Ieuan transferred his gaze to David. At nearly the same height and a foot apart, their conversation was only for each other. “Leave it to me, my lord,” Ieuan said. “I will see that he reaches England.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ieuan
My skin crawled as I escorted my father across the bailey. “You may rest in the barracks and refresh yourself for a few hours until you return to England,” I said.
“I was sorry to find you here,” my father said. “You are unchanged.”
“I am unchanged?” I said, losing control so quickly a red film crossed my eyes. Hang on! Hang on! “Hereford? Father, how could you? How could you swear allegiance to such a man?”
“He is not Llywelyn.”
“No, he’s not! He’s Hereford! You taught me to hate him from my first breath!”
“I taught you to hate Llywelyn too, and look where that got me. Times change, son,” he said.
“Yes, they do! And for the better!” I couldn’t help the rising of my voice, but other men were looking at us and I tried to modulate my tone. “Father, Hereford seeks the end of Wales.”
“He does not. He merely wants the lands that belong to him, as I want mine returned to me.”
“And this, Hereford has promised,” I said, disheartened yet again by my father’s attitude. “You’ve traded your honor for your purse.”
“My honor.” He turned on me. “What do you know of honor? You bow and scrape to that man. Llywelyn is a fool and his son an idiot to think he can defy Humphrey de Bohun.”
I grasped my father’s cloak, no longer trying to contain my anger. “You dare to speak ill of Prince Dafydd? He is the best of men. Even you can have nothing against him.”
“He is Llywelyn’s son. That is enough.”
I released him. “What has Llywelyn ever done to you?” I swallowed. I’d wanted to ask that question for ten years and never had the chance or the courage.
“Nothing! That’s the point.” We’d reached the barracks and my father turned in the doorway.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I offered him my services. I asked Llywelyn for the honor of leading his men at the first defeat of his brother Dafydd at Bryn Derwin, thirty years ago. He chose Goronwy instead.” My father stopped. The silence that followed was painful, for he’d finally spoken the truth.
“So you went to his brother, Dafydd,” I said, “and he made you his right hand man. Through all those years, you aided and abetted him, plotting against Llywelyn because he’d hurt your pride.”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” my father said. “I did what I had to do.” He turned on his heel and the barracks door closed behind him.
“I’m sure you did,” I said.
I felt someone watching me, and turned to look. Bronwen stood on the bottom step, her eyes steady on mine. “Prince Dafydd would see you in his father’s rooms as soon as you are able,” she said.
I nodded. “I’m ready now,” I said. I took her arm and we returned to the keep.
* * * * *
“To what exactly have you committed us, my lord?” Goronwy asked. Everyone had gathered around Prince Llywelyn’s bed while Dafydd had related to him the substance of Hereford’s message—and Dafydd’s response.
Dafydd and his father studied each other, both clear-eyed.
“I’ve called him out,” Dafydd said, with an insouciant grin. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.
The other lords didn’t look so pleased. “Please explain,” Carew said. “I feel I haven’t quite caught your intent.”
“Don’t you see?” Dafydd asked. “Hereford thought I was dead! He thought father was going to die! This is going to blow him out of the water!”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning, son. Some of us are slow to catch you up, especially when you speak in that fashion,” Llywelyn said.
“Okay,” Dafydd said, calming his enthusiasm and starting to pace. “We know that Hereford must have arrived in Lancaster on the heels of our departure. He found King Edward dead, but as neither he nor any of his men had ever met me, assumed the body that Moses had decorated with the discarded dragon surcoat was mine.”
“We understand that, my lord,” said Carew.
“Immediately, Hereford did two things: one, he sent word to his wife and allies to prepare for action against Wales. With my death and father’s injury, which we still don’t know enough about, he was counting on our inability to counter him. Two, he took the Archbishop of Canterbury and raced to London, to Edward’s son. The sooner Hereford was on the spot, the more likely it was that he would be named regent.”
“He was named regent,” Goronwy said.
“Yes! That’s true. But only co-regent. Vere and Kirby share his power, and do you know what that means?”
“That he can do nothing without their approval.” Tudur nodded. “Of course. He had thought that becoming regent would give him near total authority in England and Wales. Instead, he finds himself sharing that authority with two other men who don’t support his ambitions and certainly wouldn’t support a full-scale—and very expensive—assault on Wales.”
“Exactly,” Dafydd said.
“No,” I said. “I’m still not understanding why you’re so pleased.”
“Ieuan,” Dafydd said, “do you remember when we were in prison in Carlisle, when we concluded that Hereford would try to take advantage of the power vacuum in England?”
“Yes,” I said. “And he has done so.”
“He hoped he could,” I said. “Now, however, he has neither the power, nor the money, to invade Wales, not on the scale he intended, and not when he is facing a Prince Llywelyn who is very much alive.”
“Hereford expected his messenger to find us in disarray,” Carew said. “He knew that he couldn’t invade us, but was hoping we wouldn’t know it. His intent was that he wouldn’t have to, that we would fold up our tents.”
“You exposed his deception,” Llywelyn said.
“What will he do now?” Goronwy asked.
