The Brothers of Gwynedd (48 page)

  "And what of his parleys with France?" Llewelyn pressed him keenly. "Whether the pope abates his terms or no, the king cannot get far in this enterprise without making his peace with King Louis."

  "He still desires it, and it becomes ever more urgent. But that, too, may be a long tussle unless fate cuts the knots. At his last council the king had to tell his lords that the pope has refused any change in his demands; the agreement must stand, in full. That means there's interdict hanging over the land and excommunication over the king unless he stirs himself. But desperate ills make desperate remedies, and it may be a dozen earls and barons of England can change the pontiff's mind, if the king cannot. There's no sense in even emperor or pope demanding the impossible."

  "Or prince of Wales, either," said Llewelyn, and smiled. "So it stands, then. Not yet resolved on methods or means?"

  "So it stood. Like a hanging rock lodged on a mountainside. By now it may be in motion," said Meurig, blinking his shrewd old eyes. "Once launched, who can guess where that fall will come to rest?"

  "Not in Wales," said Llewelyn, slowly considering, and increasingly sure of what he said. "Can he fight that battle, and ours as well? He may get his muster into arms and harness, but can he get them to Chester and into Wales? Not this year!"

  "It is not impossible, though I would not say it is
likely.
But when a mountain slides," said Meurig, twining a finger in his silver beard, "I have known men felled who thought they walked out of range. And I have known nuggets of gold to be picked up by fortunate souls who kept their wits about them."

  "You say well," said Llewelyn, and laughed. "Pray God I keep mine!"

There was then no clarity in our expectations from that landslip that quivered above England. We rode from Aber, in rapid but orderly muster, two days after this visit, still ignorant that the first move had been made in the avalanche. For after the council at Westminster, seven great lords met and conferred, on the Friday after the fortnight after Easter, that is, the twelfth day of April of that year twelve hundred and fifty-eight, and compounded among them a sworn confederacy, every member taking a solemn oath to give aid and support to all the others in the cause of justice and right and good government, saving the troth they owed to king and crown. And then these seven, doubtless, sat down together to define what they desired for England, as we dreamed and argued and fought for what we desired for Wales. And, having defined it, they set out, even as we, to encompass it. For on the last day of April, while we rode south to the avenging of Meredith's treason, those seven led a band of earls, barons and knights, all armed, to confer with King Henry in the palace of Westminster. And disarming at the door, in token of their plighted loyalty, they went in to him and with all reverence but with great firmness set before him the body of their complaints and the sum of their remedies. To take or to leave. And the king, half-reluctantly and half-thankfully, and Prince Edward, his heir, with deeper suspicion and affront, perforce took them.

  It was not known to us then who those seven were who set the mountain moving. But soon we knew them, and here I set them down, for fear they should some day be forgotten.

  There were among them three earls:

Richard de Clare, earl of Gloucester,
Roger Bigod, earl of Norfolk and earl marshal,
Simon de Montfort, earl of Leicester.

  Also to the fore, for he was a man of clear and individual mind, was Peter, Count of Savoy, uncle to Queen Eleanor of Provence, and counsellor to King Henry. And the remaining three:

Hugh Bigod, brother to the earl marshal,

John FitzGeoffrey, of whom I recall little but the name, for he died later

the same year,

Peter de Montfort, lord of Beaudesert, no close kin to the earl of Leicester,

  but head of the English family of that name—for Earl Simon was

  French, and inherited through his English grandmother, the male line

  being exhausted.

  These seven, hardly knowing themselves what they set in motion, were the beginners of that great ado between crown and baronage that shook the kingdom to the heart for many years, and drew my lord into its whirlpools, to his blessing and his bane.

  But as for us, we were about our proper business in the vale of Towy, exacting from Meredith ap Rhys Gryg the full price of treason.

We made south by fast marches, halting but twice on the way, the second time at the abbey of Cwm Hir, and so came over the bare, heathy hills skirting Builth, and struck into the upper valley of the Towy above Llandovery. At that town the castle was securely held for Rhys Fychan, there was no stirring of Meredith's men in those parts, and we were assured our coming was not yet expected. There, too, a body of archers and lancers came east under Meredith ap Owen of Uwch Aeron, the loyal one of our two Merediths, to join us in that enterprise. For though his two commotes were in no great danger, for all King Henry's impudent gift of them and Meredith ap Rhys Gryg's more insolent acceptance, yet the insult from both was sharp, and not to be borne without reprisals. This other Meredith was a quiet, steady, grave man some ten years older than my lord, slow to anger and cautious in council, but staunch to his word and resolute once roused, and Llewelyn set great store by his opinion.

  From Llandovery we swept on down the river valley, and did no harm to any holding that was not the seisin of Meredith ap Rhys Gryg, but from what was his we drove off the cattle and burned the barns, and where any holding was fortified we burned that, too, laying his lands open as we passed. All along that green, wide valley we spurred faster than our own report, until we came where the castle of Dynevor, that was Rhys Fychan's principal seat and the heart-castle of his royal line, loomed on its green mound among the flowering meadows, with the river coiling round its southern approaches. There we made a testing assault, but it was plain that the place was very strongly held, for the prestige of conquest no less than for its real worth, and so we made but one night halt there, deploying a small force of archers to occupy the hills around and plague the garrison, so that they would hardly dare venture out of the gates, to test the numbers of those who held them in siege. For this castle, strong though it was, was open to archery from the hills enclosing it, which were well wooded and gave excellent cover. Unlike Rhys Fychan's second castle, which by its very situation was almost impregnable, being built upon a great crag, with sheer cliffs on three sides, and only one ridge by which it could be approached. There in Carreg Cennen the Lady Gladys, with her three little sons and her household, was safely guarded. For which I gave thanks to God, for there was one among her women who drew me by the heart, and whom I dreaded to see as greatly as I longed for it, Cristin, Llywarch's daughter.

