The Reckoning - 3 (59 page)

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then they have the gall to mock us for dining at dusk! I can never make up my mind whether they are mere philistines or true barbarians except for their women, of course," he added, with a sideways smile aimed in Llewelyn's direction. "Speaking of which, where is your bride? I've heard you've been keeping her even closer than your own shadow."
"Ellen is at Dolwyddelan. Strange, is it not, how often our paths seem to cross? What are the odds that we'd both be at St Mary's Abbey today?"
"Marriage has not mellowed you much, has it? Save your sarcasm, Llewelyn. I am not going to claim this was a chance encounter. I heard you were at the abbey, and I needed to talk to you."
Llewelyn was not disarmed by Davydd's candor; he knew from painful experience that honesty was just one more weapon in his brother's armory. "Talk to me about what?"
"About the corn crop and chess and mayhap the weather . . . what else would we have to discuss? Hellfire, Llewelyn, you know what I want to talk about, a conversation that begins and ends with Edward. I daresay Goronwy told you that
I was summoned to defend my possession of Welsh lands in an English shire court? But you do not yet know the worst of it. When I complained to Edward, I
told him that the laws of Wales ought to be honored no less than the laws of other lands. And Edward's response? He said he would uphold only such Welsh laws as he deemed 'just and reasonable.' "
Both Llewelyn and Goronwy well knew that Davydd could summon up anger purely for effect, and quite convincingly, too. They exchanged speculative looks now, trying to decide if his outrage was sincere or not. Davydd waited with obvious impatience, then demanded, "Well? Have you nothing to say to that, Llewelyn?"
"I do not know what you want of me, Davydd. What you say hardly comes as a surprise to me. I find it difficult to understand how it could be a surprise to you, either. You were Edward's ally, ought to know the workings of his brain if any man does"
"Christ on the Cross! I cannot believe we're still bogged down in the same swamp. Whilst you dwell on old grievances, the English King is laying snares all over Wales!"
" 'Old grievances'?" Goronwy sputtered, sounding so incredulous 'hat Llewelyn almost laughed. He was more amused than angry himself, ^azed by the sheer sweep of his brother's presumption.
"You are right," he said and grinned. "How could I be so petty as
0 still hold a grudge? It is not as if you've ever given me reason!"
Davydd could and did shrug off mockeryfrom any man but

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Llewelyn. "And of course you have nothing to reproach yourself for » he snapped. "No, you were the aggrieved innocent, as always. After all, we both know you never make mistakes, not like the rest of us mere mortals!"
Llewelyn frowned. Did Davydd mean that he'd come to see his betrayal as a mistake? He started to ask that, but Davydd gave him no chance. Getting abruptly to his feet, he slammed his wine cup down A^ith such force that the clay cracked wide open. Davydd did not even notice, never taking his eyes from
Llewelyn. "What I could never understand," he said, "was why you bothered with a crown. What need did you have of it, when you had your very own halo? Tell the Abbot that my men and I will not be staying."
Davydd turned away, then looked back at his brother. "I do have other news for you. My Elizabeth is with child again. I suppose I should ask if your wife is pregnant yet. Wales is about due for a miracle, after all."
That was a thrust Llewelyn had not been expecting. His hand jerked, wine splashing into the floor rushes. Davydd whirled, in three strides was at the door. But there he halted, his fingers clenching upon the latch. Without turning around, he said, very low and very fast, "More fool I, for I somehow keep forgetting that words are verily like arrows, and once fired, cannot be called back. You are not likely to believe me, and so be it. But the truth is that I know as much about regrets as any other man." He did not wait for
Llewelyn's response, disappeared into the rain-drenched dusk beyond the door.
Goronwy glanced at the door, then at Llewelyn. "I've known Davydd for many years," he said, "and that was as close as I've ever heard him come to offering an apology. I think he had more in mind, my lord, than one heedless taunt."
"Yes," Llewelyn agreed, "I think he did, too."
Goronwy was, for once, displaying uncharacteristic discretion. "Tell me, my lord, if I am treading too close to that swamp Davydd mentioned . . .?"
That earned him a quick smile. "Ask your question, Goronwy, Llewelyn said, for
Goronwy might be the one person able to understand, as even Ellen could not, that some bridges could not be burned.
"Are you coming to believe then, that Davydd wants to make his peace with you?
As for myself, I truly think he does. Why else would he have named his son . .
." Goronwy stopped, looking quizzical, as Llewelyn held up his hand.
"Let's just say I find it more believable than I once did. His behavior makes more sense, I'll admit, if viewed in that light. He'd never be able

