“What a great day. Makes one glad to be alive, doesn’t it?” The prince looked down at David and gave him a wicked grin before walking toward the other noblemen who gathered on the other side of the boar to mount their horses.
“Can you ride?” Bevyn said.
“Am I that pale?” David said.
“Yes.” Bevyn whistled to Hywel, who’d been watching and now hurried over with Taranis. “Exhilaration comes first, then chills as the energy drains from you. When it is a man you’ve killed, the next emotion is revulsion, perhaps nausea, but this is a boar, an evil creature. Don’t allow his death to trouble you that way.”
“Yes, sir,” David said.
Back at the castle, David dismounted, even more exhausted than he usually was after patrol because, as Bevyn had warned, the adrenaline had seeped away, leaving him shivering and weak.
“Go and rest,” Owain said. “I’ll rub down Taranis.”
David shook his head. “Thanks, Owain, but I’ll do it. I’ll feel better when I’m done.”
An hour later, men carrying the boar appeared in the courtyard. For the rest of the afternoon, the kitchen was busy preparing it and then roasting it, with the odor of cooking wafting into every corner of the castle. It was dark outside by the time David found Anna on their usual bench and plopped down beside her. Usually she wrinkled her nose at his smell—sweat and horses and no bath for more than a week—but not today.
“I hear you killed it.”
“Prince Llywelyn killed it,” David corrected her. “I was merely holding onto the same spear he was when he did it.”
“Uh huh,” she said, not believing him. “I’m glad your day was more interesting than mine.”
“I’m sorry you’re so bored,” David said.
Anna shrugged. “I’ll live.”
David stared at her, waiting for more. He’d given her an opening to complain and she hadn’t taken it. David had even felt up to listening for once.
I killed a boar today!
Chapter Five
Anna
David intercepted Anna on the way to breakfast two days later. “How’d you like to learn to ride a horse? I talked to Bevyn, and he said that we could take you out in the mornings after breakfast when the weather is good.”
As good in Wales meant not raining or snowing, Anna didn’t know how often they’d get to ride, but the idea itself was enough to lift her spirits. It was still bitterly cold, but she didn’t care. She threw her arms around David’s neck and hugged him.
“Yes, please!” At last, I can do something!
They rode that very day, and it was refreshing to be outside, even if Anna’s muscles were so sore the next day she could barely walk, much less sit on a horse. She sat the next day anyway, determined to shake off her gloomy thoughts and focus on what she could do in Wales, rather than what she couldn’t. Which is everything. Since their arrival at Castell y Bere, she’d had no opportunity for exercise, other than walking from her room to the solar, to church, to the great hall, and back again. Her karate instructor would have been appalled.
So riding was one good thing in her life, and within the week, Anna discovered another: Prince Llywelyn’s only child, Gwenllian. Her mother, whom Prince Llywelyn had married late in life, had died at the baby’s birth. Consequently, her caretakers were a wet nurse and a nanny, who were frazzled most of the time because Gwenllian was a fussy child. Although she was six months old, not an infant, she cried at any hour of the day.
One afternoon, Anna was sitting and sewing among the women in the solar, listening to Gwenllian’s constant wails, when she realized that her head would explode if she had to endure another minute of either sewing or crying. She put her useless work aside and left the room.
Anna went to Gwenllian’s chambers and found her wet nurse, Heledd, pacing with her around the room, trying to get her to nurse. The nanny, Mari, was making unwanted suggestions. They looked at Anna as she entered, and Anna simply held out her hands for the baby. After shooting a speaking look at each other, perhaps deciding in that instant that she was trustworthy, the nurse handed the baby to Anna, and she took her into the great hall. Because it felt like the right thing to do, Anna put Gwenllian onto her shoulder and, just by chance, she burped hugely and stopped crying.
“Now that’s much better, isn’t it?” Anna said. Gwenllian seemed to understand American English perfectly.
She was clearly a bright child, alert and curious, with un-Welsh-like blond, curly hair, blue eyes, and chubby fingers she used to point at anything and everything. They spent the afternoon looking at the huge hearth in the great hall in which a fire burned twenty-four hours a day, poking their noses into the kitchen to steal a biscuit, which Gwenllian managed to spread all over her face, and sitting at one of the tables to watch men play chess while Gwenllian gummed one of the chess pieces.
Two hours later, Gwenllian started fussing again, and Anna brought her back to her nanny. The wet nurse had just woken up from a nap and stretched out her arms for the baby. It was a very pleasant day for everyone and from then on, Anna cared for the baby every afternoon. She was happy to do it. It gave purpose to her day, in addition to the riding and her feeble attempts to learn Middle Welsh.
David, on the other hand, continued to make great strides towards becoming a man as understood by the Welsh of the thirteenth century. For him, life in Wales was a real life role-playing adventure. His friends at home would have been falling all over themselves to experience it with him—that is until they realized the swords were sharp and a real war was coming, one in which David might well play a part.
Except for the daily ride, Anna usually saw him only at meals. However, one day in early January, she heard a commotion in the great hall. Anna hurried in and saw David and another boy standing before Prince Llywelyn. Bevyn accompanied them, along with the grizzled older man who’d first taught David to fight on the way north from Cilmeri.
