* * * * *
I tried to pay attention to what Llywelyn was talking about, and he did begin, ever so incrementally, to treat me a little differently-more like a friend and less like a possession. That, I appreciated, but it didn't make me any more certain of him. If anything, it confused me more.
The thing that irked me most about this new twist was that I really liked Llywelyn-was undoubtedly starry-eyed over him. He was such a contrast to Trev that I was consistently amazed that such a man as Llywelyn could even exist. It wasn't just that he was a prince, but that men appeared to follow him because of how he was on the inside, rather than who he was on the outside. He didn't have to make up stuff to prove what kind of man he was. He didn't have to pretend to be something other than what he was, because he was amazing.
From our conversations, I'd gotten a glimpse of what it must have been like when he was younger-the struggles and the uncertainty and the endless striving for the impossible. He didn't become the Prince of Wales only because of who his father was. He became the Prince of Wales because he got down in the trenches-whether in warfare or politically-and made himself worthy of it, sometimes through sheer willpower and against incredible odds.
All the while, he carried in his heart his grandfather's dream of a united Wales, and all the while, every other noble, including his own brothers, were working to undermine his vision because if he became the Prince of Wales, they would have less power than they thought they deserved. Hard to argue with that, actually; hard not to feel sorry for them. In an age when democracy was unheard of, it was tough to be born in a time when only the fittest survived and you weren't one of them.
Llywelyn's biggest flaw, it seemed to me, was that pride of his. If anything, he was arrogant to a fault and the people he treated least well were those he deemed to be foolish. I'd seen him publically dress down one of his men and I was glad that when he'd chastised me, at least we'd been alone.
At the same time, he'd saved Humphrey when he didn't have to. He was playful with Anna, and had taken to carrying her around on his shoulders or playing horse between dinner and bedtime. He was courteous to servants, even, and that was important. I remembered reading somewhere that it was how a man treated his inferiors that was a true measure of him.
Well, everyone is inferior to Llywelyn. Except, perhaps, for me. Even if he doesn't know it.