The Reckoning - 3 (67 page)

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nately, it was not Eluned who opened it, for Hugh's young wife WOU|H have spoiled his surprise then and there. But Juliana needed no pIOl^ ing. She bit back the cry that rose to her lips, gave Llewelyn a f conspirator's grin/ and then she was gone, snatching up her mantle and making a discreet departure for the hall. Llewelyn spared a moment to bless both her tact and her timing, and then shut the door upon the storm, slid the bolt into place.
Ellen's back was to the door. The tub had been dragged so close to the hearth that she risked being singed by its heat, but she liked to linger over her bath until the water began to cool. Llewelyn had never known anyone who took such sensual delight in bathing, and once he'd learned of her secret vice, he'd been quite willing to indulge it. The wooden tub had been custom-made to his specifications, twice the usual size, round and deep and well sanded to protect her skin from splinters, the rim padded so she could lie back in comfort. By now Llewelyn knew the rituals she would follow, knew that the water would be scented with rosemary and chamomile, that she would lather herself with liquid French soap, and as she soaked, she would slowly sip a goblet of wine. Then when'she was done and dried off, she would dust herself lavishly with a fragrant powder. The routine never varied, and he had yet to tire of watching it, especially on a night like this, when the wind was rising, and the castle lay under a white, silent siege.
Ellen's hair had been swept up, but a few long strands were defying their pins. They trailed in the water, lay wet and gleaming against her breasts, giving her the look of a modest mermaid, one who happened, however, to be singing a song bawdy enough to have made her confessor blush Llewelyn would have lingered a moment longer by the door, eniovinR the flickering play of firelight upon her skin. But she interrupted her song to ask Juliana if that had been the wine, and he crossed the chamber, reached down for her out-stretched, waiting hand, and pressed a kiss into her palm. »npwelvn'"
Ellen's eyes snapped open; she sat up with a splash. Llewelya More water splashed, but as quickly as she rose from the tub to mns her arrns around his neck, just as quickly did she recoil, for his mantle was glazed with unmelted snow. M to the
Llewelyn laughed, freed the clasp, and let the mantle faU to floor "Let's try that again," he said, and Ellen came back into Jus ^ warm and wet and smelling of rosemary. The tub was so full * ^ movements sent water sloshing over the sides, onto the n Llewelyn's boots. He got even wetter as he lifted her out of the he did not care. Plucking the pins from her hair, he kissed her then her throat. to pa>
"When a mortal man catches a mermaid, does she not iw

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, -t £or her freedom? If memory serves, I think he gets to keep her
"That is a scandalous way to talk to your wife," Ellen scolded, but oiild have been more convincing had her voice not quivered with
5 . ter "\Ve did not expect you back until Thursday, at the earliest.
d such a special welcome planned," she said and sighed regretfully. \i\a were going to have all your favorite foods, Gruffydd ab yr Ynad
, was composing a song for your pleasure, and I was going to wear newest gown, the crimson one with the lace"
She got no further; he kissed her again. "Actually," he said, "I like you better like this, soft and slippery."
"And shivering," she added with a smile, and began to wrap herself m a towel, deftly sidestepping his attempt to snatch it away.
"Are all mermaids so skittish? Why are you in such a hurry to put your clothes on? It would make more sense if I got rid of mine, joined you in the bath.
Generous lass that you are, you've shared half of it with me, already."
Ellen giggled. "The last time we tried that, we flooded the room! But if you really want to risk drowning again, I am willing. Not yet, though. First we must talk, beloved. I have a gift for you, and I would give it now."
"A New Year's gift? But that is still more than a fortnight away."
"I know, but I cannot wait any longer, not another moment. And it is not just a New Year's gift. It is also a very early birthday gift, a belated anniversary gift."
"One gift in lieu of all that? I think I am sure to come out on the losing side here, for how could any one gift possibly be as wondrous as . . as that?"
She caught the telling pause, so quickly covered up, knew exactly what he'd found himself thinking at that moment, and it hurt her to see how swiftly he'd rejected it, as if hope had become the enemy.
'Say it, my love," she entreated. "Say what we both know to be true--that only one gift could be as great as thata son and heir."
Ah, Ellen . . ."he said softly, and she reached up, gently laid her Hers to his lips.
'You do not understand, not yet. That is what I am telling you, Uewelyn, that is my gift. I am with child."
Llewelyn's breath stopped. "You are sure?"
« hi nodded- "Yes' my darling, yes ... oh, yes!" She laughed up , ' and there was on her face a look of such pure and perfect
PPWess that he no longer doubted.
Abov telling myself it was not to be, and I tried to accept it, God e' how I tried!" He touched his fingers to her cheek. "I've loved

