Chapter Four
Llywelyn
I was in high good humor as I strode out of the bedroom. Still, I didn't want to risk my luck with a backwards glance, knowing I might find Marged glaring after me, affronted at my impudence.
Ha! The look on Marged's face when I kissed her was priceless, and I found myself grinning at the intelligence and fire in her. Then my smile faded as I remembered last night's incident with the knife, and the fear plainly revealed on her face, that had driven her to attack me. She'd tried to flee, afraid I would hurt her. I'd told her who I was, and yet, my identity had meant little to her. What was behind that? I didn't know-didn't know enough of her even to ask the right questions.
And then a worse thought: had she bewitched me? Was she from the devil? With the same instinct that had prompted me to keep her in my rooms, I dismissed the notion. The priests could spend their time questioning the nature of women. Females were different from men, clearly put here for a different purpose, but I had no interest in speculating beyond that.
I fixed my thoughts on my more immediate problems, not the least of which was the very existence of my brother, Dafydd. Welsh royal brothers, my own father and uncle included, had a long history of enmity, backstabbing, and bitterness. Harmonious relations among brothers in my family were the exception, not the rule, and it was unlikely, given our past history and present course, that Dafydd and I would prove different.
"My lord!" Tudur stopped me as I entered the great hall. He was hurrying, pulling on his cloak as intercepted me. "Your brother-"
"He came to my room, Tudur. I've already seen him."
"I apologize, my lord, for allowing him to wake you."
"It is forgotten, Tudur. He can be very persistent."
Tudur bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
I strode to the dais where Dafydd now sat, along with my friend, Goronwy, and Geraint, Tudur's father. He'd aged much in the last few years and had reluctantly given up the stewardship-though not his service-in favor of his son. While the other men stood as I approached, Dafydd did not. I had a momentary urge to wipe the smirk off his face with my fist in his teeth but restrained myself. Perhaps he couldn't help what he was. I only hoped he had a thought as to whom he might want to become.
Ignoring him, I said to Goronwy and Geraint, "Please join me in my office as soon as possible. Dafydd brings unwelcome news."
The two men immediately fell into step beside me. Geraint spoke in my ear as we left the hall. "Dare I say as always?"
"It appears that Dafydd has the unfortunate responsibility of being the bearer of bad tidings, nothing more. This is Clare's action, not my brother's. I can't imagine otherwise at this point."
"I can imagine it." That was Goronwy, muttering under his breath. As he'd been my friend from boyhood, I let it pass.
"Your brother has already been involved in two revolts against you, my lord," Tudur said, "though he was the mastermind of neither. Do we allow him another opportunity?"
"No, we do not, friend. But he is my brother." I led them back the way I'd come, up the stairs to my office, next door to where Marged and Anna still lay. I allowed myself a moment's warmth at the thought and at Marged's unexpected spirit, and then turned to my counselors.
I had ignored their muttering, but didn't need to hear their words to know what was in their minds. While Goronwy and Tudur were of an age with me, both forty now, Dafydd was ten years younger-a different generation entirely. He'd not been involved in any of the Welsh wars under the command of our Uncle Dafydd. He'd been only two years old in 1240 when my grandfather, Llywelyn Fawr, died and Uncle Dafydd took the throne.
Nothing pleased an English king more than bickering Welsh royalty. Englishmen of the March-the disputed border territory between Wales and England-and of the English royal court had aided and abetted my brother Dafydd in both of his revolts against me as a matter of course, acts I could neither forgive nor forget, no matter how often the perpetrators spoke of trust and noble brotherhood.
My grandfather had been a strong man, ruling all Wales like few princes ever had. But the stability had crumbled with his death to the point that my Uncle Dafydd had imprisoned my father and brother here at Cricieth to contain their rebellions. My mother, Senana, had gone to Shrewsbury to beg King Henry of England to intervene on their behalf with Uncle Dafydd. Henry had agreed to their release, but had betrayed their agreement. He turned around and threw my entire family in the Tower of London.
Except for me.
"You cannot go back, Llywelyn!"
Goronwy grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him. He'd come to meet me as I'd left the village for the causeway to the castle and now pulled me off the road and into the trees.
"Why ever not? What's happened?"
"Word came this morning. King Henry has finally agreed to intercede on your father's behalf. Your family leaves for England within the hour."