“The question is what we will do now,” Dafydd said. “I may have called his bluff, but I wasn’t bluffing. I suggest we continue where Tudur left off the other day.”
“Which is where?” Gruffydd said. Until now, he’d followed the conversation without contributing to it.
“How many castles and English holdings lie in the lands bordered by the Severn, the Wye, and the Dyke?” Dafydd asked.
“A dozen, the largest being Montgomery, four miles northwest of Dolforwyn, and Painscastle, to the south and east of Buellt,” Tudur said. “The war has taken its toll and there are fewer castles than a few years ago. Knighton, for example, Prince Llywelyn destroyed in 1262 and it has not been rebuilt.”
Prince Llywelyn pushed himself straighter in his bed. “So, we do exactly as Dafydd has said, starting with this corner of Wales. We send riders to every Englishman, informing him of the line we’ve drawn and demanding their departure or their allegiance. It’s as simple as that.”
“They will resist,” said Goronwy.
“Of course they will, and then we’ll take them down, one by one, starting with the smaller holdings which are more difficult to defend,” the Prince said.
“Hereford won’t stand by and let us do this,” Gruffydd said. “He can’t.”
“He will marshal his men and those of his immediate allies,” Llywelyn said, “but so many of the Marcher lords are dead with Edward, that he hasn’t the ability to gather enough on such short notice, not with the heirs themselves unconfirmed in their holdings.”
“When the cat’s away, the mice will play,” Dafydd said, with satisfaction, “except the mice are not Hereford and his allies, but us.” He swung around to face his father. “You remember the Rising of 1256? You swept east through Gwynedd, south through Powys, and all the way to Deheubarth in one summer.”
Llywelyn’s eyes were bright as he gazed at his son. “I have not forgotten,” he said.
/>
“Brecon must take precedence,” said Goronwy, getting back to business. “It is Hereford’s seat.”
“That and Painscastle,” Tudur added. “It guards the main road into central Wales.”
Carew nodded. “I will ride south with my men and reconnect with Rhys ap Maredudd and the other Debeuharth princes who seem to have won Pembroke for us. We will turn east, then, and sweep the English before us.”
“I’m for Montgomery,” Gruffydd said. “Now that that the Mortimers are dead, I can take it.”
“Give the castellan a chance to switch sides,” Dafydd said. “My father has good memories of that place. We don’t want it destroyed if it doesn’t have to be.”
Gruffydd snorted. “Yes, my lord.”
“And you, son?” Llywelyn asked. “What will you do?”
“I have a couple of errands to run,” Dafydd said, looking at me, “and after that, I hope to win the war before it truly starts.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bronwen
David and Lili settled themselves across the table from Ieuan and me the next morning at breakfast. Lili was looking polished, her male clothes forsaken for a green dress and wimple.
“The Prince says we’re going on a little trip to get your vehicle,” Lili said.
“I for one, would be delighted to stretch my legs,” David said.
“With broken ribs?” I asked, and then glanced at Ieuan. He was moving well, but wasn’t completely better either.
“What kind of prince would I be if I couldn’t ride a horse with a couple of broken bones?” David said. “Besides, it’s Taranis I’ll be riding. I missed him while I was in England.”
“Don’t give me that stoic knight crap,” I said. “You’ve not healed yet.”
David laughed. “I’m much better; and besides, Lili thinks the ribs are just cracked, not broken.”
“Why do you want the car?” Ieuan asked. “You’re not thinking of driving it, are you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes he is!” I said.
“Not me, you,” David said. “The van too, if Mom is willing once she gets here. Can you imagine what it will look like to the English if they see it coming toward them in the middle of the night, headlights in the front, shooting fire arrows at anything that moves?”
“He’s gone mad, Bronwen,” Ieuan moaned. “Wales is doomed.”
“No, no, Ieuan,” David said. “It could really work, and it would save Welsh lives in the process.”
“You mean to cross the border into England before Bohun sends his forces against us here?” Lili asked.
“Absolutely,” David nodded.
“I don’t know how Prince Llywelyn will feel about your mother putting herself in danger,” Ieuan said. “I don’t want Bronwen in danger.”
“I can—”
Ieuan interrupted me. “Yes, I know. You and Lili can take care of yourselves. Well, I don’t care if that is true. The battlefield is no place for women. My women.”
“That’s all well and good for you,” I said, my temper rising. “I don’t want to have to sit safe inside the castle, worrying about you!”
“You tell him, Bronwen,” Lili said. She popped a doughnut into her mouth. The cook had scattered several trays of them among the tables. Overnight it had become a popular breakfast food.
“We’re going to lose this argument, Ieuan,” David said, “if we don’t come up with some new ammunition soon.”
Ieuan picked up his fork and ate a bite of egg. “More immediately, my lord,” he said, “how do you mean, get the car? It’s in England.”
“I know,” David said. “That’s a problem. However, this time we’re going to bring fifty armed men with us. We were, what, thirty feet from a track where we hid it? Less than a mile from the Dyke? We’re going to go get it and bring it to the Welsh side of the border. I need you girls back in your breeches, though, if that’s okay,” David said. It seemed like he should have been asking me, but he was looking at Ieuan.
