Rhuddlan (58 page)

But Goewyn would not be dissuaded. In fact,
she thought she approved. As Rhirid had no close female relative to
guide him and as she was the wife of his champion and right hand,
it was up to her to direct him towards the arms of the proper mate.
She promptly took Olwen under her wing and was pleased to find her
mild-tempered and easy going. She was further encouraged to learn
that although the woman had two sons with one of the Normans at
Rhuddlan, she was not married to him. The portents appeared perfect
but there was one problem: Olwen did not return Rhirid’s
admiration. She was angry over her forced abduction, worried about
the affect of it on her sons and concerned for the servants and
laborers who had been left behind…

Rhirid asked Goewyn to choose several women
to attend to Teleri as befitted her station.

“I will serve, lord,” Olwen offered. “I did
it once before and I know her habits.”

“Thank you, but no,” Rhirid said. He gestured
at the baby. “You’ve more than enough to do now. There are plenty
of others.”

Olwen said nothing more and after giving
Goewyn further instructions for the feast that night, Rhirid took
his leave of the women. Dylan seized the opportunity to escape with
his chief.

“Well…” Goewyn said archly. “He’s very
protective of your time.”

Olwen frowned. “Most likely, he doesn’t want
us to speak to each other because we’re both hostages.”

“Do you think so?” Goewyn
smiled indulgently. “
I
think he merely wants you to look kindly on him.”

“After what he’s done to my family, that
would take a miracle.”

“But you can’t blame him for this, Olwen,”
the other woman protested. “It wasn’t his idea. It was part of the
agreement…”

Olwen’s voice was sharp. “What
agreement?”

Goewyn hesitated. She was torn between desire
for Olwen to have a better opinion of Rhirid and apprehension that
the chief might not want his private business, which she had
learned from Dylan, discussed in public.

But, then, Dylan shouldn’t have told her if
he didn’t want her to repeat it.

“An agreement between Rhirid and the earl of
Chester,” she said, and was rewarded with a shocked gasp. “Don’t
ask me how or why, but somehow Rhirid and his men ended up in
Hawarden fighting for the earl against some chief or another from
Powys. Afterwards, the earl went up to the Perfeddwlad and then to
Rhuddlan and when he returned, he told Rhirid that he’d heard about
the trouble between him and Lord William. He told Rhirid he wanted
to help but he couldn’t do it openly. He gave Rhirid weapons and
horses and in exchange there were two things he wanted Rhirid to do
for him. Kidnap you and Lady Teleri.”

“But why?” Olwen said, shaken. “Why?”

“Dylan doesn’t know the reason. He says
Rhirid doesn’t know it. They only know the earl hates Lord William
as much as they do and he wants to destroy Rhuddlan and Lord
William in it.” Goewyn looked at the other woman anxiously. “Does
this ease your mind a little with regard to Rhirid?”

“My mind was never concerned with Rhirid ap
Maelgwn,” Olwen answered absently. She no longer seemed to be
paying attention to Goewyn. Instead she stared into the distance.
Those closest to her heard her whisper, “Oh, Richard…”, and then
Henry, perhaps sensing the change in his mother’s mood, started
crying.

Chapter 37

May, 1177

Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd

The men’s voices rose in an angry wave.
Richard Delamere got to his feet and held his hands out in an
effort to quell the torrent which threatened to wash over him.
“Peace,” he urged. “Peace. Let’s talk quietly.”

“What’s there to talk about, Sir Richard?”
someone in the back of the room shouted. “It’s obvious he’s gone
mad!” There were noises of agreement.

“That isn’t true and I’ll challenge the next
man who repeats it!” Delamere said so fiercely that the protesting
subsided at once. He relaxed his stance a little and tried to sound
reasonable. “I think we’d all react similarly if an enemy burst
into our homes and stole our wives—”

“He doesn’t even like his!” Warin fitz
Maurice said.

“That’s what makes his behavior so
irrational, Sir Richard!” said someone else and everyone
laughed.

