Rhuddlan

Chapter 34

  April, 1177

  Hawarden Castle, Gwynedd

  He’d had more than usual to drink that night but instead of feeding his rage, it had merely made him tired. He’d gone outside to clear his head with a walk down to the bailey and back but it hadn’t helped. Haworth, who accompanied him, was strangely garrulous but Hugh had often noticed that brisk activity seemed to invigorate some men while in his case it only slowed him; anyway, he supposed Haworth had done enough in the last week to invigorate himself: stealing away a child, killing Alan d’Arques and making a quick return to Hawarden.

  It was Haworth who had encouraged him, earlier in the day, to confront Eleanor and punish her for running off and causing so much trouble all those years ago. Since their return, she had been confined to two rooms at the very top of the castle tower with only one woman to serve her. She had been silent and expressionless during the journey but the instant the horses had ridden through the gate, she had demanded in a cold, sharp voice to see her daughter. When her request was curtly refused, she would not dismount and had to be pulled protesting and struggling from the horse she shared with one of Hugh’s knights, and then half-dragged and half-carried into the keep and up to her prison. Hugh had been startled; he couldn’t remember such aggressive behavior from her during their marriage and it had taken a little off the edge of his anger.

  Haworth had fixed a guard at her door, which was proved warranted the very first time the servant had entered it with a tray. Eleanor had practically knocked the woman over in her zeal to escape and the guard had had to wrestle her back inside. After that there had been no more trays, no more food or drink or someone to cart away the waste bucket. For more than a day she could be heard even in the farthest reaches of the castle, screaming for Hugh, screaming to be released, screaming for her daughter…until at last, she had fallen eerily quiet and everyone had wondered if she’d died.

  “Save us all a lot of trouble if she is dead,” Haworth had declared. “Would you like me to go and see?”

  “No, no,” Hugh shook his head. “I can’t deny myself the pleasure.”

  But inside himself he wasn’t so confident. Although he knew he was in the right, Eleanor’s bizarre behavior made him imagine that she’d lost her wits while in the Bastard’s keeping and there wasn’t a man alive who could predict how an insane woman would react to the slightest provocation.

  “Though you need an heir,” Haworth continued thoughtfully. “A daughter isn’t much use; she can’t be earl. You need a son, and then you can be rid of the Bolsovers forever.”

  That was when Hugh decided he needed a bit of fresh air. He didn’t like to hear Haworth speak disparagingly of Robert Bolsover, even indirectly. Despite the passage of five years, the affair still rankled on Haworth and he was becoming increasingly vocal about it.

  To his dismay, Haworth had insisted on accompanying him outside. The man was displaying a new confidence that was beginning to grate on Hugh’s nerves, which was odd considering Haworth’s former subservience had also irritated him. Of course, if anyone had a right to a sudden infusion of confidence in his own ability, it was Roger of Haworth; indeed, if it hadn’t been for Haworth’s keen eye, Hugh would have eventually remarried and unknowingly produced a bastard. He supposed he ought to feel grateful to Haworth but he didn’t. He felt strangely dismayed that the past had been stirred up and cast into his face again just when he’d finally managed to put it all behind himself.

  Or perhaps he was starting to tire of his lover.

  He turned abruptly and went back into the keep. He called for Eleanor to be brought to him. “I think, Roger,” he said carefully, “I will see her privately.”

  Haworth looked injured. “My lord, I can help—”

  “Yes, I know, Roger, but I—” he thought quickly, “—I can’t expect you to do everything for me, can I? You’ve done too much already these past few years. And—” he continued as Haworth started to protest, “—I remember what you said about needing an heir…”

  The other man nodded immediately and Hugh sensed his relief that there was no slight intended against him.

  He was sitting alone when Eleanor was brought in. She stood where she was placed, in the middle of the small chamber, in front of his chair. She wore the same clothes in which she’d arrived; probably, he thought, wrinkling his nose, the same clothes she’d had on the day she landed at Rhuddlan. Her long hair hung lank and unbound down her back, her face was white and gaunt with dark shadows below her eyes and her lips were pressed shut in a thin line. Her eyes betrayed the only spark of life in her: they stared at him with unblinking, burning hatred and for the first time in their relationship, he was actually a little bit afraid of her.

  “If you swear to me that you won’t attempt another escape, I will be more than happy to restore your servant to you,” he said loudly, to cover his sudden discomfort.

  She didn’t answer. But her eyes never left his face.

  “Did you hear what I said? You must be starving by now. I can have food sent up to you as soon as you leave me if you give me your word you won’t try to escape. Otherwise—” he shrugged.

  Still she said nothing. He frowned, discomfort changing into irritation.

  “Well? If you’re trying to play games with me, Eleanor, be assured that I will always win—”

  “I believe you already have, my lord,” she interrupted in a sharp voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t any intention of permitting me to see my daughter, have you? You never had, even back at Rhuddlan.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I should have guessed, of course, but I was in such a panic…”

  He smiled slowly then, feeling the uncertainty ebb away and the current of power flow towards him. “No, my lady, you’re correct. You will not see the girl.” He stood up abruptly. She took an involuntary step backwards and he smiled again. He moved past her to a table and poured out a cup of wine. “Did the Bastard treat you well? He looks even more miserable than I remember at Dol. There’s a man who will never be content. The only flash of agreeableness he showed was when he spoke about you. How you saved his life. Did you see him? He had his sword out. He was ready to kill me just to keep you.” Hugh lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed. He didn’t know why he was drinking; he didn’t feel like drinking and the wine was beginning to turn in his stomach. He lowered the cup and set it down hard on the table. “Do you miss him?”

  “I don’t care about him,” she answered. “What have you done with my daughter?”

