Chapter 59
June, 1178
Rhuddlan, Gwynedd
Longsword was exhausted. The travel that day had had a quicker pace than previously; there was an undercurrent of eagerness running through the lines which had seemed to propel the men, on foot and on horse, towards Rhuddlan as though it were an oasis and they’d been without water for days. Despite the toll on his body, Longsword hadn’t the heart to hold them back. They reached the fortress as the shadows began to lengthen and the light in the sky turned purple and rose. It was a small consolation, he thought as he was helped down from his horse, face contorted, holding his breath as if this would blunt the pain, that he would at least not have to sleep another night on the hard ground.
And that proved to be the only consolation he received that night for his hard travel. Guy Lene was visibly agitated when he greeted the arrivals and practically dancing in an effort to contain himself. Longsword had wanted only to change out of clothing he’d been wearing so long he half-suspected was fused onto his skin, make a quick appearance at the supper board and then crawl into his bed with enough wine to override the pain in the entire right side of his body and knock him into oblivion. But Lene’s need to share his burden scuttled those plans. Before Longsword had even reached the steps leading up to the hall, Lene told him that the earl and the men who’d been captured with him were gone.
Warin fitz Maurice, who was standing on Longsword’s left side, made an exclamatory outburst. The three men stopped abruptly, which halted the progress of everyone else behind them. After a glance at Longsword, fitz Maurice demanded to know what had happened, who was responsible and what was being done about it.
Guy Lene, flustered, appealed to Longsword. “My lord, a half dozen of us were away from the castle, hunting,” he said earnestly. “It wasn’t until we’d returned that I was informed the earl had gone.”
“Escaped?” fitz Maurice interrupted.
Lene’s face was red. He hesitated, then shook his head. “He was released, along with his men, quite openly.”
Longsword spoke for the first time. “By whom?”
Another hesitation. “Lady Teleri, my lord…”
Fitz Maurice swore. Longsword felt little more than a flicker of annoyance, probably because he had expected the answer. In another time, he supposed, he would have been enraged beyond control with his wife’s action, but everything seemed different now and anyway, he was too tired and too uncomfortable to do more than grunt and nod and move off again towards the steps.
“My lord,” fitz Maurice called softly after him, and he paused and looked up at the landing. Teleri was standing there, all alone, bereft even of the tremulous women who always seemed to surround her. She was dressed very properly, in a pale blue gown with a pleated skirt and an embroidered gold surcoat trimmed with white. Her long auburn hair hung loose down her back but the crown of her head was covered demurely with a thin golden veil. She stood straight with her hands clasped before her, a model of competency, efficiency and organization, and the undeniable mistress of the castle.
Despite his exhaustion, he was impressed. She stared back at him, her face composed and her expression unreadable but he saw neither the familiar arrogant tilt of the head nor the mocking twist of the mouth. In that moment he realized that her solitary presence on the landing and her costume and posture had been carefully planned for their confrontation over the earl’s release. She had picked the place of battle and donned her gear. Like a good soldier, her face bore no sign of apprehension or boldness. She was tense and wary, but she was prepared to fight and wouldn’t back down.
Lene spoke nervously from his right. “My lord, I did ask the lady to confine herself to her rooms until your return, but I didn’t feel it would have been appropriate to keep her there by force.”
“Ha!” Fitz Maurice could not restrain his incredulity and anger. “Appropriate? Obviously it was necessary! This…betrayal is serious and may yet cost us many lives!”
He spoke loudly enough for Teleri to hear. Longsword, who hadn’t stopped watching his wife, saw her lips press firmly together but otherwise she displayed no reaction. He was surprised by his own reaction to her stoic presence on the landing. She could have hidden in her chamber, she could have fled to the sanctuary of the Perfeddwlad—hell, she could have gone with the earl, but she had chosen to defend her action in the midst of a group of hungry, tired and unfriendly men who had been made fools of by the very person she had freed. She didn’t lack courage, he thought with a measure of grudging respect. Her resolve was appealing…or perhaps it was the waning light which made her look attractive?
