The Brothers of Gwynedd (61 page)

I said to David, when he brought his tall English horse to pace by my pony on the way: "Well, are you content with your work?" For still I bore him some ill-will for the trick he had played me, even as I rejoiced, pain and all, at my great gain by it.

  Said David, shrewd and shameless: "Are you?" And he looked at me along his shoulder, smiling. "You have a look of achievement about you, you and Cristin both. Did you come to a satisfactory understanding?"

  "Not as you suppose," I said sharply, for I was sure in my own mind of what he had intended, and it was galling enough to have one brother soliciting me like a pander, leave alone my breast-brother joining in the game.

  "Never be too confident," said David, "of what I am either supposing or provoking, you might go far astray. But if you think you could have gone on living in the same world with her and utterly estranged, for God's sake, man, get sense. If
you
could, in your holiness, why should she have to endure the like?"

  I own that any smart I felt against him, by that time, was but the reverse of my gratitude, and I admitted to myself that he might well be honest in his concern. But I had to ask him one more thing, for it was on my mind and I could not put it by.

  "Tell me this, did you follow me there to see what passed between us?"

  "No!" he said, indignant. "What do you think I am, that I should spy on you?"

  So if he had not, another had. But I did not say so to him, for there were already possibilities enough for mischief. "Closer than a brother!" rang the soft voice in my memory, and still I saw the silver ring revolving with delicate intent about the long finger.

Llewelyn moved his court to Aber in the middle of November, as was customary, ready to keep the Christmas feast there, and at the beginning of December Meurig rode into the llys, on his way to his own winter quarters at Caernarvon, for he was thin in the blood, and liked to burrow and hide himself like a hedgehog through the frost and snow. He brought us all the news from England, having come direct from Shrewsbury and, sitting snug by the fire like a little grey cat, talked familiarly of kings and earls and popes, and the building and dismemberment of the grand dream of the Provisions.

  "King Henry has gnawed and tunnelled like a rat, and prised gently like frost among the ranks of the reformers, crumbling them apart with his papal bulls and his royal French alliance. He called all his barons to a conference at Kingston at the end of October, feeling himself ready to play the winning stroke. He offered everything possible in reason and magnanimity, amnesty for all who would accept the findings of the meeting. They have given in," said the old man, scornfully grinning, "and come to the king's peace, every man of them. He has been gracious and kingly. He has them all in his hand."

  "All?" said Llewelyn sharply.

  "All but one," said Meurig.

  "Ah!" said Llewelyn, satisfied, as though his own honour had been vindicated. "And what had the earl of Leicester to say at Kingston?"

  "Never a word, my lord, for he never went there. He and the closest who remained staunch were out in the shires, setting up their own wardens according to the Provisions. I do believe the lesser gentry in the countryside and the common people were ready to stand and fight if need be, but the barons were not. Half they feared what they were doing and what they had already done, and half they craved their old ease again, without too much need for thought, and believed the king's blandishments and swallowed his bait. First Hugh Bigod, that was formerly justiciar, and a good, fair man, too, but over-persuadable, he slipped away and spoke for compromise. Then the earl of Hereford, and then even Gloucester. So in the end they all went to Kingston as they were bidden. All but Earl Simon. And he spoke out on them for a generation of changeable and slippery men he could not abide, when they had sworn every one to do these things and see them done. He has shaken off the dust of England in disgust, and gone away into his French possessions, for he will not touch this mangled remnant they are busy concocting out of the grand design."

  "Then King Henry has won his war," said Llewelyn, with concern and misgiving, for though the desultory exchanges over peace had continued, they showed no sign of coming to anything, and a king triumphant and vindictive and in full control of his affairs again was less likely, for all his professions of goodwill, to want to conclude a genuine agreement with us.

  "I would not say his war has so far even begun," said Meurig, musing. "He has brought the great lords of the older sort to heel—all but one—but he has not given any thought yet to the lesser ones, or to those young men who were not consulted when the Provisions were drawn up, and have not been consulted now when they are swept away, but who may very soon find that they have come to like what was begun, and miss it sadly now it's done away with. It's too early to say anything is lost, or anything won."

  So things stood in England that winter. But at least we in Gwynedd received a Christmas gift rather more to our liking, for about the feast of St. Nicholas, after Meurig had left us, a messenger rode into the maenol from the castellan of Criccieth, and his news was matter for sober celebration. Meredith ap Rhys Gryg, still kicking his surly old heels in captivity, had at last given in, and indicated his willingness to renew his homage and acknowledge Llewelyn as his overlord.