  “Your daughter! It’s always your daughter! She’s mine as well, isn’t she? She’s my heir!”

  “She’s your daughter only in blood,” Eleanor snapped angrily. “A mere twist of fate! I’m the one who has provided her shelter and food. I’m the one who has raised her—”

  “You never gave me the chance, did you? You contrived your death and disappeared—”

  “I saved you the trouble of it.”

  He paused, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I know you and your animal murdered Gwalaes, my lord. I suspected I was next.”

  “You’re more clever than I thought,” he said.

  “Circumstance made me so,” she retorted.

  They stared at each other for a moment, not moving a muscle. Hugh was astonished at the transformation four years had wrought on her character. Not once in all their time at Chester had Eleanor displayed the slightest inclination towards assertiveness and now she was having an argument with him. Had the Bastard done this? It was a more fitting revenge than Longsword could ever know because Hugh’s ardor for Eleanor was only ignited by seeing her terrified submission.

  She broke the silence, startling him from his thoughts. “Will you at least tell me how she is?” she asked calmly.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t know how she is. But I’m certain my mother will send a messenger here soon enough…”

  Eleanor seemed to turn even paler. “Where is s
he?”

  “The men who rode with Roger to fetch her have taken her to Stroud. My mother lives there. I think she’ll be pleased to have her granddaughter with her.” He gave a little laugh. “Especially if the girl’s as quiet as Roger said she was. Solemn. Once she’d stopped screaming, after they’d got her away from that wretched manor, he said she never uttered another sound. Didn’t even cry.”

  “You never even saw her, did you?” she said slowly. “You’re truly despicable, my lord! Your own flesh and blood—haven’t you the slightest curiosity about her?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “There was no time…”

  He turned away, pretending to seek out his wine cup, but he could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. It had all gone wrong, he thought; this interview was supposed to have been his triumph, not hers. It was supposed to have ended with her tears, her pleas for his mercy…perhaps her rape.

  “My only consolation,” she said in a level voice, “is that Bronwen was spared the sight of the monster who fathered her.”

  When he woke up the next day, his head was pounding. The chamber was in semi-darkness but he could see the shape of a man sitting on the end of his bed. “Roger? Is that you?” he asked groggily.

  Haworth finished lacing his last boot. He stood up and walked towards Hugh. “You slept like the dead, my lord,” he whispered in deference to the morning hush. “I came up last night but you never stirred. How did it go with Lady Eleanor?”

  Hugh closed his eyes again and leaned back into his pillow. He was too ashamed to admit the truth. “Well enough, I suppose. She’s changed, Roger…Do you know, if I didn’t know the look of her, I would say this is not the same person. This one is…harder. She called me a monster for not having seen my daughter.”

  “I hope you put her in her place, my lord!” Haworth said, bristling.

  “Of course,” Hugh lied. He was silent as he remembered the conversation with Eleanor. He opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Anyway, I came to a decision last night. Gruffudd ap Madog’s been quiet for a few weeks. I believe we made our point. He knows now that if he invades my land, he has to face not only my knights but the prince’s soldiers as well and he’ll think twice before he does it again. I’m going to send Dafydd’s men home.”

  Haworth looked confused by the abrupt change of subject but his expression cleared quickly. “My lord, no! What about your plan for Powys? You said we would wait long enough to persuade Gruffudd we weren’t pressing our advantage and then we’d launch our own invasion! We can’t do it without the extra manpower!”

  “That plan will have to wait,” Hugh said.

  Haworth’s voice was outraged. “Why?”

  “Because I have a more pressing concern, Roger! I told you at Rhuddlan that if the Bastard had anything to do with keeping my wife from me, I would have revenge and so I will. But obviously I can’t act overtly; I don’t think Henry would understand, do you? However, the man who shot the Bastard—what’s his name?”

  “Rhirid ap Maelgwn,” Haworth answered unhappily.

  Hugh nodded. “That’s him. I know he’s got his own grievance against the Bastard. With a little encouragement, I think he can be convinced to go after him again. And with my money and weapons, perhaps this time he’ll do a better job.” Despite the murky light, he could see Haworth’s frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked impatiently.

  “But you’ve got Lady Eleanor back! It was revenge enough against the Bastard—he was begging her to stay! He was prepared to fight you for her! You’ve had revenge, my lord; let’s turn our attention south now. With the prince’s men we’ll have less trouble penetrating Gruffudd’s defenses. We can’t do it alone…”

  Hugh shoved back the sheets and got out of bed with an angry oath. “I don’t understand you, Roger! I thought you hated the Bastard as much as I do! I thought you hated the presence of so many Welsh soldiers at Hawarden! Suddenly, you want to forget the insult the Bastard has done me—not only here but at Dol, I may remind you!—and you want the Welsh to stay even longer!”

  “Everything you say is true, my lord. But we shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to increase your holdings just because of this feud with Longsword. Who knows when we’ll have another chance at it!”

  Hugh was furious. What was happening? Haworth was disagreeing with him? Giving him advice? The man stood there, only a pace or two away from his face, staring calmly into his eyes, infuriatingly composed but for his strong, urgent tone. Hugh felt his self-control start to slip as his anger rose to the surface. He was used to being obeyed without question, particularly by Haworth, and although one small rational part of his mind was telling him that to take his man’s advice would be the only way to finally escape the past he’d felt creeping up on him again, it could not hold out against the stubborn remainder which was telling him that he was lord and master.

  But he never had to speak. Roger of Haworth knew the earl too well. His new confidence faltered. “Of course I’ll do whatever you command, my lord,” he said in a low voice.

  Hugh stared at him a moment longer. He nodded slowly. “Good,” he answered shortly. “Because I’ve made up my mind to have the Bastard’s head on a platter, Roger, and I will get it with you or without you.”