Llewelyn knew his hour then. The season was ripe, the supplies assured, and of winter fighting we Welsh, better prepared and equipped than usual, had no fear. Moreover, we were also better informed on one point than our visitors, for we knew from the smith of Chester that Geoffrey Langley had left that town for Windsor, where Prince Edward kept his court, to render due account to him of all his Welsh lands in the north, believing the Middle Country, if not pacified, securely bound, and helpless to do more than thresh in its chains. And when the prince rose before his council and his guests, very pale with recognition and desire of his destiny, and very bright with the assurance of his own election, we all knew that the waiting was over.
"Go back and tell all those who sent you to me," he said, "that I am coming, that I am with them. I, too, have waited for Wales to be Welsh again, and what I can give, and what I can do, towards that end, that I promise you. Go back and tell your people that one week from today I shall cross the Conway and break out of my own bonds, which I have suffered as long as you. And until then, for your sons' sakes, keep the fire damped low, that the blow may fall harder and more suddenly when it comes. When I bring my army across the river, then send me your young fighting men. And by the grace of God I shall make them the instruments of liberty, and bring, God helping me, the most of them safe and free back to you."
After the Council dispersed, place and time having been appointed and all the needful preparations discussed and put in train, Llewelyn drew me aside with him, and said to me, glowing, for that meeting had been strong wine to him: "Samson, will you ride with me? There is yet one more thing I must do, to be ready for this day that's coming, and I would have you with me when I do it, for no one has a better right."
I said gladly that I would go with him wherever he willed, though his intent I had not then divined, nor did I until we turned into the uplands short of Bangor, riding southwards. Then I knew. And he, sensing the moment when the knowledge entered me, turned his head and smiled.
"You do not ask me anything," he said, inviting question.
"I would not by word or look prompt you to anything, or presume to advise or censure whatever it is in your mind to do," I said. "Whatever it may be, the judgment is yours alone. And in your judgment I place my trust."
"That was one of your loftiest speeches," he said, mocking me, "and if you had no personal hopes or fears of what I may be about to do, you would not need such high-flying words. I am going to war. I have room for a good fighting brother who hardly knows what fear is. Provided, of course," he said grimly, "he is on my side! I propose to ask him."
"Him! Not both, then," I said.
"One, as I remember," he said, "did his best to kill me, once."
"Both, as I remember," I said, "have done as much, and with equal ferocity."
"One to my face, and one behind my back. I see a small difference there," he answered me mildly. "There is also a nagging doubt in me concerning the one who rode at me head-on like a mad creature. Was he indeed trying his best to kill? Or to be killed?"
He saw that I was startled, for indeed I had not considered how apt this conclusion might be until this moment. "Did you think I had not caught what he said to me?" he asked gently. "I heard it, and so did you. No other. It was as well. There were knots enough to be undone, after that affray, without having to explain David to other men."
I told him then, honestly, that it had never entered my head to think that David had been seeking to run upon his own death. Nor could I truly believe it now, no matter what he had cried out against himself when he was half-stunned and wholly dazed. And yet Llewelyn had planted a doubt in me that would not be quieted thereafter. He, with his open and magnanimous charity, put the best construction on what David had said and done, able to envisage without too bitter blame a thwarted and restless young man tempted to strike for power even against his brother, and finding no difficulty in the shame and self-hate that caused him to invite retribution afterwards. A simple enough David that would have been. But I was sure in my heart that the David God had visited upon us was in no way simple. Nor had he cried out to his conqueror: "Kill me, you were justified!" but: "Kill me! You were wise!"
"Well, let it lie," said Llewelyn, humouring me because he saw me troubled. "He is young, he called himself ambitious and greedy, but I think it was for glory and action more than for land, and glory and action I can offer him in plenty. We'll make the assay, at least, and hear how he will answer."
I did not urge him to offer the like opportunity to Owen Goch, for I could not in good conscience make such a suggestion. So when we rode down out of the hills to the neck of land between the two llyns, with the sunset light heavy and bright as fire in the water, and climbed the winding path up the great rock on which Dolbadarn castle stood, he bade his castellan bring forth to us in the high chamber only David.
He came in stepping with soft and wary delicacy, like a cat, and stood blinking for a moment in the full torch-light, for doubtless his own cell, though provided with what comforts were possible, was but poorly lit in the dark hours. He was, as always, very debonair in his apparel, imprisonment could not deface his beauty or his gift of freshness and cleanliness. But he was thinner, and had a hungry look, like a mewed hawk, or a horse starved of exercise. Recognising us, he smiled, even at me, as though we had parted only yesterday, and the best of friends.
"It's long since you honoured me with a visit, brother," he said. "And to bring Samson, too, that was kind."
