’ reactions from the corner of her eye. She noted with satisfaction that the slut seemed suitably shocked. “It’s quite obvious that he wants her around. There can be only one reason why.”

  Gladys was too stunned to make very much noise as she cried. The tears rolled down her face in steady rivulets. Her mouth moved and Teleri thought she was about to speak but it turned out she was only chewing the insides of her lips.

  “Are you all right, Gladys?” Teleri asked in a kind voice. She signalled to one of her women, sitting nearby with disapproval on their faces, to bring wine over. “Don’t carry on so; it can’t be g
ood for the baby. Here, have a drink of this. It will calm you. Do you know, I’d thought of the best of all places where you could hide and make Lord William frantic with worry and I’m a bit disappointed that you don’t want to go now. It would have been nice for you…”

  Gladys put her cup down. She sniffed. “Where, my lady?”

  “My uncle’s court.”

  “The prince’s court!” Gladys sniffed again and absently wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. “Truly?”

  Teleri nodded and casually considered her needlework again. “I would have given you a letter to Dafydd stating that your husband had been one of the archers he had sent to King Henry during the war. He’d returned with Lord William and was in the garrison at Rhuddlan until he was killed in a hunting accident. Your grief is so great that it pains you to be at Rhuddlan and since you are one of my favorite servants, I’ve decided to indulge you by sending you to the Perfeddwlad for a while. It’s a story that can’t fail to move him—or his Norman wife.”

  “But, my lady, why must I pretend this isn’t Lord William’s child?”

  “Well, we don’t want the prince to think badly of Lord William, do we? Which he’ll do if he discovered Lord William shuns a lawful wife—who happens to be his niece—in favor of an ill-bred servant. I think it will also make him and his household more kindly disposed to you. You would never guess it by the way I’m treated here, but in my uncle’s house I am the most favored person.”

  Gladys was silent, considering. She twisted the now soggy end of her sleeve nervously. She gulped. “But how long would I have to stay, my lady? I don’t want Lord William to forget all about me!”

  “Of course he won’t, Gladys! You won’t stay very long, I’m sure; perhaps several weeks.” Teleri looked at her sideways. “Although you might find you enjoy being at court. As long as you use the story I gave you, the soldiers will take you in and the other servants won’t ignore you or gossip about you as they do here…”

  “That would be nice…” Gladys whispered.

  Teleri saw the wistful expression on her face and was jealous. She still thought of the Perfeddwlad as her home, she missed it dreadfully and was struggling to come to terms with the fact that she was sending someone there while she herself was forced to remain a virtual prisoner of a situation she hadn’t manipulated.

  She said suddenly, “Do you know, Gladys? I wish I were going instead of you! I envy you so much…” and of all the sentences she had uttered that evening, those three were the only ones she spoke truthfully.