The Anarchy, page 21
‘Sending a messenger?’ I turned to face Breri, who was standing too close for comfort.
‘I had hoped to stay some days visiting Lady Isabel, but I will return to Llansteffan early since my favourite horse is lame and I wish to walk her back slowly to my groom who will care for her. I have sent a messenger ahead to Llansteffan to let them know of my change in plans.’
‘He appears to be taking the wrong road,’ Breri remarked, peering at the direction of dust left by my messenger on the road beyond the gatehouse. Suddenly, he stepped close to my horse and ran a hand down his leg. ‘Ah! And your horse’s lameness is miraculously cured.’
I made no response. He offered me his arm, and I had no choice but to place my hand there and be escorted by him back into the hall. Haith rose and came to speak quietly with me. He waited for Breri to move off, which reluctantly he did after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Thank you,’ I told Haith, referring to the excuse he had made for me. Breri was whispering into de Clare’s ear and the two of them looked up to stare hard at me. A chill shivered through me. No doubt Breri was reporting his suspicion that I had just sent a rider to my brother.
‘Lady Nest.’ Haith’s whisper was urgent. He took a firm grip of my elbow and steered me from the hall. When we were out of sight of those sitting at the high table, he swung me round so that my back pressed hard against the exterior stone wall. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
I glared at him, saying nothing.
‘De Clare has evidence of treason against your brother. A note inciting the Irish Danes to attack Cardigan. Now, that snake in the grass, Breri, is whispering to de Clare that you are somehow involved. Are you?’
I held my tongue.
Haith looked up at the sky, despair and distress written large in his expression. ‘Let’s get you out of here. I will ensure that the story is discredited with de Clare.’ He pulled me roughly by the arm toward the stable.
‘You’re hurting me.’
‘Sorry.’ He loosened his grip. ‘But we need to be quick. I need to get you away. I’m not sure Llansteffan is far enough. Can you go somewhere else?’
‘I can go to Mabel in Cardiff, I suppose,’ I panted, as he bustled me along, almost lifting me in his haste.
‘Do that and do not delay.’
‘What about Ida?’ I asked him. ‘Since Breri was able to infiltrate at Llansteffan and get his hands on this message from Gruffudd, then he may know that Ida has been there.’
Haith nodded. ‘I will look to it.’
We reached the stable, and he hoisted me into the saddle of my not lame horse. I felt a wash of desire at his hands on me, at his desperation for my safety. He leant his hand briefly against my thigh and then looked up at me with an expression of intense concern. ‘Please, Nest, please, take care. The king would never harm you, but there are many others in Wales who would see you humiliated after your treatment of de Marais. The king is far away. They are not.’
I bent down, reaching a hand to his cheek. ‘Thank you, Haith.’ Impulsively, I bent further, my feet pressing in the stirrups, and kissed him. He opened his mouth in surprised response and the kiss became long and hard until my horse shifted with the awkward lean of my posture pressing against him.
‘Go,’ Haith whispered, and let my fingers slide reluctantly from his.
24
Death of a Hound
Haith’s horse wound its way up the steep path to the hilltop fortress at Llansteffan. Nest had stayed for the best part of a year with her foster-sister, Mabel, in Cardiff, and Ida had written to tell him she had joined her there. Last month, Mabel travelled to be reunited with her husband in Rouen, and Nest and Ida decided the threat of repercussions in the wake of Gruffudd’s treason had subsided and they could return to Llansteffan.
The guards gave him access, and he rode into the courtyard where two small boys, one with brilliant red-hair, came running from the stables to see who had arrived. ‘My nephews, Morgan and Maelgwyn.’ Nest’s voice was close behind him. He turned to greet her. ‘With Gruffudd fled to Ireland, I invited Gwenllian and her sons to live under my protection.’ They watched as the boys shifted from their curiosity at Haith and began to chase a squealing piglet that had wriggled out under the willow hoarding of the pen. ‘Don’t hurt that pig!’ Nest shouted after them. ‘She’s Amelina’s favourite and she’ll have your hides!’ Nest turned back laughing to Haith. ‘My older nephews, Anarawd and Cadell, have gone with their father to Ireland. It’s a pleasure to have Gwenllian’s young boys here.’
