Fychan screamed and loosened his grip on the knife just enough for David to grasp it with his right hand and jerk it from him. Realizing he was out of time, David didn’t hesitate. Stepping behind Fychan, David slashed downward, cutting Fychan’s throat and dropping his body to the ground before any blood could touch him. David glanced toward the fire. Dai and Marchudd were just levering themselves to their feet.
David ran.
His goal was to put as much distance between them as possible. David dashed through the bracken and within a hundred yards found himself facing a creek, on the other side of which was a craggy cliff. He had to make an immediate choice: cross the creek or not, go upstream or down, try to find a path through the rock or run along the shore. David crossed the creek, soaking his breeches to the knees, and headed upstream, looking for a path up the cliff.
Settling into a jog, David listened for Marchudd and Dai. They couldn’t have ridden easily through the undergrowth, but David didn’t know if another path went to this spot. David’s sense was that one of the three men knew this region of Wales well. If David was lucky, that person had been Fychan.
Too bad. Within a minute, the crunch of hooves on rock echoed behind David. He threw himself into some bushes. If he could hide for long enough, because Marchudd had neither dog nor bow, they’d give up and leave. Now that David was free, the only way Marchudd could capture him would be to corner him. David swore that wasn’t going to happen.
Clip-clop, clip-clop. Marchudd walked his horse past David’s position.
“Not here!” Dai shouted, from somewhere downstream.
“Fool! He’ll hear us!” Marchudd hissed.
Anxiously David took soft, shallow breaths, certain Marchudd could hear his heart pounding. The sound of it filled David’s own ears. Marchudd and Dai conferred in whispers a few yards away, but David couldn’t hear their words. Silence. David stayed in his bush, praying and waiting. A few minutes later, the clop, clopping of the hooves began again, and gradually moved away down the creek. Still, David didn’t move, thinking it a trap. Another ten minutes went by, and then David sensed, rather than saw, a shadow pass his bush and travel up the creek in the opposite direction from the horse.
At last, he couldn’t stand it any longer. David eased his head out of the bush. Nobody was near the creek. Taking a chance, he scuttled away from the creek, toward the cliff. Now that the rain had stopped and the moon was up, he could see well enough to detect differences in the shadows along the rock. The moon showed some grassy patches, and what looked like a trail, wending its way up through them. David sprinted forward into the rocks, and began to follow the path, climbing up and away from the river.
At the top of the rocky cliff, David faced a rolling landscape of grassland and trees. It might have been green and welcoming in daylight, but it would give him little cover by moonlight. He’d be a sitting duck out there. David couldn’t abide the thought of being run down from behind by a man on horseback, but he didn’t dare stop moving. He flitted from rock to tree, to rock again, trying not to trip in the hidden holes and roots that pot-marked the landscape, trying continually to move south, back towards the road where his company traveled.
David hiked and jogged and wandered through the long night until, as dawn was breaking, he stumbled out of a copse of trees into a little valley, in the center of which lay five huts. He pulled up short at the sight. He’d known, intellectually, that the people he’d met on his journey through Gwynedd had to live somewhere, but in the thirty-six hours since Marchudd had taken him from the campsite, David had felt completely alone.
He ran to the nearest hut. Before he could knock, the door opened and David fell forward on his knees on the threshold.
“Who is it, Branwen?” a male voice said.
Surprised faces of the inhabitants of the hut, more than half a dozen of them, looked back at David. The man who’d spoken got to his feet on the other side of the room.
“My lord!” he said.
David blinked. The heat from the fire and the blood pounding in his head blurred his vision. He swayed.
“Help him!” the man said, rushing to David’s side. Branwen and the man raised David to his feet, eased him against one wall of the hut, and helped him sit. With his feet splayed out in front of him, David tried to get his balance back.
David blinked. The inhabitants of the hut stared back at him, completely silent, except for the man who remained close by his side.
“My lord, Dafydd?” he said.
David nodded. “Yes, I’m Dafydd.”
“Your captain, Lord Bevyn, was here in this house only last night. He brought news that you’d disappeared. He feared the English had taken you.”
David lifted his hand and dropped it, feeling more helpless than ever. “Not the English. The traitors were our own people, Welshmen thinking to sell me to Edward.”
The man sputtered his outrage, but David turned his head to look at the man’s wife who hovered near the fire. “Food? Water? Please?”
“Yes, yes, Branwen hurry.” Her husband urged her on. “I’m Aeddan ap Owain, and this is my wife Branwen, and our children.”
The children gazed at David, their eyes wide and faces pale. One little girl, perhaps about seven, sucked one finger and stared at David with a grave expression on her face. He crooked a finger at her and she came closer.
“Are you going to die?” she said. “You look like my grandpa did right before he died. He was all white in the face and tired, just like you are.”
David smiled and reached for her hand.
“I’m not going to die, cariad,” he said. “I’m just tired and hungry. If I could stay here a while, and sleep, I will be well tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes,” Aeddan said.
Branwen handed Aeddan a bowl of porridge. He turned to David with it, but as David reached for it, his hands shook so much he knew if he held it, it would spill.
“I—I can’t.”