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28
DOLWYDDELAN, WALES
December 1281
1 HE brutal winter weather had not kept the lords of Wales from braving the high mountain passes. From North Powys came Llewelyn
Fychan ap Gruffydd Maelor, Lord of Nanheudwy and Cynllaith, and his brother
Gruffydd Fychan, Lord of lal. From the south came Cynan ap Maredudd and Rhys
Fychan, Lords of Ceredigion, and Rhys Wyndod, Lord of the Vale of Tywi, and his younger brother, Llewelyn ap Rhys of Is Cennen. And from the Perfeddwlad came the most surprising arrival of all, the Lord of Dinbych and Yr Hob, Llewelyn ap Gruffydd's brother Davydd.
And as word spread of their presence at Dolwyddelan, Llewelyn's troubled countrymen began to converge upon his court, bearing their grievances against the English Crown like Christmas offerings for their Prince. One by one they rose to speak in the great hall, to reveal their wrongs, their rage, and their yearning for vengeance.
Some of their complaints spoke to affronted pride, others struck at the heart, but through them all echoed a common cry, one of lossof lands, of dignity, of hope.
Men whose lands had been seized to build Edward's castle at Flynt charged that the royal promises of compensation were never honored. Men who'd brought goods to sell in the new borough of Rhuddlan told how they were compelled to sell only to the English, at prices set by the English, and those who balked were gaoled and beaten. Their woods were cut down, without recompense. Their laws were mocked. And as each man came forward to bare his wounds, the hall fell silent; here at least their voices would be heard.
Einion ab Ithel claimed that because he drove his oxen through the streets of
Oswestry, he was beaten and both of his oxen taken from himIthel ap Gwysty was fined a vast sum for a crime committed by his father forty years before. lorwerth ap Gwrgwneu was fined for escaping from an
English prison during the war. Others spoke of the harshness Of the English forest laws, so alien to the Welsh; three men lost all they owned for one foot of a stag found in a dog's mouth. The church of St pavydd at Llangadog was used by the English as a stable, the priest stabbed and left bleeding before the altar, and none were called to account for it. The new Justiciar of
Chester, Reginald de Grey, claimed the lands of the men of Merton without cause and bestowed them upon the Abbot of Basingwerk.
There were many hated officials of the English CrownBogo de Knovill, Roger
Clifford, John Giffard, Roger Lestrangebut none were loathed as much as de
Grey. Again and again his name was heard in the hall, until by repetition alone it began to sound like a curse. De Grey had forced free Welshmen to plough his lands like English serfs. English masons from Rhuddlan Castle assaulted a Welshwoman passing by, attacking her husband when he sought to defend her, and when the family of the slain woman captured the killers and brought them to de Grey for justice, he set them free, then arrested the complaining kinsmen. He accused the men of Rhos and Tegeingl of trespasses committed in the reign of the present King's late father, and demanded money to forgo prosecution. He violated the terms of his Ring's own treaty and harassed the Welsh so shamelessly that they despaired of ever finding justice in his courts. How long must they endure his tyranny? How long must they deal with the Devil?
Later, when Llewelyn and his highborn guests were at ease in the great chamber of the castle's new West Tower, those were questions that trailed after them, lurking unanswered beneath their guarded courtesies, shadowing their occasional silences.
There was much that lay unspoken between these men, for most of them had abandoned Llewelyn four years ago to save their own lands. But there was also

between them an affinity that could not be disavowed, one of blood. Rhys
Wyndod, his brother Llewelyn, Rhys Fychan, and Cynan ap Maredudd were cousins, great-grandsons of the Lord Rhys, most renowned of all the southern princes.
Rhys Wyndod and his brothers were also nephews of the Prince of Wales, son of
Llewelyn's long-dead sister. The Lords of North Powys, Llewelyn Fychan and
Gruffydd Fychan, were his kinsmen, too, albeit much more distant ones.
Llewelyn no longer trusted kinship, if ever he did; if a blood bond could not bind his brother to him, how could it hold fast nephews or cousins? °ut theirs was still a common heritage, a shared history in which regrets, resentments, ambitions, and jealousies all existed in uneasy accord.
Servants stoked the hearth, refilled mead cups, and discreetly with(toew. The silence that had fallen as the servants entered lingered after

