The Anarchy, page 20
The timing of their visit was fortuitous, since I recently had to part with Ida again. King Henry and his queen had a deal of business with the courts of Flanders and Louvain and had need of a clerk skilled in those languages. The king had asked that Ida return to court to serve the queen for some months. I judged, too, that Ida would be safest out of Breri’s way.
Anarawd and Cadell came bounding down the stairs noisily. ‘Where is your huge companion?’ I smiled at the boys.
‘Oh,’ said Cadell breezily, ‘he just accompanied us here to make sure we were safe on the road and now he is returned to Caeo. Is it near dinner time, Aunt Nest? I am famished!’
‘You are always famished,’ I laughed.
We took our seats at the table to eat and the servants brought in the dishes to a stirring commentary from Cadell. ‘Poached eggs in a ginger and saffron sauce; pike in ale sauce; pork meatballs with almond milk and thyme!’ he announced, as he reached for each dish.
‘Enough!’ I said, tapping his arm and laughing. ‘Use your mouth to eat with instead!’
He grinned and obeyed me.
After dinner, I sat with Anarawd and Cadell, playing tables. ‘The goldmine is going well, Aunt,’ Cadell said in a low voice, his head close to mine. ‘Meister Werner has sunk an immensely deep shaft with a wooden shed above it. Many ladders are lashed together, and the miners descend on these rickety contraptions into the very centre of the earth. They work with picks and wedges and hammers. The ore is lifted in buckets, all chained together.’ Rapidly, he sketched the things he described for me with a piece of charcoal on wood. ‘What they bring out is washed on the old Roman washing tables and fired in crucibles.’ Cadell’s eyes shone at me, and my face mirrored his excitement. ‘The gold,’ he whispered, ‘is moved in packs slung onto ponies or in little mine carts that run ingeniously on wooden plank ways.’ When I had looked at his sketches long enough, he spilt water on the drawings and scrubbed them away with a cloth.
‘You should not speak of this to your cousins,’ I told them in a low voice, adding bitterly, ‘my sons.’
* * *
The following morning passed cheerfully in the bailey, as I watched my nephews playing with my sons, Robert and FitzStephen. The boys stood about the fishpond looking for the big fish floundering among the stalks and crying out ‘There’s one!’ or ‘That red one’s so fat!’ There was a sudden rumpus at the gateway and one of my servants came to us at a run, his face an unnatural puce colour.
‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed.
‘A man has been found on the beach, washed in by the tide. He is drowned.’
‘How terrible! We will go to see who it is.’ I owed that to the poor soul if he were one of my peasants. And I knew the boys would be ghoulishly pleased to look at a corpse. It was the way of boys to revel in gore and others’ misfortunes. Robert and FitzStephen clamoured to come with us, but I insisted they stay behind with Amelina.
I led the group across the castle bailey, out beneath the gateway tower and down the steep hill to the sand-flats. The tide was out, and snakes of water left behind meandered in incised channels here and there. Clumps of greenery decorated the sand and waited for their next immersion. The sun glinted on small white shells and crab pools. Lines of wading birds looked up briefly at our interruption of their study for insects marooned by the absent sea. Growing closer, we could see the black silhouette of a man laid on his back, bloated, discoloured and washed up by the tide like an eroded tree branch. As we grew closer, it became apparent that we were looking at the drowned bulk of the man named Einon, who had accompanied Cadell and Anarawd from Caeo.
Cadell was white in the face and let out a series of gasping sobs. I looked at him in alarm. I should not have allowed them to accompany me and witness this. ‘Take Prince Cadell back to the hall,’ I said to a servant.
‘No, please, Aunt, no. I want to honour Einon. He was a good friend to me and did us bold service.’ He scrubbed the tears from his face and sniffed hard. ‘I don’t need to be sent back to the hall with the children.’
I hugged him to my hip.
My steward had gone closer to inspect the poor corpse and called out to me: ‘Seems like his body has been deliberately thrown from a boat to marry with a tide that would bring him in here on the beach. I’d say the man’s been tortured, lady.’
