Footsteps in Time (28 page)

“
We should all go, my
lord,” Bevyn said. “We can do nothing more here.”

“
We could cause trouble,”
David said.

Bevyn shook his head. “I disagree, my
lord. Better to ensure help comes. Only then can we kill some
English.”

David wanted to
disagree, but couldn’t.
Of course he’s
right. As usual.

* * * * *

David found his father’s
men on the edge of the rugged mountain range to the west of Brecon,
with Rhys ap Maredudd, his cousin Rhys Wynod, Nicholas de Carew,
and their men. They’d camped in a spot that afforded a spectacular
view of the lowlands of south Wales. Their grim expressions as
David’s company rode into the camp, however, couldn’t bode
well—whether for the Welsh or the English David didn’t yet know.
Father had retired to his tent to read a missive a messenger had
brought in minutes before. Goronwy greeted him and, leaving Bevyn
to make disposition of the men, brought David to his
father.

Goronwy and David ducked under the
tent flap. Llywelyn looked well, but somber. He’d collapsed into a
chair, the letter resting on his lap, held in both
hands.

“
Hereford’s men have
surrounded Buellt Castle,” David said. “They may have already taken
it!”

Father straightened in his
seat, but didn’t answer, merely held out the parchment to David.
“It is from the Archbishop of Canterbury. He thinks it’s time to
affect a reconciliation between us, Edward, and the Church. He
wants to include the Scots for some reason.”

David stared at him. His
father’s words had pulled him up short and he glanced at the paper.
It took a moment to shift gears and take in what was written there.
“He can’t be serious. Not with Bohun on the offensive.” David
passed Goronwy the letter.

“
Perhaps he doesn’t know
that the Earl of Hereford is on the offensive.” Goronwy quickly
scanned the paper. “There’s no love lost between Hereford and
Edward, and Hereford certainly doesn’t confide in the
Archbishop.”

“
But they’re all supposed
to be meeting in Chester as we speak,” David said.

“
When is the date set for
this new council?” Goronwy said. “The one the Archbishop is
planning.”

“
The first of August, near
Lancaster,” Llywelyn said.

“
That’s some distance for
both us and the Scots to travel,” Goronwy said.

“
Such is my concern,”
Father said. “I don’t trust Edward, even if he promises safe
passage. We would be in his country, on his land. Why he doesn’t
invite us to Shrewsbury and the Scots to Carlisle, I don’t
know.”

“
This bears some thinking
about,” Goronwy said. “Perhaps Rhys would have something to
say.”

“
Ask all the lords to come
here,” Father said.

David was bouncing up and down by now,
anxious about Buellt, but before he could bring his father’s
attention back to his concerns, the other men ducked under the flap
and circled Llywelyn.

Goronwy handed Rhys the
paper, who scanned it. “You cannot go.”

“
Edward won’t like it if
you don’t,” Carew said, having read it over Rhys’
shoulder.

“
Perhaps he means to make
peace—real peace,” Father said. “Is that something I should
ignore?”

Goronwy pursed his lips. “I suppose it
might be worthwhile to hear him out, if it would bring a true end
to this war.”

“
My concern is your
person,” Rhys said. “Goronwy has been negotiating on your behalf
for months. But Edward asks you to come to Lancaster without
confirming he will sign the treaty.”

Carew had a finger to his
lip. “What does that mean?” And then he said, “I’ve changed my
mind. I agree with Rhys. You can’t go.”

“
I agree,” Father said,
“but someone has to. Dafydd must attend without me.”

Now it was Goronwy’s turn to shake his
head. “I would rather you snubbed him, my lord, than put your son’s
life at risk. He has no right to expect it.”

“
I’m not suggesting this
because I care about Edward or his expectations.” Father stood and
began to pace around his tent, and when he spoke again, his voice
was harsh. “He’s going to continue this war, or he’s not. He’s
going to make peace, or he’s not.”

“
It says in the letter that
this is at the instigation not of Edward, but of the Archbishop of
Canterbury,” David said. “It distresses him that you are
excommunicate.”

“
What distresses him is
that the people of Wales and its government no longer tithe to his
Church!” Rhys said.

“
And he misses the power
that our money brings,” Carew said.

“
Ha! You have the better
of it,” Rhys said.

My father’s sudden
stillness drew everyone’s attention. “The Archbishop promises that
if I come to Lancaster, he will intercede on my behalf with the
Pope. He dangles this as a carrot in front of my nose, as if I were
a donkey pulling a cart. He knows how important it is to me, and to
Wales, that we are right with God. We and our Cistercian allies
defy the Pope, but at what cost to our souls?” Father looked around
at the men before him, who, to a man, didn’t meet his eyes, their
laughter of before regretted.

Father continued. “Dafydd
will go. If that’s not enough for the Archbishop—so be
it.”

Everyone nodded, understanding that
the discussion was over and no longer subject to
questioning.

“
And Buellt, my lord?”
said Goronwy.

“
That is now our first
concern,” Father said. “I will ride to its defense. How many men
besiege it?”

“
Bevyn estimates a complete
force of one hundred foot and perhaps fifty cavalry. More than
enough, given time,” David said.

“
How many defend?” Carew
said.

“
Gwenwynwyn himself, with
thirty of the castle garrison, plus forty of mine,” David
said.

“
Oh.” Carew brightened.
“Excellent.”

“
Hereford will not last if
we come behind him,” Rhys said. “It’s impossible to maintain a
siege under those conditions.”

“
We must move as quickly
as we can.” Father nodded to Goronwy, who left the tent.

“
Father.” David recalled
the other subject they needed to discuss, “do you remember the
letter I wrote to you about how Edward was preparing a new edict
against the Jews?”

