Rhuddlan

Chapter 55

  June, 1178

  Rhuddlan, Gwynedd

  Teleri had taken advantage of the general listlessness which always seemed to follow the heavy midday meal to retire to her chamber, where she lay on her bed in the semi-darkness of the shuttered windows and thought her plan through. But the day was warm and she was drifting into a light sleep when she was roused by a faraway thudding noise and then her servant shaking her gently by the shoulders.

  “My lady!” the woman whispered urgently, “wake up! Sir Guy Lene is asking for you!”

  She grumbled as she got off the bed and allowed her clothing to be straightened and her hair brushed but she was pleased Lene had sent for her. She suspected he would have given in to Haworth’s argument earlier that day and released the earl if she hadn’t been present to stop him, and she’d hoped she’d made it clear that she expected to be involved in every decision concerning Rhuddlan until Longsword returned for good.

  A soldier was waiting to escort her to the gatehouse and she climbed the ladder up into the tower where Lene stood, bent forward over the railing and staring intently at something in the distance. He was oblivious to her arrival until she called for his attention and then he whirled around.

  “My lady!” he exclaimed. “You must see this! Sir Roger is taking his men and leaving! Come look!”

  His face had lost its tired, anxious expression; it beamed like the sun. Teleri stepped to the railing and peered towards the river. The makeshift camp, which had been mostly obscured by the trees, did appear to have been abandoned and when she followed Lene’s pointing finger south along the road she saw Haworth’s army walking and riding at an even pace. About half the parade had already crossed the stone bridge but the men were so far away she couldn’t make out which one was Haworth himself.

  “Well, well…” she said cautiously. “Perhaps he thinks if he goes, we’ll release the earl.”

  “Don’t you see, my lady?” Lene could barely suppress a triumphant cackle. “It’s what you told him—that Lord William would be back looking to fight. He got scared! He’s running away!”

  Teleri was skeptical. “Surely his army is larger than Lord William’s. He must know that, as well. Why should he run away?”

  Lene shrugged, and Teleri knew it was enough for him that Hawarden was leaving. He didn’t care why.

  “You didn’t tell him about Sir Richard, did you?” she asked. He said he hadn’t and she believed him. What she couldn’t believe was that Haworth would abandon the earl. She turned back to watch the snaking line of Normans make its way across the bridge and wondered what the man was plotting.

  “My lord,” Olwen said tentatively, halting several feet away from where Longsword sat on a stool, “how do you fare?”

  “If you’re referring to my head, it’s fine,” he answered. “But I’m past anger now. I want to know what’s going on. Why I was seized and brought here, my arms bound as if I were a criminal, blindfolded and my weapons taken away. And my boots,” he added, indignantly. It was a relief to speak again to someone who understood what he was saying and the words came pouring out like the violent gush of water in a rain-swollen river. “I’d like to know why I’ve been thrust into this mud hut and kept waiting without so much as a cup of water for common courtesy. I’d like to know what has happened between Rhuddlan and Llanlleyn since I’ve been gone.” He glared at the half dozen armed men behind her. “I’d like to know what my men are doing here!”

  She nodded and turned to the warriors and translated his words. Almost immediately there were raised voices and angry gestures in response. But the man standing next to her held up an impatient hand and the protests subsided. He addressed the others in a firm, commanding voice. Longsword recognized him as Rhirid’s cousin and immediately felt snubbed. Where was the chief himself?

  After receiving instruction, someone stepped forward with a glinting knife blade, gestured for Longsword to show his arms and cut through the band of twisted cloth around his wrists.

  Guri spoke again and Olwen said, “Lord William, we don’t know why your men are attacking us. They arrived at dusk yesterday and made no effort to explain their presence. But now that you’re here, Lord Guri requests you give him this information.”

  Longsword rubbed his wrists and considered the Welshman with a frown. “Where’s Lord Rhirid? I would rather speak with him.”

  To his surprise, she seemed disconcerted by his request but before she could respond, Guri snapped something at her, having caught Rhirid’s name and guessing what Longsword had said. In a rushed voice, she said, “Please, Lord William, I can’t answer your questions; Lord Guri says you must answer his. Why are your men attacking us?”

