The Brothers of Gwynedd (115 page)

On the twenty-second day of November, therefore, the prince, with a large escort and in noble state, set forth on the journey to Shrewsbury to meet with King Edward there, and to swear the oath of fealty and perform the act of homage to the sovereign in person, as he had always intended and considered himself bound to do, for though he maintained his position that the treaty had been frequently infringed, he did not hold those infringements as being grave enough to cancel his duty under it. As he was pledged, so he meant to do.

  Had those two met at Shrewsbury that day, my story and my prince's story and my country's story might have been altogether different, blessedly different. And this is the lost moment for which, I see, no man can be blamed, but only some malevolent chance as wanton as lightning stroke. For at Shrewsbury we were met, on what should have been the eve of that encounter, by a messenger bearing a letter from the king, written at Cliff, which was a hunting-lodge he had in Northamptonshire, on the very day Llewelyn set out from home. Edward had got so far, when he was taken ill with the sudden and violent bursting of an abscess, and was so much weakened that he could not continue his journey. He wrote regretting that illness prevented him from keeping his engagement, for he could not ride, but said that he would try to arrange another mutually agreeable date and place as soon as his health permitted. He did not fail to add a reminder that there were arrears of the money due under treaty still outstanding, and requested that they be paid, for even on a sick-bed Edward was a man of business. But having stated his reasons for withholding those sums many times, and also his willingness and ability to pay them as soon as he got satisfaction on his part, Llewelyn did not then pay much attention to that pan of the letter. For since his first priority was thus frustrated, he was able to turn his mind and attention, with relief, to the second.

  "We go home, then," he said at once, roused and fierce, "and set about the business of Griffith ap Gwenwynwyn."

  He wrote in reply to Edward's letter, also regretting that the meeting was prevented, and by such an unwelcome cause, and wishing his Grace a speedy recovery. And then we turned our backs on Shrewsbury and rode hard for home.

  Our best hope, unrecognised, we left lying broken behind us.

Of those five nobles and clerks that Llewelyn chose to go as his ambassadors to Pool, led by Cynfric ap Ednyfed, Tudor's brother, I was one. Always he relied upon me to render an account faithful to the last detail, and I think found in me a mind tuned like his own, so that what I distrusted he took care to examine carefully, and where I found matter for sympathy he was at least willing to examine and withhold judgment. Whatever his reason, I was among those chosen. We had our orders, strict and precise, for his will was to win back Griffith and Powys with a whole heart, and he was prepared to go far to ensure success. Our task was to present ourselves formally at Pool as representatives of the prince of Wales, and to inform Griffith honestly of the content of his son's confession, without prejudice to his reply. For we were to invite him, and by all possible means persuade him, to return with us of his own accord to the prince, not as a prisoner but honourably as our companion, to make his answer to what his son Owen alleged, either to clear himself freely of the charges therein made, or, if he pleaded guilty to them, as the occasion was already past and had accomplished no evil, to confess to them and throw himself upon the prince's mercy, which he was assured should not be denied.

  This, I swear, is what Llewelyn charged us with when he sent us forth. Do you know of another prince, so threatened and so abused, who would send his envoys with such large terms to his enemy?

  On the last day of November, in a cloudy and melancholy afternoon light, we five rode into the town of Pool, and down to the river meadows where the castle was raised. We bore no arms, and went unattended, in token of the openness and honesty of our intent, and at the castle gates asked audience of Griffith in the name of the prince of Wales, his overlord, on matters of state. Peaceable as our aspect was, it aroused a great deal of fluttering within, until Griffith sent word in haste to admit us at once, and himself came hurrying out in his furred gown to meet us on the steps of his great hall. His heavy-featured face wore a fixed and somewhat ungainly smile, with little true welcome in it, but a great effort at appearing welcoming. He bore himself as though nothing had happened since April, when he had confessed to disloyalty and resigned himself to the loss of some part of his lands and the enforced absence of his eldest son. Having cleared that account in full, his manner seemed to say, there can be nothing in this visit now to trouble my conscience, and nothing to fear. But his eyes looked sidelong and were not quite easy. Whether any word had reached him of Owen's confession or no, certainly he knew of David's flight.

  Our part was to be grave, detached and impartial, for it was possible, if hardly probable, that Griffith had not been admitted to the fullest extent of his lady's and his son's design. Princes can be dispossessed and their lands usurped without going so far as murder. But I grant you it was not likely he should be innocent, and our errand was to make it clear to him, even so, that he need not dread extremes if he returned willingly to his fealty. When he brought us into his high chamber and dismissed all other attendance, Cynfric as spokesman delivered our embassage.

  "You know, my lord, as all this land knows, that the Lord David has fled to England, instead of standing his trial on suspicion of plotting against the sovereignty of the lord prince. The prince sends you word by us that since that flight your son Owen has voluntarily made a full confession of conspiracy to treason and murder. He charges that you are also implicated, on these heads." He recited them, with date, place and time. Griffith sat stiff and erect in his chair, his countenance motionless, only his eyes flickering now and then from face to face round the circle of us. "The prince urges you," said Cynfric, "to return with us to his court, and to make your answer to his face concerning these charges, either to clear yourself and satisfy him, if you are innocent, or to repledge your fealty and ask for and obtain his clemency by confession if you are guilty. The event is past, and for what was then known of it you have already made reparation. If you will accept the prince's grace and return to your troth you need not fear that mercy will not be forthcoming."

