Rhuddlan (90 page)

It was on the tip of her tongue to react
angrily. To demand to know why she must help him when, if the king
had been in a better or worse mood, he might have gotten approval
for his plea for annulment. To ask why she must do as he commanded
when he had made it so clear, not even a year before, that he
couldn’t stand the sight of her.

But—he couldn’t, even in the murky light and
despite the sharp tone, quite hide the anguish in his eyes; she saw
it and her anger subsided. If their history was any augur of the
future, there would come another day for accusations and arguments.
Besides, to clean and dress Sir Richard would not be a duty but an
honor, because he’d been a true friend to her.

So as she stared at her husband, her face
relaxed. “I will,” she said. “I will do it.”

He nodded and put his hand on the door latch.
But then he stopped again, without warning so that she, who was
following close behind, almost bumped into him. He turned around
and looked down upon her. “Thank you,” he said tersely, to her
amazement. Before the shock had passed, he was out the door and
striding past the Norman guard and Cynan, and beckoning to the
fishermen who were to presumably put him on the other side of the
river.

Chapter 54

June, 1178

Rhuddlan, Gwynedd

Longsword woke groggily to the uncomfortable
realization that he was being watched. He opened his eyes and for a
moment was confused by the low, sooty ceiling and the windowless,
semi-dark room in which he lay. A shaft of light through the open
door penetrated the gloom and once he’d pushed himself up onto his
elbows and his eyes had adjusted, he looked around and remembered
that he was in the fisherman's hut. The three children who had been
staring at him as he slept in the middle of their home, scrambled
to their feet and ran outside when his emotionless gaze fell upon
them.

He stood up tiredly and pulled his cloak up
after him, shaking off the dust of the packed earth floor from it
and rolling it absently into a tight wad which he tucked under his
arm. He picked up his hauberk, ducked beneath the low doorframe and
went outside.

He nearly recoiled from the sudden
brightness. It reflected off the flat, barren bank of the river
upon which the little house stood, off the white stones, off the
rushing water. It made a mockery of the storm-filled night that had
just passed and it was disturbing in its utter disregard for the
passing of Richard Delamere. Longsword squinted his eyes against it
and muttered a curse under his breath, and trudged over the stony
ground towards the edge of the river, where he fumbled with his
clothing and relieved his bladder.

When he turned around, the fisherman was
there, his face blank and eyes not quite meeting his. The man
couldn’t wait for him to be gone, Longsword thought darkly—but
neither could he. He remembered he had to find fitz Maurice. There
was absolutely nothing for him to do but find his army and avenge
the death of his friend.

“Bread?” He asked the man. “Ale? Anything?”
Shifting the cloak and hauberk, he made the motion of eating until
the fisherman understood the pantomime and nodded vigorously. He
said something to his wife, who was hunched over a smoking cooking
pot suspended by a tripod over a small fire, and the woman came
forward with a little bundle of cloth. Longsword opened it and
found several dried fish. He grimaced, because fish was what he and
Delamere had been given to eat the evening before, but re-wrapped
it and stuck the bundle into his tunic. He’d eat while he rode.

His horse and Delamere’s were hobbled in a
grassy clearing some distance from the hut. Away from the noise of
the river, he could hear the sound of pounding surf as the sea met
land to the north. Thinking of the sea reminded him of his journey
to Normandy not long ago. If they hadn’t left, Delamere would still
be alive. If Delamere hadn’t wanted to see Olwen so badly. If…This
was a fruitless game. Longsword clicked his tongue impatiently and
shrugged roughly into his hauberk. He saddled both horses, looped
the reins to Delamere’s around his pommel and hauled himself onto
his own mount, and headed south.

Teleri finished washing her hands and took
the cloth held out by a servant. She gave the women in the room a
somber smile. “Thank you…you did a fine job,” she told them and
looked down upon the clean and neatly dressed body of Richard
Delamere. He was as handsome as the day she’d first seen him. She
thought of Olwen. How would Longsword break the news to her?
Remembering his stricken face the night before, she doubted he’d
need to use any words at all.

