The Reckoning - 3 (63 page)

"Life in Wales these days \^__ right words. "It is like waiting'f' '
about our daily tasks with an eye°* Ellen L horizon, feeling the wetness 0
th\8N(Vd, fumblin , we'll have ere it hits." % ** cm 3 break' ^Un8 for the
Amaury was chilled as mUc, Wd %clo4 *«?. We go bleakness of her vision. "It is t W \^ h m'ng on the
"Yes," she confided, "Go,} ^ ^ h«r ^ 6 w "^ch time the Welsh are becoming more G ^ .* ba
<^8 ]*Aved ' , ymat passes, ULy aware of Llewelyn's o^< M \ £ %***U for any of those wrongs." ^t fot A of thg *
nand, in-
Amaury prodded his me^ ^vai^; ^ «tt of their those men hanged at Oswestry? ' ^ '^
v ^li^_ ,, *°U mean i mean in Chester. And Arwystli, alw9y ' A ^Hpon u . Iou mean to burden you with the rest. guAV^ % UeweWs huntsLlewelyn protests to the King
Ut ^ ysaM!V0flJewei investigate Llewelyn's comply nq Jch (J* . well .W* goods the last we ever hear of it." ' ^w^ tt,e Ks^ ^ no need Ellen drank too deeply, lw ^ that,,,%»« him I*6 sameyou about the distraints, did I?^! ^ \^ *at he will the same rights over shipwre^ n^ 'coug]1, ' ^d that is years ago a prosperous Engli^ \ P«, Jn, not think a ship in Welsh waters, and n \c the L\ law eiv e to ashore. But after the Treaty of A^lV*Chat>t \ kin« «! 'tS Princes brought suit against Llewely^V^ d^V^f £*» A few Llewelyn did not even know ^ ^ \e careo ^
lost into Chester to buy honey, aM ,,Ut ^ E^S, / nat washed he confiscated their horses, to0 *e # not J Co^d'f thls merchant IT ,_..,.
.... , bm^\«^. %i. urt tor restit,,*4
Llewelyn's goods whenever t- m% sttcia, \m f,. resn'tution. plained to Edward.
He got a ^C^^Vseted^? r°de fered his apologies for the ^^^L^^' that he would order the Justi^ ?\VatlJ ^Ises u to ^strain letter myself. Yet he then wjw ,°
^^diik, t«uh/ * ^ corn-
plained to Edward. He got a Ob*611'^H seizedtJT r°de fered his apologies for the mi"8* \^rS M^,"* honey.
of-
letter myself. Yet he then wrote Van
ly' too ,7" c°m-
2ures. Is it any wonder that O^H'* p,^^d.of~ when confronted with such b^
fe|iO Just, \d eoodsQ Llewelyn made to feel helpless, least of ^>><* approv^
that "What about his suit agai^' V NO \^nger and L *e Sei~ notbeensettledyetr
'S^' V^^Jg-
\^ g
^^ynwyn?Hasthat

