“Your people may have very little time, as your son perceived. You may begin to spread the word among your people that they are welcome in Wales,” David said.
“Prince Llywelyn agrees to this?” Aaron said.
David and Mom exchanged looks. “We’ve discussed it,” Mom hedged. “He’s not opposed to the idea.”
“It’s something we need to explore with him further,” David said. “But in the meantime, Wales can provide a safe haven for those who are able to venture here now. Father said he wouldn’t object to that.”
“Thank you,” Aaron said. He stood to leave, but then stopped and sat down again. “My son also writes that on the first of June, the Earl of Lancaster travels to Chester for a meeting with King Edward and the other Marcher lords. Samuel, Jacob, and Moses will travel with him. With your permission, I will meet them, as long as Anna remains well. I don’t trust this information to a letter that might never arrive.”
David nodded. “I’ll send word of this meeting to my father. He needs to know of it.”
* * * * *
On the twenty-eighth of May, only a day before Aaron intended to leave for Chester, a guard on the wall shouted that a rider—a foreign rider—requested permission to enter. Math and Anna went to find out who it was. The man dismounted and bowed deeply.
“I am Abraham ben Moses,” he said. “I’m looking for my uncle, Aaron ben Simon, whom I’ve heard is within.”
“He is,” Math said. “I suppose we’ve been expecting you.”
The man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t ask questions, just allowed Anna to lead him into the hall.
“Are you okay with this?” Anna asked Math (‘okay’ was one of the words she couldn’t seem to stop using; apparently she said it often enough that other members of the castle had adopted it too).
Math nodded. “I can’t predict the future like you can. But I can see my way clear on this.”
“Abraham!” Aaron entered the hall from a rear doorway, David a pace or two behind. In three long strides, Aaron reached Abraham and embraced him. They patted each other on the back, and then stepped away, smiling, though Abraham’s smile quickly faded.
“We are here to impose upon your hospitality, Uncle, and that of your lord, if he will have us.” Abraham looked past Aaron to David. “The King of England has barred us from London. The Jewish community has fifteen days to leave the city, ten of which have already passed.”
“They will lose everything,” Aaron breathed. “On such short notice, no one will get a fair price for any of their possessions.”
“If such a thing was ever possible.” Abraham shook his head. “The edict caught us unawares.”
“What is your profession?” David said.
“I am a wool merchant,” Abraham said, “though in recent years I’ve worked in the shop of a gentile—ill-paid and ill-respected—except for the money I brought in.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles,” David said. “But if you have contacts in Europe with whom you do business, you may settle in the village and practice your trade from here. There will be no undue taxes or restrictions on your behavior or your movement.”
Abraham stared at him. “Truly?”
“We will restrict usury among your bankers to a maximum of five percent interest,” David said. “While they may not feel that is worth their efforts, over the long term, they could earn a living if that profession is their choice. Otherwise, we ask that you accept our hospitality as it is offered: from one free people to another.”
Abraham shook his head, opening and closing his mouth but unable to speak. Aaron patted him on the shoulder. “He’s the Prince of Wales,” Aaron said. “Best take him at his word.”
“Sire.” Abraham finally managed to speak. “Thank you.” He allowed Aaron to lead him to a table and settle him on a bench, an expression of wonder still on his face.
“What is Father going to say?” Anna said.
“He’s not here, but it’s the right thing to do.” David glanced at the two men who were too far away to hear him. “But you’re right that I probably should discuss it with Father before we get too far down this road.”
“I’d have to agree,” Math said. “If not for the incident with Marchudd, you’d have gone to him already.”
“Then I guess there’s no time like the present,” David said. His eyes lit and he spun on his heel. “Bevyn!” he bellowed, and disappeared through the front door to the hall.
Anna shared a glance with Math. “My lord,” she said. “I think we’ve work to do too.”
He smiled at Anna’s uncharacteristic use of his title and reached for her hand. “Abraham?” he said, and gestured towards the door. “I’d like to meet your people.”
They rode to the village of Llangollen. Aaron came too because the villagers knew of his work in healing by now, and most had learned to trust him. But his presence was hardly needed. By the time they arrived, Abraham’s sons were playing with three of the village boys and one of the women had invited his wife into her home to rest. They’d probably already learned their first words of Welsh.
“One family is not a threat,” Math said. “If a dozen were to arrive at once, that might be a different story.”
“There may be more than a dozen, in the end,” Anna said.
“We will leave tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow.”
Within another hour, Abraham had moved his family into a hut that had belonged to the head man’s mother who’d died the previous winter.
“We’ll leave you in good hands,” Math said.
“I think they’re a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected hospitality and the foreignness of their circumstances,” Anna said to David when she found him later. “As city people, they know nothing of country life, nothing of Wales.”
David shrugged. “Like all of us, they’ll just have to learn.”
Chapter Eight
David
“You’re looking forward to this trip, aren’t you?” David said.
Bevyn rubbed his hands together. “If we are to pay a visit to Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn, it will give me a chance to see what that traitorous bastard is up to. I hear his son and daughter-in-law have fled to her family in England, but he stays for Prince Llywelyn. A dubious proposition at best.”