Llewelyn bade him sit, and he obeyed without comment or thanks. I saw that his face was somewhat haggard, the eyes blue-rimmed like bruises. He had put on a good front, but he was sadly fretted with his confinement, for surely he was one bird never meant to be caged. Llewelyn looked him over closely, and said with compunction: "I think I have done worse to you than ever you tried to do to me. Do you eat? Do you sleep? Have you had wants that could have been met, and have not asked? What sort of pride is that?"
"Do I look so ill-cared-for?" said David, injured. "I had thought I made a very fair bid at being what a prisoner should. It takes a while to get into the way of it, but I think I have it now. You may be better pleased with me the next time."
"If you are in your right wits now," said Llewelyn directly, "there need be no next time."
I saw the small, wary flames of doubt, and desire, and calculation kindle in David's eyes, and from cool burn into vehement heat. Until then he had been on his guard against us and against hope, clenching all his longing and frustration tightly within him lest it should show in voice or face. Now he began to quiver, and with bitter force stayed the trembling, too proud to let us see how desperately he desired his freedom.
"Even in my right wits," he said carefully, "I am not good at riddles. If you want me to understand you, you must speak as plainly as to a child."
"Some time since," said Llewelyn, "when for good enough reason I put you here, you declined to promise your loyalty in the future, rightly discounting the force of such a promise, so soon after disloyalty. At some time to come, you said, when you had purged your offence, you trusted to show me by deeds whether you were cured. The time is come now when I need good fighting brothers, when I would gladly have you by my side, and see you put your faith to the proof. If you are so minded."
"Something has happened," said David, in a dry whisper, and moistened lips suddenly blanched white. "Tell me what you mean to do with me."
He still was not willing to believe that he had any voice in the matter, but as Llewelyn spoke, telling him in simple words exactly what was toward, the colour ebbed and flowed in his throat like a wind-lashed tide, and slowly reached his cheeks, burning over the high bones. His eyes shone bluer than speedwells. I saw him swallow the dry husks of fear that silenced and half-strangled him, and in the piteous hunger and thirst that seized him he looked younger than his twenty years; he who had looked dauntingly critical and knowing at five years old. He did his best to restrain the hope that was devouring him, and not to gr
asp too soon at the vision of his freedom. But his heart was crying out aloud in him to rise and go, like a falcon clapping its wings.
When it was told, he sat with his arms tightly folded across his breast and hands gripping his shoulders, as if to hold in that frantic bird until the cage was truly opened, and the clear sky before him, while his dark-circled eyes burned upon Llewelyn's face.
"And you will take me with you?" he said, still fearful of believing.
"If you are of our mind, if you will take up this warfare like a man taking the cross, and be faithful to it, yes, then come with us. And most welcome! You need have no fear of that."
"And I may come forth? Into the light of day again?"
"Into the dusk of a chilly evening, and with a long ride back in the dark," said Llewelyn smiling, "if you say yes at once."
"Tonight? Dear God," he said, beginning to shake and to shine with the intensity of his joy, "the midnight will be brighter than anything within here." And he cast one wild, glittering glance all round the great chamber, and a stony, gaunt cavern of a place it was, for all its rugs and hangings. "Oh, I would say yes, and yes, and yes, to whatever you please, only to get out of here. Don't tempt me with too much, too suddenly. This, at least, I must not do lightly, nor you, either. There must be something to pay." He started suddenly forward out of the chair where he sat, and went on his knee in front of Llewelyn, and lifted his hands to him, palm to palm, so that his brother, surprised but indulgent, had little choice but to take them between his own, which he did warmly. "I make my act of submission to you as my prince and overlord," said David, in a voice ragged with passion, "and I do regret with all my heart those follies and treasons I committed against you. From henceforth I am your man, and you are my lord. And that I swear to you—"
"Swear nothing!" said Llewelyn heartily, and clapped a hand over his lips to silence him. "Your word is enough for me," he said, and took him strongly under the forearms and plucked him to his feet.
David stood trembling in his brother's hand, half-laughing, yet not far off tears, either, with the excitement and relief of this unexpected deliverance. "You should have let me bind myself," he said, "I thought you had learned better!"
"Fool!" said Llewelyn, shaking him lightly. "If your word was not bond enough, why should your oath be? Nor do I want you bound. I want you free, and venturesome, and with all your wits about you. And we had best be moving, and take it gently on the road, for you'll find yourself stiff and awkward enough in the saddle after so long without exercise." Then he leaned and kissed his brother's cheek, and of solemn words there were no more.
So in the onset of the night we took fresh horses, and rode back to Aber under a bright, cold moon, three instead of two.