  Her eyes pleaded with him. She looked upset and again he felt a jolt of a sudden remembrance of Delamere. He wondered if she already suspected what he must ultimately tell her, simply because Delamere wasn’t with him. His stridency weakened.

  “Tell Lord Guri that I have been out of Gwynedd for nine months and have only recently returned. I don’t know why my men have attacked Llanlleyn. I suggest he invite Warin fitz Maurice in to discuss it.” Everything from hoots of incredulous laughter to growls of outrage greeted his words. Longsword was annoyed. He didn’t want to reveal what Teleri had said until he had fitz Maurice in front of him. He didn’t want the Welsh to know that his men were, in fact, physically trapped between them and the earl’s force.

  Guri had been watching him through narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his chest. He said, “You were alone when my men found you, Lord William. I’m surprised a great man like yourself doesn’t travel with a bodyguard…But you were also travelling in this direction and not towards Rhuddlan. How do you explain that?”

  Guri’s voice was hard but Olwen’s translation was soft and tentative. Longsword suddenly discovered he couldn’t look at her, for fear one of them would blurt out Delamere’s name. He returned Guri’s steady stare. “I had an entourage, of course,” he lied. “But before we could reach Rhuddlan, we were met by two of my tenants who informed me that there was trouble of some sort at Llanlleyn. As we were tired from our travels, I decided we would spend the night at Rhuddlan and leave for Llanlleyn at dawn the next day. But shortly after we started off again, I realized I couldn’t wait. I ordered my entourage to continue on and then I headed here.”

  None of the men, Guri in particular, looked convinced by this flimsy story but Longsword never even blinked and finally the Welshman nodded.

  “We’ll be eating shortly,” he said to Longsword. “You will join us. I’ll have your boots returned to you.”

  As he turned to leave, Longsword stood up. Every one of the men facing him grabbed for his sword. “What about calling in my captain?” he demanded. “Let’s resolve this now!”

  “My men and I will discuss the matter, Lord William, before I make a decision!” Guri said sharply. “Someone will be sent to bring you to the table.”

  Olwen gave him a small, sympathetic smile. Guri saw it, grabbed her arm and pulled her away with him, leaving Longsword disgruntled by his refusal to bring in fitz Maurice but also feeling vaguely relieved, as if he had won a temporary reprieve from delivering the tragic news of Delamere’s death.

  It had come to Haworth as he’d ridden back to his camp from the fruitless endeavor to obtain Hugh’s release that he must seize the initiative. He couldn’t simply wait for the Bastard to return and then fight him; he had no idea what might happen between Llanlleyn and Rhuddlan. Nor could he mount an attack against Rhuddlan’s defenses without risking the lives of the men Lene and Teleri were holding captive, including the earl himself. And to fight the Bastard on his own ground was to give him an advantage which could well make up for the difference in size of the two armies.

  So Haworth had decided to chase after Longsword and his men and confront them as close to Llanlleyn as possible. Thankfully, his force was fresh after spending an idle day outside of Rhuddlan; they traveled all day and then through the night by the light of t
he full moon and now, just nearly dawn, they arrived at the Welsh fort. He stopped his soldiers in the obscuring forest and sent a pair of scouts forward to find the Rhuddlan encampment.

  The remainder of his men rested but Haworth did not. His mind was racing, full not only of plans for the immediate fight ahead but also of self-recrimination. After all, what was now happening was the direct result of the lie he had told Hugh. He didn’t regret the lie; he knew he’d had to do something to spark the earl’s interest in living but perhaps the plan had been too ambitious. Perhaps he ought to have suggested merely lying in wait himself for the Bastard to cross into Gwynedd upon his return from Normandy and then murdering him and Richard Delamere. It would have been risky—Henry would certainly have investigated the suspicious death of his son—but Haworth had taken risks before. At least then Hugh would be safe and not a prisoner. If anything happened to Hugh…Haworth had no idea what he’d do.

