The Reckoning - 3 (58 page)

351
the long hair that had mantled them both in the night. After using the C0rner privy chamber, he poured a cup of mead and brought it back to the bed. It was not his choice for early morning, but it was all the chamber held, and he knew that if he felt so thirsty, Ellen's craving upon awakening would be far worse.
After drinking his fill, he set the cup down in the floor rushes, got back into bed. As he did, Ellen stirred and her eyes opened. "I was trying not to wake you," he said, and leaned over to give her a quick kiss.
"I do not mind." She smiled sleepily at him, looking so content, so appealingly disheveled, that he put his arm around her shoulders, drew her in against his chest as he asked about any wine-induced after-effects.
"I feel fine," she assured him, stifling a yawn. "But my mouth . . . it's so dry!"
"Here." Reaching down for the mead cup, he passed it to her, watched as she drank, grimaced, and drank again, sparingly this time. "Not exactly a breakfast beverage, I know, but the best I can offer. You truly do feel well, Ellen? No throbbing head, no queasiness, no alarming gaps in your memory? You do remember last night?" he said, with a sudden grin.
"Why?" She yawned again, delicately, behind her hand. "Did something happen that I ought to remember?" she asked, and then smiled, a smile that left no doubts whatsoever as to the accurate functioning of her memory.
"It is still early yet," he said, "so we can have a few more hours to sleep .
. ."It was very pleasant to lie there in companionable quiet, her body cuddled against his, her head pillowed in the crook of his shoulder. But as he watched, he saw a frown begin to furrow her brow.
"Llewelyn . . . there is something I do not remember," she said, speaking with hesitancy at first, and then, with growing certainty. "I do not remember feeling any pain! Llewelyn, were you not supposed to hurt me?"
"Jesti, lass, it is too early for you to make me laugh," he protested, but laughing, nonetheless. "Of all the complaints a man could get about his lovemaking, for certes, that has to be the most peculiar!"
"I am serious," she insisted, and as he looked into her face, he saw that she really was. "I was always taught that a woman experiences pain when she loses her maidenhead. But I honestly do not remember it."
She was gazing at him expectantly, as if he could provide answers, and so he did his best to oblige. "Well," he said, "a female friend of minenot
Melangellonce told me that a woman's discomfort is much Beater if she is tense or fearful. So why would not the reverse also be

354
"Ah, no," she cried, "it is nothing you've done, I swear it!"
Sliding over, he made room for her in the bed, keeping his eyes upon her all the while. Dropping the blanket, she climbed in, reassuring him by how readily she now sought his embrace.
"Will you hold me?" she asked, blotting away the last of her tears with the corner of the sheet. "I am so sorry, Llewelyn. I did not want i to ruin our first day together . . ." 'tg "Can you tell me?"
"I woke up first, watched you whilst you slept, and I was so happy Llewelyn, that it actually scared me a little. How often do we get in this life all that we ever wanted? Today, I told myself, today we will ride into Wales, into
Llewelyn's worldmy world now, tooand I thought about the life we'd have together. I thought of the pleasures of your bed, and how easily you make me laugh, and I thought of the children we'll have. And then I thought of Amaury, and what this day would bring for him."
She drew an uneven breath, said more calmly. "I know he is better off now that he is at Sherborne, not Corfe. But it is nigh on three years, Llewelyn. What if Edward never lets him go?"
"I think Edward will eventually have to free him, for it is becoming obvious that the Church is not going to forsake Amaury. Sooner or later, Edward must conclude that whatever pleasure he is getting from Amaury's captivity is not worth the trouble he is getting from the Pope." Llewelyn smoothed her tumbled hair over her shoulders, held her quietly for a few moments. "I realize," he said, "that it is hard to derive much comfort from a hope so far in the future. But at least now you can help."
She looked so bewildered that he saw she'd not comprehended yet that she was no longer powerless. "You are not a prisoner of the English Crown anymore," he said, "you are the Princess of Wales. You can petition the Pope every day on
Amaury's behalf, appeal to the Kings of France and Scotland, to every prince in Christendom. And you can make Amaury's life easier, more comfortable, until that day when he is freed. My love, you can send him anything your heart desiresbooks, clothes, food, games of chance, whatever you think he'd wantevery hour on the hour if you wish."
"But what if Edward refuses to let me do that?"
"He'll not dare refuse, for you will ask him today, before the King of
Scotland and his brother, Edmund, and the Bishop, and the entire English court. All know that Amaury has done nothing to deserve his fate. We are talking not of Guy, but of a priest who never took up a101 against the English
Crown, a papal chaplain still in favor with the P°Pe' And now his sister asks only to be able to send him a few comforts

