The Anarchy, page 27
Breri sat down to compose while we waited for more news. ‘Listen, O little pig! don't sleep yet!’ he sang, making the children laugh, but the rest of his song was more bleak,
Rumours reach me of perjured chieftains.
And tightfisted farmers.
Soon, over the sea, shall come men in armour
On armoured horses, with destroying spears
When that happens, war will come,
Fields will be ploughed but never reaped.
Women will be cuckolds to the corpses of their men.
‘Can’t you find something more pleasant to sing to us, bard!’ de Marais snapped at him, which only made Breri, perversely, dig deeper into his repertoire of gruesome narratives of war. The scout returned later in the day with confirmation that the initial report was true. The Welsh had, at last, achieved a victory against the Normans, and, perhaps, I thought to myself, my goldmine had helped them to do it.
De Marais was too distracted to notice I had broken the bounds of my confinement and said nothing about my presence in the hall. However, just before the evening meal was due to start, Amelina bent close to my ear. ‘My lady, there is one who needs urgent speech with you in your chamber.’ I rose and moved as inconspicuously as possible to the stairwell, with Amelina on my heels.
In my chamber, I was greeted by the extraordinary sight of a giant of a Welsh man armed to the teeth with a small child in each arm. ‘I let him in the postern gate, and nobody’s seen him,’ Amelina told me.
The man set the two small boys, who were around five and three years old, on their feet in front of me. ‘Princess Nest?’
‘Yes.’
‘I am the guardian of these princes,’ he told me, ‘and am bid by Queen Gwenllian to bring them to you. The queen asks you give her small boys shelter, my lady.’
‘Of course. I will.’ If Gwenllian was calling herself queen, then she and my brother were in hopes of regaining the kingdom. These were her two youngest sons. I gestured to the boys to approach me. Slowly, looking over their shoulder at the warrior who was familiar to them despite his formidable appearance, they came nearer. I knelt beside them. ‘Maredudd and Rhys?’ They nodded, and Rhys smiled. I saw he had my dimples. ‘I am your Aunt Nest, and you will be safe here with me. We shall play some good games together?’ They gazed at me with uncertainty. The warrior took a deep breath of relief.
‘What news of my brother?’ I asked the warrior, quietly.
‘King Gruffudd has hastened with his army to meet with the Gwynedd princes, Owain and Cadwaladr, with the news of the Welsh victory. His sons Anarawd and Cadell have gone with him.’ Owain was king of Gwynedd now in all but name since his father was decrepit and the oldest brother, Cadwallon, had been killed by his uncle and cousins in vengeance for his killing of their kin.
‘His army,’ I echoed softly. The gold had done its job then and prepared him for this moment. The Welsh were rising up to throw off the yoke of Norman rule. I quaked at the thought. On both sides I had dear ones at risk – my sons, my brother, my nephews. ‘Where are the rest of the family? Their mother?’ I asked quietly. He stayed tight-lipped. ‘You think I would betray her?’ I asked, astonished.
‘We will hear news soon enough,’ he said.
‘You may go,’ I told the warrior. ‘Gwenllian’s children are safe with me. I will guard them with my life.’
I instructed Amelina to keep Maredudd and Rhys out of sight in my chamber. I did not want the Normans in the castle, especially my husband, to know of their presence and to think of using them as hostages. Deciding I had had enough of keeping to my chamber, I returned to the hall. Maurice had been speaking with de Marais and turned to me with a pleased look on his face. ‘Maurice de Londres is leading warriors now to put down this rebellion. It will soon be quelled.’
I made no response and saw his pleased look falter. For a moment, he had forgotten I was the enemy. We turned as the door to the great hall opened, blowing in a gust of leaf-loaded wind. I was astonished to see Haith and Ida entering. This was a day for astonishment it seemed, after so many long days of nothing and waiting. Ida rushed to embrace me and Haith gave me a civil greeting. ‘We looked for you first at Llansteffan,’ she said.