Aeddan had seemed flustered before but now his voice deepened with quiet confidence. “Never mind, my lord. We’ll hold it together.”
Aeddan leaned forward; David put his hands on the outside of Aeddan’s and together they tipped the first sip into David’s mouth. The warmth flooded him and he took another drink and then another until his hands stopped shaking. Finally, David was able to take the bowl from Aeddan, who handed him a spoon. Under the watchful eye of Aeddan’s family, David ate every drop. When he’d finished, he set the bowl down and leaned his head back against the wall, regarding Aeddan through half-open eyes.
“There were only three men,” David said. “One is dead and the others are searching for me. I don’t know if they still seek me, but if one or two men approach, possibly on horseback, you must beware. I’ve no sword and must sleep. I can’t be of help.”
“My brother-in-law and I fought with you, my lord, the winter we sent Edward home with his tail between his legs,” Aeddan said. “I will warn him and the families nearby that you are here. We’ll watch until you wake, and then travel with you wherever you need to go.”
David lifted a hand to him and he clasped it briefly before letting go.
“Thank you,” David said.
One of the drawbacks to David’s life in Wales was the almost total lack of privacy. He was never alone, even while sleeping—especially while sleeping. When David lived among the other boys, a dozen of them would sleep in the stable, or the great hall, or an out-of-the-way room somewhere in a castle. Now that David was a prince, Math, or Bevyn, or even Hywel, whom Father had promoted to manservant, was always with him, along with a dozen of his guard close by.
With no privacy at night comes an inability to keep private information private. Everyone knew who snored, who had insomnia, and who was conspicuously absent from his bed when a certain husband was away. What everyone knew about David was that when he slept, he slept deeply. As a child, this had meant he wet the bed routinely (not information that he ever wanted anyone in Wales to know— Davi
d assumed his sister and mother could keep that a secret) but here in Wales, his fathomless slumber had prompted one of the boys who shared his Latin class to nickname him ‘Mortuus’, as in one who is dead. Safe at last, in the home of Aeddan ap Owain, David slept the day away.
He woke up once, many hours later. Branwen gave him more food and a flagon of water. “My husband stands watch with his bow,” she said. “There’ve been no strangers near today.”
“Thank you,” David said, but before he could martial more of a reply, he was asleep again.
Early the next morning, David woke naturally. He lay on a pallet against the far wall. Aeddan must have moved him to allow enough room to walk around the small hut. David gazed at the ceiling, noting that the hut was typical for the Middle Ages, made of wood supports packed with wattle and daub. The floor was dirt, covered by a layer of reed mats. It was simply furnished with a table, two stools, and several benches pushed up against one wall. The fire was the centerpiece of the house, with a hole in the roof above it to let out the smoke. By stretching, David could have touched three of the children who slept near him. The others were scattered across the floor; their parents slept in a small alcove on the opposite side of the room.
His movement caught the attention of the little girl with whom he’d spoken the day before. She curled on her side to talk to him.
“I’m glad you didn’t die,” she said.
“Me too,” David said.
“My name is Gwen.”
“That’s my sister’s name.”
Gwen looked confused. “Your sister is named Anna,” she said.
David smiled. “I mean my baby sister’s name. She’s Gwenllian.”
“Oh.” Gwen stuck a finger in her mouth. “You share the same father.”
“Yes,” David said. “The prince is her father by Elinor, and he’s my father by my mother, Marged.”
“My lord,” someone behind Gwen whispered. David lifted his head to see the bright eyes of her older brother, a boy of twelve, and the oldest of Aeddan and Branwen’s children.
“I am Huw ap Aeddan,” he said.
“Thank you for sharing your home with me, Huw,” David said. “But it’s almost full light and I must leave soon.”
“Father and my Uncle Rhys will accompany you,” Huw said, “and I get to come too if you will have me.”
Sitting up, David half bowed. “I would be honored, young sir, if you would accompany me on my journey.”
Grinning like a madman, Huw climbed out of his covers. David joined him by the fire and while Huw stirred the pot, his father pushed aside his blanket.
“You wish to depart, my lord?”
“As soon as possible, Aeddan,” David said. “I understand from Huw that three of you will accompany me.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, “if that’s agreeable, my lord. I have my bow and Rhys and you each have a knife. We have no horse to carry us, but Dinas Bran can be reached in a day of steady walking.”
“That’s my intent,” David said.
Aedden dressed quickly and was out the door to rouse his brother-in-law. Shortly thereafter, the whole family woke. After a small meal, with a pouch of dried meat and a water skin, they began to walk up and out of the valley, heading east across the crags, making for the main road.
As they walked, David learned something of his companions. Aeddan had told him that he and his brother-in-law had participated in the defeat of the English. Given the great bow across his back, David believed him, though he had no memory of seeing him in battle. Aeddan’s brother-in-law, Rhys, carried a wicked-looking knife, which he said he looked forward to using on anyone who stood in their way. But his true talent was his voice.
“You’re a bard?” David said.
“No, not a bard,” he said, a little ruefully. “I couldn’t live that kind of life, always moving from place to place, never laying my head in the same spot twice. My wife wouldn’t love me for that. I sing for my own enjoyment and that of my kin.”