Haith nodded. ‘And you have someone to converse with in Welsh.’
‘Yes. I take pleasure in that. I am blessed to have myself three great friends staying here now: my sister-in-law, your sister, and, of course, Amelina. And a fourth?’ she looked her question shyly to him.
‘Of course,’ he paused, and they exchanged a warm look. ‘I get the odd opportunity to be speaking Flemish,’ he said, ‘with Ida, with the queen, and with some of the settlers here. It’s relaxing to speak in your own tongue now and then.’
She smiled her agreement. ‘Come in, Haith. You are very welcome.’
Nest’s sister-in-law, Gwenllian ferch Gruffudd ap Cynan, was seated in the hall, her flame-red hair splayed uncovered on her shoulders. Looking at Nest and Gwenllian together in this fortress, Haith did not find it hard to remember that not long ago they would both have been queens here, rather than subservient to Norman overlords. Haith greeted Nest’s sons Maurice and William, who were also present. ‘William has just arrived too,’ Nest told him.
William acknowledged Haith’s greeting, but Haith could see he had something on his mind he wanted to broach with his mother. Greetings and news were exchanged between them all, and William’s impatience grew palpable. He directed irritated glances in Gwenllian’s direction.
Gwenllian rose and gathered her skirts about her. ‘I will see to my boys,’ she told Nest and sauntered from the hall.
As soon as she was out of earshot, William glanced at his brother and launched into the topic that had obviously been burning to leave his tongue. ‘Mother, it’s bad enough to take the risk yourself of returning, given the suspicions you were involved with your brother’s treason. Can’t you see that having Gwenllian and her boys here is not helping your case? Excuse me, Haith,’ he turned briefly to Haith, ‘for speaking out on this family business, but I must have it said and I know you will agree with me on this, that mother should not consort with the family of a traitor.’
Haith opened his mouth to respond but was pre-empted by Nest’s angry retort to her son. ‘What would you have me do? Throw your cousins and my sister-in-law out to roam the countryside like beggars?’
‘She could go to her own brothers in Gwynedd, Mother.’
‘Yes, that would be better, for sure,’ Nest said sarcastically. ‘They will stay here with me. You and your brother,’ she glared at Maurice too, ‘would do well to remember that Welsh blood flows through your veins. You are not all Norman! And I thank you to stay out of it, Haith!’
‘I intended to, my lady,’ Haith stuttered.
‘By God’s bones, Mother! It’ll end on the gallows, with our family stripped of everything.’
‘The king would never allow that,’ Nest asserted, drawing herself up.
‘I’ve said my piece,’ William declared, exasperated. ‘I leave you two to try to talk some sense into her,’ he told Haith and Maurice. He turned on his heel to leave the hall and head back to Carew. Maurice sustained his usual taciturn stance, merely raising his eyebrows to Haith before following his irate brother out to the courtyard.
‘Despite William’s assertion, Nest,’ Haith hurried to say, ‘I don’t concur with his position. It is a kindness that you have taken in Gwenllian and her boys and what else should you do for your kin?’
‘Thank you, Haith.’ Nest struggled to regain her composure. ‘Won’t you sit?’ She gestured to the chairs near the hearth that were loaded with furs. Haith’s massive hound followed them toward the fire and licked at Haith’s gloved hands before settling at his feet. Haith used his teeth to remove one of his riding gloves and pulled off its fellow, laying them on the side table next to him.
‘We live as if we are two separate households within the castle, Haith, with Maurice and his cohort of Norman soldiers and hangers-on behaving in an increasingly aloof fashion from the Welsh contingent. I know it is not only their half-Welsh blood that my sons have to live down with their Norman peers, but also my soiled reputation,’ she said, blushing. ‘With the king, Prince Owain, and leaving my husband,’ she elaborated. Haith leant toward her. The heat of the fire was making him sweat, and he loosened the thong fastening at his neck. ‘Soiled reputation be damned, Nest,’ he told her. ‘You are the most honourable woman I have ever known.’ She smiled. ‘I am sad to see this division between you and your boys,’ Haith said.