Without acknowledging either fitz Maurice’s outburst or Lene’s distress, he proceeded up the steps alone. She waited, as still as a statue. A small breeze suddenly blew over her, rippling her veil and lifting the ends of her hair. He was startled and stopped. He was a few steps down from the landing and his eyes were level with hers. He nodded. “Teleri.”
Her voice was neutral. “My lord.”
He was surprised by her tentative manner. He’d expected her to go immediately on the offensive as had always been her habit but instead she watched him, still unmoving, still expressionless. He wondered what was wrong with her and then it came to him—she was confused and it was his strange behavior which had done it. She had apparently assumed he would have a similar reaction to the news of the earl’s departure as fitz Maurice; she had expected him to shout at her, accuse her and berate her and when he hadn’t done any of that, she was unnerved. How ironic: he’d finally gotten the best of her and he hadn’t done a thing.
She was frowning. “Does something amuse you, my lord?”
He realized he was smiling, an expression which deepened at the familiar, irritated tone. “No. I was just thinking it’s good of you to welcome me back.”
Her mouth dropped open and he heard her catch her breath.
He climbed the remaining steps. Fitz Maurice and Lene caught up to him and together they proceeded to the hall.
“My lord!”
He turned and looked at her blankly, increasing her obvious discomfort. He was enjoying this. The carefully smooth face she’d presented only a moment ago was gone, replaced with an assortment of emotions ranging from anger to wariness. She didn’t know how to react, he thought; she didn’t know if he were simply controlling his own anger and was ready to erupt at the least thing she might say.
“Isn’t there something you want to discuss with me?” she asked.
“Not now,” he answered mildly.
“But—”
“Teleri, I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For Teleri, sleep was impossible. She picked at the supper sent up to her and paced back and forth through her rooms, thinking. She sat by an open window and watched, unseeing, the activity in the ward below until the torches were lit and everyone went inside for the night. She absentmindedly allowed her women to undress her and plait her hair and put her into bed but she lay awake in the darkness, her mind churning too much to permit her to fall asleep.
What was he up to? she thought, over and over. Was it going to be the same as when he’d ignored her for days after rescuing Olwen from Hawarden? She’d hoped to preempt that sort of reaction by confronting him immediately. She had imagined his rage would be great upon hearing the news of the earl’s flight, and when he saw her he wouldn’t have been able to dismiss her without a fight. But it hadn’t happened like that and she no longer had the advantage.
There was more to it. She wanted to explain why she’d done it and why she believed she’d had the right to do it. She wanted him to know she knew he’d gone to Normandy to ask his father to help him obtain an annulment. She wanted him to realize he would never have Gwalaes or Eleanor or whatever she called herself at the moment because the earl was alive and well and then she wanted to tell him she was going back to her uncle’s house.
It was funny. She’d spent the hours since releasing the earl and his men hating her husband with an
incredible passion, just waiting for him to return so she could confront him, say what she wanted to say and leave him for good. It had struck her to the core—after all she’d done for him since he’d agreed to give their marriage another chance, after sleeping with him, making sure his clothing and his chamber were clean, taking control of the servants—it had stung her that after all her efforts, he’d tried to get rid of her anyway. And yet, it was funny that when he’d smiled at her on the steps, her stomach had twisted painfully and she had wished so desperately that there wasn’t any bad feeling between them.
It was an unusally hot night. She kicked the bedclothes down to her ankles and turned onto her side. What was wrong with her? How could she even think such a thing? He’d never been much of a husband; he’d flaunted two mistresses in front of her, for God’s sake! It was true that on her side of the accounts, she’d tried to persuade Gwalaes to kill him, she had sent Gladys away and in doing so caused her to lose his baby and she’d fled Rhuddlan for the camp of his enemy, Rhirid. To be fair, she hadn’t been a very good wife. Perhaps it wasn’t the fault of either of them. Perhaps they’d just started off on the wrong foot.
With a noise of impatience, she flipped onto her back and frowned at the ceiling. This was the reason she’d wanted him to confront her tonight: now all her unspoken words and accusations were trapped in her head, spinning around and around and keeping her awake. She sat up. There wasn’t any point in trying to sleep; she’d twist and turn all night.