355
jus wretched confinement. To turn down your pleabefore so many witnesseswould be an act so mean-spirited, so petty, so impossible to justify that he'll have no choice but to agree."
The look Ellen gave him now was even more ardent than the looks he'd gotten from her during their lovemaking. "I think," she said softly, "that I must give you fair warning, for I am afraid that I am going to fall hopelessly in love with you."
"Why a warning?"
"Oh, an overly fond wife is a mixed blessing. There are disadvantages, too. I
would be harder to neglect, I'd want to be with you all the time, I'd probably discomfit you before your friends by hanging on your every word and praising you to the heavens, and you may be sure I'd be jealous. Now I well know you did not live like a monk these three years past, and I did not begrudge you those bedmates, truly I did not. But if infidelity at a distance is understandable, infidelity at close quarters is grounds for murder, my love."
She smiled so sweetly then, that he began to laugh. "Let me guess," he said.
"Joanna just happened to tell your mother, too, that Welsh law condemns adultery for husbands as well as wives!"
"She may have mentioned it." Ellen reached out, ran her fingers gently along his arm, tracking the path of an old wound, not the first one she'd found, for he'd passed most of his life in the saddle and on the battlefield, and although that life had made his body hard and lean, that body bore the scars of sword-thrusts he'd failed to deflect, old injuries that now took on a frightening immediacy to her. "Llewelyn, I have a question to put to you. Do you think you could learn to love me?"
"You asked me that last night, cariad."
"I remember," she said. "But I wanted to hear your answer when we both were sober."
Laughing, he leaned over, kissed the curve of her smile. "I think," he said, "that it would be very easy to love you."
RtOM the English Chronicle of Osney: Thus did Llewelyn win, "with a heart that leapt for joy, his beloved spouse, for whose loving embraces he had so long yearned."
From the Welsh Chronicle of the Princes: "King Edward and tdrnund, his brother, gave Eleanor, their first cousin, daughter of Simon "e Montfort, to
Llewelyn at the door of the great church at Worcester. And there he married her. And that night their wedding banquet was fte'd. And on the following day, Llewelyn and Eleanor returned joyfully to Wales."

*r

24
"i
ABBEY OF ABERCONWY, WALES
September 1279
\JN November 12, 1278, the Jews throughout England were arrested, and a house-to-house search was made in all the Jewrys of the country. Six hundred and eighty men and women were sent to the Tower of London for trial on a charge of coin clipping. The number of Jews hanged was given as nineteen in the official records, as two hundred and ninety-three by the chroniclers of the time.
THE Bishop of Bangor departed the abbey in a soft September mist, but even as the Abbot bade farewell to his distinguished guest, thunder was echoing down the Conwy Valley. As lightning blazed through the clouds, showering the abbey garth in sparks, Maredudd flinched, made a hasty sign of the cross. By the time he reached the shelter of the cloisters, he was soaked.
As he plunged into the parlor, a gust of wind caught the door, slammed it resoundingly behind him. The two men seated by the hearth turned startled faces toward the sound. "You look half-drowned, Maredudd. Get over here by the fire." Maredudd did, quite gladly, pulling up a chair beside Llewelyn, accepting a wine cup from Goronwy. Watching as the Abbot stripped off his muddied sandals, wrung out the sodden folds of his habit, Llewelyn said, "I
hope the Bishop knows how to swim."
He sounded, though, as if he hoped just the opposite, a sentiment that
Maredudd not only understood but shared; he had no more liking for Bishop
Anian than Llewelyn did. He was not surprised that tn Bishop and his Prince had failed once again to reconcile their differences, they were both proud men. Nor had Edward helped any by siding wi the Bishop. To the contrary, he'd flung a few more boulders onto a

