Children of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book Four) (7 page)

I huddled over Catrin, thinking of these babies we were having, all of whom were half-modern, half-medieval—and now Meg had gone back to the future. I hadn’t asked Ieuan the reason she’d taken Llywelyn. I didn’t have to. When David had arrived at Chepstow earlier in the week, Llywelyn had been having a good day. David had mentioned to me how glad he was that his father was healthy. I hadn’t corrected David, figuring he’d see for himself soon enough. I just hoped this trip to the modern world would give Meg and Llywelyn what they were looking for.

And maybe, if I was lucky, Meg might remember me and bring me back a stick of lip balm.

After a while, Catrin finished eating, by which point my maid had arrived to help me dress. Twenty minutes later, with my hair arranged appropriately for the noblewoman I had become, I tucked Catrin into her sling and went to find Tudur, which wasn’t hard because he was where he always was—in Llywelyn’s office, stewing over piles of papers. In the Middle Ages, paper was made from linen rags and was much stronger and more durable than modern wood-pulp paper. It was going to last forever, as long as people didn’t treat it as disposable or burn it. When I entered the office, Tudur was leaning forward, his hands in his hair and his elbows on the table, studying the material before him.

He looked up. “Bronwen! I need you!”

He spoke to me this way all the time. Somehow, in the last four months that I’d lived with Llywelyn and Meg, waiting through a difficult pregnancy for Catrin’s birth, I’d become indispensible to the king’s staff. It wasn’t because I understood medieval law or had a fine hand, but because I knew how to organize. With no computers or filing cabinets, a busy office ended the day with papers scattered everywhere. Llywelyn—and Tudur as his surrogate at Chepstow—had come to rely on me to tidy it.

For a while, I’d even become Tudur’s eyes. At first he’d refused to admit he had a problem, and then David’s trip to England had overwhelmed all planning, so it was only last week that he’d told Llywelyn that he couldn’t see to read anymore. Tudur’s newly forged reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, confirming what I’d felt since I met him—that Tudur would have been more of a scholar than a soldier, had circumstances been different.

“What do you have there?” I said.

Tudur flicked the paper towards me. It wasn’t out of disrespect, but because we’d grown used to each other and his lack of formality was a sign of trust, even friendship.

I picked it up. It was a monthly accounting report for the Abbey of St. Peter and St. Paul in Shrewsbury. The Abbey was almost entirely self-supporting. It held a weekly market fair and ran sheep for the wool trade. “I saw this on your desk earlier, made a note, and filed it.” I said. “Why did you get it out again?”

“Because we both missed the significance of the words at the bottom—me because I couldn’t see them, and you because you saw what the document was about and didn’t read all the way down the page.”

I peered at the words Tudur indicated. Someone had written them awfully small. “It’s a list of herbs.”
I looked up at Tudur. “Are you going to tell me why we care?”

Tudur lifted his chin. “Read it over carefully. What does it say?”

No paper ever came out of Shrewsbury Abbey written in anything but Latin, which is why I had only skimmed it in the first place. My knowledge of the language wasn’t great, but it had gotten better in the last three years and I did my best: “
Conium, Somniferum, Mandragora, Aconitum
… wait a minute.
Aconite
. This is a list of poisons!”

“It is indeed.” Tudur leaned back in his chair. “They’ve been sent to London.”

I gaped at him. “To where in London?” I flipped the paper over to look at the back. It was blank. “The document doesn’t say.”

“It doesn’t, does it?” Tudur said. “The man who brought that list here asked the carter, however, and he said that the cargo was destined for Westminster Palace.”

“Are you telling me that Humphrey de Bohun ordered a batch of poisons?” I said.

“We don’t know,” Tudur said. “We do know that our beloved prince will be residing at Westminster as long as he is in London,” Tudur said.

“When did the shipment leave Shrewsbury?” I said.

“Last month,” Tudur said. “That paper arrived here four days ago.”

“The poisons could be anywhere by now,” I said. “Used already, for that matter. Have you told David?”

Tudur took in a deep breath through his nose. “At the moment, the Prince is in no condition to be told anything.”

I pursed my lips. “I’ll tell him. Or tell Lili. It might be nothing, but …”

“Alphonse of Toulouse was murdered by poison,” Tudur said.