She got out of the bed. She would walk a little in the cooler air outside; if the exercise didn’t tire her, at least perhaps she might distract her mind. She shrugged a plain dress over her shift and pulled on a pair of leather slippers. The women in the next room didn’t stir as she moved silently past them, opened the door and walked out.
Once in the alcove which marked the start of the spiral stair leading down to the hall, she paused to take up the oil lamp which burned in a niche above the first step. She decided to go outside through the kitchens. There were certain to be soldiers still awake in the hall and there wasn’t any need for her to subject herself to their drunken accusations. That wasn’t the confrontation she sought.
Down the steps, through the pantry and down another stair to the linen room. It was cooler on the ground level. The door leading outside was open but there wasn’t anyone around. She went through it and considered where to go. The landscape directly before her was mostly black; the quarter moon had not yet risen and the kitchen garden was in darkness. Around to the right of it, torchlight flickered in the distance, marking the location of the stables, latrines and barracks. The postern was there, as well, and beyond it, the village where she had last met Longsword. Not a real village, of course; there was some commerce in it but only local. All of the inhabitants labored in the keep.
The postern would be closed at this time, she knew, and she could only guess the kind of debate she’d have to have with the guard on duty before he would open it for her. She wasn’t in a mood to argue with anybody. She sighed. Giving orders and arguing seemed to comprise the majority of her conversation. She wondered what people really thought of her. Of course, there wasn’t anyone she could ask; she had no confidant at Rhuddlan.
Only the dead couldn’t argue, she thought, and caught her breath. She hadn’t consciously made the connection; it had just come to her. She would go to the chapel and visit Richard Delamere one last time. He was certain to be buried tomorrow; she was less certain that she would be allowed to attend and this might be the only opportunity she’d have to say goodbye.
The chapel had always looked to her as though it had been an afterthought of the builder. Its very location, stuck onto the south wall of the castle, was suspicious. There was no entrance from inside the hall; a visitor had to go out and walk around the keep to get to it. The other end was built onto the curtain wall, which meant there was no clear way around the keep itself. And because the chapel’s western side opened onto the rear of the castle, open windows in the summer allowed pungent smells from the stables and latrines to waft in, tempered only by a bountiful crop of herbs in the kitchen garden which stood in between.
The carved wooden door was partially ajar and she hesitated for a moment and stared at it, wondering why it wasn’t closed. In the next instant she chided herself for stupidity; most likely it had been left open to keep the air within from becoming overburdened with the smell of Delamere’s decaying body. Her servants had cleaned him well and wrapped him tightly but it was still too early in the season for the harvest of the herbs which, through generous distribution about the chapel and in his shroud, would have hidden that scent of death. She went inside, holding the lamp out before her.
The altar was to the left of the door, facing east, and lying upon it was the neatly bundled body. She hadn’t been positive the Church allowed bodies on the altar but she hadn’t been about to leave him on the floor or on one of the narrow wooden benches. She tiptoed very quietly up to it, knelt down and put her lamp on the wood floor and bowed her head to pray.
After a while, she felt a strange sensation between her shoulders which distracted her so much that she lost her concentration on the task at hand. Her ears pricked up. Quite clearly now, she heard the sound of breathing and it wasn’t coming from her nose.
She stood up and turned around to face the rows of benches. The only illumination in the chapel was from her lamp and the small, perpetual flame which burned on the altar. The back of the room was in shadows and she couldn’t see to the end of it.
“Is someone there?” she called out.
She heard another sound, as if someone was shifting in his seat. “I am, Teleri.”
It was Longsword. She picked up the lamp and walked slowly down the aisle to the rear of the chapel. Longsword was sitting on the last bench, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out along the seat.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I wanted to see Richard. I’m sorry—I cut open the shroud. I wanted to see his face.”
She glanced back at the white-wrapped figure. “It’s no matter. Easily resewn.”
“I’d thought, with this weather, you might have buried him already,” he said.
