A Wounded Realm

by K. M. Ashman

  ‘I would rather not say,’ said Nesta, ‘for it is unfair to take advantage of your station for matters of family.’

  ‘Is your mother well?’

  ‘She is,’ said Nesta, ‘but while I was at Dinefwr, she shared a problem that now lays upon me like the greatest weight.’

  Gerald took Nesta’s hand and led her to a window seat.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘sit beside me and share your burden. Perhaps it is one I can make lighter.’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so,’ said Nesta, ‘for it is a situation caused over twenty years ago.’ As he listened patiently, Nesta went on to explain how Hywel had been taken prisoner as a boy and how her mother still fretted for his safety.

  ‘Twenty years is a long time,’ said Gerald, ‘what makes you think he is still alive?’

  ‘Because there are often rumours about an imprisoned Welsh prince of Deheubarth being held captive and passed around between the nobles of the marches.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘Who knows? Perhaps they see him as some sort of guarantee against a potential uprising. I know it’s probably a coincidence but Tarw is the only other surviving heir to the Tewdwr estate and he is in Ireland. If the rumours of this prisoner are true, and I believe they are, then it has to be Hywel. Every night my mother cries herself to sleep and if I could arrange for her to see he is safe then she would grow old a happy woman.’

  ‘So you want me to try to have him released?’

  ‘Not necessarily. I know your name will have to be kept out of this but you have contacts and if you could just find out where he is, then perhaps I could petition his captors on behalf of my family.’

  ‘Do you think that would do any good?’

  ‘I don’t know but I have to try, if only for the sake of my mother.’

  Gerald stood up and walked around the room before returning to kneel before the sitting Nesta.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I can’t promise anything and I doubt the rumours are true but if it puts your mind at rest, then I will do what I can to find out. Tomorrow I will send messages to all the barons of the marches and ask if they know anything about your brother. If he is alive, then I should know in a matter of weeks.’

  Nesta didn’t answer but just smiled and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, ‘you are a truly kind man.’

  Over in Dinefwr Castle, Gwladus stood at the gates alongside Marcus, waiting for the two distant riders to get closer. As they neared, her heart raced even faster and though she knew it was unladylike to display such emotion before the castle staff, eventually she could hold back no longer and ran across the drawbridge and down the track to the valley. A few hundred paces away, one of the two men dismounted and passed the reins of his horse to his comrade.

  ‘Connor,’ he said, ‘take these,’ as he stepped forward to run towards the queen. Within moments, Gwladus threw herself into his strong arms, hugging him as tightly as her fragile frame would allow.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ gasped Gwladus as she released his hold and held him at arm’s length, ‘for so many years I have been without my children and now within months, two have returned home.’ She looked up at her son, no longer a boy but a rugged young man, a head taller than his mother. His shoulder-length hair was tied back from his face and his chin was clean-shaven. His eyes were deep and thoughtful while his features were well defined and handsome.

  ‘You have grown into a handsome young man,’ she said. ‘It looks like Murcat has brought you up well.’

  ‘It is good to see you, Mother,’ said Tarw. ‘When I received your letter I knew I had no other option but to come.’

  ‘Does anyone else know you are here?’

  ‘Only King Murcat. He gave me the funds to make this journey and sends his best wishes.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s Nesta?’

  ‘She has returned to Pembroke with her husband but will send word soon. Come, let us retire to the castle and you can rest after your journey.’

  ‘Perhaps for a day or so,’ said Tarw, ‘but then I need to see about getting Hywel released.’

  Gwladus’s smile faltered slightly and Tarw noticed her expression.

  ‘Mother, what’s wrong? Is Hywel all right?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, I think so,’ said Gwladus.

  ‘What do you mean, you think so? Your letter said you knew where he was.’

  ‘And I will do soon,’ said Gwladus, ‘your sister will send word any day now.’

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘Enough talk,’ said Gwladus, ‘let’s get back and I will explain further. As soon as I knew you were coming I had your old room prepared. You and your comrade must be exhausted.’