Delamere allowed the joke at Longsword’s
expense because it was preferable to the mutinous speeches he’d
been listening to nearly all morning. When the men had quieted
again, he continued. “We should all be ashamed that Rhirid ap
Maelgwn was able to steal into Rhuddlan and back out with Lady
Teleri so easily. We were all fooled by his ruse.” He paused. “De
Vire’s dismissal was the result of bad temper, not insanity.”

The grumbling began anew. Guy Lene, seated on
one of the barrack benches, raised his voice. “It’s a bad temper
that’s lasted too long, Sir Richard! We don’t deserve it! We’ve
served him loyally these past three years! And there was his
reaction when I told him his slut Gladys didn’t want to come back
here—I thought he would kill me! As if it was my fault what
happened! Sir Richard, if this and getting rid of de Vire are
indications of the kind of arbitrary behavior we can expect from
him from now on, why should we feel compelled to stay here and
serve him?”

“We’ve all sworn our allegiance…” Delamere
said warningly.

“He won’t even listen
to
you
any longer,
Sir Richard! That’s how bad it is! The king ought to be told. Of
all people, Lord William might listen to him!”

“No!” Delamere quashed the suggestion right
away. The men were upset about de Vire’s treatment and, he thought,
rightly so. But involving the king would not help matters. The last
thing Longsword needed was his father sweeping into Rhuddlan with
his army, crushing Rhirid and snatching back Teleri in his usual
blunt fashion, all the while berating his son for causing a
diplomatic crisis in Gwynedd. “The only thing we’re going to do is
deal with Rhirid. That’s all Lord William needs to shift his mood.
You saw how he was when we rode to the abbey—his old self. All he
needs is activity.”

Finally, he saw a few nods—grudgingly given
but at least his point was conceded. Encouraged, he continued
strongly, “You say we’ve been with Lord William three years now;
well, then, you should know his current mood isn’t natural to him.
And to threaten to leave his service because of it after he’s been
the perfect master for all but one month of those three years is
just as arbitrary an action as his dismissal of Ralph de Vire!”

Now he saw embarrassed expressions and more
vigorous nods. Lene looked chastened. “Sir Richard, I apologize,”
he said, standing up. “I was talking without thinking.”

“I’m sure we can all understand that,”
Delamere said dryly. “And that includes Lord William.” He surveyed
the room silently. He seemed to have made his point; there was no
face which didn’t watch him expectantly. “What I’m about to say is
in strictest confidence. It doesn’t leave this room.” He took a
deep breath. “It was told to me that Lady Teleri was not abducted
from Rhuddlan in the usual meaning of the word. It appears there
was no struggle, no force used. Apparently, she went with Rhirid
quite willingly.”

As far as he knew, it was a lie; in fact,
Teleri’s servants had been hysterical, claiming their mistress had
been dragged away screaming. But he had to deflect the men’s
dissatisfaction with Longsword to a more unsympathetic target and
his words had the effect he’d wanted: from the angry clamor which
broke out, it was clear the men were outraged on behalf of their
lord, and from the way they all surged towards him at once, it was
obvious to Delamere that they were ready to do something about
it.

When Delamere had told the men that all
Longsword needed to put him right was a bit of physical exertion,
he spoke with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. He was
bewildered by Longsword’s devasted reaction to the way events had
unfolded and Gwalaes’ subsequent departure. He’d never known
Longsword to show such passion for anyone other than his father and
consequently, perhaps, he’d never believed Longsword was capable of
it for anyone else. Coupled with the bewilderment was guilt. He
imagined that if he’d acted on Teleri’s information as soon as he’d
heard it, he might have saved Longsword some grief; at the least,
he would have saved him the shock of that horrific encounter with
Chester.

Teleri had been right and he’d been wrong
about the depth of Longsword’s infatuation. But Delamere was
determined not to allow the rest of Teleri’s prediction to come
true. He would not allow the men’s loyalty to slip away from
Longsword. He viewed it as his only chance to redeem himself to his
friend.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

The harsh tone of Longsword’s voice jerked
him back to the present. He was standing in the doorway to the
council chamber. Beyond the door Longsword sat in his great chair,
a cup in one hand, a glaze of tension and anger over his eyes. As
Delamere watched, he raised the cup, tipped its contents into his
mouth and drank until there was nothing left. He wiped his other
hand across his mouth and gave him a baleful stare.

