The Reckoning - 3 (51 page)

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He got no further. Ellen had whirled and flung her arms around Juliana. To
Goronwy's delight, she embraced him next, laughing and. smearing lip rouge across his cheek, and Goronwy, who'd doubted that any mortal woman was truly good enough for his Prince, decided that mayhap this one would do well enough.
"Thank God Almighty, thank the Lord Jesus and the Blessed Mary and all the saints! You do not know, Lord Goronwy, two years at Corfe Castle, two years penned up in that hellhole ..."
"I do know, my lady," he said softly. "You see, I was once a hostage of the
English Crown, too. No one can give your brother back those two years, but at least he'll have some comfort at Sherborne. Now ... I have something else likely to be of interest to you." Smiling, he drew forth from under his sodden mantle a parchment threaded through with braided red cord and sealed with green wax.
Ellen could not hide her eagerness, all but snatched the letter from his hand.
"Would you think me very rude if I read it now?"
He shook his head and grinned, for she was already retreating toward the window-seat, pausing only long enough to grab a wick lamp. Accepting a wine cup from Juliana, Goronwy watched with alert interest as Ellen read her husband's love letter. That it was a love letter, he did not doubt, for the soft curve of Ellen's mouth and the color in her cheeks testified to its contents without need of words. It intrigued Goronwy to discover that the man he'd fought beside and drunk with and would, if need be, die for was not so different, after all, from other men, not when it came to love and lust and those secrets to be shared only with women, only in bed.
Ellen read Llewelyn's letter twice, knowing she would soon have every word committed to memory. "He wanted to bid me farewell," she said at last, more for Juliana's benefit than Goronwy's, for he already knew they were soon to depart for Wales. She'd found it almost intolerable this past week, knowing
Llewelyn was just twenty miles from Windsor. But Wales was so far away, a world away. "He says that Edward is sending agents of the Crown into Wales, so they may inspect and approve those lands Llewelyn means to assign to me in dower. She could well imagine how much Llewelyn must have resented that. For herself, she was infuriated that Edward dared to play the role o benevolent guardian while holding her against her will. But soon non of that would matter, very soon now. .
"One thing does perplex me, Lord Goronwy," she confide "Llewelyn says that
Edward is insistent upon giving us a courtwe ^-m But he says nothing of when that wedding is to be. We have less two months, for there can be no marriages during Lent..." She pa

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for the Welshman's face was an easy one to read. "What is it? What have you kept from me?"
"Lord Llewelyn told me that I was to say nothingunless you asked. He has no proof, my lady, just suspicions, and he did not want to burden you with them.
But he fears that there will be no wedding by Lent, mayhap not for many months."
"No!" The cry was Juliana's. Ellen said nothing, just stared at Goronwy with eyes that would haunt him in days to come. "But why?" Again the protest came from Juliana. "It is all settled. Llewelyn has done homage as Edward demanded.
What more does he want? Why should he continue to hold Ellen prisoner?"
To Goronwy, the answer was obvious. 'To prove that he can," he said bitterly.
Ellen had turned away. Moving back to the window-seat, she stared unseeingly at the clouded window pane. The rain was still coming down in torrents, streaking the glass like tears. But her eyes were dry, for she would not weep.
That she had sworn to herself, that Edward would never again make her cry.
"A PROPHET is not without honor, save in his own country." There were times that spring when Llewelyn felt tempted to amend Scriptures, to add: "not until it is too late." After failing to rally his countrymen in the defense of their homeland, he now found himself forced to listen to their complaints about the
English Crown. Men who had seen Edward as the lesser of evils, reasoning that
Westminster was much farther away than Aber, were now reaping what they'd sown, having to argue Welsh ways and Welsh customs with haughty English castellans and bailiffs. Men who'd chafed under Llewelyn's demands now began to make their way to Aber and Dolwyddelan, to pour out their grievances to the man who, for all his willfulness and inflexibility and impatience with dissent, was one of their own.
Llewelyn might have taken a certain ironic amusement in the turnaround, had so much not been at stake. What did it matter if he was Proved right, if the forfeit demanded was the loss of Welsh autonomy? e had his own grievances, too. Some of them were wounds to his Pflde. They were painful, but would heal.
Others were likely to fester.
1 wo of his men had been hanged in the town of Oswestry, in ance of the King's safe-conduct, and so far his complaints had gained n° more than a promise to investigate. Edward had appointed seven in HI an<^
^e^s^ justices to hear and determine all lawsuits and pleas e Marches and Wales. To Llewelyn, this was an outrageous en-
^chine, Int upon Welsh law, upon his own courts. He had no choice,