“Gruffydd holds Dolforwyn for us and has reestablished the town,” David said. “My father keeps him on a short leash and intended to visit him on his way north. We’ll see him on our way south, instead.”
Dolforwyn was roughly thirty miles south of Dinas Bran. They made it in two days of easy riding. It was another thirty miles to Buellt, which Gruffydd also held, and a further thirty to the flatlands of south Wales, near where David hoped to find his father. Where exactly Father was David didn’t know, but the people there would direct him. Mom expected that his business in the south would take all summer, so even if David stayed a short time with Gruffydd, he should still be able to take part in whatever maneuvers Father was planning.
Gruffydd himself came out of his newly built gatehouse to welcome David’s company. After the initial greetings, he brought David into his hall, seated him, and launched into an exposition of everything he’d achieved in the months since David’s parents’ wedding. Bemused, David leaned back in his chair and listened. Gruffydd was enthusiastic and fiery, pacing back and forth, waving his hands in the air, forcefully presenting his points.
Finally, he swung around to David. “I hear you were taken prisoner for a time,” he said.
“Yes,” David said. “The ringleader was one of my own men, in fact.”
“A bad business.” Gruffydd shook his head. “You can never be too careful, even with those you deem most loyal.”
David leaned forward. “Is that some kind of warning, Gruffydd? Do you have more to add to that statement?”
“No! No!” He waved his hands again. “I was only making an observation on the perils of leadership.”
David sat back, unsatisfied. Father thought Gruffydd
had spent too much of his life in the company of the English to work against them so passionately now. Perhaps sensing David’s discontent, Gruffydd hastened forward and took a chair in front of him.
“This brings me to some new business; something on which I’d like your opinion,” he said.
“I’m happy to help.” David hadn’t thought that Gruffydd would ever want his opinion on anything.
“A week ago, three families of Jews crossed into Wales from England. They found their way here and asked to settle in our village.”
“What did you say to them?” David said.
“Well ... one is a doctor, and I welcomed him into my household. The other two are both well-educated, but their former profession as goldsmiths is completely useless to me. I made one an overseer of the castle accounts, and the other a scribe. I refuse to waste such knowledge, just because of their religion.”
“Excellent!” David slapped a hand on the table. “That’s exactly as I hoped. We had a similar situation at Dinas Bran. A wool merchant and his family arrived. Math is seeing to establishing his trade on behalf of Wales, instead of England.”
“Just be prepared for trouble,” Gruffydd said. “Two days ago, my priest railed against Jews as the killers of Christ. I told him if he said another word I’d rip out his tongue.”
David blinked. But Gruffydd was serious.
“Come, man!” he said, “If Edward has turned against them, stolen their land, subjected them to unfair laws, they have something in common with us. The enemy of my enemy could be my friend. I say, give them a chance. At the very least, we can line our coffers at their expense if things don’t go well.”
That had Bevyn laughing. “I like your way of thinking,” he said.
David wasn’t so sure, but as usual, Gruffydd swung whichever way most benefitted him. In this case, his goals aligned with David’s, so David could tolerate him.
“I intend to discuss these developments with my father, who perhaps hasn’t heard the latest news. I’m glad to know your position on this,” David said.
“You know I’ve had troubles with Prince Llywelyn, now and again,” Gruffydd said—the understatement of the year as far as David was concerned, but he let it go—“but he’s not as fickle an overlord as Edward has proved to be. His laws are Welsh laws, and by God, I will stand by him in the face of English oppression as long as need be.”
“I will tell my father he has your continued support,” David said. “Wales can stand against England, if all Welshmen stand with her.”
* * * * *
Four days later, they rode for Buellt, accompanied by Gruffydd who wanted to see how the garrison there fared. They arrived as dusk fell on June the fourth in time for the evening meal. As always, David was starving and was pleased that the cook at Buellt was one of the more skilled he’d encountered.
Towards the end of the meal, a man dressed in plain homespun asked for admittance to the hall and permission to speak with David. At David’s nod, he strode towards the dais, sure of himself and unafraid. “My lord,” he said, bowing as he reached him. “I’m Rhodri ap Tathan. I’ve heard that you are interested in the movements of our enemies. I have news for you.”
David sat forward in his chair. “I’m pleased to see you, Rhodri ap Tathan. Tell me.”
“Humphrey de Bohun, the Earl of Hereford, is on the move,” Rhodri said.
Gruffydd stood so quickly he upended his chair. “Hereford!”
“Where!”
“He gathers men at his castle of Huntington,” Rhodri said.
“Bohun is supposed to be in Chester,” David said.
“His men are here,” Rhodri said.
“How many?” Gruffydd said.
“Twenty knights and many more foot. This news comes from my sister, who is a servant in Hereford’s hall.” He shrugged. “There may be more but she can’t count higher.”
David tried not to laugh.
“We’re grateful to you, Rhodri. Please accept the hospitality of my hall,” Gruffydd said.
Rhodri bowed and turned away.
