The Reckoning - 3 (20 page)

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from that. Surely Llewelyn would have confided in him? Or would he? Mustering a smile, he said, "Actually, Uncle, I was on my way into Llyn to see you, was just stopping at Aber to pay my respects to Llewelyn. I had not known you were here, too ... although not for long, it seems. \Vhere does Llewelyn go in such a mad rush?"
"South . . . into Powys." Einion moved closer to Davydd's stallion. "There is trouble, lad. But I'd best let Llewelyn tell you."
As he followed Einion into Llewelyn's bedchamber, Davydd's nerves steadied;
he'd always found the time before a battle to be more stressful than the action itself. "What has happened?" he asked, and then Llewelyn was turning toward him, and as their eyes met, he felt a surge of hot triumph. So Llewelyn did not know!
So intense was his relief that it took him a few moments to focus upon what his brother was saying. Gruffydd had been betrayed, but it was not as bad as he'd feared, as it could be. The informant knew nothing of the assassination plot, nothing of his own involvement. The details were sketchy, the tipster's account filled with life-saving blanks. But he'd learnedand revealedenough to put Gruffydd in a very precarious position, under strong suspicion of scheming to annex the cantrefs of Ceri and Cydewain.
"Well?" Tudur said tersely. "Have you nothing to say?"
"I suppose I am still taking it in. I have to admit that I am surprised. I
never thought Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn to be a fooluntil now."
"He's not a fool, Davydd. He's Welsh," Llewelyn said, with such bitterness that Davydd caught his breath. It was not often that he saw his brother with his defenses down like this.
Llewelyn had begun to pace. "Our grandfather used to say that we Welsh were our own worst enemies. God Above, how right he was! How long are we going to play the game by English rules? They need not sow seeds of dissension amongst us; that is our most bountiful crop!"
Davydd was so elated by his reprieve that he'd cheerfully have agreed with virtually anything Llewelyn might have said at this point. Too true," he said quickly. "A pity envy was not a cash crop, else Wales would be the most prosperous realm in Christendom."
"Why can we not make them understand, Davydd, how much is at stake? Why do they think the Scots have managed to keep the English from carving up their kingdom? Because the Scots have the sense to rally around their kings, to put their differences aside whenever they're nreatened by the English Crown. But we Welsh . . . was ever a people
80 stiff-necked, so willfully blind? The Marcher lords have sunk their r°ots so deep into Welsh soil that we'll never be free of them. Why can ^ people not see the danger? Wales must be united, whole, with one Pnnce to speak for us, as the Scots kings do. How can I hope to fend

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off the wolf at our door if I must constantly be on the alert for foxes under the window?"
Davydd said nothing, and Llewelyn gave him a sudden, searching look. "I know there are many who complain that I keep too heavy a hand on the reins. The
Welsh are likely to balk at the first prick of the spursif not sooner. But do they truly think that Edward would be a more benevolent overlord?"
g Davydd shrugged. "London is a lot farther away than Aber, Llewelyn."
"They think miles are all that matter?" Llewelyn sounded incredulous. 'They honestly believe Edward would be content to reign, that he'd not want to rule, too? The English scorn us as a backward, primitive people, Godless and befouled with sin. Edward is a crusader King; he'd see it as his divine duty to bring us the dubious benefits of English custom and English law. And he'd open the floodgates to English settlers, charter English towns on Welsh soil, turn Gwynedd into an English shire. We'd become aliens in our own land, denied our own laws, our own language, even our yesterdays, for a conquered people are not allowed a prideful past. Worst of all, we'd be leaving our children and grandchildren a legacy of misery and loss, a future bereft of hope."
Llewelyn stopped abruptly, and for some moments, there was only silence, one haunted by his harrowing vision of a Welsh Apocalypse. "I would die ere I let that come to pass," he said at last. "Why is that not enough for the Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyns? What more do they want of me?"
"If they could only have heard you just now, Llewelyn, you'd have converted half of Wales to your cause," Davydd said, and meant it. "For certes, you'd have gotten me to join your crusade," he added jauntily, and he meant that, tooalmostfor his quarrel was with the messenger, not the message. "But your eloquence is wasted upon Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn. What happens now? Dolforwyn is conveniently close to his castle at Trallwng. I assume you've a siege in mind?"
Llewelyn slowly shook his head. "We shall summon Gruffydd before my council to answer these charges. If he can, well and good. If not, a forfeit will be levied against a portion of his lands."
Davydd's surprise was momentary. Almost at once, his skepticism reasserted itself. "I'd say that was most magnanimous of you, Llewelynif I did not know you so well. No prince forgives treason/ not when such forbearance could prove fatal. What do you truly mean to do?"
Llewelyn's smile was sudden, approving. "You may have y"111 faults, Davydd, but slowness of wit is not amongst them. The truth then? There is more to this plot than we know. There has to be, f°r