She lingered another moment at the bedside.
Delamere’s death had been so sudden, so unexpected, she could still
hardly believe it…her eyes misted. She touched the cloth to them
and moved away. “We had better shutter those windows,” she said.
“The day’s already warm and damp and the sun certainly won’t do him
any good.”

“My lady, come and look,” said the girl who
had gone to do her bidding. “The ones from Hawarden are standing
outside the gate.”

Teleri crossed quickly to the window. Her
husband had chosen this room as his own because of the view across
the bailey and beyond the front gate it afforded. She could plainly
see Haworth and two others waiting at the base of the short incline
leading up to the entrance of the fortress. Beyond them were
perhaps a dozen more men, some on horseback and the rest on foot,
all out of arrow range. Haworth and his companions were bareheaded
and armed only with their swords, which were not held out
threateningly but fixed to their belts as if they were merely
another accoutrement. Teleri realized the implication of this
appearance immediately. She reiterated her order to close the
shutters and hurried away to find Guy Lene.

“I don’t think they want to let us in,” said
one of Haworth’s companions.

“They will,” Haworth answered without looking
at him. His eyes were fixed on the gate in front of him.

“If they do,” said the third
man, “let us go in while you remain out here, Sir Roger. You’re too
important to risk. If they decide to ignore convention and break
the truce, they’ll have both the earl
and
you. There’s no—”

“It won’t come to that,” Haworth interrupted
sharply. “I know Lene. He doesn’t want trouble.”

“What about the Welsh woman? The Bastard’s
wife?”

Haworth’s head swiveled in surprise. “What
about her? It’s nothing to do with her!” The very thought of
meeting with Teleri caused him to shudder slightly.

“Unless she was the one who gave the earl up
to Lene.”

“Nonsense! That would mean the earl confided
his plan in her and why would he do that? No, more likely it was
one of our own. Someone got drunk and said something someone else
overheard. We just have to convince Lene he’s made a mistake.”

“Hard to do that if they won’t let us in,”
the first man muttered.

They stood another few moments in silence and
then heard shouting from within the fortress. Haworth’s heart
started thudding urgently. As soon as the gate began turning
inward, he nodded to his two companions and proceeded up the
slope.

Their entrance into Rhuddlan was greeted by
half a dozen archers positioned along the wallwalk. Lene and six
others, armed and helmetted, stood near the center of the bailey.
As Haworth walked his horse forward, he heard the groan of the gate
as it was pushed closed again and the heavy thud of the bar falling
into place. He halted a short distance from Lene and dismounted as
a groom ran up to hold the bridle.

He nodded courteously to Lene while taking
the man’s measure. Lene’s face was drawn and haggard and his hair
was unkempt, as if he’d done nothing but run nervous fingers
through it all night. He wasn’t certain if he should be pleased
Lene looked nervous. Sometimes a nervous man became stubborn in the
face of a persuasive argument, just to assert some authority. But
nervousness also meant Lene wasn’t comfortable with the situation
and Haworth might be able to convince him that giving up Hugh would
solve all his problems.

“Thank you for accepting my plea to parley,
Sir Guy,” Haworth said, with another incline of his head. “I
realized last night that perhaps we misunderstood each other and
our dilemma might be resolved in a peaceful manner.”

“Indeed?” Lene sounded skeptical. “A sharp
departure from your attitude yesterday. I’m willing to hear you
out, of course, because of custom but I must tell you Lady Teleri
isn’t happy to see you within these walls.”

“If she keeps to her rooms then she needn’t
see me at all,” Haworth said humorlessly. “Anyway, this is a
military matter, Lene, between men. There isn’t any reason to
involve your mistress.”

“Only one: she insists on being involved.” He
gestured towards the keep. “Shall we go inside?”

Haworth barely noticed the hateful stares and
mutters from the Welsh that followed him and his entourage as they
crossed the bailey. He was annoyed that Teleri was interfering and
had no idea what she might do or say. Hugh had discounted her
influence on the Normans and Haworth had figured she would be out
of sight somewhere. Now, he was not only about to confront her but
he must be deferential and polite in his bid for Hugh’s
freedom.