“Sing for the prince,” Aeddan said.
Rhys shrugged, and to David’s delight, began a long ballad about King Arthur. It was repetitive enough that near the end David joined in on the chorus with Huw.
“You will have a fine voice, my lord,” Rhys said, “when it settles more. You sang for us two years ago, but it was a mite different then.” He glanced shyly at David, seeing if he would take his gentle teasing without offense.
“It was, wasn’t it,” David said, thinking that his voice was the least of the changes that had happened over that time.
The song had distracted all four of them, and it seemed that in no time at all, they reached the high road to Dinas Bran. As they turned east, however, a lone horseman galloped out of the forest to their left, drawing his sword as he rode.
It was Marchudd. Aedden took one look and disappeared into the forest behind them.
“Father!” Huw cried.
David didn’t look.
“Never mind him, son,” Rhys said. “He’s doing what needs doing. Keep your attention ahead.”
“But—”
“Boy. Obey your uncle,” David said.
Marchudd cantered forward, stopping four horse-lengths from David. “You think you can stand against me?”
Rhys and David had already pulled out their knives and Rhys spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Spread out, my lord. I’ll slit the horse’s throat if he comes toward you. If you run, he can’t catch you.”
David understood that Marchudd wanted him to run. Seeing their knives, Marchudd dared not come closer, but if David ran, Marchudd could take him down from above. None of these machinations mattered, however, because Aeddan hadn’t run away. He’d merely found better ground for shooting.
Thwt!
An arrow appeared in Marchudd’s chest. His face went from astonishment to ghastly white, before he toppled backwards off his horse.
Aeddan returned at a run. “I’m sorry, my lord, if you intended to bring him to Dinas Bran as a captive. I decided he didn’t deserve to live.”
“You think I mind?” David said. “Carry him into the ditch and leave him. We will take his horse. I see my sword hanging from his panniers. I’ve missed it.”
The others wanted David to ride the horse, but he threw Huw up on it instead. The boy had never seen a man killed, and despite his protestations to the contrary, he needed time to recover.
Leaving Marchudd beside the road, the companions set out again. To David’s surprise, however, just as when he’d traveled with his company, one by one, people stepped onto the road to walk with them. They weren’t very talkative, but every few minutes David would find a different man beside him. He’d introduce himself, David would shake his hand, and then he’d fade into the background to be replaced by another. Bevyn had raised the countryside, so everyone knew what had happened to David, and wanted to make sure he was all right.
The crowd grew from an initial ten, to twenty, to fifty, and still they walked. A family might join the march for a half an hour and then fall off the back of the group to turn for home, only to be replaced by another family coming from the woods. They shared their food and David took some for himself when they offered it. Children ran in every direction. After a while, Huw dismounted from Marchudd’s horse to allow smaller children to ride him.
With this train of friends, David progressed towards Dinas Bran at a steady pace so by early afternoon, he approached the end of his journey. The road followed a ridge to the west of the castle, but required that they descend into a valley, through a village nestled along the River Dee, and then up the thousand foot height to the castle.
Over the next few hours they picked their way out of the hills into the valley. At some point, someone at the castle must have grown alarmed at their numbers, because as they reached the valley floor, a host of cavalry appeared on the road around the mountain, flags flying.
“I shall sing a new song in your hall,” Rhys said. “If you permit it, my lord, I shall sing
of this day.”
David turned to the people behind him, now quiet, as they too had noticed the horsemen. “I would like that,” David said. “As long as you make Aedden the hero. And Huw.” David tousled the boy’s hair.
Then David raised his voice so all could hear. “I thank you with all my heart,” he said. “Please know that you are welcome to dine at the castle with me this evening. Wales has survived only because of men like you.”
Several men nodded, and then came forward one at a time to pay their respects. But by the time David finished greeting the last person, the rest had gone and he stood alone again with Rhys, Aeddan, and Huw.
“The cavalry are upon us,” Aeddan said, with a nod for David to look behind him.
And they were. Math’s banners streamed in the wind. David strode forward to greet his brother-in-law. When Math saw that it was David and not an enemy, he spurred his horse ahead of his men. He reined him in almost on top of David, dismounted, and embraced him. “By St. Winifred’s ear, man!” he said. “You have led us on a merry chase! Your mother and sister have been sick with worry.”
“It was not my intent, brother,” David said, laughing as Math patted him up and down to make sure he was alive and uninjured. “Did you send word to my father?”
“Bevyn wanted to, but your mother stopped him,” Math said. “He meant to resign his position, but she refused him, telling him to find you first. She gave him three days.”
“Are our three days expired?” David said, confused now about how long he’d been away.
“Tonight,” Math said. “Bevyn intends to return tonight.” And then, with a bemused grin, he said, “He’ll be pleased to see you, my lord.”
“It was no more his fault than mine,” David said. “He can’t blame himself.”
“You can’t stop him, my lord. He feels responsible, as he should, but not at the cost of his position or his life.”
“Is that what people fear? That he will lose his life for his failure?”
Footsteps in Time Page 16