“As was Baldwin of Jerusalem,” I said, “not to mention old King Henry I himself.”

“Henry died from eating too many lampreys,” Tudur said.

“Who dies from eating too much fish?” I shivered. “Lampreys are disgusting creatures, I admit, but that’s a fairy tale the Normans have told themselves.”

Catrin stirred in her sling and whimpered. “You’d better go,” Tudur said. “Urge caution on our young prince, would you?”

That sounded unlikely to be successful. “I’ll do my best,” I said.

I turned to go but Tudur coughed, causing me to pause in the doorway. “I fear for him,” Tudur said. “This mantle of Arthur that burdens him ...”

I looked back. Tudur was resting his head in his hands again, staring at the papers before him, though this time I didn’t think he was seeing them.

“You are the first to imply in my hearing that David isn’t the return of Arthur,” I said. “You don’t believe it?”

“What?” Tudur scoffed. “Believe it? Of course I believe it. I just don’t trust what the English may do with the legend. They think Arthur belongs to
them
, when really, David is one of us.”

I swallowed hard. It was absurd and I would never say as much to David, but every year that passed, I found myself agreeing more and more with Tudur.

Chapter Six

15 November 1288

David

I
wasn’t getting any closer to accepting that Mom and Dad had gone ‘Back to the Future’ on me. Sure—I’d done it to them, and I understood why Mom had jumped, but I didn’t have to like it.

I glanced down the table at my family, eating the evening meal as if this was business as usual. I couldn’t do it. I could hear Mom’s parting words to me again, about living lighter, but I found myself growing more and more angry with every minute that passed. It was probably good that nobody was paying any attention to me, because my face had flushed and in another moment steam would start coming out of my ears. Even as I tried to damp it down, my anger grew all the more intense because I didn’t have a right to it, nor was there anybody at whom I could direct it.

Worse, Lili had spent the meal eyeing me carefully, though without admonishing me in the way I deserved. She had kept a gentle hand on my left thigh, even as I reached for the flagon to pour myself another cup of mead. Instead, it was Bevyn’s lips that thinned into a line. He was here because I’d asked him to come to England with me, as an advisor I personally trusted. He had a wife and child on Anglesey, but I was selfish enough to keep him from them for what would probably turn out to be over a month.

“That’ll be your seventh,” he said. “How much more self-loathing are you going to inflict upon yourself?”

I stopped in the act of pouring the mead and set down the flagon. My fingers tightened on my cup and I almost swore at him. He’d read my mind as easily as fishermen read the weather.

“I am aware of that,” I said.

“Are you really?” Bevyn said.

Yes, Goddamn it! And what gives you the right to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?
I glared at Bevyn, teeth gritted, and resisted the temptation to sweep the table clear of food and drink.

I took in a deep breath through my nose and let it out slowly.

I knew it was my seventh cup. I’d been looking forward to drinking at least seven more, too, until I fell asleep right at the table, rather than face the future that confronted me. Did no one realize that if Dad didn’t return,
I
would be the King of Wales? That at twenty, I would suddenly be responsible for the welfare of an entire country, and if I followed his suggestion, threw my name into the ring as he wanted, I’d rule the people of England as well?

Looking into Bevyn’s eyes, I warred with myself as to how to answer him, but my answer was never in doubt. His warning had created the desired effect in me. I couldn’t upbraid Bevyn any more than I could castigate my father.

Bevyn rose to his feet. “Come with me.”

Reluctantly, I rose to match him. Everyone was looking at me now, leading me to believe that I hadn’t been as unnoticed as I’d thought. Ever since we’d come to Wales alone and had only each other to rely on, Anna, at least, had been attuned to my emotions, whether I wanted her to be or not. Her eyes fastened on mine and I read pity there. I pressed my lips together. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, and hardly deserved it.

With great effort, I said, “Continue the meal. Bevyn and I are going to take a little walk.” I leaned down to kiss the top of Lili’s head. “I apologize for my behavior,
cariad
. I’ll be back.”

Lili slipped her hand around the back of my neck to keep my face close to hers. “I love you.”

“I know,” I said, “though I imagine you might be reconsidering the decision to marry me about now.”