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I rmffydd is as wary as a treed cat, not one to jump till he is sure what
I below. If he'd moved into Ceri or Cydewain, I'd soon have followed, th an army at my back, and he would know that full well. So how
H'd he hope to escape my vengeance? That is what I want to know, what I intend to find out."
No longer smiling, he said, "I shall give Gruffydd a chance to exolain, and then . . . just enough rope with which to hang himself."
ON April 17, Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn was called before the council of his liege lord, Llewelyn ap Gruffydd. Gruffydd's son Owen blustered and ranted and deniedunconvincinglyall guilt. Gruffydd wisely chose to cut his losses, admitted that he had, indeed, been guilty of shameful disloyalty to his
Prince. His was a public and harsh humiliation, followed by the seizure of the cantref of Arwystli and part of Cyfeiliog. He was compelled to yield his son
Owen as a hostage for his future loyalty, and the remainder of his Powys lands were then restored to his control, with the significant, sinister proviso that, should further treachery come to light, he would forfeit all his estates in perpetuity.
But Owain's fears for Davydd had been well founded. The Welsh soil had always been a fertile breeding ground for rumors. Now, fed by speculation and watered by suspicion, a new crop was soon ripe for harvesting. Eventually, inevitably, these rumors implicated Llewelyn's younger brother, and in early October, Davydd was summoned to defend himself before Llewelyn's council at Rhuddlan
Castle.
10
RHUDDLAN CASTLE, WALES
October 1274
L/AVYDD was not surprised that Rhuddlan's
Jo H- sn°uld be so full, every seat taken, every corner filled with
& craning spectators, every eye upon him. He knew how men

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off the wolf at our door if I must constantly be on the alert for foxes under the window?"
Davydd said nothing, and Llewelyn gave him a sudden, searching look. "I know there are many who complain that I keep too heavy a hand on the reins. The Welsh are likely to balk at the first prick of the spursif not sooner. But do they truly think that Edward would be a
. more benevolent overlord?"
*g Davydd shrugged. "London is a lot farther away than Aber, Llewelyn."
"They think miles are all that matter?" Llewelyn sounded incredulous. "They honestly believe Edward would be content to reign, that he'd not want to rule, too? The English scorn us as a backward, primitive people, Godless and befouled with sin. Edward is a crusader King; he'd see it as his divine duty to bring us the dubious benefits of English custom and English law. And he'd open the floodgates to English settlers, charter English towns on Welsh soil, turn Gwynedd into an English shire. We'd become aliens in our own land, denied our own laws, our own language, even our yesterdays, for a conquered people are not allowed a prideful past. Worst of all, we'd be leaving our children and grandchildren a legacy of misery and loss, a future bereft of hope."
Llewelyn stopped abruptly, and for some moments, there was only silence, one haunted by his harrowing vision of a Welsh Apocalypse. "I would die ere I let that come to pass," he said at last. "Why is that not enough for the Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyns? What more do they want of me?"
"If they could only have heard you just now, Llewelyn, you'd have converted half of Wales to your cause," Davydd said, and meant it. "For certes, you'd have gotten me to join your crusade," he added jauntily, and he meant that, tooalmostfor his quarrel was with the messenger, not the message. "But your eloquence is wasted upon Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn. What happens now? Dolforwyn is conveniently close to his castle at Trallwng. I assume you've a siege in mind?"
Llewelyn slowly shook his head. "We shall summon Gruffydd before my council to answer these charges. If he can, well and good. If not, a forfeit will be levied against a portion of his lands."
Davydd's surprise was momentary. Almost at once, his skepticism reasserted itself. "I'd say that was most magnanimous of you, Llewelynif I did not know you so well. No prince forgives treason, not when such forbearance could prove fatal. What do you truly mean to do?"
Llewelyn's smile was sudden, approving. "You may have your faults, Davydd, but slowness of wit is not amongst them. The truth/ then? There is more to this plot than we know. There has to be, '°r