The other boy, who was more than two years older than David as well as bigger and burlier, had a black eye and a swollen nose. It was unlike David to get into a fist fight, but it looked like that was what had happened. Bevyn and the older man spoke calmly to each other. David stood unmoving, staring fixedly ahead with his feet spread and fists clenched. He was doing some of the breathing exercises he’d learned in karate.
Prince Llywelyn, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back, looked from one boy to the other. He spoke to David, who replied. Prince Llywelyn then put a hand on David’s shoulder, leaned down, and looked him in the eye. Whatever he was saying, he enunciated so clearly that had Anna known enough Welsh she could have read his lips. At last, the two boys gripped forearms in sort of a handshake, and the group broke apart.
David spotted Anna leaning against the wall and walked over.
“What happened?” she said.
He half-laughed. “I was in a fight. Can’t you tell?”
Anna looked him up and down. “No, I can’t. The other guy sure looks like it, though.”
“Fychan and I were fighting with wooden swords,” David said. “I won fairly. No one has ever defeated him before, and he was mad about it, I guess. He shouted at Bevyn that I cheated. I tried talking to him, but he wouldn’t listen, so I turned around and walked away. Next thing I knew, he jumped me!”
“Uh oh.”
“Yeah. He caught me off-guard, and I went down on one knee. His arms were around my shoulders, but I threw him off and turned to face him. I heard someone shout at us to stop, but I was seeing red, and I think he was too because he rushed at me. He believed he could overpower me.”
“Let me guess,” Anna said. “He took a swing at you, you blocked his arm, kicked him in the groin, and when he doubled over you came up into his face with your knee.”
“Pretty much,” David said. “I was so mad I was ready to hit him on the way down too, but a couple of the guys pulled me off.”
“So what did Prince Llywelyn say?” Anna said.
�
��Fychan was in the wrong,” David said, “so there wasn’t any question that I had the right to defend myself. But Bevyn was concerned that I let my temper get the better of me, and the knee in the face was unnecessary.”
“It was, especially since you had people calling you off before the fighting started.”
“I know,” David said. “Then Prince Llywelyn said that a leader couldn’t afford to allow anger to affect his decisions, and that I needed to understand that there was a time for making an example of a man, and a time for showing mercy. He didn’t object to the way I’d conducted the fight, but that I’d done it while hot, instead of cold. A leader has to be cold in order to mete out true justice.”
“A leader, huh?”
“You caught that too, did you? I’m not sure what to make of that.”
Anna knew. Her brother was going to succeed in this world even more easily than in the old one. She’d feared that no one would appreciate David’s talents, but it seemed that here, stripped of the trappings of modern society and with over seven hundred fewer years of accumulated knowledge, it was impossible not to.
* * * * *
As Anna’s misery abated, despite the continued absence of hot showers, she became more aware of the increasing activity in the castle. A martial mentality was in evidence, with men-at-arms moving purposefully through the courtyards and more men peopling the great hall at dinner. David came to her one day to show off his mail armor, though his eyes were hooded with concern. He sat on a bench near one of the tables.
“I may have to kill people,” he said. “They expect me to kill people.”
Anna had been wondering at what point he’d realize that all the training he was doing would end in actual warfare in which he was destined to participate. She’d hoped he would come to her when it happened. Anna hadn’t exactly come to terms with what had happened at Cilmeri, but as it was an accident, she tried not to let it bother her. David would be killing people on purpose, knowingly.
“I know,” Anna said. “I’m sorry.”
David stared at the floor. “Do you see an alternative?”
She’d been thinking about this since David’s first mock sword fight with a stick. She shook her head. “We’re in the wrong time, but even in our time it’s not immoral to fight if you have to—if you are attacked, or to protect people. You would be defending your people against invaders. If the English defeat us, Wales ceases to exist as a separate country.”
“True.” Then he continued softly. “Killing will change me. It harms the soul of anyone who does it.”
“Yes,” Anna said. “It does.”
But there was nothing they could do about it. Wales was at war. On three separate occasions, a lone man arrived, his horse steaming, having ridden hard from a distant castle. King Edward of England wasn’t finished with the Welsh, not by a long shot, even if he’d failed to kill the prince. Anna’s impression was that Prince Llywelyn was waiting for something. She didn’t know if the problem lay with his allies, including his own brother, or a change in English strategy.
One day, in the second week of January, David and Anna came back late from their ride, with darkness almost upon them by the time they rode through the gate. David had duties to attend to and hurried through the grooming of his horse, leaving Anna alone in the stables.
After he left, she deliberately delayed her own return to the great hall. Wouldn’t it be great if I had something important to do that needed my immediate attention? She combed her horse’s mane again and again. He was a gentle fellow, ironically named Madoc for a great prince of Wales, though he was little bigger than a pony. Bevyn had decided he would suit her, and Anna was very happy with him. As a child, she’d dreamed of spirited horses and begged for one of her own, but at seventeen, the reality of them was entirely different. Small and gentle was just fine with her.