  But at this time I was not to be put to the torment of looking upon her again, for we had no call to go to Carreg Cennen. Our business was with Meredith ap Rhys Gryg in his fortress of Dryslwyn, a few miles downstream along the Towy valley.

  In the night we heard repeated calling of owls across the river, from the woods on the southern side, and knew that Rhys Fychan had brought his own muster from Carreg Cennen to join us. But we made no move as yet, nor did he, beyond sending out a runner who made his way to us safely in the darkness across the open water-meadows below the castle. A little, gnarled, bow-legged knife-man he was, as dark and seasoned as a blackthorn bush, and wise in every track in his native region. We uncovered our turf-damped fire for him, for he had swum the river to come to us, and by night this glimmer would hardly be seen as far as Dynevor for the thick growth of trees between. He said that his lord had left Carreg Cennen well held and his lady in good heart with her children, and, if the lord prince approved, Rhys proposed to join his forces with ours not here, but well downstream, at the easy passage which the messenger would show us, so that the garrison in Dynevor might have no way of judging what numbers we had, or what part of them we had left to contain the defenders within their stolen fortress.

  Llewelyn approved him heartily, but said that if Rhys Fychan knew the ford of which he spoke, and knew it passable at this time—for the river was past the highest spring flow, but still fresh and full—there was no need for us to leave cover, and we might await him in the forest. For until now we had run ahead of our legend, and trusted to strike at Dryslwyn before they knew we were anywhere near. The messenger grinned and shook his head.

  "My lord, by our advice it's you must cross, not we. Well I know Dryslwyn castle is on this side of Towy, but Meredith ap Rhys Gryg is not in Dryslwyn. He has wind of you. His castellan here in Dynevor got a runner away to him before you closed the ring, and he's in Carmarthen by now, and if you want him it's to Carmarthen you must go. The force that took Dynevor for him is still in arms there, and the king's seneschal has brought a fresh muster in haste from Kidwelly to strengthen Meredith's hand. We had a man there watching when they rode into the town, not two hours before midnight."

  "Then they'll hardly have had time to order their ranks," said Llewelyn, "and we had best move fast." And he questioned the man closely what numbers the seneschal might have with him, for it seemed that King Henry felt obliged to give all possible aid to his first renegade client, as well he might if he wished to attract others.

  "If Patrick of Chaworth is leading Meredith's allies in person, and in such force," said Llewelyn, "it behoves us to make as notable a demonstration of our own power, or there'll be more waverers. This bids fair to be the feudal host under another name." For de Chaworth, lord of Kidwelly and king's representative over most of south Wales, did not commit his forces lightly in defence of even a well-disposed Welsh chieftain. Plainly he had his orders from the highest. Meredith ap Rhys Gryg was to stand or fall as a symbol of what King Henry could do for those who came to his peace.

  "At what hour," Llewelyn asked, "should Rhys Fychan be ready for us beyond the ford?" For it was agreed that the cover was better on that side of Towy if we wished to drive straight at Carmarthen, and though the town lay on this hither side we did not wish to meddle with the town, where we might well be tangled in too long and confused a contest against so strong a garrison. If we could set up an untimely alarm and bring them out over the bridge to us before their order was perfected or their commands properly appointed, we could do them much damage at little cost.

  "He is on the move now," said the man, "leaving archers to mark Dynevor from the woods. Unless we march within the hour he'll be waiting for us."

  "It suits well," said Llewelyn. "I never knew a town yet that liked a dawn alarm. With luck the folk may cause enough confusion to do half our work for us."

  So within the hour we marched, traversing the slopes of the hills among the trees until we were well clear of any eye or ear in Dynevor, and then moving steadily down into the meadows. It was still dark when we crossed the river, the guide going before in a darting, mayfly fashion, for the firm passage was complex, and flanked by deep pools. When he had shown the whole crossing and brought the prince safely over, he stood thigh-deep on a spit in midstream, and guided the rest across. This is a broad valley and green, and even in spring the flow is not dangerously fast. But still I remember the cold of it, and the way my pony quivered and shook her mane as she waded it.

  From this on we pressed hard, to be upon them in Carmarthen before they were aware of us, and the meeting with Rhys Fychan's muster, in a clearing among the woods on the southern bank, was accomplished in near-silence and almost on the march. There was little time for greeting of friends or avoiding of enemies when those two war-bands joined. They moved forth from the darkness of the trees, we out of the shrub growth and alders along the river bank. Rhys rode forward and leaned to Llewelyn's kiss, and he was no more than a slender, bearded shape outlined by the gleam of his light mail hauberk in the late moonlight. There was barely four years between those two, Rhys being the elder, and though they had been friends but half a year they had a great understanding each for the other, and needed few minutes and few words to have their plans made. Then we rode, rushing upon Carmarthen as vehemently as we could, for there was already a faint pre-dawn light that made speed possible.