I stared at him, my anger growing-not at him, but at the circumstances that had brought my family to this point. I'd never been to England and had no intention of finding refuge there. To my mind, it meant trading one captivity for another, even if my mother swore that wasn't going to be the case.
"Your mother believes King Henry will be true to his word, but I ..." He trailed off.
"I don't believe it either, Goronwy."
I gazed up at the castle, just visible through the branches of the trees that surrounded us. Men ran back and forth in front of the gatehouse-my uncle's men for the most part, since he'd forced my father to send his away. Uncle Dafydd was the Prince of Wales, and my father might be a rightful heir, especially as the eldest son, but he was hot-tempered and injudicious, and had lost everything he owned in fighting his brother.
I nodded, finally, at my friend. "You're right. We can't return, or they'll take me too. That wouldn't serve either my father or my uncle, don't you think?"
"No, my lord. I reckon not."
I turned back to the village, Goronwy beside me. I wore a bow and quiver, and my new boots my mother had given me for my sixteenth birthday. Other than that, all I possessed was what I stood up in. Sometimes, finally facing what you most fear turns out to be no more difficult than putting one foot in front of the other.
With Goronwy, I stumbled into Aber, my uncle's seat in Gwynedd on the shores of the Irish Sea. The day could not have been more opposite from today-sunny and hot, early September instead of January. Though I'd been a favorite of my grandfather, my Uncle Dafydd had been wary of me-and me of him. He had feared that I would lay claim to Gwynedd in the name of my father.
Yet, even in my novice days, I knew to do so would be foolish-knew that I would have to earn the right to lead our people. I did learn, and learned well, everything he had to teach me, both good and ill. I was beside him when he died of that hideous, wasting disease, and was ready to stand in his stead from the moment he laid his hand in mine and passed his kingdom on to me-his father's kingdom, along with his vision of a united Wales.
In Wales, a boy legally becomes a man on his fourteenth birthday. Yet I knew, for me, it was the day I walked away, defying my parents, my Uncle Dafydd, and the King of England. Goronwy and I made our way to Aber and my uncle's court, finally putting my feet on the path to destiny.
As I faced my counselors in my office, the consequences of that day reverberated still, beyond my own thoughts and dreams. Because I'd refused imprisonment, it was I who stepped into my uncle's shoes upon his death. And while it was Dafydd who'd been most harmed by my decision to abandon my family, it was I who'd paid the price for his resentment.
Perhaps what irked me more than anything else was that Dafydd, as it stood now, was my heir. No matter how strongly I held the reins of Wales, no matter how great my power, no woman had given me a child-any child. Every hour of every day I faced the fact that my line died with me if I was unable to sire a son.
I clenched my fists but then relaxed them, noting the look of curiosity on Goronwy's face. He, of
all my companions, knew me best-and himself had articulated our mutual fear.
But I was only forty years old-true, most of my people died before the age of forty, but I was still vibrant and strong, my hair as dark as it had ever been, my back straight. True, I didn't look forward to sleeping on the ground amongst my men as much as in my younger days, but I could do it.
"Dafydd aside," I said, "I would like to hear your thoughts on the news he brings. Clare has ambitious plans for himself. What kind of threat does he bring to us?"
"He wears his earldom well," Goronwy said. "Why do you think King Henry tried to keep it from him for so long?"
Tudur slapped his fist into his palm. He had little patience for those who couldn't keep up with his fast brain and faster tongue. "We can't allow him to build a new castle. It violates our agreement with King Henry and puts your entire rule into question. If one Marcher lord can do it, any of them can."
"They will all try," Goronwy said. "You know they will."
"It is much as it was with your uncle," Geraint added. "The moment your back is turned, each man looks to himself and his own patrimony, with no thought for the future of Wales."
"The Marcher lords have never concerned themselves with anything but their own power," Tudur said. "They are unlikely to start now."
I paced to the chair behind my desk and threw myself into it. "Gilbert de Clare assails me in the south, Humphrey de Bohun and his whelp of a grandson in Brecon, and Roger Mortimer at Montgomery. They will maintain a constant pressure, exerting just as much force as they can get away with without open war."
"Clare risks that with this castle at Caerphilly," Goronwy said.
