Footsteps in Time

by Sarah Woodbury

  Dafydd rebelled against Llywelyn’s rule three times: first in 1255 when he allied with his eldest brother, Owain, and was defeated by Llywelyn in the Battle of Bryn Derwin; second, in 1263 when he defected to England for no apparent reason any historian can discern; and thirdly, in 1274 when he conspired with Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn of Powys and his son, Owain, to assassinate Llywelyn. The timely intervention of a snowstorm averted the attempt. Dafydd, as in 1263, fled to England, and to Edward.

  Each time, Llywelyn either forgave Dafydd outright, or was forced by the terms of a peace treaty with the English to accept him back in Wales. That Dafydd started the war against Edward in 1282 only reveals his fickle nature. Dafydd’s betrayal wounded Edward to the point that he would never forgive him. Instead, when the English finally captured Dafydd in 1283, Edward had him hanged, drawn, and quartered, and dragged through the streets of Shrewsbury, the first man of noble standing to achieve such a death. Edward was practicing, apparently, for William Wallace.

  As to the fate of Llywelyn, Footsteps in Time is a work of fiction. In our history, Llywelyn died on December 11, 1282:

  And then Llywelyn ap Gruffydd left Dafydd, his brother, guarding Gwynedd; and he himself and his host went to gain possession of Powys and Buellt. And he gained possession as far as Llanganten. And thereupon he sent his men and his steward to receive the homage of the men of Brycheiniog, and the prince was left with but a few men with him. And then Edmund Mortimer and Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn, and with them the king's host, came upon them without warning; and then Llywelyn and his foremost men were slain on the day of Damasus the Pope, a fortnight to the day from Christmas day; and that was a Friday.

  ─The Chronicle of the Princes, Peniarth Manuscript 20

  At Llywelyn’s death, Wales fell to English rule. Edward declared his own son, Edward II, the new Prince of Wales.

  As to the fate of the Jews, they’d lived in England during the Roman and Anglo-Saxon periods, but not as an organized community. King John confirmed a charter in 1201 (for which he received 4000 marks) that stated: “John, by the grace of God, &c. Know that we have granted to all the Jews of England and Normandy to have freely and honourably residence in our land, and to hold all that from us, which they held from King Henry, our father’s grandfather, and all that now they reasonably hold in land and fees and mortgages and goods, and that they have all their liberties and customs just as they had them in the time of the aforesaid King Henry, our father’s grandfather, better and more quietly and more honourably.”

  This goodwill, if it ever existed, had disintegrated by the time of Edward I. As king, he cast a long shadow over the thirteenth century and historians have generally viewed him favorably, in large part because they see his reign as good for England as a country (meaning he was stubborn, vibrant, and never backed down from a fight), if not anyone else. But one of his most heinous acts, in addition to conquering Wales, was the expulsion of the Jews from England in 1290.

  Edward, and his father before him, began with a series of pogroms designed to reduce the Jews’ ability to secure a livelihood. He and his predecessors encouraged the Jews to become physicians, merchants, bankers, and traders but they were not allowed to own land. Through apprenticeship and education, which was of supreme importance to the Jewish community, many Jews accumulated a great deal of wealth, in disproportion to their routinely uneducated gentile counterparts. Of course, this engendered animosity among gentiles, who saw only the wealth, and not the effort to attain it.

  This did not stop the gentiles from borrowing money from the Jews, however, and Edward allowed the Jews in England to charge interest on loans. In turn, Edward would exact huge taxes from them. As the taxes became more burdensome, it forced them to both raise the interest rates which they charged their debtors, and to call in those loans when taxed to excess. If the Jews refused to pay Edward, they were punished. In 1278, Edward arrested 600 Jewish men upon charges of coin clipping and hanged 270 of them. Edward then claimed their wealth for himself, to the tune of over 16,000 pounds.

  That equaled 10% of the annual income of the entire realm. The money Edward took from the Jews compensated for the huge expenses involved in the 1277 war against Prince Llywelyn (see how this is all related?).