  Tarw nodded silently and as Connor walked behind with the two horses, Gwladus linked arms with the son she hadn’t seen in many years, to walk back to Dinefwr Castle.

  The following day saw Tarw and his mother walking alongside the river in the valley. The day was pleasant and the bird calls echoed from the trees along the escarpment. Gwladus again had her arm through her son’s and they talked quietly as they went.

  ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful this place is,’ said Tarw looking around the valley. ‘It’s been such a long time.’

  ‘Too long,’ said Gwladus, ‘and I would have contacted you sooner but the management of our estate has taken far too much of our time. Indeed, it is only now Nesta has returned that it once more challenges the majesty it once held.’

  ‘It’s pointless dwelling in the past, Mother,’ said Tarw. ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘How long can you stay?’

  ‘There is no limit,’ said Tarw, ‘my lands in Ireland are well looked after and I have no family tying me back there.’

  Gwladus smiled. ‘Perchance you could stay,’ she said. ‘The times have changed and I reckon there is a possibility that the English may grant us part of what we once held.’

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ said Tarw. ‘My journey here was initially made for one purpose, and that was to find Hywel. Your letter said that you knew he was alive, please tell me that is so.’

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ said Gwladus, ‘for oft I hear the rumours of a jailed prince and it can only be your brother.’

  ‘Yet you know not where he is held?’

  ‘Not yet, but Nesta has asked her husband to make representations on our behalf.’

  ‘I believe you have done this on many occasions with little effect. What makes you think he will succeed where you have failed?’

  ‘Many reasons,’ said Gwladus. ‘A long time has passed and many who hated us with such a vengeance have either moved on or are dead. Those that are left are at least as old as me and there is only so long that a person can hold a grudge. Besides, Gerald is a powerful noble and has the ear of Henry himself. It will benefit no one to withhold information from a king’s man, so hopefully we will hear something soon.’

  ‘Even if we do, what then?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure but perhaps we can ask Gerald to use his influence to get your brother released.’

  ‘You are putting a lot of faith in this Englishman.’

  ‘I care only for your brother, Tarw, and if I have to use Nesta’s husband to get him released, then so be it.’

  ‘Is that fair on Nesta?’

  ‘Nesta will do as she is told, it is in all our interests.’

  ‘And what if Gerald can’t help?’

  ‘We’ll have to worry about that if it happens, until then we must hope for the best.’ Gwladus stopped and looked at her son. ‘This is the closest we have ever been, Tarw. If God is with us then what is left of this family can soon be back together.’

  ‘Mother,’ said Tarw gently, ‘do not confuse my questioning with reluctance. I am just as determined to see my brother walk in freedom as you, but it is important I know of all the facts. Only by doing so can I then plan out whatever needs to be done.’

  ‘So you already have a
n idea of what may be needed?’

  ‘Not yet, Mother, but I swear this before God: I will do whatever it takes to bring my brother home.’

  Pembroke Castle

  October 3rd, AD 1105

  ‘Nesta,’ said a voice quietly, ‘Nesta, wake up!’

  Nesta opened her eyes, and blinked in confusion. The room was still dark and there was no sign of dawn’s first light through the shuttered windows. Above she could see the face of her husband illuminated in the light of the solitary candle in his hand.

  ‘Gerald,’ she said, ‘it’s still dark, is there a problem?’

  ‘Get yourself dressed,’ said Gerald, ‘you should come with me.’

  Nesta sat up and reached for her robe before walking over to check the sleeping form of her son in the nearby bed.

  ‘He is fine,’ said Gerald, ‘but hurry, there is someone you need to meet.’

  ‘At this hour?’

  ‘All will be revealed, come.’ He led the way from her bedchamber and down the stairs to the lesser hall where they received visitors during the day. As they entered, Nesta recognised one of Gerald’s men alongside a man she had never seen before.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘We are about to find out,’ said Gerald as he strode across the hall to greet the two men.