Gruffydd stayed on his feet and called one of his captains to him. “Send out scouts. I want to know the moment Hereford crosses the Dyke.” He meant Offa’s Dyke, a system of ditches and ramparts that ran the entire north/south length of Wales and was the traditional boundary between England and Wales. Gruffydd turned to David. “Rest easy, my lord. With King Edward and his lords in Chester, little will come of this.”
Again, David didn’t share Gruffydd’s confidence, but didn’t have an alternative suggestion. After the meal, however, David retired early, uneasy; Buellt made him uneasy, not only because of the imminent threat of Hereford. David couldn’t forget that this was where his father had almost died and it felt uncomfortably coincidental that danger loomed here again.
The next morning David lay in bed, wide awake after a restless night, staring up at the ceiling. Smoke had darkened it, although someone had recently white-washed the walls underneath the tapestries. Sparks smoldered in the fireplace, giving off almost no heat, but as it was June, the room wasn’t cold. David debated with himself, trying to rationalize what he wanted to do, and finally succumbed to temptation.
Bevyn was finishing his breakfast when David sat beside him. “You have always been a most faithful companion, Bevyn.”
Bevyn wiped his mouth, checking his mustaches at the same time to ensure they were immaculate, and swallowed. “I have always endeavored to be of service, my lord.”
“Then if you can bear with me,” David said, “I ask that you ride out with me this morning and ask me no questions.”
Bevyn gave David a hard look, but nodded. David led him to the stables. However, when Bevyn realized that he intended to leave the castle on horseback with only Bevyn himself as a guard, he stopped.
“It’s not possible, my lord.”
“What isn’t possible?”
“I won’t allow you to ride without a proper escort. You can’t go, not with the English so close.”
“Fine,” David said, “but the men must stay well back when I tell them to let me be.”
Bevyn bowed. “Of course, my lord.”
David was sure he was smirking beneath his mustaches.
They rode out: Bevyn, seven men, and David. As they trotted across the drawbridge, David looked back, thinking of the Welsh in his old world who’d lost their lives trying to take this castle. It was strongly situated atop a motte, with two Norman baileys defended by six towers and a curtain wall. The twin-towered gatehouse was similar to the gatehouse that guarded Rhuddlan Castle. David turned back to the road and followed it down the hill. They didn’t cross the bridge over the river Wye to the north of the castle, but continued west along the Irfon.
They rode perhaps two miles, with David looking from one side to the other all the while. Finally, he stopped, uncertain. Bevyn moved up beside him.
“I can find it for you, my lord,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s a turn a hundred yards back, if you will permit me to show you.”
David studied him. “Please,” he said.
David turned around and followed Bevyn to a turn-off David hadn’t seen. Taking a left, he led David through a small copse of trees and into a clearing at the base of a small hill. Wild flowers covered it. Spurring his horse forward, David passed Bevyn and raced to the top and then across the meadow to the other side, where the terrain sloped upwards again. Leaves covered the trees. It looked very different, but David knew he was in the right place. The men all followed him, milling around uncertainly when David stopped half-way up the higher hill to look back. David dismounted and handed the reins to Cadwallon, the youngest and least experienced of his men.
“My lord?” said Ieuan ap Cynan, a knight in his twenties.
“Hush, man.” Bevyn shushed him. “He said ‘no questions’.”
David squatted in the middle of the slope, trying to find the remains of the minivan’s tire tracks. It was r
idiculous to think they’d still be there after all this time, but Anna had skidded.
“It’s all right, Bevyn,” David said. “Do you know where it is now?”
Bevyn didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. He gestured with his head towards the way they’d come in. “Hidden in a thicket, down below.”
“Well, let’s see it.”
They left the horses with Cadwallon, who stared forlornly after them. David led the way back down the hill, walking this time. From the lower meadow, the trees hid all of Cadwallon but his white face. David turned to the spot Bevyn indicated. He didn’t know what his men would think, but a twisted part of David looked forward to seeing their faces when they looked at his aunt’s van.
Behind the tree Anna had hit were more trees and a thick screen of bushes. Bevyn pushed his way through them, with the rest following, and into a small clearing, maybe the size of a tennis court, with the van smack in the middle of it.
It didn’t look too bad, under the circumstances. It was filthy from two years of accumulated dirt, and bigger than David remembered. They stood in a semi-circle around it, and the looks on the men’s faces varied from bewilderment (Trahearn) to excited interest (Ieuan) to grim satisfaction (Bevyn).
David walked around the van. The tires had gone soft, but not completely flat. The windscreen had a spider web of cracks across it, but it hadn’t fallen out. The airbags rested on the front seats, sadly deflated. David opened the driver-side door and stuck in his head. Anna had left the key in the ignition. Hmmm.
Behind David, Bevyn said, “It’s a chariot, Trahearn. There’s no witchcraft here.”
“No, my lord,” Trahearn said. “I didn’t say there was.”
Then Ieuan spoke from his position at the rear of the van. “My lord?” he said. “How is it that a tree fell on it in such a way?”
Footsteps in Time Page 18