  He heard a hail and glanced up. His scouts were returning but they weren’t alone. Haworth squinted to get a better look and rose to his feet in disbelief. Warin fitz Maurice raised his hand in greeting and then dismounted and strode towards him, followed by two of his comrades from Rhuddlan.

  “Sir Roger! Well met!” fitz Maurice said heartily. His face was smiling and showed no sign of mistrust. Haworth nodded cautiously in return. “Your arrival is timely, to say the least. I assume the earl told you of our problem? It has since been compounded.”

  Haworth didn’t know how to respond. Had his men intercepted the messenger after all? They had found the two bodies when they’d left Rhuddlan the day before and concluded that Longsword and Delamere had killed them. Or perhaps there had never been a messenger.

  “How so, Sir Warin?” he asked calmly.

  “The Welsh ambushed us the day before. One of my men was killed. And yesterday, as we were avenging our losses, three warriors rode up to Llanlleyn with a hostage. Lord William himself.”

  “Lord William!” Haworth did not need to feign his astonishment. “How did that come about?”

  Fitz Maurice shook his head. “We had no idea he was back in Gwynedd. Next we know, he’s being held at knife-point and taken in to the fortress.”

  “Were you able to speak with him?”

  “Very briefly. He looked unharmed, but he’d been blindfolded and tied up. I’m glad to have a knight of your reputation with us, Sir Roger. We waited all evening yesterday for the Welsh to come forward with their demands but heard nothing. The earl offered us your service when he discovered the murdered body of one of our knights but I thought it was a problem Rhuddlan could handle on our own. But this,” he made a sweeping gesture in the direction of Llanlleyn, “changes everything.” He nodded at Haworth’s men. “You came quickly. The earl is kind to us, even after I declined the use of his soldiers.”

  “We marched through the night, and the road from Rhuddlan is in good condition,” Haworth said, relaxing a little. Whatever the story with the messenger, fitz Maurice and his men hadn’t heard it. An idea was beginning to form in his head, one which would ensure Hugh’s safe release. He smiled. “Why don’t we ride to your camp and discuss how we’re going to get Lord William out of Llanlleyn…and destroy the Welsh.”

  Olwen rose early after another sleepless night of troublesome dreams. Since the birth of her first child, she’d been a light sleeper, a maternal ear always cocked for the slightest whimper or call, but the events of the last several days had transformed concern into something much more intense, with the result that she was edgy and nervous during the day and would toss and turn all night.

  Usually, thinking about her sons led to a thought, sometimes fleeting, sometimes lingering, about Richard Delamere but not now. She wouldn’t let her mind turn in his direction. Wherever he was, he was safe; their children were not.

  She went out into the damp and chilly air, shivering. There was little light yet and no one else about. A thin morning fog obscured the fortress’ timber walls and for a moment she felt as if she were on the top of a mountain, all alone. The feeling was calm and peaceful and eased her churning mind. She shut her eyes and breathed in deep breaths of the cold, wet air and sent it flooding through her body.

  She stood still for a long time, enjoying the peace and beginning to feel optimistic. Today, somehow, the problem of Lord William and Rhuddlan would be solved. Tonight she’d see her sons again. Tomorrow, life would return to normal…or as normal as it had been for her since January.

  An abrasive voice suddenly jarred her from her pleasant fantasy. She opened her eyes. The voice was shouting but sounded muted, as if it were travelling a great distance. It shouted for Guri to present himself. It shouted in Welsh.

  Without knowing why, she was terrified. The voice was obviously outside the fortress but she thought the only one among Lord William’s men who spoke Welsh with any ease was Richard and this voice was not his. And the tone of the voice was confident and unhurried, as if its owner held the upper hand and wasn’t worried that its master was in danger of physical harm.

  She realized she was running across the yard toward the gate. A few men materialized from the feast house, looking sleepy and dazed, and there was a look-out in the sheltered platform above the gate but no great mob yet. No Guri. She ran to the broad ladder and slowed herself down just enough to climb up the rungs safely. When her head appeared in the cut-out in the floor, the guard reached down and helped her up.

  “What’s happened? Who is that?” she demanded breathlessly, not caring that she wasn’t one of Guri’s warriors, just an unimportant woman, neither servant nor lady, just a sort of guest whose status was becoming more questionable with every passing week.