357
already rock-strewn road by ordering Llewelyn to be more conciliatory, more accommodating to Anian's demands. Maredudd could not recall a time when the
English Crown was not eager to meddle in Welsh matters, but never before had the meddling been so blatant or so pervasive. He'd often heard men laud Edward as a superb rider; so why {hen, did the English King have such a heavy hand on the reins?
"If the storm does not abate by the morrow, I'll inform our hospitaller that you will be delaying your departure until Wednesday." To Maredudd's surprise, though, Llewelyn was shaking his head. "Why not, my lord? I should think you've had more than your share of vvretched rides in vile weather. Why get wet when there is no need for it?"
Llewelyn hid a smile, for he knew that if he admitted the real reason for his haste, Maredudd would be even more baffled; the aging, celibate monk was not a man to understand the lure of a loving young wife. But Goronwy did, without a doubt; he was grinning widely.
"I thank you for your hospitality, Maredudd. As always, I have enjoyed my stay at the abbey. But I do need to depart at dawn, rain or not. I am expecting a courier from the English King," Llewelyn said, avoiding Goronwy's amused eyes.
Maredudd nodded sympathetically; duty he understood, for it had long been his own taskmaster. "May I ask if the King's letter concerns Arwystli? I must confess, my lord, that I do not see why your case has not yet been heard. It has been dragging on now for . . ."He paused to calculate and Llewelyn supplied the answer for him.
"Nigh on eighteen months," he said, and though his voice was even, his mouth had a bitter twist to it. "We have not even resolved the issue as to which law should apply, Welsh or English. Edward's court keeps adjourning on one pretext after another. The latest was the claim that my lawyers had not been properly empowered to act on my behalf. The truth is that Edward fears my claim will prevail if ever it is heard, and he owes Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn too much to let that happen."
There was a moment of silence, and then Goronwy said, "To English justice,"
and raised his wine cup high, a salute meant in jest, but the mockery was hollow.
There was another silence. "No," Llewelyn said, "not English justice. Edward's justice."
It was quiet after that, a pensive, brooding quiet that lasted too long Or
Goronwy's liking. The sooner they exorcised Edward's intrusive ghost the better, he decided, and set about doing just that. "Have you heard yet, my lord, about what your brother did in Cheshire?"
"Davydd? The last I heard, his time was taken up building new

358
castles in the lands Edward gave him, at Caergwrle and Dinbych." Although
Llewelyn sought to sound casual, he was not entirely successful; despite their estrangement, Davydd could still kindle his interest as easily as ever. "What trouble has he been stirring up now?"
"For once it is not trouble of his making. An English knight named de
Vanabeles brought suit against him in shire court, seeking a writ of
| entry."
Llewelyn's eyes narrowed. Davydd was not the first Welshman to have to defend himself in an English court, and he would for certes not be the last. "Did
Davydd come as summoned?"
"Indeed he did, and they're likely still talking about it! He strode into the court, declared that he was not answerable to English law, for the lands in question were located in Wales, not Cheshire. Suit could be brought in Wales, he said, or by God, not at all. And then he turned around and stalked out, without so much as a by-your-leave."
Goronwy paused, ostensibly to take a swallow of wine, actually to gauge
Llewelyn's reaction. He need not have worried, though. Llewelyn's dark eyes were aglint with amusement. "I often thought Davydd would have made a marvelous actor," he said wryly, "for he has always had a remarkable talent for staging dramatic entrances and departures." But there was no malice in his observation; both Goronwy and Maredudd caught the echoes of approval.
When the hospitaller entered a few moments later with word of new arrivals, the Abbot was not surprised; there'd be many travelers seeking shelter from the storm, for Wales had no inns. But he could not suppress a gasp at sight of the man who now appeared in the doorway. Llewelyn noticed the look of fleeting dismay on his face, and turned to see who was so unwelcome, just as Davydd sauntered into the parlor, almost as if he'd been lurking in the wings, awaiting Goronwy's cue to take center stage.
"A clever conjuring trick, Goronwy," Llewelyn muttered, but his humor was forced, and he watched warily as his brother moved toward them, offering jaunty greetings that belied his rain-soaked, mudsplattered appearance. The responses Davydd garnered were notably lacking in enthusiasm, for none of the men were in the mood for the verbal jousting that passed for conversation whenever Davydd was present. If he noted the coolness, Davydd gave no indication of it, and as Maredudd excused himself to confer with the hospitaller and their cooks about that evening's dinner menu, Davydd appropriated the Abbot = chair, helping himself, as well, to the Abbot's wine cup.
"Did you know," he queried, "that if you get an English invitaW^ to dine, they actually expect you to show up well before noon? An