Bond of Blood (20 page)

With a slight bitter laugh, Lord Radnor shook off both qualm and anxiety. He strode purposefully into the hall and ordered that men and horses be fed and a meal prepared early for himself. He queried Sir Robert about supplies and made a note of what was needed. Innocently, he told the castellan that he was sending a man to arrange that the supplies be forwarded and that his father had been warned to expect a messenger the following day. Displaying open indifference to Sir Robert's seeing what he did, Cain wrote the letter in the hall with materials supplied by the castle scribe. As he poured the hot wax and pressed his seal into it, he added fretfully that in these disturbed times his work was doubled because his father would accept as genuine no message except one in his own hand. Finally he sat down to eat and drink, apparently quite relaxed and ready to make small talk about his marriage. He spoke of the youth of his bride, regretting that Lady Robert was so far removed from Painscastle that it would be impossible for her to advise and help his Leah. There was no awareness of tension in his eyes as he watched Sir Robert playing nervously with the poniard that hung around his neck. He even commented softly on the beauty of the worked gold chain while the thought crossed his mind that, one way or another,  it would very soon be his.

Giles came in shortly to say that the men were ready and the horses rested. Lord Radnor nodded and rose to his feet with a sigh. He thanked the castellan and his wife for their hospitality.

"It seems that I never become comfortable but I must leave that place forthwith. Well, well, such is my life. Since there seems no need, I should not be back for a month or more, perhaps not at all. If my father passes this way because he must go to Shrewsbury, he may stay a night. Please be so kind as to entertain him and take the cost from my share of the manor yield. I expect to be at Penybont for a day or two to calm Owen, so if you hear anything of interest or need me, a rider may find me there."

Sir Robert saw them down to their horses and wished them Godspeed politely enough. He hoped his relief did not show in his face. Curse Pembroke for not holding Lord Radnor as he said he would until Penybont had been taken and Lord Radnor could be entrapped. Now he would have to accept Gaunt's visit too because he really would need the supplies the Earl would bring. Young fool, he thought, arrogant young fool, talking and talking in that soft voice of his instead of questioning and listening. Had he guessed, he might have saved his neck. He laughed, but the laugh turned sour. Gaunt would not be so easy to fool.

There was a bitter taste in Sir Robert's mouth. He had been an honorable man all his life, faithful to his trust, and first Gaunt and then Lord Radnor, when he came of age, had been good masters. Now he was getting old, his fighting days were nearing their end, and he knew that Lord Radnor did not like his son and would not promise to pass the possession of the keep into his hands.

Perhaps his son was not perfect, but if he did not become castellan of Radnor Keep, there would be no provision at all for his own old age. Pembroke had promised Sir Robert that when Lord Radnor was dead he could hold the keep and its demesne lands as a true vassal. Then his son would inherit the keep by right; no man could put him off the land. Sir Robert watched the column of men as they were gradually hidden by trees at a bend in the track. He wanted Radnor Keep more than he wanted his life, but it was bitter to purchase it at the price of dishonor.

About one quarter of a mile past the bend in the road where trees shielded the view from the castle, Lord Radnor halted his troop again. He beckoned Harry Beaufort to follow and the two men made for the edge of the woods. Here five others waited their coming: Pwyll and Cei, who had been ordered to catch the caller in the forest; Cedric and Odo, who had been detailed to stop the Welshmen short of the castle; and one who was called a man only by courtesy, being in truth no more than a boy. Cain dismounted with his usual grimace of pain, but his expression was completely indifferent when he turned to his men.

"Where is the other?"

Pwyll shook his head. "We could not find him. There were signs, but they ended in a false trail."

Lord Radnor's expression did not change, but something behind his eyes did. Even Odo, who did not know his master well and had never seen him close up in a cold rage, was frightened. Cedric hissed gently between his teeth; he had been long in Lord Radnor's service and could see what was coming, even if he could not understand what had been said.