‘Come to my chamber and we can catch up with our news. Both?’ I asked Haith tentatively, thinking he might spurn the invitation, but he nodded and followed us up the stairs. Amelina made us all comfortable with beakers of wine and had a servant stoke up the fire. Maredudd and Rhys sat on the hearthrug playing with a few wooden toys Amelina had found for them. The boys stared openly at the newcomers.
‘Nest! What’s happened?’ Ida asked. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I am under house arrest,’ I replied, trying to make light of it. ‘Richard de Clare has accused me of supporting the rebels and has ridden to the king to make judgement against me. In the meantime, my husband is my jailer.’
Haith took a deep breath. ‘De Clare has evidence against you he is taking to the king?’
‘One of Gruffudd’s men was tortured and signed a statement that I was involved in backing the gold-mining operation at Dolaucothi on behalf of my brother, to arm my brother.’
‘And were you?’
I did not reply. Ida wrung her hands. ‘What can be done, Haith?’
‘I don’t know. All is changed now, with Henry gone. The king asked me to take care of
you, Lady Nest, when he was on his deathbed, to ensure that no harm came to you.’
‘He spoke the words to me, Nest. He wanted you to be safe.’ Ida said.
‘My sons are talking with lawyers. They hope to make the argument with the king that a
man may say anything under torture,’ I told Haith.
He nodded, but his worried expression showed he had little hope of the success of this
argument.
Ida told me about Henry’s death, their journey through Normandy and across the British
Sea with Henry’s body and his burial at Reading. ‘Robert of Gloucester has given his fealty to Stephen de Blois, after all. We thought he would support his sister, the empress, but his estates here in England and Wales would have been forfeit if he had done so, once Stephen took the crown, so …’ Ida shrugged.
‘It’s possible we could sue to King Stephen for your pardon via Mabel and Robert, if it comes to that,’ Haith said.
I nodded. The thought had crossed my mind.
‘Henry de Blois, the new king’s brother, is a rum one,’ Ida remarked.
‘How do you mean?’
‘He took the relic of Saint James’ hand that the empress gave to Reading Abbey back to Winchester with him, for safekeeping, he said. Henry would have been distressed if he knew that.’
We were silent for a moment at the recognition that Henry would never know anything again. ‘It’s impossible to imagine him gone,’ I said. He had been so loud, stubborn, certain, reassuring, carrying us all relentlessly forward. Now, there was a void where he should be. It felt as if the tide had washed out and, then, forgotten to make its crashing return to the shore, leaving it forever silent, empty, and still. Ida put an arm around my shoulder. ‘We will miss the king and I fear his kingdoms will feel his loss in these coming times.’
‘Stephen’s wife Matilda de Boulogne has been crowned queen,’ Haith said. ‘King David of Scotland and Earl Robert of Gloucester, who were likely to be the empress’ most staunch supporters, have signed Stephen’s coronation charter at Oxford. And the Pope has confirmed Stephen as king.’
‘It’s fixed then. Final.’
Maurice entered and exchanged greetings with Haith and Ida. ‘I have some good news for you, Mother. De Marais has given me leave to take you back to Llansteffan. There is a Welsh army reported gathering on the Gwynedd border, likely to march on the Ceredigion castles and he thinks you would be safer away from Cardigan.’
Did de Marais really think I would be safer away from here, or less of an evident symbol to fight for in an attack on Cardigan? ‘Good,’ I said, but grimaced at the thought of the coming conflict. ‘Let’s get ready to leave quickly, Amelina.’
‘Do you think Llansteffan is any safer than Cardigan?’ Haith asked Maurice. ‘There are armed Welsh bands everywhere and they may try an attack at Llansteffan too.’
‘I think if I am there, they will not attack,’ I said.
Haith shook his head. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Whatever the case of it, Haith. I would rather be away from here.’ They all knew that I meant away from de Marais.
‘Who’s this?’ Maurice asked, pointing at his little cousins.
‘A friend’s children I am taking care of,’ Amelina responded quickly. ‘We will take them with us.’
I nodded complicitly to Amelina. We needed to get Gruffudd’s sons away from Cardigan before my husband or any of the other Normans realised who they were and thought to use them as hostages.