Before I could reach out a hand to stop him, Anarawd ran to crouch down beside the man’s ruined face. He knelt over him, weeping. I let go of Cadell and moved nearer to Einon’s body. I stooped to lift Anarawd up and away from the poor carcass. ‘We cannot help him now, Anarawd. He is gone.’ I frowned as I caught sight of a meaningful glance exchanged between the two boys.
I waited until we were back at the castle, and they were sipping hot drinks laced with strong wine to warm them after the chill shock of the beach, then I sat down and looked at them earnestly. ‘What is it, Anarawd, Cadell? What is it about this man’s death you are not telling me? I can see in your faces there is something.’
They looked at each other and reached a decision. ‘The man carried a message from my father to Raegnald in Dublin,’ Anarawd told me.
‘A written message?’
They nodded.
‘In Welsh.’
They nodded again.
‘It was missing,’ Anarawd stated.
‘Missing?’
‘It was woven into Einon’s beard. It was gone. I checked on the beach.’
I admired his bravery to have searched the corpse under the concealment of grief. ‘Well, you had best tell me what the message said.’
They were silent.
‘So, I am to guess that it was a dangerous message for your father. Did he sign it?’
‘I’m not sure of that, Aunt,’ Anarawd answered.
Cadell, however, nodded. ‘I penned it. It gave father’s name. That was stupid of me.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Cadell swallowed, and I paused to think. ‘It is doubtful that Einon’s capture and the taking of this message could have been happenstance.’
They continued silent, studying the table.
‘If we are to protect your father, you had best trust me.’
‘Are you not on the side of the Normans, Aunt?’ asked Cadell.
‘No,’ I found myself saying vehemently. ‘I am Welsh. My sons have chosen to live as Normans, but I cannot be anything other than Welsh, and since that is so, I must support your father in his quest to regain our kingdom.’
They stared at me, their eyes gleaming with proud affection. I looked around hastily to ensure no one else was in earshot. I dropped my voice again. ‘Who could have known that he carried such a message and known of his whereabouts?’
Anarawd shrugged. ‘We travelled only with Einon. Only father, Gwenllian and we knew of it. No one else could know. I don’t understand it.’
‘Very well, then. Who else knew about whatever was contained in the message?’
‘The princes of Gwynedd,’ Cadell declared.
I shifted in my seat to face him more fully. ‘There is a tale here that you need to tell me if we are to safeguard your father from whatever treachery is afoot.’ They told me of the visit of the princes of Gwynedd to their home in Caeo, of the plans to attack Cardigan together with the aid of Raegnald.
‘Why would they betray us?’ Anarawd asked. ‘We were working together.’
‘Gwenllian said she did not trust her brothers,’ Cadell volunteered. ‘I did not trust that youngest one most of all.’
‘What is his name?’ I asked.
‘Cadwaladr ap Gruffudd ap Cynan.’
‘I will send word to your father and Gwenllian to warn them that the message has likely fallen into the wrong hands and has not reached Dublin.’
‘In another message that might be found and used against us?’ asked Anarawd, aghast.
‘No. I will send a trusted messenger.’ I would not tell them who, but I already knew that I would send Dyfnwal, Amelina’s husband. I was in the simmering conflict between Welsh and Normans now, up to my neck, I reflected.
* * *
The following morning, I came down the steps to the hall and could hear Anarawd laughing with one of the Welsh men of the garrison. I stopped in the doorway, and they had not heard my approach. Anarawd was reading from a paper he held out in his hands.
She who for a long time, filled with a sevenfold demon, had raced about in pestilential madness, through the seductive chambers of men at Babylon, whose god Baal rejoices in damnable naked sports, and in the sanctuaries of voluptuousness sirens chant echoing antiphons, where satyrs leap, the lamia suckles her brood.
‘What’s it about the Norman king?’ the soldier asked.
‘No,’ laughed Anarawd, ‘what makes you think that, you ignoramus? It’s about Mary Magdalen, of course.’