  "True," said Llewelyn, gratified but undeceived, "I doubt if his mind towards Rhys Fychan or me has changed much, and once before he swore fealty and did homage, and was forsworn within the month. But at least he shows some sense at last. And we'll see what safeguards we can bind him with this time!"

  So they brought Meredith ap Rhys Gryg out of his prison, to a great meeting of the council of Wales at Conssyl. The old bear reappeared before us somewhat fatter and slower for his two years of confinement, but little tamed, though he behaved himself with stolid submission, and contained whatever rage he still felt. The agreement that released him we had drawn up with care, to protect the rights of his neighbours and kinsmen, and he had to give up his prize of Dynevor intact to its rightful owner again, and also surrendered his new castle of Emlyn, with the commote belonging to it. But otherwise he got back all his ancestral lands in return for his homage and fealty, and was received into the prince's grace and peace.

  As for the safeguards, they were hard but fair, and no one ever came to hurt through them. Besides the loss of his one castle—for Dynevor never was rightly his—he surrendered his eldest son for a time to live at Llewelyn's court, and was pledged on demand from the prince to render up to him twenty-four sons of his chief tenants, whose families would be sureties for his loyalty should it come into question. And if he broke any of the terms of the compact, he quitclaimed to Llewelyn all his inheritance and rights in Ystrad Tywi, which might be stripped from him without further ado.

  To all this he swore, and plumped down on his stiff old knees to do homage. And doubtless much of what he was forced to speak tasted of gall to him, for he was a wild, proud man. Yet by this simple act of submission, which was but returning to what he had freely sworn in the first place, and to one to whom he owed so much, he regained all his own but for the castle and commote of Emlyn, which I think was no harsh dealing. And his son, a grown man and with more sense than his sire, gave his parole cheerfully and had his liberty in Llewelyn's court, and hawked and hunted with the prince to his heart's content while he remained with us.

  So this, the prince's first traitor, came to his peace as an example to all others both of firmness and magnanimity. And the only note of regret was struck by Llewelyn himself, saying, after Meredith had departed to his own country, and the news had been sent to Rhys Fychan in Carreg Cennen: "They will be riding home for Christmas, Rhys and the children. Pity, pity it is that Gladys could not have lived to take her boys back in triumph to Dynevor. It was her favourite home."

The new year of twelve hundred and sixty-two was barely seven weeks old when the new French pope, imitating his predecessor, issued a bull supporting King Henry in all points. Pope Urban, it seemed, was determined not to allow the king to revive his son's claim on Sicily, for he thought to do much better with another candidate, but because of that he was all the more anxious to satisfy him of his goodwill on all other issues. Earl Simon, though forgetting nothing and abandoning nothing of his ideals, still morosely absented himself in France, and it seemed that everything in England was going tamely King Henry's way.

  Thus fortified, he sent out letters to his sheriffs denouncing all those ordinances made in the name of the Provisions. As for those who still feebly contended for a measure of reform, their position had been whittled down stage by stage until they gave way altogether at this blow, and wearily agreed to let the king's brother, Richard of Cornwall, king of the Romans by election, act as arbitrator on such matters as were still at issue. And decent man though Richard was, and sensible, yet he was Henry's brother. It did not take him long to restore the king's right to appoint his own ministers and sheriffs without consulting council or parliament, which was the whole heart of the matter. But at least he strongly urged on his brother the absolute necessity of coming to amicable terms with the earl of Leicester, and warned him to observe good faith in coming to such an agreement, and to adhere to it strictly once it was made.

  He was spending wisdom only to see it blown away down the wind. For King Henry, who was always exalted into the clouds or abased into the kennel, was in his glory now, and no way disposed to be lenient to his enemies. In the summer he set off for France, to clear up matters of family business and to employ King Louis' good offices in making the advised overtures to Earl Simon. Louis urged moderation, as Richard had done, and with as little effect. Instead of approaching his sister's husband in conciliatory mood, King Henry dragged out of the past all his old hates and complaints against the earl, and instead of appeasement there was nothing but bitter rancour, which Earl Simon's hot nature could not but reciprocate. So nothing was healed, and nothing satisfied, and the wounds festered.

  As for us, we kept our household and minded our own business, to good effect, for without difficulty we procured a renewal of our truce in the month of May, on the same terms as before, and again we gained not one year of grace, but two.