* * * * *
As my pregnancy became more obvious, which it did far sooner than when I was pregnant with Anna, I received more and more attention for it. On one hand, I was protected at every moment, most especially when I left the castle, which only happened when Anna and I walked across the drawbridge into the town for the weekly fair. On the other hand, every person I passed wanted to touch my belly (for luck it seemed) since I was carrying a child that the Prince-and all of Wales-never thought they'd see.
Llywelyn and his army had been gone two weeks and should have reached his lands in Senghennydd, when Dafydd appeared on the doorstep. He arrived just as the evening meal was finishing, striding up the hall as if he owned it.
"My lady," he said, bowing. He straightened, his eyes blatantly traveling from my face, to my breasts, to my not quite protruding belly.
From his place beside me, Tudur leaned toward him over the table. Llywelyn's chair, on my right, was empty.
"Dafydd," he said, not according him any title, least of all 'prince'. "Why are you here?"
Tudur and I still weren't getting along that well, but I'd never been happier to have him by my side. From his tone, he at least preferred me to Dafydd. I might be a witch or a spy who'd captivated his Prince, but Dafydd was a traitor and a killer, and not to be tolerated.
"I've come to throw my full support behind my brother," he said. "We seek shelter for the night, and then we'll be off south."
Tudur leaned back in his chair and gestured toward a seat to the left of him at the high table. "Of course. Sit yourself. We would have news from the north."
Dafydd signaled to his captain, who'd waited in the doorway of the hall for approval. Within minutes, Dafydd's men began finding seats next to the twenty or so men that were all that was left of the Brecon garrison. Madoc exchanged glances with two of his men and they got to their feet, ostensibly to offer their seats to another, but I didn't think that was it.
It looked like they were quartering the room with their eyes, determining sight lines and defensible positions. They ended up in opposing corners of the hall. Madoc leaned casually against the wall to the left of the fireplace. Another man stood by the great front doors, and the third propped his shoulder near the spiral stair up to our apartments, his eyes only half on the game of dice being played by the men closest to him.
"I don't like this," I said, keeping my voice low.
"Nor I," Tudur said. "We're vulnerable and outnumbered, and having Dafydd and his men here is like inviting a wolf to dinner."
"Surely his men are loyal to Llywelyn?"
Tudur gave me a pitying look. "Who pays them?" Then he answered his own question. "Prince Dafydd. They will do his bidding, just as did the men who attacked our lord at Coedwig Gap."
I realized how insensitive I'd been to one of the sources of Tudur's animosity towards Dafydd-it was Dafydd who'd indirectly caused Geraint's death. How could I have forgotten that? I put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."
Tudur nodded, his eyes watchful. Dafydd took his seat and helped himself to the remains of the meal. Tudur signaled to a servant, who cleared our places and brought several fresher dishes for Dafydd.
"You look well, my lady," Dafydd said. "Certainly no worse for having gone for a swim in the best waters Wales has to offer."
I stared at him, shocked that he would bring up his attempt to abduct me and kill his brother-and brazen out his criminal behavior. I leaned forward so I could see past Tudur to answer him, but Tudur put his hand on my arm to shush me. I sat back, not knowing what else to do. I wanted to berate him, but was afraid of him too, and afraid to make things worse or say something that Llywelyn wouldn't want. Tudur must have felt the same thing because we sat together in silence.
As it grew longer, Dafydd's amusement became palpable. "I hold the best interests of Wales always in my heart," he said.
Tudur couldn't hold back a snort and I couldn't hold my tongue. "Dafydd, dear," I said, trying for a sickening sweetness that he couldn't mistake, "you certainly have an odd way of showing it."
"Oh, that," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "All in fun. You made it clear at Cricieth that you belonged to Llywelyn. I was merely having a joke with him, like we did when we were boys. It was an amusing game, that's all."
"You know what they say about men and jests." I stood to leave, unable to sit one second longer at the same table with him.
"What do they say?" Dafydd said, as I hoped he would.
"Jests are the last recourse of a man with a small dick." Tudur was in the middle of taking a swallow of wine, which he proceeded to spew onto the table in front of him. I patted him on the back. "If you'll excuse me." I walked away, shaking so badly by now that I was sure they could see it.
Tudur followed right on my heels.
"My lady!" He wiped his face with a handkerchief as we rounded the corner into the stairwell. "I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. Well done."
"I had to do it," I said. "I don't want to rile him, but I hate that self-satisfied smirk he always wears."
"Our lord has expressed a similar sentiment. My concern now is that you have angered and humiliated him in front of others." He glanced back at the high table, and then raked his eyes around the hall. "Hywel is worried too. Our men ceased to drink the moment Dafydd and his men entered the hall, and none will sleep tonight." Tudur took my elbow and escorted me to my room. "Bar the door and don't open it until you see Dafydd's banners, riding away from us south."
"I will," I said. "And thank you. I trust that even if you don't like me, you seek to serve Llywelyn."
Tudur's gaze was measuring. "I distrust everyone. In truth, you less than most." And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the stairs.
Well. That was unexpected. But Tudur was right. What I'd said was funny, but not smart.