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He got no further. Ellen had whirled and flung her arm Juliana. To Goronwy's delight, she embraced him next, laughj310^ smearing lip rouge across his cheek, and Goronwy, who'd doubt H ^ any mortal woman was truly good enough for his Prince, decid H mayhap this one would do well enough. **t
"Thank God Almighty, thank the Lord Jesus and the Blessed Vt and all the saints! You do not know, Lord Goronwy, two years at r^ Castle, two years penned up in that hellhole . . ." e
"I do know, my lady," he said softly. "You see, I was once a ho of the English
Crown, too. No one can give your brother back those h!f years, but at least he'll have some comfort at Sherborne. Now j u, ° something else likely to be of interest to you." Smiling, he drew forth from under his sodden mantle a parchment threaded through with braided red cord and sealed with green wax.
Ellen could not hide her eagerness, all but snatched the letter from his hand.
"Would you think me very rude if I read it now?"
He shook his head and grinned, for she was already retreating toward the window-seat, pausing only long enough to grab a wick lamp Accepting a wine cup from Juliana, Goronwy watched with alert interest as Ellen read her husband's love letter. That it was a love letter, he did not doubt, for the soft curve of Ellen's mouth and the color in her cheeks testified to its contents without need of words. It intrigued Goronwy to discover that the man he'd fought beside and drunk with and would, if need be, die for was not so different, after all, from other men, not when it came to love and lust and those secrets to be shared only with women, only in bed.
Ellen read Llewelyn's letter twice, knowing she would soon have every word committed to memory. "He wanted to bid me farewell," she said at last, more for Juliana's benefit than Goronwy's, for he already knew they were soon to depart for Wales. She'd found it almost intolerable this past week, knowing
Llewelyn was just twenty miles from Windsor. But Wales was so far away, a world away. "He says that Edward is sending agents of the Crown into Wales, so they may inspect and approve those lands Llewelyn means to assign to me in c*°w^' She could well imagine how much Llewelyn must have resented tna ^ For herself, she was infuriated that Edward dared to play the roleo^ benevolent guardian while holding her against her will. But soon of that would matter, very soon now. fi .^
"One thing does perplex me, Lord Goronwy," she c°Tji]1g "Llewelyn says that
Edward is insistent upon giving us a court we ^ But he says nothing of when that wedding is to be. We have les ^ two months, for there can be no marriages during Lent. -)*ie "

301
ighman's face was an easy one to read. "What is it? What f°f ^ou kept from me?"
have/ , Llewelyn told me that I was to say nothingunless you
H has no proof, my lady, just suspicions, and he did not want
35 A you with them. But he fears that there will be no wedding w bur t^ayhap not for many months-"
^^Jj'i" The cry was Juliana's. Ellen said nothing, just stared at wv with eyes that would haunt him in days to come. "But why?"
10 the protest came from Juliana. "It is all settled. Llewelyn has done as Edward demanded. What more does he want? Why should
Staue to hold Ellen prisoner?"
To Goronwy, the answer was obvious. 'To prove that he can," he d bitterly. Ellen had turned away. Moving back to the window-seat, , starecj unseeingly at the clouded window pane. The rain was still mine down in torrents, streaking the glass like tears. But her eyes were dry, for she would not weep. That she had sworn to herself, that
Edward would never again make her cry.
"A PROPHET is not without honor, save in his own country." There were times that spring when Llewelyn felt tempted to amend Scriptures, to add: "not until it is too late." After failing to rally his countrymen in the defense of their homeland, he now found himself forced to listen to their complaints about the
English Crown. Men who had seen Edward as the lesser of evils, reasoning that
Westminster was much farther away than Aber, were now reaping what they'd sown, having to argue Welsh ways and Welsh customs with haughty English castellans and bailiffs. Men who'd chafed under Llewelyn's demands now began to make their way to Aber and Dolwyddelan, to pour out their grievances to the man who, for all his willfulness and inflexibility and impatience with dissent, was one of their own.
Llewelyn might have taken a certain ironic amusement in the turnwound, had so much not been at stake. What did it matter if he was proved right, if the forfeit demanded was the loss of Welsh autonomy?
ad his own grievances, too. Some of them were wounds to his Pntip TTi
_ mey were painful, but would heal. Others were likely to fester.
defi ° ^S men ^ac^ been hanged in the town of Oswestry, in h^ Ce °* *e King's safe-conduct, and so far his complaints had gained £1,^ more than a promise to investigate. Edward had appointed seven in the iw ^e^sn Justi'ces to hear and determine all lawsuits and pleas ^chm 3 an<* Wales. To Llewelyn, this was an outrageous enent uP°n Welsh law, upon his own courts. He had no choice,