She was surprised. “You said you’d only be gone a short while. I had him in the cellars until this afternoon. It’s quite cold down there. The earl’s men were kept in here, you see, but when they’d gone and I knew you were on your way, I had the place scrubbed out and Sir Richard brought up.”
She had given him the opening without thinking. She tensed when she realized it but then relaxed. After all, she had wanted to do this tonight, hadn’t she?
But he said nothing. She couldn’t read his expression in the murky light. The whites of his eyes glistened in the lamplight so she knew he was looking at her, but she had no idea what he was thinking. The situation was bizarre.
She broke the silence with a tentative accusation. “You’re not yourself, my lord.”
“No?”
She frowned and tried again. “You didn’t want to speak with me earlier because you were tired. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Have you ever broken a bone, Teleri?”
She shook her head.
“It hurts like hell, Teleri. I can’t sleep.” He held up a jar with his left hand. “I’ve drunk almost three of these and I still can’t sleep. Would you like any?”
She shook her head again. He lifted the jar to his mouth and drank. After he swallowed, he settled the jar on his lap and closed his eyes.
She didn’t know what to do—stay or leave. She had thought their confrontation would be loud, angry and perhaps even violent. But this…situation had her bewildered.
He opened his eyes. “Why don’t you sit?”
That was it. “My lord,” she said in a firm and louder voice, “I’m sorry you’re in such pain. But I think we have an important matter hanging between us and as long as we’re both awake and here together, we should discuss it.”
> For a moment he was still. Then he sighed. “Very well. What do you want to say?”
“Well…” She bit her lip, disconcerted. “Well, I want to tell you why I allowed the earl to leave.”
“Yes?” he prompted when she didn’t go on.
“Well, because he was my prisoner and so mine to dispose of.”
He inclined his head. “All right.”
“All right?” she repeated incredulously. “You agree with my decision?”
“Of course not, Teleri, but as I told you earlier, I’m too tired to debate it now.”
She wasn’t tired. “I was the only one who was suspicious of his story, William! If it hadn’t been for me, you would have come back to a shell, not a fortress! All your men would be dead and everyone at Llanlleyn, too!”
“Didn’t you think that was reason enough to hold onto him?” he asked. But his voice was calm, not angry. “I could have sent him to the king for judgment.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she stared steadily at him until he frowned. “What?”
“I just wonder if he would have survived such a long and arduous journey, my lord,” she said. “Especially as he was very ill this past winter and his health hasn’t yet recovered.”
“No? Well…” He drank again from the jar. “Anyway, the point’s moot—he’s gone. And losing Haworth will most likely put to rest any further plots against me.”
“Is Sir Roger truly dead?”
“I didn’t see him; I was flat on my back and unconscious. But the wound was supposed to be very bad. Fitz Maurice told me Haworth’s men were seeking aid from Rhirid’s physician. Guri’s physician now, I suppose.”
She was silent. A small breath of wind came through the open door and flickered through her lamp, distorting the shadows along the wall. She said in a steady voice, “There was another reason I let the earl leave…He told me you’d seen the king and had asked for his assistance in obtaining an annulment of our marriage…”
“Ah.”
She was stung; she didn’t know why. Perhaps in some recess of her mind, she’d believed that Hugh was wrong—or lying. “Is that all you have to say, my lord?”
He groaned a little. “Teleri, the last thing I want to do is argue with you. Even if I weren’t tired and in pain, I know I wouldn’t win.”
“I don’t want an argument; I want an explanation!”
She could feel heat spreading across her face; she could hear a note of anguish behind the sharp words. She wrapped her free arm around her waist and pinched herself hard in the side. She didn’t want to show any weakness to him but it was difficult because he was behaving in an unfamiliar manner. Their conversation so far had actually been civil and his voice almost…kind. And she didn’t like the way he wouldn’t stop looking at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time and wasn’t displeased. It was disconcerting. She wished for another breeze to extinguish the light in the lamp so she wouldn’t have to know he was still looking at her.
“Sit down, Teleri,” he said quietly, startling her.
“I don’t—”
“Sit down. My neck hurts from tilting my head up at you.”
