* * * * *
Anna toddled happily after Goronwy and he picked her up before we were half-way down the first flight of steps. That was a good plan because she took a very long time to navigate a set of stairs on her little legs, usually with me counting them one by one. I followed them, watching my feet as we made our way down the stairs, tears still pricking behind my eyes.
Goronwy escorted us to our room, where the same maid from before waited.
"Hello, Dana," I said. "I see we need more clothes."
She'd piled two sacks beside the door to the room. Goronwy signaled to the guard waiting outside for us that he should carry them away. Then Goronwy hesitated in the doorway, looking at me as I stood in the center of the room, my hands clasped in front of me. Dana knelt on the floor in front of Anna, helping her into an extra petticoat.
"You'll be all right, then?" he said.
I honestly didn't know, but didn't tell him that. "Thank you, Goronwy. We'll be fine."
"I'll return for you in a few minutes," he said, and closed the door. I gazed at the closed door, a cold feeling in my chest at the knowledge that I was going to have to turn off that part of me that needed to question what was happening and go with the flow of things.
Dana dressed Anna like a miniature adult, with cloak and hood like mine. On the bed lay further clothes for me. The dress split up the middle, designed for riding astride. The thick black wool cloak hung heavily on my shoulders, the clasp at the throat. It had ties up the front so I wouldn't have to keep it clutched around me while we traveled, and two slits for my hands instead of sleeves.
Goronwy knocked on our door again.
"Thank you, Dana," I said in Welsh as we left. Diolch.
"My pleasure, Madam."
Once in the same courtyard where I'd last seen Llywelyn, a boy stood off to the right of the stairs with a horse, waiting for us.
"Up with you," Goronwy said. I gazed up at the horse. It was huge-not that all the horses weren't huge from the ground, but this one seemed to loom over me in a most uncomfortable manner. All around us men and horses jostled each other to mount and I hugged Anna closer to me. I would be the only woman on the journey and all the men, like Goronwy, wore full armor, with long swords at their waists. At least a dozen of them also had giant bows and quivers strapped to their saddlebags.
"I'm supposed to ride this horse to Brecon? I couldn't take my eyes off the monstrous beast in front of me.
"Your chariot is sunk in the marsh," Goronwy said. He took Anna from me.
"I've been thinking," I said, stalling for time. "We're spending tonight at that place you mentioned, Coed y Brenin?"
"Yes that's right," Goronwy said.
"Isn't that where Owain Glendower was ambushed and died?"
"What did you say?" Goronwy said.
"Isn't that the place? My mother sings a song about it. He rode into a gap in the road with high hills on either side and archers attacked him and his men. He and his men fought, but they all died. It was a lot like how Llywelyn ..." I stopped, horrified. I'd run at the mouth. I shouldn't know how Llywelyn would meet his death.
"Who was Owain Glendower?" Goronwy said.
"He-"
"We'll discuss this later."
Llywelyn had come up behind me. Without warning, he put his hands around my waist and threw me into the saddle. I plopped onto my bottom on the seat and then managed to swing my right leg over the horse to get both feet in the stirrups. I wiggled into a more comfortable position and gathered the reins, as I'd seen actors do in movies. Llywelyn handed Anna to me and she snuggled into my lap, her knees tucked inside her cloak.
"Are you sure about this?" My voice came out high. The horse stepped sideways restlessly and then swerved back to avoid another horse.
"We ride only twenty-five miles," Llywelyn said. "Was that my brother on the battlements with you?"
I looked down at him, uncertain at the quick change of subject. "Yes."
"What did you talk about?" He looked at me very intently.
"You," I said, going for honesty.
"Good." He patted my knee before walking to his horse which a groom held still a few yards away.
"I will ride with you, Madam," Goronwy said, also mounting. He made it look so easy.
"Meg," I said. "Marged dw i."
"Lady Marged, then, when we speak in Welsh," he said. And then he caught me off guard with another question. "What language is it that Anna speaks? It's unknown to me, yet she has some Welsh."
I froze. There was so much to remember with all this the other-worldly craziness of what was happening to us. I was having a hard time keeping straight what I should know and what I shouldn't. In retrospect, I shouldn't have talked about Owain Glendower because he hadn't been born yet, if this was really the thirteenth century. Was I actually going to sit here and think that I'd-what?-time-traveled to medieval Wales? And then I looked around and wondered what other explanation there could be and how I could think anything else.
Goronwy still waited for my response.
I stuttered while I thought. "She speaks American," I said, in an instant coming up with an answer that wasn't even a lie and would allow me to avoid the dreaded word 'English.'
"That language is new to me," Goronwy said. "I've never heard of it."
"No," I said. "You wouldn't have."
Goronwy looked away. "Huh."
Up ahead, Llywelyn had also mounted. He sat with a straight back. He was naturally thick through the chest and shoulders but armor had bulked him up too, just like all the men. With a sinking feeling, I acknowledged that they weren't built that way as a result of playing football or lifting weights. It was their work with swords and bows that had caused it.
"Let's move!" A man riding next to Llywelyn raised his sword and twisted it in his wrist like a baton.
With a click of his tongue on his teeth, Goronwy urged his horse forward. I shook my horse's reins and was startled when he obeyed, moving to match Goronwy's horse. Everyone paired up to ride underneath the gatehouse and onto the road that led from the castle. As we rode under the final tower, I looked back. Castell Cricieth soared above us. Two soldiers stood on the battlements at the top of the two great towers, still and silent. The wind whipped Llywelyn's flag on its pole.
The road, comprised of hard-packed dirt, led to a small village at the foot of the promontory on which the castle rested. Admittedly, it looked just as I thought a medieval village should, with a scattering of thatched-roof huts around a central green space, on which a few sheep grazed. We rode among the houses while men, women, and children came out of them to wave, a few of the children running beside the horses to keep up. As the village church came into view, a priest appeared. He stepped forward to block the road and confer with Llywelyn. They spoke, their voices low, and then the priest made the sign of the cross, blessing all of us.
Llywelyn bowed his head in answer and the priest moved aside. As I rode past him, I ducked my head and pulled my cloak over my face, not wanting to meet his gaze.
There it was. I couldn't turn aside from this no matter how I might want to deny it. Anna and I were in the Middle Ages.