The Brothers of Gwynedd (119 page)

  "Madoc is right," said Tudor. "It is not safe for the prince to go into any royal town where his enemies may move about at will, and in arms. It should not be asked of him. It was always the custom to meet in the open at the border, either at the ford of Montgomery or some similar spot, as the dukes of Normandy used to meet the kings of France on the Epte. If the king is sincere in wishing to continue the treaty and keep its terms, he should be willing to ensure that homage may be performed in a safe place. It is my view that the lord prince should take that stand, give his reasons, and decline to go into Chester."

  Then several of the others present also spoke, some doubting if the king could be planning expansion by murder, but all wary of allowing Llewelyn to go into an English city, where, if treachery was indeed contemplated, he would have no means of extricating himself. Llewelyn sat and listened to all, himself adding nothing more, and it was clear to me that he was greatly shocked by what had been suggested, but almost as much by his own slowness to recognise the full extent of his danger as by the danger itself. Had not David, even, in his devious way, constantly warned him against putting any trust in Edward, or taking his intelligent self-interest for goodwill?

  "Give me your counsel, then, man by man," he said when they had all done, "am I to go to Chester or no." And one by one they spoke out, from the eldest to the youngest, and every man said no. By the measure of the threat to the treaty, our one safeguard against England's greed, by the measure of the distrust all felt towards Edward, not one was in favour of compliance with the royal summons. It came to the youngest present, Llewelyn's nephew and namesake, not yet eighteen. The boy flushed red with passion as he said: "No, do not go! For the sake of Wales, do not put yourself at risk."

  "I am at risk whether I go or refuse to go," said Llewelyn, and smiled at the young man, who was dark and bright and beautiful, like his mother before him, "I am at risk every day of my life, waking or sleeping. So are we all. It is a good thing to remember it, sometimes. But Wales I will risk as little as I may, God and you guiding me. I shall do as you have advised. I will write and set down yet once more those injuries I feel should be amended before I swear fealty, and the reasons why I will not come to Chester. I will make reasonable request for a safer place, and declare my own intent to keep honourably to terms if Edward will do the same."

  "It might also be well," said Madoc, pondering, "to prepare such a statement as may be offered to another authority, if the king is not minded to be accommodating."

  "I had thought of it," said Llewelyn. "Pope Gregory is a wise and just man, and easy of approach, as I have heard. I'll give my mind to it. If we are to look for friends in need, we'll go to the highest."

Thus armed with the approval of all his magnates, the prince answered Edward's summons as he had said, courteously but decidedly, declaring his willingness to assume all the duties implied or stated in the treaty, provided Edward would do the same, and in particular charging him to end his illegal support for those who unquestionably had been and still were acting against the prince. This was the chief stumbling-block, being by far the most serious breach of treaty. If that was set right, and a safe and proper place agreed for their meeting, Llewelyn would take the oath and do homage as was due.

  Edward, so we heard, was very angry when he received this letter. In the first place, whatever some men may have said, wise long after the event, concerning the previous considerable delay in regularising Llewelyn's position as vassal of the English king, there never had been any prior refusal or even avoidance, for only once before had the prince been summoned to the meeting, and then he had set out without any resistance or reluctance to keep the engagement, and only Edward's illness had prevented the matter from being completed. Consequently this firm and reasoned refusal now came as a shock to the king, who could never bear to be denied. Whatever his own motives, he had certainly expected unquestioning compliance on Llewelyn's part. Then also, he had made the journey to Chester, certainly not only for the prince's sake, but publishing the fact that the homage was to take place there, and an offence against Edward's dignity and face was mortal. He could be generous to those who threw themselves at his feet in total submission—if that may be called generosity, for rather was it that when they so satisfied his desire to dominate he ceased to care about them—but firm and steady resistance drove him to ever-mounting ferocity. He at once issued another summons, ignoring everything Llewelyn had written to him concerning the place and the terms, to come to him at Westminster, three weeks after Michaelmas. Chester had been declined, he flung Westminster itself, the very centre of his power, in the prince's face.

  "I have taken my stand," said Llewelyn grimly, laying this new summons aside, "and I shall not depart from it. I cannot go back. If his aim is to convince me he has designs on my life, he makes progress. From Westminster to the Tower is not so far, as my father discovered, but from the Tower to Westminster is a lifetime's journey. This I'll answer, but not until answer is due. Let him wait until the day he himself has appointed, and he shall have all the answer he deserves, and as civilly as before. But he is mad if he thinks I will come to Westminster at his bidding." And he turned again, quite calmly, to the composition of his manifesto to Pope Gregory, who was Edward's friend and fellow-crusader, and yet was honest enough to be trusted by those who held Edward to be their enemy. We were well advanced with it by then, and it was a lengthy document, first outlining again, as a reminder, the main terms of the treaty of Montgomery, negotiated and blessed by a papal legate, which should by law and right govern the relations between Wales and England, then detailing the main counts on which England was now breaking those terms.