“Well? What’s wrong? Have you come to gape at
me or do you want something?”

“I want something,” Delamere said, subdued by
the sight before him. He stepped into the room and closed the door.
Longsword’s appearance was horrible. His face was unshaved, haggard
and bore a greyish tint, his hair was lank and unkempt and an odor
clung to him which Delamere remembered but couldn’t quite recognize
and which made him uneasy. He was slumped in his chair and wore the
same clothing he’d been wearing for days. Only his angry, narrowed
eyes showed there was life left in him…

Delamere started. Now he recognized the
smell. It was the same mixture of unwashed body and sickness which
had surrounded Longsword when he’d been in the throes of his fever
after his wound had reopened. It was the smell of death.

“I don’t like the atmosphere in Gwynedd
lately,” he said, struggling to ignore the stench. “And I feel my
family is vulnerable. I’d like permission to go to the manor,
collect Olwen and the boys and bring them here.”

Longsword laughed mockingly. “You think
Rhuddlan is safer than your manor? You always do see the positive
side of things.” He paused a moment but Delamere didn’t respond. He
waved his cup. “Go ahead; do what you want.”

“Thank you.” How strangely they were talking
to each other, Delamere thought. But the whole situation was
strange, he supposed. How much longer could Longsword go on like
this…

“By the way, how was the meeting?” Longsword
asked, just as Delamere reached the door. “Don’t look so surprised;
of course I knew about it. Well? How did it go? They think I
treated de Vire abominably. I’ve heard the grumbling. Obviously
they’ve calmed down and have decided to stay with me or you would
have told me. Unless you don’t want to be involved. Is that what it
is? This visit to your manor—is it only a pretext to be gone while
the others tell me they’ve lost faith in my abilities?”

“No!” Delamere said, stung. “Even if what you
believe about your men is true I wouldn’t behave so cowardly! Yes,
there was a meeting. Naturally, everyone’s upset about de Vire
but—”

“
They’re
upset?” Longsword suddenly
bellowed, and to Delamere it seemed that he’d been waiting
restlessly for this one moment. He sprung up from his chair and
hurled his cup to the floor. “He had one simple task—to guard the
fortress in our absence—and he couldn’t do it! We’re hardly in the
middle of civilized country, Richard; if a man can’t do his job, it
could mean death for all of us! And it might have but for some
reason only Rhirid knows.” He glared at Delamere. “They’re upset?
They’re not the one who has to explain to Prince Dafydd that some
petty chieftain simply walked in and carried off his
niece!”

“I’m not debating the point with you, Will—”
Delamere started.

“Are you not? You probably agree with them.”
Longsword went to the sideboard and poured wine from the pitcher
there into a new cup. He turned back towards the other man and said
challengingly, “Do you think I did the wrong thing?”

Delamere considered his answer carefully. “I
don’t think you would have done it a month ago.”

For a moment, Longsword simply stared at him,
his face expressionless. Delamere began to grow uneasy under the
unblinking scrutiny, unable to guess Longsword’s response although
he assumed, because that was the kind of mood Longsword seemed to
be in, that it would be loud, hostile and defensive.

He was wrong.

“A month ago,” Longsword said quietly, with
only the slightest edge, “I had the birth of a son to look forward
to, I had a woman living in my house whom I loved and I even had a
wife. Now I have nothing. I don’t expect you to understand,
Richard. Everything in your life is perfect. It’s always been easy
for you but for me it’s been one long battle to prove myself and
for what? A hovel in Wales and retainers who want to desert me at
the first sign of trouble.” He looked down at the cup in his hands.
“I was angry when my father told me he was sending me to Gwynedd,
to keep me out of the Young King’s way. Remember? I had wanted him
to make me an earl, at least, but he wouldn’t. He must have
known…”

Delamere, his attention diverted from the
outrageous claim that his life was so wonderful and despite a
private vow not to continue to feed his friend’s highly developed
sense of self-pity, asked curiously, “Known what?”

Longsword glanced up. “That I couldn’t do
it,” he said in a tone which implied anyone over the age of infancy
knew so obvious an answer. “That I’m not a fit leader. That’s why
he sent me where I could do the least harm.”