The Brothers of Gwynedd (172 page)
"A man has only to leave the trees here, and he's within their range," said Tudor, scanning the heaving serpent, with the commander of the local company close at his elbow. "But by that token, so are they within our range."
"But better covered," said the man ruefully, "and bring up fresh ships if we show our faces. Twice we tried a raid, but lost too many men, and boats they can hole and sink as we approach, lying higher than our craft. By night we got a boat in, muffled, and boarded them, and killed the watch on the bridge, but had to draw off when one of them escaped us and gave the alarm. They keep even tighter guard now. Some damage we've done them by night, too, with fire-arrows, and picked off some of their men by the flames while they lasted, being in darkness ourselves. But they have so many workmen, the damage is soon repaired."
"When they try to land troops," said Llewelyn, "they'll be open to archery, for they'll have this last gangway of theirs to get into place, and the first to come ashore will be within bowshot even from cover. Then it may well be worth risking men. Not now! We could lose more than we gain." And he left a part of his own forces to strengthen the defences of Bangor, and having made the best disposition he could of the men at his command, he returned towards Conway by way of Aber.
All along that familiar shore road, his eyes were more often turned towards the coast of Anglesey, across the widening strait, to the friary of Llanfaes where Eleanor slept, than towards the royal maenol where his daughter was. It was for the child's sake he went at this time to Aber, but he did so from a sense of duty, and not from any consuming affection. He had seen her but once, after the birth that bereaved him of the creature he loved best in the world, and the child was still scarcely real to him. Even had she been a son, I do not think it would have changed things at all.
But when he saw her again, when heavily and out of duty he asked Alice to bring the baby to him, and her cradle was placed beside him in the high chamber, then it was another story. She was no longer so perilously tiny and new and fragile, but four months old and sturdy. The russet-brown feathers of her hair were a little lighter, almost approaching the dusky gold that was her mother's colour, and she stared up at him with large, golden-hazel eyes fringed with dark lashes, eyes that could already fix upon him and wonder, curious and unafraid. Perceiving a face watching her, and having as yet no reason to find any face unfriendly, she gazed and vaguely smiled. He felt for the first time, I think, the astonishment of this new life, and its close bond with the lost life it had replaced, and though she could never mean the same to him, she had a meaning of her own, as new as her being.
He called her softly by her name: "Gwenllian!" savouring the sound that had given pleasure to Eleanor, and carefully he lifted the little one from her cradle, wrapping the blanket around her, and nursed her in his arms, and she leaned her head against his heart as infants do, for such heavy heads upon such tender necks will always nod to a support. But she was not all helpless, already she could reach out her hands to whatever took her attention and made her wonder. When he leaned to gather her to him, the medallion he wore round his neck, the enamelled image of Eleanor at twelve years old, Earl Simon's gift to him before Evesham, slipped from the open collar of his shirt, and lay visible on his breast. Towards that small, brightly-coloured picture Gwenllian reached her hands, and held and drew it to her, opening wide in wonder at it those green-golden eyes of his love.
He uttered a small, grievous sound, and with one hand shaded his face from view. And the child, finding him bent still nearer to her, held her toy with one hand, and with the other reached up to pat curiously at his chin, and his lips, and made her own contented, wordless song, as if she knew that with her own weapons she had won him.
"This one has kings, princes, dukes and saints in her ancestry," he said, and lightly kissed the tiny palm with which she stroked him, "and she has the noblest grandsire any princess could ever claim, and as illustrious a great-grandsire, and her mother was the loveliest and bravest and truest of women. If God wills, she will yet come into her rightful inheritance, and bear the princes who will finish my work, if I must leave it unfinished. We cannot say we have not a lady to fight for."
From Aber we returned to the defence line of the Conway, and waited there for news from David, for we were uneasy in case he had misjudged Edward's speed when he moved, and perhaps been trapped into accepting battle, or worse, penned fast in Denbigh before he could break out of the threatening ring. But after three days more our outposts beyond the river reported the first companies of his army withdrawing in good order to Rhydcastell, and there the prince rode to see them safely into the grange the monks of Aberconway had there, where there was ample shelter and plentiful supplies. We did not expect David until all his men were safely withdrawn. In a few days more he came, riding in with the core of his body-guard, the last to draw back into Snowdonia. He came in armour, having had some mild brushes by the way, but he had brought off all his army intact.
"Surrey is in Dinas Bran," he said, when he had shed his mail and broken his fast, and all his men were bestowed, and all his mounts watered and fed. "The way I heard it, Edward has granted it to him, with Ial and other parts there, and Grey has been given Ruthin, with all my cantref of Duffryn Clwyd. Unworthily come and unworthily gone! Not county administrations, you'll mark, but marcher lordships these are to be. He must feel himself safer so. Better a marcher baron who has to mind his own, and can use his own brains to get the wheels turning, than chancery officials with parchments in one hand and pens in the other. He may very well be right, but he'll have a fight on his hands with his own marcher lords in the end, for it can't rest there."
"Which of them moved?" asked Llewelyn, knee to knee with him by the fire.
"Edward and Grey both! But I think Grey's was a decoy, for he moved first, and not far. Clocaenog forest to his western front was full of Welsh, and he knew it, and so did I. I kept my best watch to the north, and was ready for Edward when he moved, too. Not along the coast, but inland from Rhuddlan, over the uplands, and in force. His ground was easier, and I had not such stout allies in his way, those parts were never mine."