35
Queen Gwenllian
I was relieved to be home again at Llansteffan, to have the added reassurance of Ida’s return to my household and knowing Haith was nearby at Pembroke. Looking after Maredudd and Rhys was a pleasant distraction from the worry about what the new king would decide on my case and what was happening in the countryside with the Welsh uprisings. Once we were all safely at Llansteffan, I took the risk of explaining to Maurice who Maredudd and Rhys were. He looked at me askance for my deception, but I did not think he would betray his cousins, such little boys, to mistreatment.
‘Nest!’ Amelina’s cry interrupted a complex Welsh melody I was in the middle of singing with Maurice, Maredudd, and Rhys. My nephews were amusing themselves with making their older cousin dust off his rusty Welsh, and their charm had won over his reluctance. ‘You must come quickly!’ Amelina declared her face anxious as she gripped the edge of the door to the great hall.
‘What is it?’ I moved to stand beside her and look out onto the courtyard. A man was riding in, half-hanging from his horse. ‘It’s William,’ we chimed together, recognising him at the same moment. I sprinted out to catch him as he slid from the saddle.
‘Maurice! We need your help with your brother!’ Maurice and his cousins had followed us to the door of the hall, and he ran to assist us. Between Maurice, Amelina, and I, we aided William from his frothing horse. William’s clothes were smeared with blood and the muck of a hard ride. His legs buckled when his feet reached the cobbles. Maurice called one of the soldiers over who was standing staring at the commotion in the courtyard. Together, they carried William into the hall and set him on a fur close to the hearth. Amelina bustled up the stone staircase to fetch her medicines from my chamber.
‘Are you injured?’ Memories of Gerald injured and dying flashed through my mind. William looked like his father.
‘Just exhausted,’ he groaned.
‘Help me strip off his armour,’ I told Maurice, but Ida moved Maurice aside and aided me instead. Amelina bathed William’s face and torso, and we found no serious injury beyond scrapes and bruises.
‘What’s happened, William?’
‘I have much news, Mother. When I can catch my breath.’
‘You should sleep, rest,’ Amelina told him.
‘There is time for that later,’ he replied. ‘Now I must be unburdened.’ He looked to where Maredudd and Rhys were playing at the other end of the hall. ‘They are Gwenllian’s children?’ he asked me. I nodded. ‘Of course they are,’ he smiled. ‘The little one has the look of her. Good. They are out of earshot.’
I began to panic. ‘Has something happened to my brother? Tell me quickly, William.’
‘No, it’s not Gruffudd. It’s Gwenllian.’
‘What of her?’ asked Maurice.
William took my hand, and his own were shaking. ‘Mother, I am sorry to tell you Gwenllian is dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘She led an army against Kidwelly Castle, against Maurice de Londres.’
‘An army?’ I was bewildered.
‘It’s true.’ William nodded his head. ‘I fear my cousins Morgan and Maelgwyn died with her.’
‘No.’ Amelina and I looked wildly at each other. ‘You are sure of it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you come from Kidwelly?’ I asked. ‘Did you fight against them?’
‘No, not from there. I have come from another fight. But Gwenllian has become the battle cry for the Welsh rebels. I heard of it from them.’
‘My brother will be devastated.’ I looked across at Maredudd and Rhys again. I would have to stand as their foster-mother now.
‘What fight have you come from, William?’ asked Maurice.
‘I went with Richard de Clare to Westminster, Mother.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘I thought there was a chance, if there was serious risk to you, I might be able to treat directly with King Stephen on your behalf.’
I squeezed his hand.
‘Did de Clare present his accusation against mother?’ Maurice asked.
‘Yes, but the king is much distracted with the business of the realm. He agreed with de Clare that you should be stripped of your lands, of Llansteffan, and they should come into de Clare’s possession. De Clare asked for much more besides, but the king did not grant it and he was not pleased at de Clare’s overreaching in his requests.’
‘What does the king order regarding Lady Nest herself?’ Ida asked.
‘He ordered you should be returned to the custody of de Marais to do as he saw fit, and de Clare was of a mind you should be imprisoned. Fully imprisoned,’ he grimaced. ‘In a dungeon, Mother.’