  The guard pointed to the far side of the platform and, now tentative, she went over and looked down onto the field below. What she saw made her stagger backward, white as a sheet, gasping for air, blood thudding in her ears, numb and so oblivious to all else that when Guri and his entourage finally crowded onto the platform and she was displaced none too gently and forced back down the ladder, she barely noticed the rough treatment. She heard and felt nothing and her eyes were filled with only one image: the picture of her children in the hands of the Norman soldiers.

  Haworth’s horse shifted and snorted, impatient with the inactivity. Haworth was growing impatient too, but he didn’t fidget. Instead, as he waited for Guri to appear, he mentally debated whether or not to demand entrance to Llanlleyn in order to discuss the release of the Bastard and the handover of the hostages. It would be the proper custom, of course, but Haworth didn’t know if the Welsh kept such customs. Guri might well invite him in and then keep him in, against custom and against his will. Better to have it done in the open.

  The sun rose and light spread, its heat burning off the mist. The gate of Llanlleyn faced west but as yet the creeping rays hadn’t reached him. Not much longer, though, and the sunlight would be full in his face, putting him at a disadvantage. His horse stepped again and as if this had nudged him into action, he told the translator at his side to hail Guri one more time. “And keep on shouting until you see someone,” he added, wondering if everyone inside had gotten so drunk the night before that they could not be roused by a strong voice.

  Two of his hostages stood on the grass in front of the men on horseback: a woman and a small boy. The woman held a younger boy in her arms. As the translator called to Llanlleyn in a booming voice, the younger child wailed almost as loudly. It was an annoying and unnerving din. Haworth had to keep the reins tight to prevent his horse from bolting. He felt like bolting, too. He had to conjure up an image of Hugh, to focus on it and remind himself why he was in this predicament.

  He glanced to his left. Six of the Bastard’s knights sat their horses a small distance away from his own men. He nodded to fitz Maurice and felt easier when the man returned the acknowledgement. Fitz Maurice had been skeptical about scouring the forests for hostages but whether because he didn’t believe it was right for women and children to be bartared in this
fashion or because he wanted to fight for the Bastard man to man against Guri, Haworth didn’t know. Nor did he care. He simply wanted to win the Bastard’s release as quickly as possible and drag him, dead or alive, back to Rhuddlan.

  “My lord, someone is there!” the translator said to him excitedly.

  Haworth’s eyes went immediately to the guard tower. The upper torso of a man was suddenly in evidence but he was clearly not Guri. Guri would not appear alone. But at least this man would see the threat in the field below and call for his master.

  And then someone else was there in the tower. A woman. He could hear her anguished cries as she turned in his direction and saw her children standing helpless and surrounded by a dozen armed men. He knew her, of course, and a satisfied smile creased his lips. As a rule he had no use for women but when they had somehow been thrust into his life, as this one had when Hugh had demanded her from Rhirid, he liked to see them suffer for the intrusion.

  The older boy saw his mother and now he, too, began wailing. The woman with the children lost control of herself and started crying as well. Haworth’s horse made its displeasure with this bellowing known by snorting loudly and trying to move away. Haworth had to press his lips together to prevent himself ordering the three hostages killed immediately, just for the peace. But at last his patience was rewarded. Olwen abruptly disappeared from view and a small crowd of men took her place. The foremost one was Guri. Haworth walked his horse forward a few paces and, despite the fact that the Welsh couldn’t understand him and his translator was at his side, raised his deep voice and hurled it against the fortress before him.

  The sounds of urgent voices and hurried activity woke Longsword from a sleep which hadn’t been particularly peaceful anyway. He’d spent most of the night trying to think of an argument to convince Guri to ask for a parley with fitz Maurice. All he could come up with was the truth, which itself sounded like a flimsy story and not like the truth.

  He fretted about Rhuddlan. What was happening there? Would Teleri obey his wishes and keep Haworth out and the earl in? The longer this confinement lasted, the easier it would be for her resolve to weaken.