She wanted to tell him not to bother looking at her but instead she sat down on the bench in front of his and set the lamp between them. “Is it true?” she asked, her voice again under control but her arms crossed over her chest in case she weakened.
“Is that the real reason you let Chester go?”
She shrugged. “Probably.”
“Even knowing what he’d done to Richard?”
“Now you’re angry…”
“Shouldn’t I be? You said yourself Richard was a good man. Yet you gave up the earl just to spite me?”
This wasn’t the argument she’d thought he’d use. It wasn’t right; she hadn’t considered the earl had had anything at all to do with Delamere’s death.
“One of Haworth’s men killed Sir Richard,” she said. “That’s what you told me when you asked me to prepare his body for burial.”
His mouth opened as if he were about to retort—she knew he would point out quite correctly that Haworth’s men were the earl’s men—but instead he lifted the jar up once again and drank from it. Then he closed his eyes and was still for so long she thought he had fallen asleep. She was irrationally hurt by his apparent indifference, which surprised her when she remembered how she’d half-feared a violent reaction. But this unconcern was strange and seemed more dire. Had she finally pushed too far? A husband’s revenge could be harsh and a wife had little protection against it. Teleri had only to look to the current status of her father-in-law’s marriage as proof.
Then he spoke. “The truth is, Teleri, I ran away. That’s what Richard said we’d done—he was kind enough to include himself even though it had been my idea—and last week when I crossed the march into Gwynedd, I knew he was right. I ran away. I hated being here. I’d had nothing but bad luck here. I wanted to have back the life I’d had before I was sent here, when I had no more responsibility than to use my sword against the king’s enemies.” His voice dropped. “And I wanted to be free of all the women in Gwynedd who’d ever had some claim on me…”
“I suppose that included me,” Teleri said bitterly.
“Yes.”
She snorted. “Well, then you can hardly condemn the earl for breaking your three-year peace when you yourself broke faith with me. We had an agreement, William!”
He stared at her. “I was angry with you, Teleri…You can’t begin to imagine how angry I was. I didn’t consider that I’d made any agreement with you. I merely accepted what you offered.”
“And laughed at me behind my back, no doubt!”
He looked down at the jar in his hand. “No…I really didn’t care that much.”
That hurt. “So you saw the king and asked him to help you get rid of me,” she said flatly.
“He refused, of course. I wasn’t too surprised. He was never one to run away.”
She shook her head slowly, confused by the pain she felt listening to his story. “Perhaps I ought to have fallen in with the earl, after all,” she said stiffly. “Then Rhuddlan would be gone, Llanlleyn would be gone and I’d be gone to the Perfeddwlad. You’d have come back to nothing. You’d have had your wish.”
“Now you’re angry.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
He sighed. “Of course you should.”
They were both silent. Teleri wanted to get up and walk out of the chapel before she started crying. She had wrongly believed their agreement, their second attempt at this marriage, had put their relationship on firmer footing. That had all been in her own mind, hadn’t it? She felt like such a fool and as the embarrassment and frustration grew inside her, eating at her stomach, it took all her inner strength not to break down in tears.
“But I came back, Teleri…” he said quietly.
“Yes. Why?” she retorted. “I’m sure you could have stayed in the king’s service for some time, perhaps forever. Or until some adversary killed you.”
“You’re right…but I chose to come back instead.” Suddenly and painfully, he pushed himself more upright with his good arm and then swung his legs over the bench so that he sat facing her. His face was close to hers, only a few hand spans away, and she could feel as well as hear the ragged breath caused by his exertion. “I’ll admit coming back was Richard’s idea. He wanted to see Olwen. But once I’d agreed to accompany him, I knew it was the right decision for me, as well. I realized I was tired of doing all the things I’d left Wales to do. I realized I missed Rhuddlan…And you.”
“Me?” Her voice was thick with disbelief.
“You were a good wife once you’d decided to be one. I thought I could at least try to be a good husband.”
“Charming…” she muttered.
“Now I’m asking you for another chance,” he said. “This time, I want to be part of the agreement. All right?”
“What about the earl?” she asked cautiously.
