Rhuddlan (34 page)

She’d held her breath but more bad news had
followed. On the third day, Longsword was said to have opened his
eyes and asked for wine. Her servants brought her all the gossip.
The ones who understood some French were especially helpful
although she suspected a tendency toward exaggeration. Apparently
her husband’s speed of recovery was so miraculous, it seemed he’d
soon be walking on water.

Worse yet, the whore Gladys
was asserting herself once again. Her women had told her now that
Longsword was fully conscious Gladys no longer hid in her chamber
but went wherever she pleased with her personal attendant trailing
behind her and her nose stuck up in the air. The chit was becoming
dangerous, Teleri thought sourly; giving herself privileges and an
authority which far exceeded her position. The handsome Sir
Richard, who seemed to detest Gladys as much as she did, had
managed to keep her in check during Longsword’s illness, but
now…Teleri was not a little apprehensive that Gladys’ true aim was
to replace her as
de facto
mistress of Rhuddlan by insinuating herself so
deeply into Longsword’s life that he would be unable to get rid of
her if he wanted. In a way, then, Gladys was more of a threat to
her than Longsword; her husband possessed control of her life but
Gladys could one day very well influence her status at
Rhuddlan.

It was time to take matters into her own
hands. She knew Sir Richard was planning a feast for the evening
meal, to honor Longsword, and she knew that he had left the
fortress in order to kill with his own hands the centerpiece of the
board. Perhaps it wasn’t too late…Heart tight with anticipation,
she ventured to Longsword’s chamber accompanied by two of her
women.

The guard was lolling near one of the arrow
slits in the outer wall of the stairwell, staring idly outside, but
he snapped up straight when she and her entourage came up on him.
She ignored him. The door to her husband’s outer room stood open
and she could hear voices coming from the bedchamber. One of them
she recognized immediately as belonging to the slut, Gladys; she
supposed the other belonged to the miracle-worker. She listened for
a moment but they were discussing nothing of importance and she
swept regally over the threshold.

The voices fell silent. Teleri could feel two
pairs of eyes on her as she surveyed Longsword’s bedchamber. It was
well-lit from the unshuttered windows although a trifle chilly. A
table was spread with bandages and bowls and little jars. A
generous fire burned in the brazier close by the bed and took the
edge off the air. And then her studiously casual glance fell upon a
tall young woman dressed in plain, dull brown standing opposite
her. The famed healer? Teleri was disappointed. She’d expected a
wizened old woman, a witch of some sort, not this young,
nervous-looking girl.

“I’ve come to see Lord William,” she said
coolly.

She noted with amusement that the
miracle-worker seemed awed by her, as well she should. The poor
thing looked like she hadn’t slept since her arrival, her hair was
falling out of its braid and her clothing was stained and spotted
with blood and medicines. In contrast, Teleri wore an expensive
scarlet surcoat of fine brocade, embroidered with gold thread in
swirling patterns. Her long, dark reddish hair had been brushed
until it shone, left unbound and capped with a sheer, pale veil and
a golden circlet. Her tapered fingers were capped with clean,
white-tipped nails and the perfume of the lavender with which she
had scented her bath almost defeated the sick smell of the chamber.
She exuded cleanliness and wealth. She was impressive.

She looked at Gladys, who had risen from her
seat on the bed and was trying not to appear nervous. “What are you
doing here, slut?”

Gladys thrust her chin up in a valiant effort
to match Teleri’s calm assurance. “I have the right to visit Lord
William, my lady,” she said, but her voice faltered on the last few
syllables.

Teleri laughed mockingly and pointed to her
husband. “While he lies there, insensible, you have no rights at
all, slut.”

Gladys flushed. “When he finds out—”

The other woman laughed
again, greatly amused. “How? Can you tell me just
how
he will find
out?”

Gladys opened her mouth and closed it. Her
hands twisted around each other nervously.

Teleri tired of the game. “Leave.”

Gladys fled.

Teleri considered the miracle-worker. “I
wasn’t told your name.”

“Gwalaes, my lady.”