Anna was giving Madoc a farewell pat when an odd creak came from behind her. She looked around Madoc’s head, but couldn’t see anyone except a groom raking hay in one of the stalls. The torchlight revealed no unfamiliar shadows.
“Hello?” she called, in Welsh.
An arm slipped around her waist and a gravelly voice said. “Hello, missy.” Alcohol fumes wafted past as the man hugged Anna to him.
“Excuse me.” Anna batted at the man’s hand, but he didn’t let go. The stable boy stood twenty paces away, and their eyes met. He dropped his broom and raced out the stable door.
Great. I would’ve liked some help. The man slobbered disgustingly in Anna’s ear. She didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize his voice, and didn’t care. Taking matters into her own hands, Anna stepped to her left, her right hand clenched in a tight fist, and swung it into the man’s groin. As he bent over in reflex, she turned and met his face with a strong punch from the left. The man collapsed to the ground, groaning.
Anna poked him with her toe. She’d never done karate in a dress and was glad to see it still worked. She was turning to leave when David burst through the stable door, followed by Prince Llywelyn and Goronwy and a small crowd of people. As it turned out, the stable boy hadn’t abandoned her but had gone for help.
“He doesn’t look good,” David said, in English.
“He was drunk,” Anna said. “It wasn’t much of a challenge.”
“Is he a member of the garrison?” David asked Prince Llywelyn.
Goronwy answered. “He was sent off today for drunkenness while on duty. He will hang for touching Anna.”
Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Goronwy and the prince had their heads in close conference.
“Hang?” she whispered to David.
“When you make a mistake here, Anna, the price is very high.”
Two men-at-arms helped him to his feet while he continued to moan.
“Come on.” David took her arm. “There are some things you don’t need to watch.”
Anna shrugged out of his grip. “I’m not a delicate flower, David! I’ve as good as killed that man. Shouldn’t I watch the result?”
“And what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped him?” he demanded.
Oh, I see the problem. David thought this was his fault for leaving her alone in the stables.
Anna stepped closer and gripped David’s tunic. David brought his head down to hers. “I hate this, David. So often I hate this.”
“I do too, Anna, but we just don’t have any choices.”
* * * * *
Nobody but Anna seemed to care about the death of the man, and the escapade earned her some distinction among the women for a few days. One of the girls, Gwladys, asked what she’d done to him. When Anna demonstrated, Gwladys stared at her, not so much appalled, as amazed. Her assumption, shared by most of the women, was that other than screaming and struggling, there was nothing they could do to stop a man once he had his hands on them. If Anna could have explained better in Welsh, she would have told them that being the ‘weaker sex’ didn’t mean you couldn’t fight if you had to.
Unfortunately, things settled back into their old, dull routine pretty quickly and Anna found herself painfully ripping out the stitches on yet another pathetic embroidery project. As usual, desultory conversation went on around her. Over the last week, she’d noticed that she was better able to follow conversations, and in this case, understood enough to know that it had to do with people and places she’d never heard of.
Then one of the girls Anna’s age said, “—the green dress anyway. It was mine.”
“Hush, Elen,” her mother said. “It’s not your place to question the orders of Prince Llywelyn.”
Elen refused to be silenced. “I don’t see why we have to be so nice to her. She’s stupid and ugly. Look at her. She can’t even sew a straight stitch.”
Anna tried to cover her surprise at this speech by dropping her needle. She didn’t want anyone to realize she at long last understood them, not when she was finally hearing something interesting. She had thanked Elen for the loan of the dress, after all. Head b
ent, Anna continued to sew.
Elen’s comment was met with disapproval, to Anna’s relief.
“She’s beautiful, and you know it,” Gwladys said. “You’re jealous that she has found favor with Prince Llywelyn. He will find a husband for her who’s more important than the one you marry.”
Now another woman spoke, “There have been rumors—”
Have there? Prince Llywelyn has found a husband for me? Anna was appalled, but at the same time, all ears.
“There are no rumors,” Elen’s mother said stoutly.
“That’s all very well for you to say,” Elen said. “Father was with the prince at Cilmeri and knows all about them. But he won’t tell me until he has the prince’s permission. I don’t see why it is such a secret. Silly cow.”
Shocked silence followed the last statement. Such gossip! Were the women like this all the time, and I hadn’t known it? Perhaps it was a blessing not to know Middle Welsh.
“I want to know what this language is they speak,” said a woman sitting across from Anna. “It’s very strange, unlike any English I’ve encountered.”
“And what about Prince Llywelyn?” said another. “I heard she healed him at Cilmeri with a touch of her finger!”
That was news to Anna.
“She’s a witch!” Elen said, triumphantly.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Gwladys said. “She’s not a witch. If she were, do you think she’d be sitting there, taking abuse from you?”
With that, Gwenllian and her nanny came into the room, interrupting the discussion. With reluctance, since Anna was eager to hear more, even if it wasn’t nice, she rose and took the baby. Deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, Anna left the room and went into the great hall.
She’d just settled on a bench against the wall when a group of men strode in, her brother amongst them, and gathered around a table upon which pieces of parchment lay. Prince Llywelyn came out of his study and joined them. They talked and gestured over the papers and, once again, Anna was astonished to find that she understood them.
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