  ‘Sir Godwin,’ he said as he neared the two men, ‘I had a message you had returned. It is good to see you again.’

  ‘And you, my lord,’ said Godwin, reaching out to take Gerald’s wrist in friendship before turning to face Nesta. ‘My lady, please forgive the lateness of the hour but I thought you would want to hear from this man as soon as we arrived.’

  ‘I’m sure there is good reason,’ said Nesta.

  ‘Indeed there is,’ said Godwin, ‘this man is called Ivor and he hails from Brycheniog.’

  The older man bowed slightly towards Nesta. His face was weathered and the few teeth he had left in his mouth were broken through mistreatment and rot.

  ‘My lady,’ he said, his voice as rough as the coarsest file.

  ‘Good day, Master Ivor,’ said Nesta, ‘or should I say good morning? What can I do for you?’

  ‘I have news that may be of interest to you, my lady,’ said the man, ‘news about your brother.’

  Nesta stared at the man, waiting for him to continue but as he started to speak again he started to cough and doubled over in pain as globules of blood spattered on the flagstones. Nesta ran over and put her arms around him, guiding him to a chair as her husband ran to fetch a jug of water from a nearby table.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ asked Gerald, handing over the water.

  ‘He is dying,’ said Godwin, ‘and has little time left amongst us.’

  ‘Where did you find him?’

  ‘I didn’t, he found me. I was staying in lodgings in Builth when he approached. He had heard I was making enquiries about your lady’s brother and said he had information.’

  ‘And is it of use?’

  ‘I know not, he wouldn’t say.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He has certain demands.’

  Gerald sneered. ‘If he thinks he can wrest a single penny from me then he is sadly mistaken.’

  ‘Worry not, my lord,’ said Godwin, ‘his requests are simple, just a warm room to see out his final days and the chance to eat like a king before he dies.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Modest demands to you and I, but they mean the world to a man such as he. I’m sure we will be able to accommodate him.’

  ‘Only if his news is of value,’ said Gerald, ‘otherwise the only place he will be dining is with the pigs. Anyway, the state he is in, I doubt he will see out the night.’

  ‘Thank you,’ spluttered the man, sitting back in the chair. For a few moments he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to catch his breath. Nesta wiped the spittle from his chin with a linen handkerchief before lifting a mug of honeyed water to his lips.

  He sipped gently before pushing her hand away.

  ‘My lady,’ he said, ‘your kindness is most welcome but these lips have not tasted wine for many a day. Perhaps I could entreat you to spare me a drop.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Nesta. She looked over at her husband in expectation.

  ‘What?’ asked Gerald.

  ‘Could you please get me some wine,’ she hissed, ‘and make sure it is warm.’

  ‘Do I look like a servant?’ asked Gerald in exasperation.

  ‘Gerald, please,’ entreated Nesta. ‘There is usually some left in the kitchens, but hurry.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Godwin with a smile, ‘you stay here.’

  ‘No, I’ll get it.’ Gerald sighed. ‘You go and wake some of the servants, it looks like this could be a long night.’

  ‘Bring some food while you are there,’ called Nesta as he left the hall, ‘it looks like this poor wretch hasn’t eaten in a month.’

  As the men went their separate ways, Nesta returned her attention to the old man.

  ‘Just relax,’ she said, ‘you will have your drink in just a few moments. Is there anything else I can get you, a soft blanket perhaps?’

  ‘I already partake of luxury just sitting in front of this fire,’ said the man weakly. His head turned and he looked around the walls, each draped with rich tapestries depicting the life of the privileged. ‘So, this is how the lords and ladies live.’

  ‘Have you never been in a castle before, Ivor?’

  ‘Oh yes, my lady, for the past ten years I have lived in one of the greatest of them all but alas, my status was not one of honoured guest.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was little more than a slave,’ said Ivor, ‘dragged from my rat-infested cell only to undertake the most menial of tasks not fit for even the lowest of the servants.’