“Gwalaes,” Teleri repeated. She moved towards
the bed and stared down impassively at her husband. “How is Lord
William? I heard you worked a miracle and brought him back from the
brink of death.”

“If there was a miracle it wasn’t I but God
who worked it, my lady,” the woman answered.

“How pretty,” Teleri said, her lip curling.
“So, there’s every indication of a complete recovery, then?”

“Yes, my lady. He just needs time. Although
with him, perhaps not too much time. Already this morning he wanted
to get out of bed and test his legs.”

Teleri left the bed and wandered to the
table, feeling irritated. He just couldn’t die, could he? She
picked up various jars, peered without interest inside them and put
them down again. If it weren’t for him, her life wouldn’t be so
miserable. It was all very unfair. She blamed the Welsh, too;
whoever had shot him ought to have had better aim. And her uncle,
of course, who had dropped her in this mess. It was time she took
charge of her own life.

She turned decisively to the miracle-worker,
whom she considered the only person who now stood between her and
happiness.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

“Doing what, my lady?” Gwalaes asked,
confused.

“This—saving Normans!” Teleri answered with a
dismissive gesture toward Longsword. “You ought to just let him
die!”

The stupid girl actually looked shocked. “My
lady?”

“They’re our enemy, Gwalaes!
They invade our land, kill our men…And that one lying so helplessly
in bed is one of the worst! Surely you’ve heard about the horror he
inflicted on the innocent people of Llanlleyn, how he attacked the
fortress and burned it to the ground! God knows how many people
were killed—women and children unspared! They all bragged about it
when they came back with their bloodied swords. And now you’ve
cured him of his fever and he’ll soon recover his strength and
he’ll go out and do it again! Others will die and it will be
your
fault! Can you
understand that?”

Gwalaes’ face was pale. “Sir Richard never
said…”

“He wouldn’t, would he? He isn’t an idiot. He
knew you would never consent to help if he told you the truth.”

Gwalaes’ eyes flicked uncertainly towards the
man on the bed. “I—I didn’t know…”

“And if you
had
known? What would you
have done then?”

“I don’t know, my lady. I—I have a child. Sir
Richard threatened to hold her hostage for my skills.”

Teleri nodded. “Ah, yes. The Normans have no
love for children. He would probably have lopped her head off if
you’d refused to help. Where is she?”

“At the abbey, my lady. He agreed to leave
her there when I said I would come.”

Teleri gave the miracle-worker a measured
look. “So she’s safe…Maybe, then, it’s not too late,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…maybe there’s something that you’re
supposed to do for Lord William that you won’t. Or,” she made a
motion towards the table, “maybe you can give him a concoction that
will worsen his condition instead of curing it. Surely there’s some
potion among these that can do the trick.”

“That would be murder!” Gwalaes breathed.

Teleri lifted her fine
eyebrows. “No,” she said calmly. “Retribution. He killed innocent
people, Gwalaes; even children. I’m not making this up—ask Gladys
to tell you the story. If he survives, he’ll kill again. You can
count on it. Would you like to have that on your conscience?” The
miracle-worker looked suitably horrified. “It was a bad wound,
Gwalaes,” she continued persuasively. “You must have been surprised
when you were able to heal him the first time. And everyone knows
how much worse he was
this
time. No one, not even Sir Richard, expected him
to live. If he died now, they’d all nod and say they’d known all
along he wouldn’t come through.”

“But Sir Richard has seen for himself that
Lord William’s doing better, my lady,” the other woman protested.
“If something ill happens now, he’ll think I must have done it
deliberately.”

“Why you?”

Gwalaes looked blank. Teleri turned to her
women and bade one of them to bring Gladys back.

Comprehension suffused the miracle-worker’s
face. “My lady, I couldn’t—”

“Why not? What’s she to you?”

“But she told me she’s pregnant with Lord
William’s child—”

“Stop worrying, Gwalaes! She almost killed
him once before and Sir Richard merely considered her inept, not a
would-be murderer. Gwalaes—” she spoke more loudly as the other
woman started to protest, “—just try to remember all the evil
that’s come out of this man and others like him. He’s their leader;
if we cut him down, the others will have no choice but to crawl
back to England.”