Amelina gasped. ‘We have to make a run for it then! To the mountains, Nest.’
William held up a hand. ‘Wait, Amelina, before you go rushing into any mountains. Wait for the end of my story.’
‘Well, get on with it then,’ she told him.
I exchanged fond smiles with my sons at Amelina’s impatience. ‘There is no need to run,’ William said. ‘De Clare is dead.’
‘What! How!’ exclaimed Maurice.
‘We were riding back near Abergavenny. I was thinking to send word to you to do exactly what Amelina has suggested. ‘
Amelina made a smug noise and crossed her arms.
William continued. ‘De Clare was worried about me and kept a close eye on me, but I thought there would be an opportunity, sooner or later, to send a surreptitious messenger. We were ambushed as we rode through a woody tract rightly called the Ill-way of Coed Grano. A Welsh war band came at us yelling “For Queen Gwenllian!”’
I saw Rhys look over in our direction. He had heard his mother’s name. How would I tell them the terrible news that their mother was gone?
‘There was a rain of arrows,’ William continued. ‘Many of the men went down with that first piercing blizzard and did not even have time to draw swords. De Clare and I got to the trees and then had to fight hand to hand. They overwhelmed us. There were too many of them. They asked us who we were, and we gave our names. They killed de Clare on the spot. The king’s writ against you died with him, Mother.’
I stared at him. ‘They spared you?’
‘They spared me because I was your son.’
‘Who were they?’
‘The men leading the war band told me they were Iorwerth and Morgan ap Owain, the grandsons of Caradog ap Gruffudd of Gwent.’
‘Gwent,’ I echoed. ‘The Welsh are rising everywhere, all around us.’
William nodded. ‘They are.’
‘What do you mean the king’s writ died?’ Ida asked.
‘It was in de Clare’s scrip. I took it from his body, and I burnt it as soon as I was away from the Welsh warriors. They rode with me through the mountains and cut me loose near Carmarthen.’
I looked into his eyes and squeezed his hand again. My sons were not fully Norman then, after all. William glanced at Maurice, who told his brother, ‘This was well done, William.’
‘Will you join the Welsh?’ I asked them both earnestly. ‘Join the rebellion.’
They looked at each other. ‘I won’t do that, Mother,’ William asserted. ‘I can’t, but by the same token, I won’t see you suffer if I can help it.’
‘My position is the same as my brother’s,’ Maurice concurred.
‘Your troubles are not over with, though, Mother. The king will have written about the accusation against you to the royal justice, Pain FitzJohn, who is due to visit Pembroke later this year. I expect it will come up again when he arrives.’
‘Well, then,’ I declared, ‘we will tackle it if it does. And, in the meantime,’ I said, heavy-hearted and glancing again in the direction of Rhys and his brother, ‘I must find words to tell them their mother will not return for them.’
36
Crug Mawr
I slid my finger over the intricate carving of the tableman, waiting for Maredudd to make his next move on the board. For a six-year-old, he had a good grasp of the game and was giving me a fair fight. His brother, four-year-old Rhys, was sitting next to me. I showed him the carving in the disk of walrus ivory, which depicted a cat looming over and about to attack a rat, its fierce claws extended. I would do all in my power to protect these two boys – as long as I had any power myself.
My own situation was parlous. I had been worried toward the beginning of July when we heard the royal justiciar, Pain FitzJohn, was heading toward Carmarthen to relieve the Norman garrison who were besieged by Welsh forces. We expected FitzJohn to go from Carmarthen to Pembroke and then it was likely I would be called to answer to the charge of treason that Richard de Clare had laid against me, which would now be taken up by his successors. I was like the cowering rat in the sights of the stalking cat on my tableman. My sons counselled I should flee to Ireland, and I made preparations for it, but then news came that FitzJohn had been ambushed by Welsh warriors and died from a javelin blow to the head. Another fortuitous death had saved me. These ambushes were the favoured method deployed by our Welsh warriors who knew the mountainous forest terrain much better than the Norman occupiers.