/> “He’s my problem, Teleri. Nothing to do with you.”
“Your men will say—”
“I don’t care what they’ll say,” he cut in curtly. “He’s nothing to do with them, either.”
She studied him. He was no longer looking at her; instead, his gaze was directed at the floor. He drank again from the jar.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He glanced up quickly and because his face was closer now to her lamp than before, she could quite plainly see the surprise in his eyes, almost as if he couldn’t believe she had guessed he was hiding something. She had to press her lips together to keep from laughing, which would have been a reaction prompted as much by pent-up emotion as his amazement that he was so easily read.
“I don’t blame you for Chester not being here,” he said in a low voice. “It’s my fault.”
“How so?” she demanded.
He looked away again. “Richard didn’t want to come back here; he wanted to go straight to Llanlleyn. But two of Chester’s men attacked me on the road and because he’d been watching me ride off, he saw them and came to help me. And then, figuring there was trouble here, I persuaded him to come with me to find out what it was. We heard Haworth confronting Lene; we knew Llanlleyn was under attack or about to be attacked by our own men and again Richard wanted to go there and again, I persuaded him to wait.” He paused. “I had this idea to foul Haworth’s plan to take Rhuddlan and it worked. We got rid of the scaling ladders he’d made, but when we crossing the river to escape his men, Richard was shot.” He exhaled noisily. “I pulled him onto the riverbank but I couldn’t help him. He died in my arms…”
Teleri felt her eyes burn in sympathy. Poor Sir Richard! Small wonder Longsword felt guilty. “I’m sorry, William,” she said softly. “But you can’t blame yourself.”
His head snapped up, his eyes intense. “Can’t I? Well, I do, Teleri. But it’s even worse than that. You see, I had another great plan when I was at Llanlleyn. I wanted Olwen to help me escape so I could join fitz Maurice and attack Haworth, but she thought it would be too difficult for me to get out of the fortress undetected and too risky for her to help me. They didn’t like her very much now that Rhirid was dead, apparently; they distrusted her because of her relationship with a Norman. She said she would go instead. She would get out while Guri and his men were occupied with Haworth and warn fitz Maurice. I never saw her again, Teleri! And neither did fitz Maurice!”
“You think Sir Roger or one of his men…?”
“Killed her? I can’t think of any other possibility.”
She didn’t speak. It was plain to her that he was tormented by the problem and she had to fight her old jealousy of the attention paid to Olwen. Of course, she told herself, he was concerned. He believed he’d caused Delamere’s death and now Olwen’s. He felt guilty. She studied him; he was staring into the murky depths of his jar of wine with such obvious anguish that, for the first time since she’d known him, she was sorry for him. He was like her now, bereft of confidant and no one to talk to but servants or retainers.
“I can think of another possibility…” she said softly.
He looked up immediately. “What?”
“Maybe she never left the fortress.”
“Do you mean she was lying to me? I don’t believe that, Teleri! She was frantic for her children.”
“No. I mean perhaps she was prevented from leaving.”
“By Guri? Do you think so?”
She shrugged.
He stared at her. There was a glint of hope in his eyes. “I have to know…” he said in a quiet voice.
“Are you certain you want to know?” she asked warningly. “It may be just as you think.”
“I’m certain.”
She paused a moment to think it through and then she said, “Well, even if you could stand the journey, I don’t suppose Guri will be happy to see you or your soldiers again for quite a while. I suppose I can go. Explain what happened. Bring him a few gifts to placate him and make him look like a strong leader to his people. He’ll appreciate that.”
Longsword frowned. “Don’t overdo it, Teleri. He killed one of my men. It would have been fitz Maurice if he hadn’t stopped to speak with your messenger.”
She bowed her head in acknowledgement. “There is one other consideration, William…”
“What’s that?”
“Sir Richard’s sons. If the worst has befallen Olwen—”
“By all means, you must bring them back to Rhuddlan, Teleri!” he cut in with sudden enthusiasm. She knew he saw at once the chance to redeem himself, to expiate some small portion of his guilt. “I will raise them as if they are my own. In this, at least, I will not fail Richard.”
Part VI