Serpent (17 page)

“No one has taken care of this keep for more than two years,” he muttered. “It may prove to be a difficult task.”

“I think we can manage. “

He had little doubt of that. After a moment, he shrugged. “
Very well,” he said. “But I will admit, I still do not want womenfolk here.”

Jordan patted his arm again. “I realize that, but it will only serve to help ye,” she said
. “I wouldna say so if it wasna true. Women are good for things other than childbearing.”

She said it with some humor and he smiled weakly. “And what are Scots good for?”

“Beating down the Welsh.”

“You did a good job of it.”

Jordan laughed softly. Then, her gaze moved over the dusty chamber and a measure of regret filled her features. “I must confess something tae ye,” she said quietly. “We dinna know this was yer wife’s room so we removed the bed and put it in the other chamber so that yer sister could share the chamber with Penelope for the time being. I have women washing the bed linens. I truly dinna know this was a chamber of sorrow. We thought it was simply unused.”

Bhrodi
hadn’t noticed the missing bed when he had entered the chamber and felt a flash of anger at the confession but it was just as quickly doused. It was indeed an unused chamber, this undisturbable room, but perhaps two years was long enough to leave it as a shrine to loss. He was coming to think that perhaps it was a good thing Lady Jordan had taken charge of the room because he certainly was unable to do it. Perhaps it was better left to another, someone who would tend it and clean it the way Sian had. Nay, he realized that he wasn’t angry about it in the least. There was a part of him that was relieved.

“It
was
unused,” he murmured. “You… you have my permission to clean it. It was a warm and tidy chamber, once.”

Jordan was glad he wasn’t angry about it; now that she knew the history of the room, he would have had every right to be furious. But he seemed rather accepting of what she had done.

“And it shall be again,” she assured him. “We will see tae it.”

It had taken a strange woman to accomplish in one day what close friends and servants had been unable to accomplish in two years.
Bhrodi could feel the tension and uncertainty of the situation lift. When he had entered the room, he had felt their hostility but now he could feel their optimism. He was satisfied with it, he realized, and much more at peace than he had been in a very long while. The situation was changing at Rhydilian after two years of darkness and Bhrodi sensed that light was once again returning. For the first time in a years, he had some hope for the future. Aye, things were changing and he was receptive for the most part.

Without another word, t
hey began to move out of the chamber, heading for tasks that required their attention. There was a wedding on the morrow and they all had preparations to make.

It was going to be a very big day for them all.

⌘

Castell Meurig

The village of Llangefni, seven miles south of Pendraeth

              They had all received the missive from Rhydilian Castle the same way – one of Bhrodi de Shera’s
teulu
, or personal guard, had brought the news of de Shera’s impending wedding. It was something that under normal circumstances would have been cause for great celebration, but the
teulu
who had delivered the missive to Lon ap Ganol of Castell Llandegfan had mentioned that de Shera’s bride was not Welsh. She was the daughter of a great English warrior sent by King Edward and even now, Rhydilian was filled with English who had practically taken over the castle.

The
teulu
was showing disloyalty to de Shera by divulging the information but ap Ganol was glad that he had. He was, after all, a staunch Welshman, proud of his heritage he was. What de Shera was doing was nothing short of treason.

Th
erefore, ap Ganol had immediately sent word to Tudur ap Gwyfn of Llangefni and also to several other Anglesey warlords. Since distances were not as great as they were in other parts of the country, it was in little time that several major warlords in Anglesey received the news of de Shera’s intentions and within hours, men were moving to gather at Castell Meurig, the largest fortress in Anglesey aside from Rhydilian. It was a gathering of houses to discuss de Shera’s latest news and it was an angry mob that collected in Meurig’s hall.

“The wedding is on the morrow,” ap Ganol said to the group. “Though I respect de Shera for his hereditary titles
and his abilities as a warrior, I do not respect him for his intentions. Why would he take an English bride when there are plenty of good Welsh women about?”

The gathering rumbled ominously
. The great hall of Meurig was more of a round house, built upon the foundations of a Norse structure that had been round in shape. The walls were waddle and daub and the roof thatched with heavy sod. Smoke from a great pit in the middle of the room clogged up against the ceiling in great gray clouds. Men inside inhaled as much smoke as they did air, and now with all of the bodies present, it was a stuffy and polluted place.

“I do not think to question de Shera,” another man said. Bron Llwyd was a childhood friend of Bhrodi’s. “The man is our king. He is our greatest warrior. I was at Moel-y-don last November when the English built a bridge over the waters and marched upon Anglesey
. De Shera was the first man they came across and he crushed them. He hates the English as we do, so if he takes an English bride then he must have an excellent reason.”

The group roared and argued, shouting their disagreement across the room at Bron, who jumped up on a feasting table to be better heard. The crowd was growing restless, angry with de Shera’s intentions
. He knew what this group was capable of.

“So what is it that thee wishes?” Bron yelled at the crowd. “Do you wish to destroy de Shera? You cannot and you know it. He is too powerful!”

