Chapter 50
June, 1178
Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd
Teleri stood on her toes and dug her hand into the wagon-load of long grass. She extracted a fistful and sniffed it, at first tentatively but then with more appreciation. Still, she was careful not to display too much enthusiasm as she turned to the cart’s owner. “I suppose it will do,” she said with a doubtful expression. She pursed her lips and frowned. “But not at the price you seek. I would be happy to pay you three pennies.”
The man protested. Teleri eventually paid four and a half silver pennies but not until she had made certain that all the grass was fresh and sweet-smelling, even down near the bottom of the cart. The she directed him towards the rear yard beyond the kitchens, where women were waiting to stuff new mattresses. It was the final bit of her spring cleaning effort, during which the keep had been turned inside out and whatever hadn’t moved had been scoured, swept or whitewashed. And she was well-pleased with the results.
Longsword’s abrupt departure several weeks after the battle with the earl had caused her much embarrassment. Wherever she went, she was positive that people were whispering about his rejection behind her back. She was angry with herself for catering to him and being spurned nonetheless. She was angry with him for being a stubborn fool. But she stopped short of secluding herself as she had after the earl’s visit the year before. Instead, she’d taken charge of the household and organized the smallest function to her specifications. Warin fitz Maurice was the commander of all things military and by mutual agreement, she handled what remained, including the resolution of squabbles and petitions and the procurement of the castle’s supplies. Nine months after Longsword had gone, she was satisfied with her work and happy because of it. She had merely one cause for complaint: that despite trying, she hadn’t been pregnant when her husband had left her.
She watched as the cart ambled off on groaning wheels and was about to head for the keep when her attention was diverted by a sudden hubbub at the gate. A group of soldiers clogged the entrance and the guards in the tower were intent on a sight on the road outside. Several voices shouted for Sir Warin. She wondered what might warrant such excitement, and then it occurred to her that perhaps her husband and Sir Richard were at last returning. She wasn’t certain if she was pleased with the possibility.
But from the snatches of sentences which rose above the general din, she inferred that something more dire than Longsword’s unexpected arrival had happened. Fitz Maurice suddenly passed swiftly by her without his usual acknowledgement, followed closely by two other knights. Apparently this business was too important to share with her. She frowned, moved forward and tapped the nearest soldier on the arm. “What is happening?”
The man glanced nervously at fitz Maurice before answering in a low, quick voice: “The earl of Chester is coming up the road.”
The earl of Chester! For some reason, her heart began racing. This was indeed a surprise. After all that had passed between him and Longsword, she had supposed never to see him again.
She realized the great concern at the gate was whether or not to admit him; in the end, the gate remained open and the earl and his modest entourage trotted into Rhuddlan, seemingly oblivious to the sensation created by their arrival.
Hugh’s men halted just inside the gate but he himself continued forward until he was directly before her and waited a brief moment while a groom ran up to hold his horse and then he dismounted—almost carefully, she thought. She discovered why in the next moment, when he bent low over her hand and gave her his usual, respectful greeting. She was shocked to see his hair was now mostly grey. He straightened up and smiled at her and she was further shocked at the sight of him. He was much thinner than she remembered and his face was wan. The blue eyes which had been his most striking feature were duller and less piercing. She had once considered him attractive but now he merely looked old. It occurred to her as she welcomed him to Rhuddlan that some terrible illness might have befallen him during the winter and she laughed inwardly at the apprehensions of Lord William’s men. What could they possibly have to fear from this less than imposing figure?
Fitz Maurice interposed himself. “May we ask why you have come to Rhuddlan, my lord?” he asked in a firm, authoritative voice.
Hugh turned bland eyes on him. “Is your master within?”
“No, he is not, my lord. I am in charge.”
“Then I must direct my story to you, Sir—?’
Fitz Maurice inclined his head. “Warin fitz Maurice, my lord.”
Teleri wished the man didn’t sound so stiff, as if he begrudged the earl every breath he drew, but Chester appeared not to notice. “Sir Warin,” he said in an unhurried voice, “we were traveling along the old Roman road when, not far from this fortress, we stumbled across an unsettling sight—”
A sudden shout, a call to fitz Maurice, interrupted his story. The three of them glanced immediately in the direction of the gate and to a spectacle of milling and muttering men.