‘Don’t know about that,’ responded the soldier stubbornly, ‘that King Henry is accustomed enough to concubinage and his court is a Babylonish furnace, they say. You can be asking your aunt about that.’
I saw Anarawd frown, then he caught sight of me standing in the doorway. ‘Get out!’ he told the man. ‘Get about your business.’
The soldier swallowed at the realisation I had heard him, pulled down his cap and hurried to the great doors leading out to the courtyard.
‘What is that, Anarawd?’ I held out a hand for the paper and he passed it to me. It was scribed in a fair hand in Welsh.
‘It’s a poem about Mary Magdalen,’ Anarawd said, his tone guilty. ‘But after this rather lurid bit about Babylon, it’s about the remission of her sins by Christ.’
I glanced over the paper and recognised it as a poem by Hermann de Reichenau. ‘Yes, it is a fine poem. Where did you come by this?’
‘From the bard.’
I looked at him in alarm. ‘What bard?’
‘I … I supposed he must be your bard. He was here yesterday in the hall, or perhaps it was the stable, I can’t remember, talking with me and Cadell and some of the men. He gave the paper to me.’
‘Was his name Breri?’
‘I don’t know his name. What’s the matter, Aunt?’
I asked Anarawd to describe the man to me and it answered to Breri’s description. There was no doubt. He had been here at Llansteffan, poking around, asking questions of my nephews and my son’s men, making implications about me with this Magdalen poem I supposed, and he had been here when Einon was murdered and the message in his beard had gone missing.
23
Snake in the Grass
‘The king has made his barons swear an oath to his daughter as his heir?’ Gruffudd asked Maurice. In response to the message I had sent with Dyfnwal, my brother had ridden in to collect his sons an hour ago and we sat in the hall waiting for the boys to pack up their belongings. I had not expected him to come himself. He was surely in grave danger.
Maurice nodded. ‘That is the news. Excuse me please, Mother. Uncle.’ He went out to see to the practice of the squires in the courtyard.
Gruffudd waited until Maurice was out of earshot. ‘I received another interesting message, Nest, besides yours. From your kinswoman.’
‘My kinswoman?’
‘Cristin, who is married to Gwenllian’s brother, Prince Owain of Gwynedd. She has had a hard lot. Forced to marry into closeness with those who murdered her father and uncles.’ Gwenllian’s oldest brother, Cadwallon, had murdered Cristin’s kin, and she had been married to Owain as a peacemaker between the feuding families. ‘She has written to me to give me news of treachery. I wanted to make sure you had the full picture.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘She wants vengeance against her husband’s family. She told me she has no proof, but it is likely, from words she has overheard whispered about, it was the youngest prince Cadwaladr who had Einon murdered as he carried the message to the Danes for me.’
‘What might Cadwaladr do with this evidence against you? Why would he oppose you? I thought they were your allies against the Normans?’
‘Cadwaladr wants to be king of Ceredigion. His older brothers take Gwynedd and he would have the lands that belong to me. He is likely to treacherously give the evidence to the Normans, I imagine. And then, I suppose the king will hang me anyway,’ he concluded gloomily.
‘Gruffudd! What are you doing about it?’
‘What can I do?’
‘You could treat with Cadwaladr before he takes this step. Regain this message that you so rashly entrusted to paper.’
Gruffudd grimaced. ‘It was Gwenllian’s doing. She is ruing it.’
‘You should not be sitting here. You should be riding to Cadwaladr.’
‘It’s likely too late for that, and, anyway, I could not trust that Cadwaladr would not hand me over to the king’s agents. I will return to Caeo now. I do not want to be taken here, with you.’
‘Gruffudd, for God’s sake! Why did you come? You should be far away.’
‘I wanted to speak with you before I have to leave, Nest. I may not see you again.’ He took my hand. ‘I had to wait until Maurice was out of earshot, but I wanted to tell you I will have to cross to Ireland if there are charges of treason laid against me. Ensure that you stay clear of it, Nest.’