“Don’t look at me,” Ieuan said. “I’m going to pick my battles very carefully. Bronwen may wear breeches if she likes. My sister embarrasses me in such manner on a daily basis, why not my wife?”
“Your soon-to-be wife,” I said, smacking him in the belly with the back of my hand. “Don’t jump the gun on me.”
“What’s this word, ‘gun’?” asked Lili. I’d used the word gwn, obviously a modern construction, borrowed from English.
I pursed my lips. “Um...a weapon that fires a ball a great distance.”
“You mean like a trebuchet?” asked Lili.
“Smaller,” I said. “You can hold it in your hand.”
“That would be very useful,” said Lili.
A thoughtful look crossed David’s face.
“Oh no,” I said. “You can’t be serious.”
“Not guns,” said David, “but black powder certainly. I printed directions on how to make it off the internet while I was at Aunt Elisa’s house. All we need is saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal.”
“Better yet, we could make Greek fire,” I said.
“Nobody knows the real ingredients of Greek fire,” David said. “There’s a lot of speculation, but—”
“I do,” I said.
“What do you mean, you do?” he asked. “How come you do and nobody else does?”
“Well, a lot of people do, really. Anyone who studies ancient Rome like I have plays around with the idea of what it could be made of.” I stopped. David raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, truth,” I said. “Last spring, the administration at Penn State was all gung-ho about interdepartmental cooperation. They promoted the idea of each department sponsoring interdepartmental potlucks, talks, and little seminars that a bunch of diverse people might be interested in. So, taking the idea to its appropriate extreme, the medieval studies department had this idea that they would sponsor a contest to see who could re-invent Greek Fire using technology from the Middle Ages, circa 1000 AD. Each team had to be interdepartmental, so the teams included chemists, historians, archaeologists, and medievalists.”
“Oh, wow! My mom would have loved that,” David said. “Did someone make it?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “The administration even approved the contest, since the application for the event only mentioned a ‘medieval weapons demonstration’. They thought it was going to be jousting and some harmless sword fighting.”
“Harmless sword fighting?” Ieuan asked, offended.
“When you grow up with guns, swords look tame,” David explained. “Go on, Bronwen. Tell us.”
“It was pretty spectacular. In all there were two solutions that worked best. As you mentioned, charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter. It’s best to use the crystallized remains of bat guano from caves as saltpeter to provide the potassium nitrate.”
“Saltpeter’s a little more complicated than that . . .” David’s voice trailed off as I glared at him.
“Am I telling the story, or are you?”
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, putting up his hands. “Just trying to be accurate.”
“I bet your sister would say you were one of those annoying little brothers who contradicted her all the time, wouldn’t she?”
Ieuan cleared his throat. David smiled. “Go on,” he said.
“As I said, these three ingredients are the basis of black powder, which you must then grind really fine, like talcum. Once you have the right consistency, you can mix that with oil—making a sort of pitch. It catches fire easily, and when you throw water on it, it spreads.”
“We could do that,” Ieuan said.
“Well the best recipe belonged to the team that combined lime, bones, and charcoal in the proper combination to make calcium phosphide. They designed a pot with a division down the middle and a stopper in the top. You pour the concoction into one half, water into the other, and throw it. When the pot breaks, the ingredients combine. When combined with water, calcium phosphide releases phosphine which spontaneously comb
usts on contact with the air.”
“My God,” David said. “You sound like you did it.”
“Well, my team won. That’s how we won, before the fire department came and shut us down.”
“Oh, wow,” David said again. “Okay, okay, black powder and Greek fire are going to really make this all work better than I thought.”
“Better?” I asked. “There’s nothing better than Greek Fire in this day.”
“Bronwen,” David said, the annoying sound of patience in his voice, “we have at least forty gallons of gasoline within a twenty mile radius of us right now. That’s partly why I want to get your car.”
“Gasoline! You can’t be serious? What are you planning to make? Molotov cocktails?”
“Something like that,” he said.
“They’re trickier than you might think,” I said. “You have to use the right amount of gasoline, the right kind of bottle, the right stopper.” I stared at him, horrified. “Think of the people you could kill, David. You can’t—”
David leaned forward and grabbed my arm. “Can’t I? You know what the English will do to Wales if they defeat us? It’s called genocide. You may have heard of it? They’ll destroy us if they can, and they’d do it today if my father and I didn’t stand between them and our people. Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Bronwen, because I can do it. We need to win this war; right here, right now, and I have the means to do it.”
I pulled away from him and turned my head, but not before tears pricked my eyes. It was Lili who spoke next, leaning in as David had, but her touch and voice were gentle. “Don’t believe him, Bronwen. He never kills except when he has to. Do you, my lord?” she asked David. “You’re offended that she thinks you would.”
I lifted my head. He sat, his arms folded across his chest, his chin out.
“My lord,” Lili implored.
“We’re going to kill some people, Bronwen,” he admitted. “There’s no denying that, but mostly,” he paused and then grinned, stretching his arms above his head, fists clenched, “we are going to scare the bejesus out of the English!”
Prince of Time (Book Two in the After Cilmeri series) Page 21