*t*

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Ellen's laugh held little humor. "It has been more than trustee Llewelyn first brought suit, and they have yet even to de ^I^5 first issue, whether Welsh or
English law should apply. Llew iC
cnrplv vpvpH V»v all thp rlplavs anH who ran hlamp ViirvO" * *S
sorely vexed by all the delays, and who can blame him?" ^
"Jesu forfend that I sound as if I am defending our right b 1 cousin," Amaury said, and grinned. "But in truth, sweetheart I ^ why he is so loath to allow it to be litigated. From what you've s 'H ^ your letters, Llewelyn has a good claim under Welsh law. But Ned "" Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn too much to let him lose. At the same tim65 he'd not want to risk pushing Llewelyn into rebellion.
So delay m ' seem like the only road open to him."
"But it is unjust!" Ellen said sharply, and Amaury hid another grin thinking that his little sister might not look like their late, lord fathe ' but she for certes sounded like him.
Curbing her indignation, Ellen continued with the tangled tale of the Arwystli suit. "It has been adjourned more times than I can remember. Then, at Ned's
Easter Parliament last year, it was decided to appoint a commission to inquire into Welsh laws and customs. They did not even choose the members until
December, and when they did, surprise of surprises, all three happened to be
English, and one was a man greatly loathed by the Welsh, Reginald de Grey. But even so, they'll have no choice but to find that Welsh law applies. The Treaty says so, Amaury, in most unambiguous terms, says that if Llewelyn brings claim against any lands occupied by others than the lord King, the King will do him full justice according to the laws and customs of those parts in which the lands lie. And," she concluded triumphantly, "not even Edward can deny that
Arwystli is in Wales!"
Amaury felt no surprise that she should take such an active interest in the politics of her husband's realm; theirs had never been a family in which women dutifully deferred to the greater wisdom of their menfolk. The very thought amused Amaury no end, for he doubted that his lady mother would have deferred to the Devil himself; Simon had even entrusted her with the wartime defense of
Dover Castle. Ellen's impassioned partisanship on Llewelyn's behalf was no less than he'd have expected of Nell de Montfort's daughter.
"Moreover," Ellen said, with a sudden, unexpected grin, "we nav a most unlikely ally in the Arwystli suit, even if that's not his inten^, none other than that misbegotten hellspawn, Roger de Mortimer. ° see, Gruffydd ap
Gwenwynwyn sued de Mortimer for thirteen viu Cydewain, and when de Mortimer did not respond, Gruffydd soug a judgment in default. But de Mortimer is now contesting that, ar^7w that since the land is in Wales, Welsh law should apply, for Welsh happens to allow three defaults!"

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"Well it does sound as if Llewelyn has both law and logic on his
" Amaury admitted. "So why, then, are your nerves so on the raw? S'de borrow trouble ere the debt is due, Ellen?"
^"Is that what I am doing, Amaury? I wish I could be sure that was vish I could be more like Elizabeth ..."
501 -Elizabeth? Our de Ferrers cousin?"
She nodded. "I have not told you all, have not told you about jj ne and Elizabeth and their young sons stayed briefly with us r stell y Bere last summer. It was not a pleasant visit, but it was a ling one Davydd has his own grievances against the English r own arid he seems, too, to have developed a conscience of late. I
. QW that sounds unlikely, but I do not know how else to explain his turnaround. He wants war, Amaury, mayhap for the novelty of being on the Welsh side for once. I know I sound uncharitable, but he frightens me He is so . . . so unpredictable, so irresponsible, and he has caused
Llewelyn so much pain ..."
"But you mentioned Elizabeth. How does she come into this? Do you not like her, Ellen?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I admire her pluck and I like her forthnghtness, although I'll admit to being baffled by her inexplicable devotion to Davydd. I
could not endure being wed to a man I could not respect. But I do not doubt that she loves him, even if I cannot understand it. I only wish she could influence him to the good, provide the voice of reason that he seems so utterly to lack. Instead, she indulges his every whim, no matter how outrageous. I believe that a wife ought to defer to her husband, of course, but Elizabeth is truly besotted with the man, and it has blinded her to the dangers we face. I tried to talk to her, but she is serenely sure that all will be well, that her darling Davydd will always prevail, that he is invincible merely because she wills it so."
Ellen paused, but Amaury was an attentive listener, clever at coax-
mg confidences, able to loosen tongues by his very silence. "I would at I c°uld share her certainty, Amaury. Blessed Lady, how I wish it!
is not *at I lack faith in Llewelyn. It is just that. . . that I cannot help remembering that Mama was as trusting as Elizabethonce. She, too, eved that God would always favor the just, that our father would mWays triumph over his enemies. She believed that right up to the a °ment we stood together in the great hall of Dover Castle and heard vveeping man teU her^ ,They are dea(J^ my lady They are al] dead , das Silence fel1 between them. Amaury reached across the table, ^Ped his fingers around hers. After a while, she said, "I was there, The ^' at Evesham. We stopped at the abbey on our way to Windsor.
ot Was very kind, escorted me into the church and then left me