  ‘What sort of tasks?’

  ‘It varied. Sometimes we just carried rocks from the quarries or turned the treadmills for the mills, often walking within the wheels for days without rest. Sometimes, when the weather was so hot the smell from the latrines made the ladies gag, we were sent into the cess pits with leather buckets to empty them, burying the filth away from the castle. Often we were chest deep and I saw many men die from infection.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ gasped Nesta, her hand flying to her mouth in disgust. ‘That sounds horrible.’

  ‘It was,’ said Ivor, ‘and I saw one man deliberately drown himself in the filth such was his desperation.’

  Nesta shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘How could someone treat anyone so badly?’ she asked. ‘Surely it is inhuman.’

  ‘It is, but they did not see us as human so it mattered not. Only the strongest survived but even the stoutest oak will eventually fall and now it is my turn to meet my God.’

  ‘Ivor,’ said Nesta, ‘I am so sorry to hear your tale and I promise I will do whatever I can to make your last days as comfortable as possible. But you came here with information for me so please, put me out of my misery.’ She took a breath. ‘Does my brother still live?’

  Ivor stared at Nesta for what seemed an age before giving her the answer she so desperately needed to hear.

  ‘Yes, my lady, he is alive.’

  When Gerald returned with the food and wine, Nesta pulled up another chair and waited patiently as Ivor savoured the luxuries.

  ‘Warm pork,’ he said, pieces of meat falling from his full mouth as he spoke, ‘I had forgotten how nice it is.’ Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the goblet and emptied it in one go before holding it up for a refill.

  ‘There will be plenty of time for more,’ said Nesta, ‘for as much as you can drink. But first you must tell me of Hywel.’

  Ivor’s face fell as he realised he would have to wait but after swallowing the last of the meat, he leaned forward and started his tale.

  ‘Ten years ago,’ he said, ‘I was at the battle of Brycheniog.

  ‘My father was there,’ interrupted Nesta.
‘Rhys ap Tewdwr.’

  ‘He was your father?’ asked Ivor in surprise. ‘I never knew. Of course, I never had chance to speak to him for I was a mere pikeman, but I hear he was a good man. Anyway, as you know we were defeated that day and many of us were taken into captivity. Some were hanged, mainly the officers and the sergeants, but us foot soldiers were put to work doing the jobs the English hated doing for themselves. Sometimes we were sold on to other manors and I saw four different masters before ending up at the place where I have been these past few years.’

  ‘And where was that exactly?’ asked Gerald.

  ‘Hen Domen Castle in Montgomery,’ said Ivor. ‘A more devilish place you can never imagine.’

  ‘Is my brother there?’ asked Nesta.

  ‘He is,’ said Ivor, ‘or at least he was a month ago.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The last time I saw your brother he was dragging me off a cart to bury me alive.’

  For a few moments, the room fell silent. Then Nesta cleared her throat and started to speak again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t understand. Why would he bury you alive?’

  ‘Because I was dead,’ said Ivor, ‘or at least they thought I was. You see, there were ten of us in my cell and for some reason, they forgot about us for several days. Either that or they couldn’t be bothered to answer our pleas. Whatever the reason, we were left to die of thirst until eventually I was the only one left. I managed to stay alive by licking the moisture off the stone walls, and I caught a rat to eat. But just as I thought I would surely die, someone must have remembered about us and opened the door. The smell must have been horrendous for them, for all around me the corpses of my cellmates were rotting in the heat and none of the guards would come in. Instead, they sent in another working party and they were told to bury us in the forest so as not to spread disease.’

  ‘Your brother was one of those who came into the cell,’ he continued, ‘and when he saw I was still alive, he bade me stay still, as if I was truly dead. He threw me on the cart with the rest of the corpses, knowing that at least one of us had a chance to escape. When we were clear of the castle, the other prisoners dragged the bodies off the cart and when they buried the corpses, he made sure I was on top with enough room between the bodies to breathe.’