“You must have a look, Sir Warin,” the earl said.
Fitz Maurice frowned and strode off toward the gate. When Teleri tried to follow, Hugh held his hand up. “I don’t think you should see that, my lady. There was a lot of blood…there is blood all over the place.”
Teleri stared at him for a moment without speaking and then went after fitz Maurice. But the soldiers proved a more effective obstacle than the earl; they were large men and she couldn’t see between them.
After some time, fitz Maurice emerged from the crowd and as the men shifted to let him pass, she was able to see a makeshift litter lying on the ground with a prone figure in it.
“What is it? Who is that?” she demanded as fitz Maurice neared her.
“He is one of our knights, Lady Teleri,” he answered tersely. He did not pause but went right up to the earl. “My lord, will you explain how you found this man?”
Chester shrugged a little. “There isn’t much to the story, Sir Warin. He was lying off the road a bit, in the undergrowth, apparently the victim of some treachery—”
“It was the Welsh that did this, Sir Warin!” Another man, his expression outraged, burst out. He pushed by Teleri with unrestrained movements. “The Welsh did it! Llanlleyn did it!”
Fitz Maurice did not look pleased with the interruption. “That’s as may be, but—”
“What has Llanlleyn done?” Teleri asked in as loud and sharp a voice as she could muster, tired of being ignored.
The man turned to her. “They’ve finally taken their revenge, haven’t they? For the killing of the shepherd the winter before!” He stabbed his arm into the air behind him. “He was the one who came to my defense when the Welshman attacked me. He killed the Welshman and now Llanlleyn has killed him!”
Teleri’s face was skeptical. “You think Llanlleyn did this? I don’t believe it!”
“Lord William never did pay the fine…” fitz Maurice ventured cautiously.
“Lord Rhirid paid the galanas with the money he received for giving up Sir Roger to Lord William. Olwen told me so. The debt was paid. Llanlleyn didn’t kill that man; Lord Guri wouldn’t dare.”
“Why not, Lady Teleri?”
“Why would he?” she countered. “He has no reason to provoke a conflict with Rhuddlan.”
“But he knows Lord William is absent…”
“He still has no reason, Sir Warin!”
The earl, whom she’d forgotten was standing quite near to them, as slight and shrunken as he’d become, spoke up in a languid voice. “He might have done it to strengthen his position. Lord Rhirid’s decision to make an alliance with Rhuddlan could not have been a popular one.”
“But it was a successful one!” Teleri argued. “His warriors might have complained before but certainly not afterward!”
“Not necessarily, my lady,” fitz Maurice said. “There were grumblings, remember? When Lord William agreed to the earl’s terms without seeking the advice of either Welsh chief. And they got nothing for
their pains.”
“Except a large payment for Sir Roger and horses and weapons!”
“I’m only suggesting that Lord Guri might have condoned or even committed this murder himself to prove his loyalty to Llanlleyn and to his warriors,” Chester interposed smoothly. “But there is one sure way to discover the truth. Go to Llanlleyn.”
“No!” Teleri protested. “The whole idea is preposterous! Guri wouldn’t break an oath of peace even to appease his men—”
“But the formal peace is between myself and Llanlleyn, my lady, and between myself and Rhuddlan…”
“There’s no such agreement between us and Llanlleyn,” fitz Maurice slowly agreed and Teleri saw in his face that it was this last thought which convinced him of Welsh guilt.
“I’ve only a small force with me,” the earl said to him, “but if you’d like, I can send to Hawarden for men to accompany you to Llanlleyn.”
Fitz Maurice shook his head. “Thank you, no, my lord. We’ve more than enough soldiers to take care of Guri.”
“Of course. I merely thought you might want to show Guri that Hawarden and Rhuddlan stand together in this matter.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it would mean a delay of several days and I’m sure you want to take care of this as soon as possible.”
“You can’t send an army to Llanlleyn!” Teleri exclaimed. “You don’t know the truth of the matter! Send a formal delegation if you must but you will offend Guri for perhaps no reason if you appear at his gate with an army!”
“Yes, my lord; you’re right,” fitz Maurice said, ignoring Teleri. “It’s best to settle this matter immediately and let the Welsh know a harsh retaliation is the penalty for laying hands on a Norman.”
“You’re making a mistake!” Teleri said in frustration.