“Too powerful, aye, but he borders on betrayal with this marriage,” ap Ganol pointed out and the crowd roared its approval. “Never forget that the man’s father is English; therefore, de Shera is half-Saesneg and he has been a known ally with them in the past. He fights against the English, or with them, depending on what’s in it for him. The last time he fought with the English, he gained more English lands that just Coventry. Have you forgotten?”

The gathering was thoroughly upset by now and Bron put up his hands to quell the anger. “De Shera is all Welsh, with a Welshman’s heart and soul,” he pointed out. “Through his mother, he is our king. He would not betray us
.”

That didn’t seem to help. Men were arguing, shoving each other around, uneasy and angry
. As Bron began shouting at those who were beginning to fight, another man leapt onto the feasting table.

Tudur ap Gwyfn was an older man from a very ancient and distinguished family and this was his castle. Men listened to Tudur, including Bhrodi. He respected the man for his wisdom and insight
. Therefore, before the situation grew out of control, Tudur would speak his mind. He held up his hands to silence the crowd.

“De Shera is not a traitor,” he said flatly. “What he does, I suspect, is for peace with the English king. De Shera is a shrewd man and he is not foolish; if he is marrying an Englishwoman, then there must be a good reason. You will not question him on his motives.”

The group of men didn’t particularly like that statement but the rumbles weren’t as angry as they had been; Tudur had that effect on the crowd. The old Welshman continued.

“
However, I will say this; I do not approve of this marriage,” he said. “It reeks of another English attempt at conquest. Therefore, if it is English blood you want, then there will be plenty of it at the wedding. De Shera wants an English bride; then he can have her. But the English attending the wedding are under no such protection. They are the enemy in our lands and it would send a message to Edward if we were to massacre his retainers.”

Bron had been listening to the speech calmly until the last sentence.
That wasn’t what he had expected. He moved in Tudur’s direction.

“Do you not think Bhrodi will have something to say about that?” he asked. “The English are there as his guests.”

Tudur turned to him. “But they are not
our
guests,” he replied. “I will not sit in the same hall peacefully with English who have killed all three of my sons. I do not want an English foothold in Anglesey with de Shera’s marriage.”

Bron cocked an eyebrow. “You just said that de Shera had his reasons for marrying an Englishwoman.”

“Mayhap he has his reasons, but they are not
my
reasons. His alliance is not mine.”

Bron sighed heavily
. “You are a vassal of de Shera,” he reminded him. “His alliance is your alliance.”

Tudur shook his head. “Mayhap the man
needs to be reminded that we, as a group, are his true strength,” he said “He did not consult us on this marriage and he should have. Therefore, the English at Rhydilian belong to us. We will kill them and send a message to Edward, and the message is that we will not tolerate the English in Anglesey. Edward tried to gain foothold here last November and we destroyed him. Now he tries to do it with a marriage to de Shera. We will fight him off once again by destroying the English contingent at Rhydilian.”

Bron didn’t like that suggestion at all but he knew he couldn’t stop it. He was a lesser warlord with only one hundred men sworn to him and if the group turned against him, he knew they would destroy him.
He wasn’t strong enough to fight them off. Therefore, he did the only thing he could for self-preservation; he backed down on his argument lest they think he was a traitor, too. He looked at Tudur.

“Then what do you intend to do?” he asked. “Do you not think that there will be armed English at the wedding?”

Tudor glanced at Lon, who was very much in approval of the plan. “It will be better to strike at the wedding feast when the English have too much drink in them,” he said. “We will attend the wedding and the feast, as de Shera has requested, and when the English are too drunk to fight back, we will strike. In fact, de Shera will not even have to know our true motives. Fights break out at weddings all of the time and no one ever seems to know what started them. It will be the same at de Shera’s wedding; no one will ever know what started the battle, but they will know that we were victorious in the end. The Englishmen will die.”

Bron shook his head with regret. “Bhrodi will know your motives,” he said. “If you do this, you are defying him and his intention to create an alliance with the English. How do you think he will react?”

Tudur knew that The Serpent could be deadly when provoked but he would not back down. “If the situation was different and it was one of us marrying the English to create an alliance, I would suspect de Shera would not approve of it,” he said. “He would be here right now plotting with us and declaring Welsh sovereignty. In time, he will understand our motives and he will agree. We are not meant to ally with the English.”

“The Serpent will strike you down, ap
Gwyfn,” Bron said softly. “You will not survive his anger if you do this.”

Tudur could see that Bron was not entirely convinced
. He was afraid that the man might even warn de Shera of their plans. Therefore, he muttered something to Lon, who in turn whispered something to two of his men. Soon, several men were moving for Bron, who was pulled off the table and dragged from the hall.

Bron ended up in a dank, moldy cell as the Welsh warlords of
Anglesey continued to plan their attack well into the night.

⌘

The great hall of Rhydilian was alive with the glow from hundreds of candles, expensive tallow tapers that had been brought out of storage and ignited in celebration of the lord’s marriage. The dogs had been cleared out and the entire room smelled of roasting meat and fresh rushes. Knights were dressed in their finest and ladies were clad in beautiful garments. On the event of The Wolfe’s daughter’s wedding
to the hereditary king of Anglesey, it was indeed an occasion to celebrate.