  Then there were voices outside his door, one male, low and calm and the other female, high-pitched, louder and almost hysterical. That one belonged to Olwen, and he was suddenly apprehensive because Richard had always described her as pleasant and even-tempered. He didn’t know what she was saying but he heard Guri’s name mentioned frequently…Was it possible Guri had been killed or wounded by one of his bowmen and Olwen had come to somehow get him out?

  Just as he got up from the pallet upon which he’d been sleeping, the door opened and his guard stuck his head inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior and when they had, they snapped onto Longsword and gave him a considering perusal. Then his head disappeared, a few more words were spoken outside and finally Olwen slipped through the opening and into Longsword’s small prison. The guard did not shut the door; he stood in the frame, blocking most of the burgeoning daylight, facing them with his arms crossed over his chest as if warning Longsword not to—not to what? Longsword had no idea. It wasn’t as if he could push past Olwen and leap over the stockade wall. Not with his horses still in Rhirid’s paddock.

  The sounds of frantic action were louder now that the door was open. Longsword watched as Olwen approached him and saw even in the poor light that her face was anxious. “Olwen, what’s happening out there?” he asked. “Have my men attacked? Has Guri engaged them?”

  She shook her head quickly. “No! Lord William, there is big trouble! You must do something!” Her voice rose and the guard in the doorway took a step forward. “I don’t know what Lord Guri will do! I thought of you—”

  “All right. Be calm, Olwen. Tell me what’s happened.”

  “Sir Roger has my children!” she cried. “He’s threatening to kill them if you aren’t released to him!”

  The words hit Longsword like a physical blow. Haworth was at Llanlleyn? It was impossible—he was at Rhuddlan! “Sir Roger? The earl’s man? Olwen, are you certain?”

  “Yes, Lord William, I’m certain! I’ve seen him twice before—the first time he took away little Bronwen and the second time he took me away! Now he’s got my children—Richard’s children! He says he will kill them!”

  “And where are my men, Olwen? Did you see them as well?”

  She shook her head again. “All I saw was Sir Roger and three of his men with their hands on my sons and Dylan’s wife.”

  “But are they there? Somewhere still on the field? Olwen, it’s important.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know, Lord William. They must be. Why would they leave without you?”

  Longsword didn’t answer her. He thought furiously. Haworth must have marched through the night; it was possible with the bright moon. But what had he done when he’d run into fitz Maurice? Surely if there had been fighting between the two Norman armies, someone in the Welsh camp would have heard it and then he would have heard about it. So, either fitz Maurice had been persuaded to return to Rhuddlan with his men or he had joined with Haworth, not knowing what had transpired at Rhuddlan. That meant there had been no messenger. Why hadn’t Lene sent a message to fitz Maurice?

  But why would fitz Maurice leave him, even if he’d believed whatever Haworth had told him? Could it be that Haworth had made him a prisoner…or worse—killed him?

  Olwen sniffled and the noise shook him from his thoughts. He watched as she wiped her eyes. “Lord William, Sir Roger said if you’re turned over to him, he will release his hostages. He said if you aren’t given to him, he will k-kill them.”

  “Is that what Guri will do? Give me to Haworth?”

  “I don’t know! I’m afraid—” she broke off abruptly and looked at the ground.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked softly. “That he won’t?”

  “Lord Guri has no love for me or my children,” she said in a low voice. “Because they’re half-Norman.”

  “Who is this Guri, Olwen? Where is Rhirid?”

  She drew her breath in sharply. “Oh, Lord William, you don’t know…Lord Rhirid is dead!”

  Another blow. “Dead!”

  “At the Christmas feast. I saw him. He was drinking and laughing with his men one moment and the next, a queer look spread across his face and he was very still…and then, he just fell. His head just fell forward, onto the table, into his food. Everyone rushed to help him but there was nothing to be done. He was dead.” She bit her lip at the memory. “His healer told us it was his head. That he’d never completely recovered from the blow his horse had given him months before. Guri was his cousin. No one challenged his claim to be chief in Rhirid’s place.”