That got me the smile I wanted and she released me. I straightened, only to find that the change in altitude had flown every cup of mead I’d consumed straight to my head. I was a big man—two inches over six feet and two hundred pounds—but the brewer at Chepstow was a master and made a potent drink.

“I got you, boy.” Bevyn was one of the few, out of all my acquaintances, who could get away with calling me that. He knew it, of course, which was why he felt free to say it—and why he’d decided that he was the one companion best suited to recall me to my senses.

I put an arm across Bevyn’s shoulder and left the hall with him. Upon leaving the shelter of the building, we entered the lower bailey of the castle—and walked into a rainstorm. After only two steps, my boot found a puddle. Water splashed all the way to my knee. “Where are we going?” I said.

“Out.”

I didn’t say
really?
even though that would have been a reasonable response. I never went anywhere without my
teulu,
but I sensed that Bevyn wasn’t feeling very reasonable right now, any more than I was. He urged me across the bailey, navigating the puddles that had formed at low spots in the packed earth the best we could, and underneath the portcullis. Bevyn waved at the man who stood sentry at the entrance to the castle. His brow furrowed in response, until I lifted a hand to him, too. He couldn’t know that I was drunk and in no condition to be going anywhere.

I glanced at Bevyn’s profile. Could this be … betrayal? Even as the thought passed through my mind, I shook my head, sending my senses flying all over the place. It couldn’t. Not from Bevyn. Sure of that, if of nothing else, I allowed Bevyn to lead me to the barbican and the lower gate. Before we’d gone ten yards, however, hurrying feet sounded behind us.

“My lord!”

Bevyn stopped before the great wooden door that was the first line of defense for the castle. I tottered around to face the man who’d come. Whether Bevyn wanted company or not, Evan and a contingent of my men weren’t going to let me leave the castle unattended.

“Tell them to stay back,” Bevyn said. “There’s something you should see—but only you.”

A dozen of my men crowded into the barbican. I crooked a finger at Evan. “What is it, my lord?” Evan stepped forward.

“Bevyn and I must see to something,” I said. “You may follow, but give us some space to be alone.”

“Yes, my lord.” Evan bowed.

Even as he turned back to my men, however, he glanced at Bevyn, who nodded. The need for Bevyn’s approval brought the same acid taste to my mouth that I’d been feeling earlier. During my conversation with Mom and Dad, and all through dinner, I’d been bemoaning the constraints on my life. I was a Prince of Wales, and while that sounded like an awesome thing to be, it wasn’t nearly as cool in practice when one had to live it every day.

A wash of rain and darkness greeted us as we entered the clearing to the south of the castle. We walked out of reach of the torchlight at the gate, heading west along the road towards the town of Chepstow, a hundred yards away.

Rain rat-tat-tatted on the helmets of the men behind us. That same steady rain soaked my hair and streamed down my face. It was like standing in a cold shower. I pulled up my hood, coming more to my senses with every yard I walked, and no longer in need of Bevyn’s assistance.

I didn’t ask where we were going either—I didn’t actually care. With our departure from the hall and the coolness of the evening, my rush of fury had dissipated to a more manageable discontent, and even that was easing. We passed through the town gate, admitted by the guard at another simple lift of my hand, and turned down a side street. Bevyn stopped at a small house halfway along the block. He made a
halt
motion with his hand at Evan, who held his men a few paces away. Then Bevyn knocked at the door.

A tall man opened it. “Yes?” And then his face cleared as he recognized Bevyn. “My lord! I’d heard you were in Chepstow, but didn’t expect you to honor us with your presence tonight.”

“I’m here with the Prince.” Bevyn gestured to me. I’d been standing behind him in the shadows and now showed my face.

Even with the introduction, however, I didn’t step into the house because I’d recognized the townsman as Aeddan, the man who had sheltered me when I was sixteen. I’d been abducted by several of my own men and subsequently escaped. Behind Aeddan, a lanky young man who could only be Huw, his son, straightened from a squat in front of the fire. He was the same age now that I’d been then.

The slow fire in me that the rain had dampened threatened to rise again. I knew in an instant why Bevyn had brought me here: he wanted me to see—and to understand—and to remember—why I carried the burdens I did. And to accept them again. I could have been rude, turned away from the unwanted lesson, but at Huw’s expansive smile, I thanked Aeddan for his hospitality and crossed the threshold into his house.