It was worse than he’d imagined, he thought
when he entered the council chamber and saw that she was sitting in
the great carved chair that was the focal point of the room and
that Lene took up a position slightly behind her.

His eyes met Teleri’s and he bowed shortly to
her before sitting down on a bench. Her gaze was cool and
unfathomable. He looked upward, into Lene’s face and noticed again
the man’s discomfort. A new thought occurred to him: perhaps Lene
was nervous because the Bastard’s wife was insinuating herself into
his business and there was nothing he could do about it. But…if he
could discredit her; if he could convince Lene that she couldn’t be
trusted where the Normans were concerned; if her loyalty to the
Bastard could be questioned…then maybe his plan would succeed and
he would yet walk out of this room with Hugh.

His voice was much more conciliatory than it
had sounded the day before when he’d demanded the immediate release
of his master and threatened the destruction of Rhuddlan. “I
believe there has been a misunderstanding between us,” he said,
ignoring Teleri and fixing his dark eyes on Lene. “I was angry when
I learned what had happened to the earl and perhaps I didn’t listen
closely enough to your story. Why don’t you tell it to me
again?”

After a glance down at Teleri, Lene recounted
all that had happened from the time of the earl’s arrival to his
imprisonment. Haworth saw the glaring flaw immediately. “So,
really—all the evidence against the earl comes down to your lady’s
word?” he asked with an air of incredulity.

“There is the evidence of your own army, Sir
Roger!” Teleri retorted immediately. “Why are you here?”

Haworth refused to look at her. “Sir Guy, I
told you yesterday: we were to join my lord at the Perfeddwlad. We
were to have paid a visit to the prince.”

“That isn’t true!” Teleri said sharply.

“Sir Guy, why don’t you bring out the earl
and hear his story from his own mouth and not Lady Teleri’s?” he
asked Lene reasonably.

Teleri stood up. Haworth at last spared her a
glance. Her face was red with anger and her hands were clenched.
Although he betrayed no expression, he was spitefully pleased,
feeling he had accomplished a small vengeance against her for all
the time she’d spent with Hugh at Rhuddlan and later at
Hawarden.

“Your story is false, Sir Roger! When Sir
Warin was preparing to ride to Llanlleyn, the earl told him if he
could wait a few days, he would send to Hawarden for his army so
that Llanlleyn could see he and Rhuddlan stood together. Why would
he say that if he knew you were only a day behind him?”

He didn’t flinch. “I don’t know, my lady. Did
he indeed say such thing, Sir Guy?”

“I—I wasn’t present when the earl arrived. I
don’t know what was said…or not said.”

“Very well. Then again I ask you to send for
the earl.”

“I forbid it!” Teleri said forcefully.

“Can it do us any harm to hear the earl, my
lady?” Lene asked hesitantly.

Haworth gritted his teeth.
Who was in charge here? Or did Lene doubt his position enough to
defer to
her?
This
time, before Teleri could challenge him again, he said:

“If Lady Teleri is speaking the truth, then
why should she fear the presence of the earl? Sir Guy, we are men
used to fighting, not speaking. Somewhere between a few days ago
and today, someone misunderstood someone else. I believe the earl,
as a peer of the realm, ought to be allowed to tell his version of
the story in the presence of you and me and the knights we have
with us—”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Teleri demanded
angrily, stepping towards him. “Are you saying I made it all up?
For what reason, Sir Roger? To what purpose?”

“Perhaps
you
could better answer that, Lady
Teleri,” Haworth snapped. “Your commitment to Rhuddlan has often
been questionable.”

“How—”

He went on, rising to his feet. “Does Sir Guy
know that you left Rhuddlan quite willingly when Lord Rhirid came
for you? That’s what you told the earl. There was no abduction! Or
will you now say the earl has lied about that as well?”

The red had seeped from her
face in an instant. She was pale as an egg but Haworth suspected it
was the result of a higher level of anger and not fear. He turned
quickly to Lene. “Is it any wonder Lord William repudiated her at
Hawarden?
He
knows
the truth about where her loyalty lies!”