Fitz Maurice turned to her angrily. “Then will you tell us who did perform this act of murder, my lady?”
She held his cold stare for a long moment but was ultimately forced to look away for lack of proof or even a suspect to sustain her conviction. “I don’t know…” she admitted reluctantly.
“Perhaps, as the hour grows late, the earl and his entourage will consent to pass the night as our guests, Lady Teleri…”
“Of course,” she said stiffly. She glanced at Hugh. “I will make the arrangements, my lord. You are welcome to Rhuddlan.”
Her humiliating dismissal did not bother her as much as her stubborn feeling that fitz Maurice’s conclusion was wrong. But she had no other to offer in its place and so her argument had no chance against the muscle of outraged male sensibility. The simplest—and probably most enjoyable—way to solve the problem was to fight.
But her unease remained unabated even as the day drew to a close. She made excuses to the earl and retired to her rooms for the evening. She was certain the conversation in the hall would be of an entirely martial bent and was uninterested in hearing about tactics and revenge and blood, especially when it degenerated after extensive drinking into wild boasting. She mulled the story over and over in her mind while she sat with her women, scarcely able to eat a bite of her supper because of the knot in her stomach and then she lay awake a long time in bed. She thought of going to the barracks and confronting Sir Warin without the earl standing over them but she knew he would only ask her to leave. He believed Guri was responsible for the murder and she also knew he saw this opportunity for revenge as the perfect way to prove his loyalty and good leadership to Longsword. He didn’t want her to convince him he was wrong…
She awoke early the next morning, vaguely surprised that she had managed to fall asleep. There was still a murkiness to the daylight; it was not yet fully dawn. Her women lay quietly, except for a gentle snore here and there, but a certain noise had jiggled her into consciousness and although she was too woolly-headed to realize completely what it was, she was positive it was something she couldn’t ignore. She slipped from her bed, tiptoed to the nearest window and opened the shutter a crack. She heard the noise again—several nearly simultaneously—saw the men milling in the bailey below and remembered everything with a sharp intake of breath. As quickly and quietly as she could, she got dressed, pulled a veil over her hair and left the chamber.
The hall was deserted. The door at the outside entrance was thrown back and the sounds of jingling tack and spurs, of swords sliding across chain mail to be fitted snugly into belts, of men talking, coughing, spitting, laughing because they were all as eager to believe the terrible accusation as Sir Warin, came to her as she paused in the stairwell near the pantries. There was a figure on the landing outside, leaning on the stone wall overlooking the bailey. It was the earl, and she walked towards him.
“My lord,” she said.
He straightened up and spun around. “Lady Teleri!” he greeted her cheerfully. He made a short bow and she curtsied. She thought he looked much better than he had the day before; although his hair was still grey and his frame thin, his face seemed less weary and some of the age had dropped away. “Have you come to see your men off? And bid them good luck?”
“I wish I could, my lord,” she answered, joining him at the wall, “but I still disagree with this undertaking.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re not a man, my lady, nor a soldier. Right or wrong as the matter may be, you can’t imagine how keen they are to pursue it, if only for the fresh air and exercise.”
“Here was I thinking it’s revenge they’re all after,” she said tartly.
“Oh, yes,” he said, his expression sobering. “Revenge is the strongest motivation of all. Surely even a woman would agree with that? A woman can understand as well as a man the impulse for revenge.”
She lifted a shoulder indifferently, not feeling strong enough at that hour to debate with him, and stared at the knights and foot soldiers gathered below her.
“I had news this past January I would like to share with you, Lady Teleri,” he continued in his earlier, jovial tone. “My wife was delivered of a healthy baby boy at one of my estates in Normandy. My heir.”
Teleri turned to him in surprise. “I had forgotten, my lord. Congratulations. You must be pleased.”
“To be truthful, I’m of two minds. The existence of an heir saves me much bother and yet…Tell me, Lady Teleri,” he said, fixing her with an intent expression, “what do you think your husband would do if he suspected the child is his?”
She drew in her breath sharply, astonished that he had voiced the idea. “I—I’m not sure, my lord,” she stammered.
“Do you think he does suspect?”
She paused, and then shook her head. “No. He’s impetuous. He would have done something by now if he suspected.”