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alone. I prayed for Papa and for Harry, but I could not stop thinking of Bran, risking his life to make that reckless, desperate pilgrimage to Evesham, to make his peace with Papa ..."
She looked up then, into bright hazel eyes very like her own. "j thought I'd find comfort there, but I did not. It was a disappointment to Hugh, too, for the monk who'd befriended him, Brother Damian, was gone, having been sent to another of the Benedictine Houses, the one at Shrewsbury. Hugh had so looked forward to their reunion, though, that I shall have to find some errand that needs doing in
Shrewsbury."
"I doubt that you'd be doing the lad much of a favor," Amaury said impishly.
"I'm sure he'd much rather be snug in his young wife's bed than chasing about
Shrewsbury after a monk he's not laid eyes upon in ten years!" He was very adroit at reading faces, and after studying Ellen's, he sat back in surprise.
"Trouble in Eden so soon? They've been wed less than a year, hardly time enough, I would think, for them to have grown bored with each other."
"It is lucky that you're a priest, for any man so cynical would have made a most unsatisfactory husband! But you're quick, I'll grant you that. Indeed, all is not well betwixt Hugh and Eluned. Not that he'd ever admit it, not our
Hugh. I daresay he'd endure trial by fire ere he'd speak ill of her. But I
know he is hurting, Amaury, and I think I know why. There is no way I can say this without sounding cruel, but the truth is that although the Lord bestowed beauty in plenitude upon Eluned, He was not as generous in His other gifts.
She is a good-hearted lass, but not, I fear, at all clever or quick-witted. To some men, that would not matter, to others it would. From what I've heard, her first husband felt no lack in her; he was older than she, proud to have such a desirable wife, amused by her child-like ways. But what so charmed him no longer charms Hugh, and the poor lass does not know why. I do feel sorry for her, Amaury; she truly wants to please, and senses that she is disappointing
Hugh somehow, but does not understand how she is failing him. And Hugh ... he breaks my heart, for he is wretched, and I suspect he's likely blaming himself for his discontent. Llewelyn's people have a saying, 'Hir amod ni ddaw yn dda,' or 'A long betrothal is not lucky.' But in this case, it might have saved Hugh and Eluned a lifetime of misery."
"A pity," Amaury said, and meant it; his flippancy notwithstanding/ his fondness for Hugh was quite genuine. "But if a man is a. fool to wed for love, he must be utterly daft to wed for lust. No one with sense would expect a candle to burn forever, so why should a flame kindled in bed?"
Ellen laughed. "To hear you talk, if you'd been in Eden, you'd have sided with the snake! Speaking for myself, my marital candle is burning quite merrily, thank you, and I have every confidence that it shall stay lit, too.
They are not as rare as you seem to think. You cannot deny that our parents found a candle to last the life of their marriage. It's quite obvious to anyone with eyes to see that Ned and Eleanora do not lack for light or heat in their marriage bed. And Edmund and Blanche can jdndle a fire without flint or tinder, too. The best part of my English sojournuntil nowwas the time I had with them"
Breaking off, she entreated, "Ah, Amaury, do not look like that! I know you begrudge Edmund Papa's earldom, but would you rather it had gone to that whoreson de Mortimer or to Gloucester or that Judas, John Giffard? Edmund and
Blanche have been good friends to me, and I am right glad that they have found such contentment in their marriage. They have a second son now, did you know?
Blanche gave birth to a fine, healthy lad a fortnight after Christmas, christened him Henry."
Amaury gave his sister a discerning look. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to, for they understood each other as few people ever did. Ellen