She nodded. ‘I can find no resolution for it.’
Maurice returned, and they had to cease discussion on the topic. Ida came down the stairs to greet Haith, with Robert in hand. ‘Are you well, Haith?’ she asked him. ‘You look a little strange.’
‘I’m hot, that’s all,’ he said, loosening the neck of his tunic a little further. ‘It was a hot ride and I’ll move away from the fire.’ He made to push himself up from the chair but fell back feebly against it.
‘What is it, Haith?’ Nest asked, alarmed.
His throat was constricted, and a foul taste thickened his tongue. He made another determined effort and succeeded in getting himself upright. At his feet, his dog began to keen. Haith saw Nest blur and the hall around him swung. His hold on verticality failed as the floor sprung to meet him, and darkness swallowed him.
* * *
Maurice and his men hastily carried Haith upstairs to the guest chamber, where Amelina ran to administer to him. ‘He is seriously ill,’ Maurice told me, looking askance at Haith’s dog, which had shifted from a loud high-pitched whining to pitiful whimpers as it lay on the floor, twitching. ‘I will go to Haith,’ I told Maurice in panic.
‘No, Mother.’ He pulled me back down to my seat beside him. ‘That would not be fitting.’ He knew of my past relationship with Haith and was anxious that I should not embarrass him. ‘You know Amelina can help him with her medicining. You know she will do everything that can be done for him, and his sister is with him, too.’
He was right that Amelina was skilled with herbs and would be more useful, but I found it hard to sit and wait while Haith suffered or was in danger. I looked at the dog. ‘Something ails Haith’s dog too.’
‘Yes,’ Maurice said, frowning. ‘I’ll look for the fewterer and see if he can bring remedy to the dog.’
As soon as he was out of sight, I rushed to the stairs and ran along the stone corridor to Haith’s sickbed. Amelina was grinding charcoal in a pestle with water and trying to force the black liquid between Haith’s pale lips, while Ida mopped at his face and neck that were beaded with sweat. He lay in the white bed, deadly pale, looking all the world like a corpse. ‘Amelina, tell me he will recover!’
‘It’s too early to say.’
‘There’s something wrong with the dog, too.’
She looked up at me. ‘Really? Will you sit with him while I take a look at the dog.’
‘But surely you must nurse my brother, before you see to his dog!’ Ida wailed.
‘The dog may give me a clue as to how to help Haith.’ Amelina moved purposefully away. Haith began to toss in the bed and his colour flipped from an unnatural pink to white and
red. I dipped a cloth into the bowl that Ida held on her knee, wrung it, and applied it to his fevered forehead.
Amelina, Ida, and I sat with Haith through the night and there were a number of occasions when I thought we were about to lose him, but in the morning, Amelina assured us that his fever had broken. ‘Go and eat something, Nest,’ Amelina told me. ‘He will not die, and you must be strong to help him when he recovers.’
I went down to the hall and told Maurice and Gwenllian how Haith was. ‘You had best leave his medicining to Amelina and Ida now, Mother,’ Maurice insisted again. I suppressed my urge to tell him to mind his own business.
Maurice decided to take the news of Haith’s sickness and slow recovery to Pembroke. His absence from the castle provided an opportunity for a messenger to come from Caeo for Gwenllian. My sister-in-law and I received the man together in an outhouse, where he gave us a whispered account of the profits of the mine. The miners had found a major lode, and the proceeds were accumulating fast. ‘I will send to Ireland to let Gruffudd know this good news,’ Gwenllian said. ‘When he returns, he will be able to arm a great cohort of soldiers with it.’
‘No more messages, I beg you, sister. We have already been betrayed once.’
‘Then I will go myself.’
‘No! Let me think on it. I will find a way that is safer.’