‘But I can go to Pembroke. See what is to be done. We could speak with Cadwaladr. You could offer him land. That’s what he wants, isn’t it? Part of Ceredigion for his own kingdom?’
Gruffudd shook his head and said vehemently, ‘I’ll give him none of the land that is mine. Do not endanger yourself, Nest. I had best go now.’
I held onto his hand for a moment longer. ‘I’m sorry Gruffudd! I know I will see you again.’ My mouth quivered, undermining my intention to sound firm on his behalf. My poor brother, who should be king here, had spent most of his life in exile, in hiding, in poverty. He was the only brother I had left, when I had started out with five, and the only person who had any conception of what I had lost when the Normans massacred our family.
He smiled sadly at me, stood, and took his leave. I waited in the shadow of the gatehouse to watch him ride from the castle with Anarawd and Cadell. Cadell turned in the saddle and waved to me, and I returned his gesture, holding back tears. If my brother must flee and seek shelter with his friend Raegnald in Ireland, all our efforts to regain the kingdom of Deheubarth were set again to nought.
I could not stand the thought of another brother killed and if treason were proved against him for a second time, he would hang for it. I did not stand staring after their absence from the horizon for long. ‘I’m going to Pembroke,’ I informed Amelina.
‘Alright,’ she said, bewildered.
I strode to the stables, ordered my horse saddled, and hurried back inside to change into my riding clothes.
* * *
‘Lady Nest! This is a pleasant surprise.’ Gilbert de Clare and Isabel rose to greet me as I walked into the hall that once had been my domain. Haith was there and had a worried expression on his face. The bard, Breri, also stood and flourished a bowing greeting to me, with a hypocritical, unctuous expression on his face. I was already too late, perhaps. I had hoped that I might come and assess the lay of the land for Gruffudd. Perhaps there was a way for me to alibi him, to refute charges against him.
‘We have received grievous news concerning your brother,’ de Clare declared, confirming my fears.
I halted a few feet from the dais. ‘My brother?’ Now I must flounder and find some cover for my visit. I could not appear to be complicit in the evidence they had against Gruffudd.
‘Breri here,’ de Clare indicated the bard, ‘has given me a missive from your brother that has fallen into his hands.’ Breri’s expression was smug. ‘It speaks treason against the king,’ de Clare announced sternly. ‘A plot to attack Cardigan with the aid of the Irish Danes.’
‘There must be error,’ I retorted. ‘My brother lives quietly in Caeo with his family. This is forgery. I don’t doubt it comes from someone evil-minded.’ I glared hard at Breri.
‘The provenance of the message is convincing,’ said de Clare. ‘What is the purpose of your visit, my lady?’
I opened my mouth but could not find my excuse. How could I have been so stupid? Why had I not found a story on the ride here? Breri raised an eyebrow at my hesitation.
‘I invited Lady Nest,’ I heard Haith say. ‘Sorry that I neglected in all this business of the treasonous message to mention it before now. I needed to go over the accounts of Llansteffan with the lady for my renderings to the court of the Exchequer.’
De Clare observed Haith steadily before returning his gaze to me. ‘We are remiss. You need refreshment after your ride, Lady Nest.’ He gestured to the seat next to him, and Breri shifted to make space for me there. I could not be trapped here.
‘Thank you, but before I sit, I must see to my horse, which has taken lame on the way here. I will return shortly.’ I turned and moved swiftly from the hall before there could be any argument.
In the stables I spoke softly in Welsh to the groom who knew me well from my previous time as Lady of Pembroke. ‘I need to send a message to my brother in all haste and privacy.’
‘I will take it for you, my lady.’
I knew I could trust him and had done so before. ‘It is dangerous for you.’
‘I will have care, my lady, and I will deliver your message.’
‘Take these words, then, to my brother: You are exposed. Find refuge in Ireland.’ The man repeated the message to me and swung up into the saddle. I watched him ride out through the gatehouse.