The healer looked miserable but didn’t say
anything. Teleri watched her, pleased with herself and the argument
she’d made. Of course she knew she was exaggerating the assault on
Llanlleyn but that only made the argument more compelling.

Gladys entered the room warily. Teleri gave
her a wide smile.

“You’re going to get a second chance,
Gladys!” she said brightly. “We’re leaving you to tend to Lord
William on your own. Gwalaes is coming back to my chamber. I’ve had
such bad headaches lately and she says she’s got something to help
me. She tell you what salves to slather on Lord William’s neck and
what potions to slip down his throat when he opens his mouth to
snore…”

“Thank you, my lady.” Gladys’ face was filled
with happiness. She turned to Gwalaes expectantly.

Gwalaes appealed once more to Teleri. “I
don’t think—”

“Please! My headache…” Teleri touched a hand
to her forehead. “I can’t argue anymore, Gwalaes. Sir Richard won’t
be back for hours; he’ll never know if Gladys was here.”

“He doesn’t have the right to keep me out!”
Gladys asserted.

The miracle-worker looked from one to the
other. The obvious indecision was maddening to Teleri but she tried
to appear calm. If her plan succeeded, her two worst enemies would
disappear from her life. Sir Richard would murder Gladys if
Longsword turned up dead and she was considered directly
responsible. He would probably murder the miracle-worker as well,
but there were some things over which Teleri had no control.

Finally Gwalaes made up her mind. She picked
up a jug of wine in one hand and a tightly covered jar in the
other. She beckoned to Gladys. “Let me show you how to infuse these
leaves to make a drink for Lord William…”

Chapter 25

March, 1177

Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd

The ward was nearly deserted of soldiers when
she emerged hesitantly on to it from the ground-floor entrance in
the rear of the keep. After the heavy midday meal, most of
Longsword’s men disappeared into the barracks or remained in the
hall to amuse themselves with gaming or storytelling or napping.
Still, she could tell it was a busy place, this Rhuddlan Castle.
Even at such a lazy time of day servants bustled about, guards
prowled the towers, the smith pounded a horseshoe into proper shape
at his forge and, out of her view, two combatants practiced against
each other, clanging metal together with unnatural ferocity.

She had decided on the spur of the moment to
take advantage of her freedom after Teleri had dismissed her.
Delamere hadn’t once allowed her to leave Longsword’s side and she
was finding the waiting tedious. It was especially worse without
the diversion of her daughter, whom she keenly missed. She pulled
the ends of her rough cloak closer together and contemplated her
next move. Her breath came out in puffs of mist. The air was cold
but she didn’t mind; it smelled fresh and crisp. She was a
scrupulous housekeeper and kept Longsword as clean as possible, but
there was a mingled smell of sweat and human waste which clung
tenaciously to the air in his chamber.

There was no purpose in strolling the
Norman-occupied sections of the castle yards; these belonged to
knights and squires and the large, heavy stallions. She would be
less noticed among other women and other servants. She turned away
from the ward and towards the collection of single-roomed, timbered
buildings just beyond the stables and the postern gate. It was a
veritable city of narrow lanes and close-set houses and she
wandered around almost happily, glad for the respite from
Delamere’s constant demands and Longsword’s constant silence.

All at once, she became aware that someone
was watching her too steadily for her comfort. She turned her head
very slightly and saw the shape of a man, dressed in Norman
clothing, out of the corner of her eye. A knight or a man-at-arms.
Nervous, she increased her pace. She sensed he was following her
and ducked down one lane and around another corner but it was a
lost cause. He knew the layout of the little town and she didn’t.
She couldn’t shake him from her trail. Her feet moved even more
quickly. All she wanted now was to return to the keep. On the path
before her she saw half a dozen women gossiping and laughing
together. She hurried towards them, thinking to lose her pursuer in
the confusion, and when she finally got around them she breathed
easier. She could see the gate not far away. She was almost
there.