* * *
I looked down on the winding path from the castle and watched another messenger making slow progress past the donkeys and sheep on the path. I went out to meet him at the gate and took the letter that he carried, which came from my foster-sister, Mabel. It was a long letter with momentous news from Henry’s court. I glanced over it and then called Ida to me to hear the news:
1128, The Royal Residence, Rouen
Mabel, countess of Gloucester, by the grace of God to my dear Nest, lady of Llansteffan, perpetual health. Events here in the court are like the tide to and froing. I miss you greatly. We received news that William Clito had married the sister-in-law of the French king and on the strength of that made a formal claim in arms to the duchy of Normandy. Then Count Charles of Flanders, as you will no doubt have heard, even distant as you are, was cruelly murdered while he was taking mass. King Henry supported the claims of Thierry of Alsace to replace the murdered count, but the French king installed William Clito as count of Flanders. This was all, as you will imagine, quite counter to King Henry’s interests. Henry sent Stephen de Blois to do battle with William Clito. Amaury de Montfort has also been supporting Henry’s campaign. De Montfort turns coat to support Henry against Clito now, but the king is not averse to that when the turning is sincere.
To counter the growing power base of his rival, William Clito, the king has married his daughter Maud to Geoffrey d’Anjou who is a mere boy of fifteen to her twenty-six years. The empress is severely displeased with the match. You will feel for her yourself in this matter. You can imagine how she has railed at her father, and you can imagine, too, how her remonstrations have made no dent in his resolve. Henry’s barons are angry since they fear, in times to come, they will have to take Geoffrey not only as duke of Normandy but also as king of England. So, my husband feared that William Clito might gain the high ground and be in a position to at last carry the Norman barons with him against the king. But the tide has turned again, and the Clito is dead! He took a small injury to his hand in battle, but the injury festered, and that sad young man died on 28 July in this year.
Amaury de Montfort arrived at Rouen with the news for the king who sincerely mourned his nephew and the loss of such a genteel knight. Amaury carried, too, a letter for the king written by William Clito on his deathbed, which begged Henry for clemency for all his followers who have contested against the king, including Waleran de Meulan. The king is resolved to free Waleran as testament to his regard and grief for his extinguished nephew, William Clito.
I go now with the king’s court to Westminster and must wait for a time when I am in your presence and can hold your hands and look in your face. In hopes this time will be very soon, with the great affection of your sister.
Ida and I exclaimed at all the twists and turns of fate and she, of course, wanted to discuss the part that Amaury de Montfort had played in these events. I mused to myself on Mabel’s letter, tracing the inked words across the bumps of the parchment with my finger. If William Clito could successfully sue for clemency to the king, then I wondered if I might do so on my brother’s behalf in time. Gruffudd had been in exile in Ireland for over a year.
After a few days, Amelina at last joined us at the meal in the hall, deciding that Haith was sufficiently recovered to be left alone for a short time. ‘He is recovering well, apart from his eyesight,’ she told us, ‘but less so his dog.’
‘What do you mean, Amelina?’
‘The dog is dead. I think a would-be assassin saturated Haith’s gloves with poison. The dog licked at the gloves,’ she mimed the licking herself, ‘took in a great deal of the toxin and died. There were signs of poison about the dog and in the symptoms of Haith’s illness. Luckily, Haith merely brought the gloves to his mouth, wiped his mouth perhaps, and so took in very little.’
I glanced over to the hearth, where I remembered Haith removing his gloves when he arrived. Seeing the direction of my gaze, Amelina said, ‘I threw the gloves on the fire, to be safe. I’m fairly sure I’m right in my surmise.’
‘You mentioned his eyesight?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Yes, he’s seeing in green and yellow at the moment, but that will pass.’
Ida and I exclaimed together: ‘Green and yellow!’
‘Yes, it’s a symptom of foxglove poisoning,’ Amelina said, smug at the extent of her knowledge.
‘Could it have been an accident?’ asked Ida. ‘Haith picked a plant on his ride here without realising its danger, perhaps?’
‘Oh no,’ Amelina asserted. ‘A quantity sufficient to kill a mastiff and bring a large man like Haith to death’s door must have been a deliberate lacing of the textile.’
‘But who at Pembroke would poison him, and why?’ I asked. I turned to Ida. ‘Do you think Breri could be a murderer as well as a spy?’
‘I think he could do whatever was necessary.’
‘But then who is Breri working for? I had assumed it was the de Clares, but I cannot find any reason they would want Haith dead.’