"A tracker who cannot see has blind children, Pwyll, and a tracker who cannot track has no need of feet, Cei" The men gazed back at him grey-faced, but they did not plead for mercy. There was no mercy in those black eyes just touched with red. "Stretch your bow, Cedric, and see that these useless dogs do not leave us. If they run, bring them down, but do not kill them; the sweet death that comes from the yard shaft is too good for such as these."

The last statements were made in English so that Cedric could follow the command, but Cedric's action made clear to the others what was coming. The most horrible thing of all, Odo thought, was the unmoved expression and the gentle voice.

"What is your name and your tribe?"

The question was addressed in the same quiet tone to the prisoner. The child was trembling so that he could hardly speak, but he finally answered in a spate of words. He was from these parts, he told Lord Radnor, and it was true that he was watching the troop, but he had meant no harm. They had been told at the village that the lords would come no more into these parts and that the men from the west would destroy Radnor Castle. Others had come also and told them that it was true that the Norman lords would come no more, but that Radnor Castle would remain and they would pay only Radnor tax and no more lord's share. The village had doubted at first, then as the weeks passed the regular early ploughing, when the great lords usually came, and no one came, they had wondered whether to believe the men from the west or those from the castle. So the boys of the village had been set to watch to see if the men from the west would come. The boy would have continued his protestations of innocence, but Radnor silenced him with a gesture.

"If you meant no harm, why did your companion run away? I think it might be well to lift your hide a little with the birch. No doubt you will sing another tune. You" Radnor switched to English and turned so suddenly upon Odo that the young man jumped "cut yourself a good pliable switch, strip off his rags, and lay to until I bid you stop."

The boy flung himself on the ground at Radnor's feet. "Mercy lord, mercy. I speak the truth. There is no more. I do not know why Llwellyn ran away. He was afraid. I ran because I was afraid too. Ask me anything and I will tell you."

Cain swallowed to still the fluttering in his stomach. How he hated it, the screams and the pleading, and how they drove him to greater and greater ferocity, as if to prove that he could bear it. He envied his father who seemed totally unmoved by the pain he inflicted. As for himself, although he had learned to control both expression and voice, the screaming of a tortured man brought him to the edge of hysteria. One inner voice cried "More", the other "Stop", and between the two Radnor himself was so racked apart that he often missed the right time to put the questions. He stepped back to allow Odo a freer swing and unconsciously set his jaw as if the birch were to fall on his own back.

Cedric hissed softly through his teeth again. A glance had brought Odo's face clearly in view. The young man exhibited a greenish pallor that augured very ill with regard to his ability to carry out his orders. Cedric's eyes did not waver again from his charges, but his mind was occupied with Odo. He was sorry he had chosen the lad for this little jaunt. He had wanted to harden him somewhat, but he had not expected that it would be Odo who had to lay on the birch. Cedric himself was used to it and considered it a mild form of persuasion. He was a free man and a mercenary and had served with other fighting groups; he had seen things which made flaying alive seem merciful.

The birch cracked, the boy screamed, Odo swallowed his rising gorge and, in reaction against his own sickness and terror, struck harder and faster. Incoherently, over and over, the Welsh boy screamed that he could tell nothing more. Radnor, frozen in his own conflict, watched without expression. After a score or more strokes, the rod drew blood and Odo's resistance broke. With a gasp he abandoned the switch and ran for the bracken where he retched uncontrollably. At the cessation of the action, Radnor woke from his trance with a shock of rage. Even before Cedric could consider whether it was worth risking his neck to explain that Odo was on his first expedition, however, the rage passed. Odo's reaction was so akin to his own that Radnor could not help but understand and appreciate it.

Sir Harry had indifferently turned his back on the entire proceeding. Now he turned swiftly back again to touch Cain's arm. "Look!"

Radnor spun on his heels, his sword half out. "Llwellyn! For God's sweet sake, why did not the boy say it was you he was with—or was it you?"

"It was."

"I did say it was Llwellyn," the boy whimpered.

"You little fool," Radnor snarled, "did you not consider it needful to say it was the Bard of Radnor? Is there only one Llwellyn in the Welsh woods? Never mind. You are lucky you came to no harm. A good beating is good pay for stupidity. But what in the name of heaven ails you, Llwellyn, to take to your heels? Surely you saw my blazon."