“
Yes,” he said. “I
understand Aaron went to Chester to discuss it with his brother and
son.”

“
Since I wrote you,” David
said, “Edward evicted the Jews from London.”

“
I’ve heard of this,” Carew
said. “Edward cuts off his nose to spite his face. Would that they
established their trades in Wales instead. We could rule the
world.”

“
What? Why do you say
that?” Father said.

“
My father had dealings
with the Jewish traders in Bristol,” Carew said. “They had the best
contacts in Europe of any merchants. Their wool, their cloth, their
metalwork, was of the finest quality. My father and I may have
disagreed about many things, but not this. He always regretted not
being able to lure any to his holdings in Wales.”

“
Why didn’t they want to
come?” David said.

“
Oh, well ... they’re city
people, and Wales has no cities.”

“
They’re coming now,” David
said.

“
Are they? That’s news
indeed,” Carew said. “When and where?”

“
A Jewish wool merchant
and his family arrived in Dinas Bran before I left.” David turned
to his father. “And three more families have settled at Dolforwyn.
There may be more by now. They will come, if we let them and if we
spread the word that they are welcome.”

“
How many Jews live in
England?” Father said, ever practical.

“
Three thousand? Five
thousand?” The other men looked at David in surprise. “It’s my
mother’s guess. I don’t know how she knows.”

Father nodded, his hand to
his chin. “We welcome them.”

Perhaps the motives were wrong. Once
again, it was about a quest for money and power rather than a
desire to do the right thing. But this was the thirteenth century,
five hundred years before the Bill of Rights. Perhaps Mom was
asking too much to champion freedom for all people, regardless of
their religion. For now, it was a start.

* * * * *

The next morning, Father finalized his
plans. Carew, for all his support, didn’t want to break off the
pressure he was putting on the southern English castles. Rhys,
however willing to fight, felt the same. He did offer to split his
force and send twenty-five cavalry with Father.

Then Ieuan explained the
story of his great-uncle to David’s men, who took to the idea of
harassing the Earl of Hereford’s holdings with a glee and intensity
that was disconcerting. Father thought the small company might be
able to distract Hereford and make him reconsider his decision to
besiege Buellt. And it would be good fun in the process, David’s
men thought. Suddenly, David found it terrifying.

The stories of Robin
Hood involved bravery and heroism, love and honor, but also the
crucial elements of the victorious underdog triumphing over the
evil powers that rule the land.
What’s not
to like?
The Robin Hood concept, placed in
the hands of a thirteenth century Welshman, however, became truly
blood curdling. Cadwaladr ap Seisyll dropped everything from the
story but honor—and revenge.

“
My intent is to come
behind Hereford’s men and break the siege of Buellt,” Father said.
“If Hereford is concerned about your activities, it could play a
role in how quickly he quits the vicinity. You must also be aware
that he’s likely to retaliate.”

“
What can he do?” one of
the men scoffed.

“
He might drive the people
north, out of their lands, to make them a burden on us. Or,” Father
said, “a very real possibility is that he’ll put all his effort
into hunting you down, just as his grandfather did to
Cadwaladr.”

“
Then we’ll retreat into
the mountains,” David said.

“
You’ll have to be on
constant alert,” Carew said. “The prince’s idea is a good one. He
should have a role in this fight. I’m all for harassing Hereford
where he lives.” Then to Llywelyn he said, “We will not fail you,
sire. Your southern lords are more than capable of managing a
successful campaign. We can continue to hold the lowlands for you,
while you see to Powys.”

Father put his hand on
David’s shoulder. “You’ll have six weeks before you have to leave
for the council with Edward. Take your men and ride east to the
Brecon Mountains. Bohun rules at Brecon Castle, and his vassal,
Clifford, at Bronllys and Hay. Use your best judgment as to what
will wreak the most havoc in those lands.”

If
David
could come to the
council with Edward having shifted the balance of power in the
Marches in favor of the Welsh, he could negotiate from a position
of greater strength. The defeat of Hereford at Buellt was crucial,
and the sooner everyone moved, the better.

Chapter Nine

Anna

M
om and Anna sat on a bench against a sheltering wall in the
kitchen garden, herbs at their feet and a grape vine running up and
over the lattice above their heads, providing shade against the
summer heat. They were watching Gwenllian run back and forth along
the paths, chasing butterflies. She’d come from Aber with Heledd,
arriving in Dinas Bran just after David left.

“
There’s something to be
said for air conditioning,” Anna said, just as a suggestion,
flapping her fan.

“
I’ve never been heavily
pregnant in the summer,” Mom said, “but I can appreciate the
sentiment.”

“
Mama!” Gwenllian called,
coming to a stop. “Look!” A butterfly had landed on her wrist and
was slowly flapping its wings, warming itself in the
sun.

“
Don’t touch it, Gwen,” Mom
said. “It will fly away if you leave it.” It did, and after
watching it flutter onto a climbing vine, Gwenllian settled herself
under a bush to dig in the dirt with a stick.

Mom and Anna continued to
sit contentedly, sharing a moment of peace. “Does Math feel anxious
at not going south with David?” Mom said after a while.

“
Yes, of course he does,”
Anna said. “But Papa told him to hold the north for him and that’s
what he is doing.” She checked the sun, trying to estimate how long
before Math returned from the day’s patrol.

Just then, Math himself emerged from
the shadows of the castle doorway. Anna gathered herself to push to
her feet, but he waved her down. “You need to sit,” he
said.

“
What’s wrong?” Anna
said.

“
Hereford’s men have
surrounded Buellt.”

“
David!” Mom surged to her
feet, but Math caught her arms.