  Griffith asked, in natural anxiety, after his son.

  "Your son is in close hold," said Cynfric, "but safe and well. No harm has come to him, no harm will come. His offence is purged. If the same honest peace can be made with you, the matter is over."

  Griffith sat for a while in glum thought, and then roused himself to play host worthily in his own castle, shaking off the heaviness of uncertainty.

  "You must give me time to speak with my wife," he said, "and consider what I do. Stay overnight, and give me the privilege of feasting the prince's ambassadors, and after dinner I will give you my answer."

  And that we did, accepting it as a good sign, for surely he was visibly resigning himself to the inevitable agreement, having so much to lose by enmity and so much to keep and conserve by humility and good sense. He presented us to his lady, who kept a calm, unsmiling face, ceremonious but not gracious, and sat among us at the high table as stately as a queen, and jewelled. Hawise Lestrange was as tall as her lord, but slim as a willow, with long, elegant hands and long, elegant face. Without the slightest friendliness she took excellent care of our entertainment that night, and very lavish it was. In particular we were pressed to drink our fill, but in Griffith's house, and on our errand, we did not care to deplete his stores more than we need. He had not yet given us an answer, or we might have been more disposed to carouse with him. But after dinner he excused himself and left us to take counsel with his wife, and came again with a calmed and resolved face.

  "I thank you for your errand. It shall not be vain. Tomorrow I promise I will ride with you to where the lord prince is, and I will satisfy him of my troth."

  Well content, we went at length to the chambers prepared for us, two small tower rooms upon different floors reached by a stone stairway in the wall, Cynfric and I in the upper room, our three colleagues below. From this sleeping-place all the noise and bustle of the hall was so distant as not to be heard. I marvelled how soon the whole castle fell silent, and since we had ridden much of the day, and sat content and well-fed in smoky hall all the evening, I fell asleep and slept deeply.

  Too deeply! Even when the sounds of nocturnal activity did draw near, they failed to rouse me. Not until the sudden weight of hands bearing down out of darkness pinned me to the brychan, and a great palm gripped my mouth, did I start out of sleep, and try to spring up in alarm, but by then it was too late to do more than struggle fruitlessly under the heavy body that held me down. I heard the threshing of Cynfric on the other side of the room, and someone cursed him horribly, and then two bodies fell crashing to the stone floor, and all the time there was a muted grunting as of a man gagged with cloth, or a smothering sleeve. How many there were of them it was hard to tell, but enough, six at least to deal with the two of us. Griffith took no chances. They had brought no lights into the room with them, they knew where to find us without benefit of torches.

  It took them some time to subdue Cynfric, and they were not gentle, for he had awakened more readily than I, and done some small damage to one or two of them, even with no weapon but his hands. But they had us both pinioned at last, and muted, and hobbled our feet, too, before they dragged us out to the stairway. There were two or three others waiting there with torches, men of Griffith's guard, and all of them as blown and exercised as those who had fallen upon us. The door of the room below was standing open. We had little doubt that our companions had been overpowered first, and that we were being hauled away to join them in captivity. And I remember thinking even then that Griffith was mad to toss away so viciously his own best hope, one he was lucky to be offered.

  Pool castle was strange to me, I knew only the hall and those tower chambers, and we were dragged down so many staircases and along so many stony passages that I was lost. But I knew we were down beneath the level of the hall, and it needed very little guessing to expect some lightless prison below ground, without window, where too curious visitors could be tossed for security, and have no notion what went on in their absence, or why they were so disposed of. Killing I did not look for. He had little to gain that I could see even by throwing us into his dungeon, but nothing at all by killing us. Nor, in fact, did our captors do us any great hurt, however unpleasant the hole into which they finally thrust us.

  A narrow door opened on a steep flight of steps, down which we were rolled hastily when they had unbound us, and we fell among other bodies in darkness. Hands reached to prop and steady us, and voices hailed us by name, challenging and anxious, for they had feared worse for us. We in our turn, ridding ourselves of the cloth that gagged us, told over all their names. We were five sorry ambassadors, and five very angry prisoners, but prisoners we were, and there was nothing to be done about it, against a garrison of hundreds, and without even a dagger among us.

  "The more fools we," said I, smarting, "to put any trust in any promise or oath of Griffith ap Gwenwynwyn. We should have known he had some lying trick up his sleeve."

  "If we are fools," Cynfric said, groping for a wall for his back in the stony darkness, and stretching out his legs resignedly before him, "Griffith is a worse fool. He has tricked himself out of Powys now. He could have kept all he had at the price of renewing his oath and leaving his son a while longer as hostage for him. Now he has beggared himself and abandoned his son. Grace will not be so easily come by after this."