CHAPTER VII
We mustered at Aber on the last day of October, and on the first of November we crossed the Conway at Caerhun. Llewelyn had mounted as many of his men as possible, amassing great numbers of hill ponies, for speed was at the heart of his plans, and he did not intend the royal castles or the small local offices from which the cantrefs were administered to have any warning of our coming. Beyond the river we split our fastest cavalry into two parts, one to strike directly north-east to the coast, under David, and so sever the Creuddyn peninsula and the castle of Degannwy from all possibility of reinforcement or supply from Chester, while a part of our little fleet kept tight watch over the Conway sands and the sea approaches, to prevent any ship from making in there to the fortress with food or men. The other half of our horsemen, under Llewelyn himself, swept on as fast as possible to the east, to cross the Clwyd at Llanelwy and push ahead to the coast beyond Diserth, thus isolating that castle, too, in lands once again Welsh. Diserth, not having an approach by sea, could more easily be held fast once it was encircled, nor did we have to sit down around it for so much as a day, for by then the young warriors of Rhos and Tegaingl were up in arms and out to join our slower foot soldiers, who followed hard at our heels, and all that was needed was to furnish them with commanders and the core of a disciplined warband, and leave them to hold down what we had repossessed.
It was no part of the prince's plan to waste time and men in attacking the castles, strong as they were, and heavily manned. Nor was there any need, once the garrisons were penned tightly within them and denied any relief. What harm could they do to us? Far better to press onward to the very walls of Chester, and recover all the lost land, thus putting a greater and greater expanse of enemy country between the castles and their base, and securing ever more of our own soil, and ever more firmly. Should it be necessary in the end to reduce the fortresses and raze them, for that there was no haste. No man could now help them without encountering our armies by land or our ships by sea. And though by English measure, and certainly by comparison with the Cinque Ports navy, ours were but poor little boats, yet the mouth of the Conway was better known to our seamen than to the English, and navigable far more easily with our small, shallow craft than with the king's ships.
Of fighting we had some fleeting taste here and there, but disordered and scattered, for the surprise was complete, and even after the first days we moved so fast that hardly a messenger could outride us, and none by more than an hour or two. The garrison at Diserth ventured a sally at us, but mistook our numbers and the nature of their own encirclement, and were glad to withdraw within the walls again with their wounded, leaving a number of dead behind. They came forth no more, but the young men of Tegaingl kept station about the castle and waited hungrily for another clash with them.
Elsewhere, those few places where there was a small force of English stationed made some resistance, but were either overwhelmed and scattered, or drew off and ran for the shelter of Chester. Some minor officers of the royal administration we took prisoners, but most fled, though even some of these, lost in a hostile countryside, were later either taken, or killed by the people of the villages. We had half expected an army to be put into the field from Chester to meet us, and were ready for a pitched battle should it come to that, but nothing stood before us. We had reckoned, too, on some show of retaliation from the lords of the march, however disaffected themselves, when the Welsh broke out in rebellion, but they sat sullen and vengeful in their own castles, and lifted not a finger to hinder us. And that was the greatest surprise of this entire northern campaign, and perhaps made us too optimistic in similar case thereafter. We were not used to being smiled upon by the marcher barons, our uneasy neighbours.
"It seems," said Llewelyn, astonished, "that I had even undervalued the dislike and suspicion they feel towards this new order in Chester. God knows how long it may last, but now they hate the spread of royal power in the borders, it appears, more than they hate us."
And indeed it was clear, by their continuing complacency even after Geoffrey Langley came rushing back into the county from Windsor, that they held us to be fellow-sufferers, who were now busy fighting their battle for them. Hardly a view that would be welcomed by those who lost lands to us, like Robert of Montalt. But those who were not personally at loss looked on our encroachments with no disfavour, seeing the threat of effective royal administration in the marches recede. There was laughter, rather than tears, along the English side of the border when Langley came back into the county just in time to be chased ignominiously into the safety of Chester.
We had halted for a night in Mold to let David and his force catch up with us, having established what was almost siege order round Degannwy. David was in high feather, and in very fair favour with his men, though I think there were a few among the captains who were wary of him as yet, unsure how much truth there was in his new fealty to Llewelyn. But by the time we were patrolling opposite the walls of Chester he had won them all, for he was dashing, intelligent and without fear in battle, and in his own person, eye to eye, he could charm birds out of the trees.
Everywhere we had passed, the chiefs and princes, restored to their free holding, declared themselves as allies of Llewelyn, and placed themselves willingly
in fealty to him. Nor did he seek to keep under his own direct hold any part of what he freed, but set up the high men of that country in possession of their own, or where there was no Welsh claimant by reason of the past history of the marches, but either a marcher lord at distance or the crown itself as sole overlord, bestowed the land upon one or another of those allies of his most able to maintain it, thus keeping the full strength of Middle Country loyalty fixed in his own person. And so within one week, no more, we had freed the four cantrefs, and enlarged Gwynedd to its old bounds, and won valuable allies wherever we touched.
And it was but halfway through the month of November, and so much changed, in our fortunes and in our aims. For this rapid and almost bloodless advance could not but open up the possibility of further conquests.
"It is true enough, as the Lord David says," said Goronwy in council, "that it would be waste and shame to halt here, but I am for pressing on for another, perhaps a better, reason. To halt now would be to put in danger even what we have already done. It can be secured only by taking it further."