  This was unexpected. Not that Longsword believed it would be any more difficult to deal with Guri instead of Rhirid but now there was the added complication that Guri might still be in the process of establishing his authority. Facing two Norman armies and holding a Norman lord prisoner all at once would be a fine test of his leadership but how would he react? Slowly or impetuously? Neither boded well for Longsword.

  “Olwen, Hawarden is no friend of Rhuddlan. If Haworth gets his hands on me, he’ll have me killed.”

  “Then you won’t go?” The question burst out of her before she thought the better of it; he could see her anguished embarrassment when she realized the implication of her words.

  “It’s not my decision,” he answered.

  “But Lord Guri—”

  “Guri isn’t going to permit Haworth to harm your children just because he doesn’t like you or them, Olwen!” he said impatiently. “He’ll make his decision based on what he believes is best for Llanlleyn. Unfortunately, the way it stands now, it will appear to him that holding onto me is his best plan. He looks out the guard tower and sees two armies confronting him. As long as he has me, however, those armies won’t attack.”

  Olwen was pale. “So my children will die!”

  ?
??Not necessarily…” Longsword glanced at the guard in the doorway; the man was watching them intently but couldn’t have understood a word they were saying. He turned back to Olwen, staring her straight in the face. “If I’m not here, Guri has no decision to make. If I can get to fitz Maurice and my men, without Haworth knowing of it, we can attack the earl’s army before anything happens to your sons. But I have to get out of here, Olwen!”

  “But it’s impossible, Lord William! There’s the man at the door and beyond that, there are warriors everywhere! And what if your men aren’t there?”

  “You said yourself why would they leave without me? They wouldn’t, Olwen! You just didn’t notice them because you saw only your sons. I must leave here! It’s the only way, Olwen, to save your children…”

  He wished he could speak as persuasively as Delamere when addressing women but he had never had the knack. It was easier for him to deal with men—he had merely to command and it was done without question. Women rarely responded to commands; they had to be convinced or flattered or bribed. He didn’t know Olwen very well; she hadn’t lived long at Rhuddlan before Delamere had whisked her away to the manor he’d had built for her. Had he spoken the words which would persuade her to help him escape? He looked at her, trying not to appear anxious or tentative.

  She stared back at him, unblinking. As he watched, the frantic expression drained slowly away, her face became calmer and her chin lifted resolutely. He had the feeling she no longer saw him. Then her intelligent eyes focused on his and when she spoke, her voice was quiet but firm.

  “There is another way.”

  Guri watched as the Normans collected their hostages and prepared to ride back to their camps. Roger of Haworth was the first to leave, wheeling his horse about and galloping away as if he were incredibly impatient for this deal to be done so he could be on his way. He had been polite but brief: the lives of the hostages for Lord William. If the Welsh refused to accept this exchange, the hostages would be killed and the forests around Llanlleyn scoured for additional hostages until they were empty. He had given no explanation for his army’s presence in the field and seemed to have dismissed Guri’s demand to know why Rhuddlan had come against Llanlleyn with a brusque motion of his head, suggesting this reason was unimportant. The tone of his voice and his translator’s arrogant words implied the Normans feared the Welsh not at all and Haworth was being kind in asking for the exchange instead of simply attacking the fortress right away.

  When the last Norman had left the field, Guri turned and descended the ladder. He sent an order for breakfast to be made and served as soon as possible in the feasting hall. He would think better if there was something in his stomach.

  As he and his growing entourage walked to the hall, Dylan came up on Guri’s right and begged a word in a tight, low voice. He asked permission to leave the fortress and challenge Roger of Haworth. He knew Haworth’s ability and believed he would prevail. There was no other leader from Hawarden, he said; kill Haworth and the threat disappeared.

  “I’m not so certain Hawarden is a threat to us,” Guri answered. “It seems to me Sir Roger desperately wants Lord William for some reason and we just happen to have him. I don’t even think he would accept your challenge.”

  “Perhaps I might at least try?” Dylan persisted. “It’s my wife he’s threatening to kill!”

  Privately, Guri wondered why Dylan cared so much. He could only imagine that Goewyn’s sharp tongue was put to more creative use when the two of them were alone.