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they departed, a silence that was speculative, wary, and yet expectant
Llewelyn had been awaiting just such an opening. "I think it is time," he said, "to speak of our own grievances against the English King."
There was a moment more of quiet, and then the chamber was reverberating with the sounds of anger. Voices were raised, chairs shoved back, fists slammed down upon the oaken table with enough ^ force to alarm Nia, Llewelyn's canine shadow. Llewelyn made no at"' tempt to exert control, let them vent their rage as they pleased, interrupting one another in their haste to share the injustices each had suffered at English hands.
None of their complaints were unfamiliar to Llewelyn; he'd kept a close watch upon all of their dealings with the English Crown, knew their wrongs as he did his own. His cousin of North Powys had seen his lands raided by the Marcher lord John Fitz Alan, had been feuding for several years now with the constable of Oswestry, Roger Lestrange. He had also endured the humiliation of being abducted by the sons of Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn, and then of being unable to avenge himself afterward upon his assailants, for none stood higher in royal favor than the Lord of South Powys. Llewelyn's nephew, Rhys Wyndod, had lost his castles at Dinefwr, Carreg Cennen, and Llandovery, and when he'd sought to defend his rights in Hirwryn against the claims of John Giffard, he'd discovered that no Welsh quagmire could bog men down as hopelessly as an
English court case. Cynan ap Maredudd and his absent brother had been deprived of their lands in Geneu'r Glyn and Creuddyn. And these were all men who'd yielded to Edward, lain down their swords in a vain attempt at self-preservation. Those who'd spurned accommodations had paid an even greater price; Rhys Wyndod's brothers had been stripped of all they'd once held for their failure to forsake Llewelyn in those desperate months of 1277.
Davydd had so far kept silent. But once some of their passion had been spent;
once their fury no longer burned at full flame, he said, "Let Goronwy ap
Heilyn be heard now, for I know no one who has greater grievances against
Reginald de Grey, not even myself."
Davydd had been attracting more than his share of suspicious glances, for most men saw distinct differences between surrender and collaboration. But Goronwy commanded both liking and respect, and none begrudged him a chance to speak of his wrongs.
Goronwy was not disconcerted to find himself the focus of all eyes. "I hardly know where to begin," he said, "but I will confine myself to the most arrant offenses. One of my tenants was brought before the King's court on a false charge, and although I sought to testify on h15 behalf, he was fined twenty-seven pounds, a sum so great he'd nee" three lifetimes in which to pay it. Then a man whose friendship I he dear, one whom I'd trusted to foster my son, was slain. His kinsmen brought the killer to Rhuddlan, demanding justice. But they were the ones cast into prison, whilst the killer went free. De Grey took away the bailiwick given to me by the King and sold it for his own profit. Then there was the trouble over
Maenan and Llysfayn, lands I'd leased for a four-year term. Sir Robert
Cruquer, a knight of de Grey's household, attempted to evict me from these lands by force, and when I resisted, de Grey summoned me to answer in court.
There he had men at arms ready to seize me, and would have done so had I not been warned beforehand, come accompanied by an armed force of my own. He even dared threaten to have me beheaded, and only the presence of the Bishop of St
Asaph stayed his hand."
Goronwy's dark eyes glinted with remembered rage, but he kept his voice even, as if recounting another man's misfortunes, for so great was his sense of outrage that he'd been forced to distance himself from it. "Three times," he said, "I traveled to London, seeking justice from the English King. Three times I came away with nothing but empty, hollow promises, promises that were never kept. I'll not go a fourth time, that I swear upon the soul of my son."

There was not a man present who could not identify with Goronwy's complaints, but their commiserations were cut short by Davydd, who said, "Now it is my turn. I'll concede straightaway that my legal troubles with that whoreson de
Vanabeles are less entangled than Rhys Wyndod's lawsuit against John Giffard, and as for Arwystli ..." Here he gave his brother a sudden, sideways grin. "Do they know yet, Llewelyn? Tell them about the latest twist in a road already as crooked as Edward's ethics!"
Llewelyn's smile was almost amused, for he'd had more than a month to come to terms with Edward's latest ploy. "Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn is now claiming that my case against him cannot proceed without the King's writ. And Edward has informed mebrace yourselves for a great surprisethat they just cannot seem to find the original writ. Since they cannot, he is most regretful, but we'll have to begin the cas>e all over again, as if the past four years had never been. Who would have guessed that an English lawsuit could have as long a lifespan as ^y man's? It gives a whole new meaning to the concept of perpetuity, does it not? The next time that I grant a charter 'forever and aye,' mayhap
' °ught to add, 'or the end of the Arwystli lawsuit, whichever occurs first.' "
There was laughter at that, but not from Rhys Wyndod, who could ^d no humor in the subject of lawsuits, not after being yoked to John ^iffard in an English court for the past two years. "How can you jest a°out it?" he asked in genuine bemusement, and Llewelyn shrugged.