302
though, but to acquiesce in this further erosion of Welsh sov even to plead before this alien court himself, for he was invol '^^ bitter dispute with his old enemy, Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyri * lordship of Arwystli. ' Ver fte
Arwystli had long been a source of contention between POWv Gwynedd, its possession shifting with the fortunes of war I ] ^ had ousted Gruffydd ap
Gwenwynwyn from Arwystli as pur,; L ^" for his aborted assassination plot, and he was determined to hold ^ it, for the upland cantref was strategically vital to the defense TV southern borders. Gruffydd was just as set upon regaining it. Llew i was not worried by his challenge, though, for he thought
GruffvdHp11 argument to be ludicrous in the extreme; Gruffydd contended that h* was a baron of the March, a vassal of the English King, and theref the case ought to be tried in the King's court under English comm law. Since Arwystli was undeniably in Wales, both claimants were Welsh, and the Treaty of
Aberconwy itself provided that Welsh law should apply to disputes arising in
Wales, Llewelyn did not see how he could not prevail, even in Edward's court.
Yet he did not. Instead, the suit dragged on, and when he protested, he received a brusque reply from the English King, that he was to come before the
King's justices whenever and wherever he was summoned, to receive "what justice shall dictate." To Llewelyn, that was a barb that lodged near the heart, dripped daily poison into suspicions already raw and inflamed. If
Edward was not willing to abide by his own treaty, what would keep him from meddling further in Welsh matters, taking more and more until all the meat was stripped from the bone?
As he tallied up his losses in that summer of God's Year, 1278, Llewelyn could see naught but troubles ahead. His griefs were not all to be laid at Edward's door, though. Death claimed the man who'd been his mainstay, his Seneschal, and his friend for ten turbulent years. Tudur had died slowly, in great pain, and Llewelyn could do nothing for him. His passing was, for Tudur, a mercy, for Llewelyn, an amputation. Like a man who still felt phantom pain for a lost limb, he ached for his other self, for that rarest of God's blessings, a soulmate. , And then there was Ellen. There was always Ellen. He had braced himself for the worst, or so he'd thought. But even in his most despa^S moments, he'd not truly believed that Edward would hold her in* nitely. Yet now it was eight months since he'd done homage a ^ minster, and still she languished at
Windsor, his wife, Edw prisoner. ^
When Edward wrote that he would be at Rhuddlan Castie ^ ^ tember, Llewelyn's first reaction was one of relief. He and ^^^^ive Gwenwynwyn could plead their cases before the King's court,

303
, £or an. And he could confront Edward in person, demand
'""cn'n be released.
t^at 'thin a fortnight of his summons to Rhuddlan Castle, Llewelyn. A second communication from Edward, this one far more omre<*'veH , j t,een half-expecting Davydd to start muddying the waters, 1110115 A antage of his weakened position. When trouble came, though, W from another quarter, from Rhodri. He had brought suit in '* '^'"d's court for his share of Gwynedd, and Edward was giving formal ^Walthat Llewelyn should be prepared to answer Rhodri's claim at n0tlfidlan in September. He also warned
Llewelyn that if he defaulted Rh dri royal officers would be sent into Wales to distrain his lands t0 H chattels. Llewelyn could only marvel that he'd been so blind, for **[ ploy could be more obviousor more dangerous? He would never
* to rend Gwynedd further, and surely Edward knew that. But when herefused, he would be giving Edward the perfect excuse to keep Ellen m England, mayhap even to renew the war.
IN the ten months since the Treaty of Aberconwy, Edward had effected dramatic changes in the Welsh landscape. His castles had taken root like the dragons'
teeth of folklore, formidable strongholds silhouetted against the blue
September sky, testifying to the might of England and the indomitable will of its King. Llewelyn had long known of Edward's plan to divert the flow of the
River Clwyd. It still came as a shock, though, to see for himself just how fast the work had progressed; eighteen hundred ditches had been dug, channeling the river into a canal that would wash the walls of Edward's new castle. But for Llewelyn, the most troubling sight of all was the earthen banks and deep trenches encircling Edward's new borough, a town on Welsh soil in which no Welsh would be permitted to dwell.
Never had Llewelyn missed Tudur so much as when he rode though the gateway of Rhuddlan Castle. His men shared his tension, and they were unusually silent, uncommonly subdued as they dis-
unted in the bailey, hands never straying far from sword hilts, eyes
^eyer straying far from their Prince. They were all anticipating trouble, eryust not sure what form it would take.
ut n8ht from the outset, nothing went as expected. The first sur-
WelVrnWaS ^ relaxed mood of the castle ganison; if Edward and Llethetn ere indeed on a collision course, no one had bothered to warn emerei ^3Ct' ^e second surprise was the identity of the man most of 8/r°m tne nal1 to bid Llewelyn welcome; Edmund had passed retun, IT- 6
^ear in France, and word had not gotten out yet of his
18 cordial greeting was not in itself a surprise, for he'd always