125
Gruffydd is as wary as a treed cat, not one to jump till he is sure what ,es below If he'd moved into Cen or Cydewain, I'd soon have followed, ^th an army at my back, and he would know that full well So how did he hope to escape my vengeance? That is what I want to know, what I intend to find out "
No longer smiling, he said, "I shall give Gruffydd a chance to explain, and then just enough rope with which to hang himself "
ON April 17, Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn was called before the council of his liege lord, Llewelyn ap Gruffydd Gruffydd's son Owen blustered and ranted and deniedunconvincinglyall guilt Gruffydd wisely chose to cut his losses, admitted that he had, indeed, been guilty of shameful disloyalty to his Prince
His was a public and harsh humiliation, followed by the seizure of the cantref of Arwystli and part of Cyteiliog He was compelled to yield his son Owen as a hostage for his future loyalty, and the remainder of his Powys lands were then restored to his control, with the significant, sinister proviso that, should further treachery come to light, he would forfeit all his estates in perpetuity
But Owam's fears for Davydd had been well founded The Welsh soil had always been a fertile breeding ground for rumors Now, fed by speculation and watered by suspicion, a new crop was soon npe for harvesting Eventually, inevitably, these rumors implicated Llewelyn's younger brother, and in early October, Davydd was summoned to defend himself before Llewelyn's council at Rhuddlan
Castle
10
RHUDDLAN CASTLE, WALES
October 1274
o^ L/AVYDD was not surprised that Rhuddlan's
JostL Should ** so fuU' everv seat taken/ everv corner filled with g>
craning spectators, every eye upon him He knew how men

116
flocked to bear-baitings, cheered themselves hoarse at cock fights, turned out in huge numbers for any public hanging.
He paused deliberately in the doorway, in part to make a suitably dramatic entrance, in part to give himself a chance to identify the enemy Like patches of ice in a field of melting snow, the unbleached habits of the White Monks stood out prominently amidst so many tunics of russet and green. Davydd recognized the Abbots of the abbeys of Aberconvvy, 'dCwm-hir, and Cymer. Not much hope there; the Cistercians were Llewelyn's, heart and soul. The Bishop of Bangor was a more promising prospect. He'd been feuding with Llewelyn for months, might balk out of sheer spite. Forget Tudur ab Ednyved; he'd want a front row seat at the gallows. Nor would he get any support from Goronwy ap
Heilyn, Tudur's nephew; he could not begin to count the whores and wine flagons they'd shared over the years, but their friendship had not survived his alliance of expediency with the English Crown. Dai ab Einion, another one who'd prefer to reach a guilty verdict straightaway, without the bother of a trial first. Rhys ap Gruffydd? He'd be sympathetic for certes, but lacked the backbone to defy Tudur and Llewelyn. Their uncle Einion liked him well enough, liked Llewelyn better. Even Owen de la Pole was on hand, looking far less sleek and self-assured as a hostage than he had as a would-be assassin. He glanced furtively at Davydd, then away, and Davydd thought he deserved all of this grief, if only for his bad judgment in ever taking Owen as an ally. There were other familiar faces in the hall, but he paid them no heed, knowing they would follow wherever Llewelyn led.
And where would that be? Davydd's gaze focused at last upon his brother.
Llewelyn was sitting in an oaken high-backed chair upon the dais. A spiked candle flared behind him, throwing his face into shadow; no accident, Davydd was sure. Never had there seemed so much distance between them. Davydd wondered briefly if this was how he'd feel come Judgment Day, and then he raised his head, swaggered into the hall, into the vortex.
The hall quieted. He walked toward the dais in the sort of funereal, respectful silence he'd always associated with the sickbed of a dying rich relative. The urge to shatter it, to shock, was overwhelming, but for once he resisted temptation. Halting before his brother, he made a very formal, elaborate gesture of obeisance, one that stopped just short of parody. "I am here, my lords. Ask of me what you will."
Tudur was quick to take up the challenge; as Llewelyn's Seneschal/ it fell to him to act as Justiciar. "Serious accusations have been made against you, my lord Davydd. Witnesses have come forward, men o* good repute, who swear that you met secretly with Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn, Lord of Powys, on at least two occasions, at Mathrafa'
"^
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ui the spring of 1273 and then at Gruffydd's castle at Trallwng last
November."
Davydd had long ago learned that scornful laughter vfas often the jnost effective weapon in his arsenal. But now he did not have to fake it; the laughter welled up on its own, so sweet and sweeping was his relief. If this was all they had, he could walk out ofthis trap blindfolded. "If I did not know you had no sense of humoi whatsoever, my lord Tudur, I'd think you must be joking. You summoned me before your high tribunal for this? Because ale-house gossip says I may have met with Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn nigh on two years ago?"
Tudur was quite unmoved by his mockery. 'The first meeting took place on the last Sunday in Lent, the second on All Soul's Day. Does that prick your memory any?"
"No . . . should it? If you're asking where I was on a March Sunday sometime last year, I'm damned if I know. I can tell you this, that I was not in
Powys."
"There are men willing to swear that you were," Llewelyn said, and his voice,