  By then we knew that the crown was paying money to keep David and his household. The entire plot against the prince's life we set down for Pope Gregory to read, with all the raids mounted since that time from Shrewsbury, and winked at, or worse, by de Knovill, the king's sheriff, at the king's orders. And lastly we complained of the king's persistent citing of the prince to places unsafe for him, where his felons and traitors were free to move about him at will.

  So grave a document was drawn up with the counsel and participation of all the chief law officers and elders of the prince's realm. Whoever says he acted of his own might, and arbitrarily, he lies. Whatever was wisest and most earnest in Wales took part in this appeal to the chief arbiter of Christendom. When it was drawn, we were as men drained and fulfilled, who could do no more, having done their best.

  On the day that we had it ready, Cynfric and the notaries came back from Montfort l'Amaury with letters and messages from Amaury de Montfort and his sister, the Lady Eleanor.

So strange a day it was, hot and long and dusty with harvest, the sky a pallid blue clear as crystal, and never a cloud in all its bowl. And we were newly come to the full understanding of danger, and had accepted it and made our dispositions because there was no alternative, and yet that day was so full of the bright solemnity of joy that there was no room in it for any other passion or repining. From the moment Cynfric rose from his knee before Llewelyn, and showed him a beaming face, and held him out letters, there was no looking back.

  "These," said Cynfric, "from Amaury de Montfort, on behalf of his sister and his house. And this from the Lady Eleanor, who speaks for herself, to the same effect, and to your comfort and worship."

  So he conveyed at once the purport of what was afterwards read and re-read many times for its savour, as slowly and lovingly as the finest wine satisfied a great thirst.

  To the match, so long delayed but never abandoned, her kinsmen consented, in the terms of the settlement there was no dispute nor demur. But what best pleased Llewelyn was her own letter, written with her own hand. I know, for to me he snowed it that night, in the summer twilight, after we had heard mass.

  "For you knew her," he said, "and you will know the very voice in which she speaks these words to me, and I think it must resemble his voice, as surely her mind resembles his mind."

  She had written to him, at once with noble formality and so blazing and direct an intimacy that it was as if she walked towards us in the fields, with outstretched hands:

  "To the most noble and puissant Llewelyn, prince of Wales, greetings and reverence. My dear lord, though I have never seen you but through other eyes, yet I have known you from my childhood, and what my father did not live to tell me concerning his pledging of my hand to you, my mother did tell me, though only in regret when she also told me why she felt herself bound. But having been promised the impossible, I have chosen not to lower my eyes to anything less. The pledge made at my father's will I have kept at my own. That we may join our hands very soon, and see each other face to face, and that God may keep you safe and glorious until that day comes, is the prayer of your affianced wife, Eleanor de Montfort."

  I said: "Yes, this is Eleanor. The very note of her voice, and the large, straight look of her eyes. She is his daughter, no question."

  "Now we have a double errand overseas," he said, glowing. "The envoys to the pope shall sail with you, they for Rome, you for Montargis, and with as little ceremony as possible and as little delay, for it may well turn the scale for us if we get our case into the pope's hands first. Edward will not be far behind, once he gets wind of it. Tudor has the ship in hand—there's a merchantman with a Winchelsea master loading timber and wool from the Aberconway granges, and he goes next to Calais for cloth of Flanders. Go to her, Samson, stand in my place with her and speak the vows for me, and come back in her household when she comes home to Wales. There is no man but you I want for my proxy."

  It needed no saying that I would do for him whatever he asked of me, and to do this I was glad from the heart, and yet it was a time when I was loth to leave him. Only when it came to such a separation did I truly see how the clouds had gathered over him black and heavy, and all in the course of a year, when he had done nothing to dare the thunder. To this day I do not know what to believe concerning the possibility that Edward procured or encouraged the conspiracy against Llewelyn's life. I do not know whether he actually was guilty, nor do I know whether I believe in his guilt. I do know, from what came later, that he was quite capable of it, but as at that time I doubt if he had considered such a course or recognised what use he could make of it. Rather the assassins first fell into his hands with their armed men, as apt tools for provocation without committing himself, and then he saw what use could be made of them, and once launched, how far the matter could be taken. If that be true, then David was guilty not only of Llewelyn's wrongs and dangers, but also of the temptation and corruption of Edward.

  "I wish I left you in more settled case," I said, "with this business of homage and fealty safely over."

  "Or put clean out of the reckoning," he said, and laughed. "If I could refuse it outright without myself breaking treaty, I would do it. But if he comes to terms and does his part, it is due and I must pay it. Should I hope for him to continue immovable, and give me my bid for freedom?" And he shrugged off the tempting dream, for he did not believe it would go to that length, and knew the dangers if it did. "God