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to say it straight out, of course, not Davydd. I think I can even undertanda littlehis anger. Forgiveness always came so easily to him, Goronwy, too easily
..."
Goronwy nodded. "But I do believe, my lord, that his regrets are real enough."
"Mayhap they are," Llewelyn conceded. "I suppose I'd like to think so "
"But you cannot forgive him?"
Llewelyn took his time in answering. "When I was warned that Davydd had been implicated in Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn's treachery, I summoned him to Rhuddlan
Castle to defend himself. You were there, were you not, Goronwy? Davydd denied all, rather persuasively, too, although we did not yet know even half of the plot. And once we were alone, he made an accusation that I found very troubling. He wanted to know if I'd have suspected Tudur or Einion. I had to say no, and I realized only then how I'd wronged him, how quick I'd been to believe the worst of him ..."
Goronwy sucked in his breath. "And all the while, he was lying to you, all the while he was Cain," he said, and Llewelyn's eyes met his own.
"Just so," he said softly. "So you see, Goronwy, I cannot give Davydd what he wants, what I even want myself sometimes. For what is forgiveness worth without trust?"
THE Abbot's concern about the rain proved unwarranted. After a spectacular dawn, one that too briefly gilded the sea and estuary in rich shades of red, copper, and then a shimmering, spangled gold, Llewelyn and his men rode south under a summer-blue sky. The sun soon dried the road, and as Llewelyn traveled fast even in inclement weather, they reached the Lledr Valley well before dusk.
They were not yet in sight of Dolwyddelan when they saw riders UP ahead. As they drew nearer, Llewelyn recognized his niece and Hugh de Whitton. He was not surprised to see them together, for they'd developed a fast friendship in the months since he'd wed Ellen at Worcester. Llewelyn had been rather dubious at first of Caitlin's attachment to the young Englishman. He still thought of her as a child more °ften than not, and he'd been very willing to indulge her when she entreated him to put off finding her a husband; he saw no reason not to wait until she was ready, had no intention of forcing her to wed against her will. But nonetheless, she was fifteen now, of marriageable a§e, and it was only after he'd had a long and candid talk with Hugh

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that he'd felt reassured, having satisfied himself that Hugh's devotion to
Caitlin was honorable, protective, and quite brotherly.
Caitlin and Hugh were in high spirits, and greeted Llewelyn with exuberance, eager to confide their mission. They were both talking at once, and there was some confusion before Llewelyn learned that one
4 of his huntsmen had found a remarkable fawn, white as snow with eyes f s red as garnets. "I know it sounds fanciful, Uncle Llewelyn, but Phylip swears it is so. We are on our way now to his house, for Phylip says he means to keep it as a pet, that people will likely pay to see it!"
"Tell Phylip I'd be interested in seeing this wondrous beast myself." Llewelyn waved them on, and within moments they were out of sight, disappearing around a sharp bend in the road. Llewelyn laughed and urged his stallion forward, on toward the castle where his wife awaited him.
As always, Llewelyn's arrival created considerable excitement, people hastening out of the hall, kitchen, and stables to welcome their Prince home.
But Ellen was not among them, and that surprised Llewelyn somewhat, for he and
Ellen had been playing a newlyweds' game, in which he sought to reach their bedchamber and catch her unawares, a game he rarely won, for she was almost always alerted by the inevitable commotion heralding his return. This time, though, she did not appear, and he mounted the steps, crossed the drawbridge linking the forebuilding to the keep, and entered his bedchamber, where he discovered that he'd won by default, for Ellen was nowhere in sight.
Juliana jumped to her feet, looking oddly flustered. "My lord! We did not expect you back for another day or two!"
Llewelyn was fending off the enthused welcome of his favorite greyhound. "Nia, down! I missed Ellen," he said with a smile. 'Where is she?"
Seeing him glance toward the corner privy, Juliana reluctantly shook her head. "She . . . she is not here, my lord. She took Ivory out for a ride."
"Not by herself?" Llewelyn frowned, for this had been a source of contention between them. While he understood that a woman imprisoned for nigh on three years would revel in her newfound freedom, he did not want Ellen wandering about on her own, for he was finding that he worried more about her safety in a mountain meadow than ever he had about his own safety in the midst of a battle.
"I know she promised you not to venture out without an escort, Juliana said hastily. "But she was very distraught, needed to be alo"6
for a time."
"Distraught?" But there was no need to ask why; he knew. "He