Clear blue eyes looked gravely from the elderly man's austere face. "I had pressing matters to attend to. Call off your dogs, my lord, for I have a song to sing for you."

"A song? Now?"

"A song of great men, of great fools, and of great fears. And these are the Three Great Troubles of Wales."

That was clear enough. Llwellyn's song concerned the present unrest in Wales. Even in his anxiety to get to the heart of the matter, Radnor could not help smiling as he turned to Cedric.

"Gather up that person of compassionate bowels, Cedric, and take him back to his horse. What is his name, by the way? He is new among my men."

"Odo, lord, and what of these?" Cedric gestured with his bow towards the two Welsh trackers from whom he had not taken his eyes.

"They are remitted their pains. It would need a magician, not a tracker, to catch Llwellyn in Radnor Forest. Also see that the boy's hurts are dressed."

Calmly and with great dignity Llwellyn leaned forward on the long staff he carried. His long white hair stirred gently in the breeze and he regarded his master for a long moment before he began to speak in a voice so musical that he might have been singing.

"I will sing you a song of a king careless of custom, of lords careless of reverence, and of subjects careless of life. And these are the Three Carelessnesses that bring Grief."

"God's truth," Cain muttered, but not loud enough to interrupt the bard.

"In years past Richard Fitz Gilbert was the first lord of Wales. He was a man of great desires and greatly he desired a kingdom. Therefore he made peace in the mountains. That peace was hard and bitter, for Richard swallowed alive the first-born of every man, and he was a great plague upon the Welsh, and he set great tasks upon them, and they builded for him a great and impregnable fortress. But he was a man careless of reverence to them to whom it was due, and this carelessness wrought him great harm, for the colors of his horses and his dogs changed from silver to red, and still he took no heed."

Sir Harry had gone to the baggage animals, returned with a low camp stool, and set it up. Radnor glanced at him keenly, but grasped his forearm for support and eased himself down without comment. Sir Harry was right, of course, this tale would take some time in the telling, and Cain glanced uneasily at the sun, knowing that if Llwellyn took very long they would never come to Penybont in daylight. It was hard to believe that Llwellyn was using delaying tactics, even though the news he was relating was ten years old, because bards sang the glories of a particular family and would usually cling faithfully as long as there was a man of the family to sing to and to sing of.

Llwellyn's voice had continued elaborating on the signs and portents that Richard had ignored and come finally to the denouement in which Richard had been ambushed and killed. "Thus Gilbert Fitz Richard, who was son to Richard Fitz Gilbert, took the land and ruled it as was becoming to the heir, and still there was peace of a kind in the mountain kingdom. The peace was less quiet, for this plague was lighter and so the men groaned more and gave more thought to old wounds since there were few new ones to lick. Yet it is custom that the son shall inherit from the father, and they might have been still, had not the king who was careless of custom found him a man who was careless of reverence for the bond of blood. Thus Gilbert Fitz Gilbert, brother to Richard Fitz Gilbert, also desired a kingdom in Wales, caring naught for what he owed his brother's son.

"Now it could be seen that on the hills many trees grew without tops, only the side branches flourishing, and those not greatly. Then a great fear overcame the men of the mountains, and he that was careless of reverence for the bond of blood fed that fear, that instead of losing only the first-born, the tribes themselves might become headless. Thus they were plunged straightway into madness. Others saw the signs differently, however, and said it was the bringers of the plague who would die, and the tribes, like the side branches would grow, although thinly, because of the sacrifices of war. So between fear and hope these became careless of life, thinking that it were better to bring matters to the proof than to live in uncertainty of what would next befall."

Radnor grunted softly. This was recent information, and though he had heard it before, he would like to know how the Welsh tribes found out Pembroke was trying to grab Fitz Richard's lands. Even more puzzling was why Llwellyn was telling him this. The bard knew of his marriage to Pembroke's daughter and might guess that Pembroke's plans were familiar to him. Radnor's body tensed with the conflict between the urgency to go and the need to hear Llwellyn out.