"How far has he come?" asked Llewelyn. "He's still well north of you, it seems, you came out by the south."
"He moved his headquarters as far as Llangernyw." It was a vil due west of Denbigh, and dangerously far advanced. David saw the prince frown at the risk he seemed to have taken, and fended him off, smiling. "I was out of Denbigh by then, and with my eye on every move he made. I knew I could outstrip him. We had much the same distance to cover to this place, but all that distance full of Welsh irregulars in arms. He has closed his ring round Denbigh, but I was out of the noose. I do not think he will even attempt to stay so far west, now I am clear of him. He'll creep in on Denbigh, and stay close to the Clwyd. It could still be dangerous in Llangernyw. The Middle Country will occupy him a week or two yet."
"And what of Denbigh?" asked Llewelyn.
"I've left it intact," said David, "I could do no other. The garrison I've left there may hold it as long as they think advisable, and then let it go to him on the best terms they can get for themselves, now we've had time to draw clear. He will not know how few they are until they let him in, and the place will be little use to him but as a repository for stores or reserves of men, now that line's broken. But I was loth to leave it."
As it turned out, David's castellan held out at Denbigh until past the middle of the month, giving us ample time to have our more westerly line well manned and guarded, with couriers keeping contact across the Conway with the free companies of Rhos and Rhufoniog. Then he surrendered, in time, as we hoped, to spare his garrison the worst extremes of the king's revenge.
Thus by mid-October Edward held all the line of castles which had formed our eastward defence, and could move freely along the Clwyd valley, though he still had not cleared all the land between the Clwyd and Conway, and seemed in no hurry to move against us until he had, for still de Tany waited in Anglesey and made no move, clearly having orders not to attempt the crossing until the king gave the word. The lull was hard on the nerves, but every day he delayed was a day nearer winter, and also encouraged us to believe it possible that he himself had similar thoughts.
From this time our headquarters was at Dolwyddelan, from which the women and children had already been withdrawn, but much of the time we were on the move, watching both the north coast and the strait, and also the Conway valley, for the attack, when it came, would come from both directions. From the south we had then little news. Certainly the Welsh in those parts were still in arms, but the weight of numbers had turned severely against them, all the castles of the crown were strongly garrisoned, and there were reserves to spare for penetrating again into Cardigan. The prince's nephews could not make headway against such forces, but they could and did prevent them from being depleted by sending further divisions to join the king.
So things stood on the twenty-third day of October, when two of our outposts at Rhydcasteli rode into Dolwyddelan, bringing with them a Franciscan friar, a tall man of middle years and grave bearing, on a sturdy mountain pony. Their manner towards him was rather that of an honourable escort than of warders on a suspect interloper, and when they reached the gatehouse one of them spurred ahead to be his herald.
"This friar came alone into Rhydcastell, up the Dee valley from Dinas Bran, and asks for the lord prince. He says he bears letters from the archbishop of Canterbury, who is himself on his way to join the king at Rhuddlan, by way of Chester. His messenger speaks good Welsh, and is of our blood. They call him John of Wales."
The friar followed him in impassively, and dismounted, shaking down the gown he had worn kilted to the knee. He had a calm, fierce face, like a vessel of passion perfectly controlled, and his form was muscular and lean. He would as well have made a soldier as a friar, but his name I knew, for he had a high reputation among scholars of theology, and I had heard Brother William de Merton and others at Llanfaes speak of him, they being of the same order. A strange time it seemed for such a man to appear alone riding into Eryri, in the teeth of a roused and by then bitter war.
"I am come," he said to the castellan, who hurried out to meet him, "to present to the Lord Llewelyn, prince of Wales, the compliments of Archbishop Peckham, and my own credentials as his messenger. I have letters and articles for the lord prince. And the purpose of the archbishop's journey into Wales and my own is to try to put an end to this warfare, and bring about a just peace. If there is a welcome here for such an errand, I pray you bring me to Llewelyn."
We brought him in with all ceremony, Tudor taking the guest in charge and offering him lodging and water and wine, after the old, honoured fashion, but he would take nothing until he had discharged his embassage to the prince. Llewelyn was in the armoury with his penteulu seeing certain minor damages to mail and weapons made good, and thither I went to tell him what manner of visitor we had. He reared his head sharply at the news, and opened his eyes wide, willing to go to meet every overture of peace, but putting as yet no great trust in this or any.
"So he has not altogether forgotten or discarded us," he said, marvelling, and he was glad, whether good came of it or no, for he kept still, in spite of the archbishop's querulous strictures on Welsh law, a degree of respect and affection for that good, difficult man. "And he sent us a Welshman! Well done! I do believe he has a genuine care for his wild western flock, however they plague him with their adherence to the old ways. Let's go in, then, by all means, and see what Brother John Peckham sends us by Brother John of Wales."
Other books
The Ties That Bind by Jayne Ann Krentz
The Sinner by Madeline Hunter
The Steampunk Detective by Darrell Pitt
The Night Visitor by James D. Doss
I'll Be Seeing You by A.P. Hallmark
The Paper Mirror by Dorien Grey
Divinity: Immolation: Book Three (The Divinity Saga) by Susan Reid
Mercy of St Jude by Wilhelmina Fitzpatrick
Make Me Desperate by Beth Kery
Stranger in Dadland by Amy Goldman Koss