smiled sadly, shook her head. "No," she said quietly, "it did not hurt as much as you thinkor I feared. In truth, I found it much harder to look upon Davydd and Elizabeth's little lads. I do not envy Blanche her sons, would not begrudge her a nursery-full. Hers was a loss no mother should ever have to suffer"
"What are you talking about? What loss?"
"Surely you could not have forgotten? Not a death so bizarre, so But then, you never knew! How could you, for you were in Italy when it happened, whilst
Blanche was still wed to her first husband, the King of Navarre. Their young son was killed in a dreadful accident. His nurse was walking with him upon the battlements of their castle at Estrella, and somehow she tripped, dropped the baby over the wall, down into the bailey."
"Jesus wept!"
"I doubt that a wound like that could ever truly heal. Blanche has never spoken to me about it, and I would never ask. I just hope that the sons she has borne Edmund give her joy in full abundant measure, for she deserves nothing less."
"So do you, lass. Will you tell me the truth, Ellen? Does Llewelyn ever blame you for your failure to conceive?"
"No," she said, "no, dearest, you may set your mind at rest. Llewelyn has never reproached me for my barrenness, never. Indeed, ne has done all he could to comfort me, to reassure me that if I cannot §ive him a son, he will see that as God's Will, not as my failing. I may not be blessed with a fertile womb, but I have been truly blessed in my marriage."

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Amaury was vastly relieved. "I think," he said, "that I could get t0 like that husband of yours, Little Sister."
Ellen laughed. "I'm somewhat fond of him myself. Now I want you to promise me that you'll stop fretting about me. No man on God's green earth could take better care of me than Llewelyn does. And I have by no means given up my hopes of motherhood, shall do my best to make you an uncle. I still have time, for a woman of twenty and eight ought to have another twelve childbearing years at the very least, mayhap more. In fact, I have a plan in mind."
F.llen's eves shone in the candle light. She leaned toward him, eager
- ' '"-i -i i___
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to
Ellen's eves shone in tne caiuuc ugm. ^' ~
to sharehe/secret. "There is a holy well in North Wales, close by BasSerk
Abbey. It is dedicated to a Welsh saint, Gwenfrewi, and * wXflre said to have wondrous healing powers, espeaally for women lab e to conce ve. Upon my return home, I shall make a pilgnmage to unable to conceive V J ^..^r,,; tr, heed my prayers, that I
l_*U4_r.u. «£2 - j waters are said to have wondrous healing powers, especially ior women unable to conceive. Upon my return home, I shall make a pilgrimage to her well, Amaury, beseech St Gwenfrewi to heed my prayers, that I may give Llewelyn a son."
"God grant it so," he said, and never had he meant any prayer more.
"Ere I forget, I have something for you." Ellen reached into^ bodice of her gown, drew out a thin gold chain. "Papa's nng. I ve kep it safe for you8as I
promised. But I think it is time now for you to have it back."
As she held the ring out to him, Amaury caught her hand. "No," he said, "not yet. You hold on to it a while longer, until I am freed, until I can come into
Wales to fetch it backand to see your son."
' ' 1- <-1..4.^l,.
until I can come into Wales to reiui u. vm^.^.- _, Ellen's eyes searched his face, and then she nodded slowly. Clutching the ring so tightly that the sapphire dug into her palm, clutching it as if it were a holy relic, she echoed softly, "God grant it so."
THAT cold, wet spring eventually yielded to a rainy, cool summer. The Welsh had almost given up hope of seeing the sun again when, without warning, the second Saturday in June dawned to vividly blue skies, an all-but-forgotten warmth, and a mild, southerly breeze. The inhabitants of Llewelyn's seacoast manor at Aber and the village that had grown up in its shadow soon found plausible excuses to escape into that dazzling white-gold light, to make the most of Nature's sudden reprieve. Ellen loved their times at Aber. She loved to walk upon the beach and gaze across the straits toward Llanfaes. She loved to follow the shallow, meandering river that flowed through a deeply wooded glen, and she loved to watch for that flash of silver amidst the trees ahead, anticipating her first glimpse of the surging waterfall that splashed ovei a sheer cliff in a narrow ribbon of white water. She loved lying beside
Llewelyn at night in the same chamber where Joanna had once slept with her
Llewelyn. Aber was the heart of her husband's realm; it was here that she felt the pull of the past most strongly, and she never came back to
Abergwyngregynmusical Mouth of the Whiteshell River without feeling as if she were coming home.
Ellen was an avid gardener, and she'd lavished loving care upon the gardens at
Aber. Accompanied by Juliana and Edwyn, an aged gardening wizard whose plant-lore was legendary, Ellen prepared to survey her verdant, flowering domains. They went first to the small vegetable plot; the Welsh were no more