  “It won’t come to that, I promise you,” Guri said gravely. Dylan did not look mollified but dropped the argument. Guri relaxed a little; he hadn’t been chief for very long and acceptance of his decisions was crucial, especially now. He added, “Have someone find Olwen and tell her to come see me and then go fetch the Norman.”

  The situation Guri faced was the most serious since he’d assumed leadership of Llanlleyn. He couldn’t imagine why the Normans were attacking the fortress and Longsword wasn’t talking. How had Roger of Haworth found his people, who were supposed to have been in hiding somewhere in the hills? What did Haworth want with Longsword and why were the lord’s own men excluded from the negotiations? What answer was Guri going to give Haworth when time ran out?

  As they sat and ate, his warriors debated just that. Words flew over Guri’s head; he pretended to be listening but he’d already weighed both sides of the question. If he gave up Longsword, he had no defense if the Normans turned on Llanlleyn; if he didn’t give up Longsword, the Normans would sacrifice one after another of his people. Either way, the future didn’t look bright for Llanlleyn. The only slim ray of hope that penetrated the dense stockade wall was what he had said to Dylan: that Haworth seemed to want Longsword for a personal reason. But what this was and what it meant to Llanlleyn, Guri had no idea.

  There was a commotion at the entrance to the house. He looked up from his meal and saw the Norman suddenly fly through the open door and crash onto the packed earth, scattering the feet of the men sitting nearby. Everyone shot up from his seat in a flash. There was a shout, a warning that Dylan was approaching, and murmured conjectures about what had just happened turned loud and barely coherent. The Norman got to his feet, shook his head as if to clear it of something, caught sight of Dylan in the doorway and rushed him, tackling him around the waist and knocking him to the ground. Several pairs of hands pulled at the Norman, trying to get him off Dylan but Dylan shouted them off and elbowed Longsword hard in the face. Longsword fell back and then Dylan scrambled to his feet and, as Longsword was trying to stand, punched him down again. Guri pushed his way to the fight.

  “Enough, Dylan!” he shouted, planting himself between the two men and facing the heaving warrior. “Enough! He’s no good to Llanlleyn if you kill him!”

  “I won’t kill him!” Dylan retorted. “I just want to make him suffer a little! As my wife is suffering! As I am suffering! Because of him!”

  “I swore to you Goewyn will be safe, Dylan,” Guri said in a loud, firm voice. He was sticking his neck out in speaking so confidently but felt he had no choice. In his opinion, a competent leader had to take initiative, had to be decisive and had to make promises which may have seemed impossible to others to keep. He stared calmly into Dylan’s eyes until the latter nodded slowly and backed away.

  Guri ordered Longsword brought to his table and food and drink placed before him. “Where’s Olwen?” he asked, looking around.

  “She isn’t here, lord,” Dylan said, breathing easier now. He rolled his right shoulder as if it had been injured during the fight and was sore. “The guard at the Norman’s door said she had come to speak with him almost as soon as the commotion outside began and he had allowed her to see him,” he glanced in Longsword’s direction, “but he waited in the door while she was there and watched them. He saw nothing unusual. He said she was hysterical when she first came to the house but appeared calmer when she left.”

  Guri was silent for a moment. It was a problem because now he had no way of communicating with his prisoner but on the whole, he didn’t need Olwen. It would be just as well if she never returned. She was only another reminder of Rhirid.

  “How did she leave?” he asked quietly.

  “She lied to the man on the back gate.” Dylan suddenly lowered his voice, aware he had a large audience and slightly embarrassed on behalf of the young man who’d been deceived by the woman. “She told him that you had given her permission to leave. He’d heard all the shouting and she told him that all the Normans were at the front gate, calling for you to negotiate and since they had their own translator, you didn’t need her any longer. She told him she missed her sons and you had agreed she could go to them. The boy had no idea her sons were hostages until I told him so. He said he tried to dissuade her, saying it was too dangerous beyond the wall, that he had seen Normans riding their horses outside that gate, but she told him everyone, even all of us, was at the front now, listening to the Normans demands, listening to
your responses. She said again that you had agreed she could leave…So, he opened the gate enough for her to slip through and she went…”