A shout from below distracted them. The army was ready to depart. Fitz Maurice looked up to the landing and raised an arm in salute. Hugh waved in return but Teleri made no gesture.
It took some time for all the men to clear the gate. The earl and Teleri watched every one leave, in silence.
“You suspected…” Hugh said matter of factly, but in a low voice which trailed away like a wisp of smoke.
It was true. The nagging idea had first come to her at Hawarden, when Olwen had told her the countess was pregnant and later resurfaced in the first weeks after Longsword’s departure, when she realized she had failed to conceive. She had found it strange that no one had even hinted at the possibility, particularly her husband, but she saw no reason to mention it. Even now.
“What will you do, my lord?” she asked, instead of acknowledging his remark.
He smiled a little. “What I’m doing already. I must say, it was the most wonderful coincidence that the man we killed was the very one who began the whole business between Rhirid and your husband. I had thought the weakest part of the scheme would be trying to persuade Sir Warin that the Welsh were responsible without actually having to declare it. A wonderful coincidence.”
She was confused by this abrupt change of topic and gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? Guri didn’t kill t
hat knight?”
“Of course not!” he laughed.
“But you agreed with Sir Warin that he had! You dismissed my protest!”
“Certainly! How else to get his blood up? How else to get him out of Rhuddlan with most of his army?”
She could do nothing but stare at him, open-mouthed.
“Perhaps it will be clearer to you if I ask you a few questions, Lady Teleri,” he said. There was delight in his eyes and she was suddenly apprehensive. “For instance, do you know where Lord William went when he left Rhuddlan last fall?”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“I know where he went. Your husband, perhaps taunted by the suspicion that my wife may have been pregnant with his child when she left this fortress—or perhaps not, as you believe—arrived in Normandy late last year and has been fighting alongside Prince Richard ever since. But he did find time to approach the king and ask for a favor. Do you know what that was, Lady Teleri? No? I’ll tell you. He asked his father’s assistance in having his marriage—your marriage—annulled.”
She was stunned. She sputtered, “No—no—we—” reflexively and then fell silent. This news shocked her more than the revelation that the Welsh were indeed innocent of her man’s murder.
“It’s quite true, my lady.”
She shook her head and immediately felt dizzy, listening to such revelations before she’d eaten breakfast. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t believe it.”
“I assure you, my lady, it’s true. I’m a man with many interests beyond my little property in Gwynedd. Interests in Normandy and in England. I need to know the condition of the realm almost as badly as the king. And so I have another army—this one composed of messengers who bring all kinds of information to my backwater castle. Trustworthy messengers who earn their money by ensuring the information they carry is accurate. The king, by the way, refused his request.”
But she could hardly hear his words through the blood rushing in her ears. “We had an agreement!” she said, aloud but really to herself.
“An agreement?”
She looked at him, her eyes suddenly focusing. She didn’t explain what she’d meant. “Never mind,” she said. “This has been rather a full morning and I’m not thinking clearly, my lord. I must go back inside, I think.”
But as she turned away, he took her arm and held her fast. “Perhaps you’ll recall my earlier words, Lady Teleri,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you will recognize now that we have something in common.”
“What is that, my lord?”
“A desire for revenge against Lord William.”
“Revenge!” Her heart began racing. She was trembling like a frightened child but it wasn’t the earl who had provoked this reaction; it was her husband. She shook with helpless outrage at his betrayal.
He had told her he was leaving because Sir Richard needed a change of place. Sir Richard was desolate after losing Olwen and waking up each morning in Gwynedd was driving him mad. He had told her that he had an obligation to his friend—Sir Richard had always stuck by him—and he believed that if they left Wales for a short time, Sir Richard would be better for it. His plan was to join the king’s entourage for the duration of Sir Richard’s recovery and afterwards, they would return to Rhuddlan. It had all sounded so plausible to Teleri. Even a simpleton could have seen that Sir Richard was suffering.
But that had just been Longsword’s excuse, she realized now. He wasn’t interested in helping Sir Richard; what he’d really been after was the annulment. He’d always been honest with her before their agreement but now he had betrayed her.
If the earl hadn’t been standing there, watching her, she would have burst into tears, she thought, because it was simply too much to swallow. Instead she stopped her trembling, lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “Revenge, my lord?” she repeated, a little shakily. She cleared her throat. “What is your plan?”