"Henry has made it clear to all his barons long since that they can keep what they take, both from our Prince and from each other, as long as it doesn't affect him," Tudur said. "This castle is in disputed territory-territory that is only Prince Llywelyn's as long as he can hold it."
"Which is what I'm not doing now!" I said. "I can't be everywhere at once, can't maintain a standing army along the whole of the March!"
"The men of Brecon chose you as their lord," Goronwy said. "Bohun couldn't lead them now, even if he held the land. The men of Senghennydd will follow a similar course. They will fight for you and not Clare, just as in Brecon."
"We can't leave it to chance," Geraint said. "And we can't send Gruffydd ap Rhys there by himself. He wasn't able to stand up to Clare the first time. I fear he will back down the second time as well."
"He is stronger than that," Goronwy said. "The fire in him is lit. No man can be picked off like a daisy and banished from his lands without finding out where his spine is."
"Or isn't," Tudur said.
I shook my head. "Gruffydd will stand strong. With my help and the support of my men, we can put him back where he belongs. Send word to him at Dinas Bran to meet me in Brecon."
"So we go?" Tudur said.
"Yes, of course we go." I sat forward to finger the map in front of me. "We will ride south along the coast road, swinging east to come into Brecon. From there we will reconnoiter Senghennydd."
"What if Dafydd brings false news for some devious purpose of his own?" Tudur said.
I looked at him, and I could feel the mutual holding-of-breath among the other men. Tudur refused to back down and instead met my eyes. "Let it go, Tudur. This news from Clare isn't surprising. I admit Dafydd took a certain glee in its report, but I have no reason to think it false."
"And the woman?" Tudur pressed further.
"Excuse me?"
The three men exchanged glances. It was obvious that they had discussed this on their own before tackling me with it.
"Ahem." Tudur cleared his throat, suddenly nervous under my glare where before he'd been defiant. "Has it occurred to you that the woman arriving as she did might be part of a plot, whether Welsh or English? A spy in our midst if you will?"
I barked a laugh. "Most definitely it has. However, Marged didn't recognize Dafydd this morning, nor he her. Besides, how often does a spy bring along her baby daughter?"
"That's the point, my lord," Tudur said. "Dafydd's news on the heels of her appearance makes me suspicious."
"Your constant occupation, I know." The others smiled, relieved I hadn't lost my temper completely.
"We know nothing of her, my lord," Goronwy said. "It's not your usual practice with ...ah ... women."
I rested an elbow on the arm rest and put my finger to my chin, studying him. "You noticed that?"
"My lord-" Goronwy said.
I cut him off. "You're right. It isn't. Be that as it may, she has my countenance and a safe haven in my house."
All three sat back in their chairs, hearing the finality in my voice. "Yes, my lord," Goronwy said.
Then I relented. They didn't know of the events of the evening before, but if they did, they would be even more concerned. Why wasn't I? My shoulders sagged. The day had begun so well, but it wasn't just my own life I risked, but all Wales. "I ask you then, in your judgment, is it better to leave her here or to bring her and her child on this journey?"
"Leave her at Cricieth," Tudur said immediately. "We are far from England, and she can do little harm here. She's only a woman, after all."
Geraint glanced at his son and then brought his attention back to me. "Is Dafydd coming with us, or staying here?"
"He's staying here," I said. "He told me that he had business in the north and hoped I would relieve him of his duty to attend me. His insistence on it saved me from having to refuse him space at my side."
"Then I would bring the woman," Geraint said. "I share some of my son's concerns, but I also know that if she is innocent, she would be fair game to one such as Dafydd. You must admit his prowess with the ladies is nearing legendary status. Just to spite you, he would seek to turn her head to him, knowing that she has already shared your bed."
"That's quite an indictment," I said.
"It is," Geraint said. "I speak only because I have your best interests and that of Wales constantly in my heart."
"I will watch her, my lord." Goronwy said, suddenly more sure. "If she rides with me by day and stays with you at night, there will be no chance for her to engage in any mischief. By the time we reach Brecon, we will know her character, for good or ill."
"Is that satisfactory to you?" I said to Geraint and Tudur.
Only Geraint would be riding with us. I needed Tudur to keep an eye on Dafydd. Geraint, though as crafty as ever, would have a harder time keeping up with my brother.
"Yes," Tudur said slowly. "I will hold the north for you, as always."