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flux came, after all," he said, and felt a dulled throb of disappointment vvhen Juliana nodded. He'd refused to let himself hope too much, for he'd known that a week's delay was not proof of pregnancy. But Ellen had not been as realistic, and he could imagine all too well the depths n0w of her despair.
"She was so sure," Juliana said miserably. "I could not convince her that it was much too early to hope. She said she'd never been overdue this long, a fortnight yesterday, that it had to mean she was pregnant. And then this morn, when her flux came ..." Her voice trailed off. "She so wants to give you a son, my lord."
"Yes," he said, "I know . . ."
rr was easy enough for Llewelyn to guess where Ellen had gone. It was not just the sylvan setting of Rhaeadr Ewynnol that drew her so often to the white-water cauldron; the waterfall had become a romantic shrine from the moment she learned it had been a favorite trysting place for Joanna and her
Llewelyn. Reining in his stallion beside Ellen's tethered white mare, Llewelyn dismounted swiftly. Crossing the clearing, he found his wife standing at the cliff's edge. She was wrapped in a wool mantle of bright scarlet, and patches of crimson burned into her cheeks, too, as she turned, saw him step from the forest shadows into the sunlight.
"Llewelyn!" But there was no gladness in her voice. Nor did she move toward him. "How did you find me?"
"Does it matter?"
"No," she said, sounding as if nothing mattered, not anymore. "I am sorry you came back early, for I needed more time ere I'd be ready to face you. I've failed you, Llewelyn. Once again I've failed you."
"No, Ellen, that is not so."
"But I did! You do not know"
"I do. I spoke to Juliana, cariad."
"Then . . . then how can you say I've not failed you? You need a s°n/ a son I
may not be able to give you. That is why you married me, to get an heir. Can you deny it?"
"No," he said slowly, "I'll not deny it. When Davydd betrayed me, I lost more than my brother, I lost my heir. I had no choice but to wed as quickly as I
could, to try to sire a son. But that was nigh on five years ^d three unforeseen happenings ago. My life has changed since then, "* ways I'd not anticipated."
" 'Three unforeseen happenings,' " she echoed. "I do not understand."

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He closed the space between them, took her hand, and drew her toward the shelter of a vast and ancient oak. "When Davydd fled t0
England, I did not expect to look upon him again in this life. Still less did I expect that the pull of the past would prove so strong for us both
I am not saying we have now reconciled, but we seem to have contrived an uneasy truce, and that unlikely development is what gives such
I significance to the second occurrencethe birth of Davydd's son, my
| nephew and namesake, and if need be, my heir." He smiled faintly. "\
daresay Davydd would be sorely vexed if he was passed over in favor of his little lad, but that would be his problem, not mine."
"I'd not thought of your nephew as a potential heir," Ellen admitted, "just as painful proof that Elizabeth could give Davydd what I could not give you. I
truly thought I would conceive at once, Llewelyn. I never doubted ..."
"And each month you await the coming of your flux like a condemned prisoner awaiting the axe, and when it does come . . . Ellen, you cannot keep tormenting yourself like this. It serves for naught, cariad. You have to accept whatever happens, whatever the Almighty wills, for both our sakes."
"Can you accept that, Llewelyn? Can you honestly tell me that you'd not barter your very soul to have a son of your own?"
"Of course I want a son, Ellen, and if it is not to be, there will be a great emptiness in my life. But I've had years to come to terms with it. As you yourself said, my love, I've not lived as a monk. I've had my share of bedmates, yet not one of them ever quickened with my seed. How likely is it that every one of those women was barren? It may not be God's Will that I have a son."
"I do not believe that. You deserve sons if any man does. J was so sure this time," she said, in a voice barely audible above the surging rush of the falls, "so sure I was with child ..." She gave him one swift, heart-wrenching glance, then looked away. "Llewelyn, what if I am barren? Another woman might
. . ."
He marveled at her courage, for he knew what it had cost her to say that. He ran his fingers lightly along the curve of her cheek, and found her skin wet to his touch. "I cannot answer that, lass, no more than you can. Mayhap another woman could give me a son, mayhap not. But that brings us to the third unforeseen turn of events. When I sent Brother Gwilym to Montargis, I got more than I bargained for/ Ellen. I did not expect to fall in love with my own wife."
"I know you love me, Llewelyn. But is that enough? What if I cannot ever give you a son?"
"You give me joy, cariad, more joy than I've ever had in this life'