  Once Edward had taken all their money, he had no more use for them, and began to pass more laws restricting their activities. They had to wear specific clothing and badges, could not own land, practice money lending, join any guild or business, or pass on their assets to their children. England was the first country to complete the pogrom by expelling the Jews from the country (though some did pay bribes to stay). France and Germany followed suit in short order. (see my web page for citations: http://www.sarahwoodbury.com/?p=179)

  * * * * *

  My sources in writing this book are many, both traditional and online, and include:

  A History of Wales, John Davies.

  Castles of the Welsh Princes, Paul R. Davis

  An Imperial Possession: Britain in the Roman Empire, David Mattingly

  Welsh Castles, Adrian Pettifer

  Llywelyn ap Gruffudd: Prince of Wales, J. Beverley Smith.

  Smith’s book, in particular, is an exhaustive and meticulous accounting of Prince Llywelyn’s life. Any discrepancies between the events described in his book and my own, are a result of my error or embellishment, not his.

  No understanding of the history of this era of Wales would be complete without the novels of Edith Pargeter (also writing as Ellis Peters) and Sharon Kay Penman:

  The Brothers Gwynedd of Quartet, Edith Pargeter

  Falls the Shadow, Sharon Kay Penman

  The Reckoning, Sharon Kay Penman

  For sources online, see:

  http://www.castlewales.com/

  http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/index.html

  http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/index_welsh.html

  http://www.garthcelyn.com/index.html

  http://www.visionofbritain.org.uk/index.jsp

  * * * * *

  Thank you so much for reading Footsteps in Time! If you would like to know when I have a new release, you can enter your name into the side bar on my web page: http://www.sarahwoodbury.com/

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  Continue reading for an excerpt from Prince of Time, the next book in the After Cilmeri Series available in ebook and paperback wherever books are sold.

  Excerpt from: Prince of Time

  Chapter One

  2 August 1285

  David

  Ieuan hung over the side off the boat, heaving his guts out. No doubt he’d long since stopped caring if anyone saw him, but hoped now that I would change my mind, turn this God-forsaken bucket around, and head for Wales.

  I watched from the cabin doorway as Aaron, my friend and physician, stepped beside him. “Only another few hours, Ieuan. The captain says we’ll reach port long before dark.”

  “But when is dark in this land?” Ieuan moaned, resting his head on the rail of the boat. “It stays light for hours longer than it should.”

  As a matter of fact, from my position I could see our destination. The Irish Sea was fickle at the best of times, but in this case, I assumed we would reach port as the captain promised.

  Aaron patted him on the shoulder and continued towards my cabin. “I gave Ieuan one of my remedies,” he said when he reached me, “but his stomach dispensed with it before it had time to take effect.”

  I debated whether to go to Ieuan, but decided he’d prefer that I didn’t. He was proud, and for his lord to hold his head while he upended his innards over the side of the boat was probably not what he wanted. Quite naturally too, under the circumstances, Ieuan was exaggerating about the light. It wasn’t as if southern Scotland were in the arctic and Wales in the tropics. Still, at this latitude and longitude (which admittedly hadn’t been discovered yet) we could expect to see the sun for nearly sixteen hours a day, which meant that it wasn’t full d
ark until ten in the evening, and it started to get light before five. Unless it was raining, of course, in which case it was dark all day and I had the dark moods of my men as well as the dark skies to contend with. Fortunately, at the moment the sky was free of clouds.

  We docked a few hours later near the town of Annan in Scotland, northwest of the English city of Carlisle.

  “Why here?” Ieuan asked Aaron, but as I’d instructed, Aaron looked blankly at him and said that when and if Prince Dafydd chose to tell him, he would know the reason. My men were used to following orders, but in recent weeks I’d entrusted Ieuan with more responsibility. Bevyn was getting older and he and I agreed that Ieuan should take his place as my first captain when the time came. Ieuan was young, in his mid-twenties, but smart—clever even—and the other men respected him.

  As we docked, I emerged from my cabin in cloak and boots I’d borrowed from one of my men who shared my height. The clothes were plainer than any I’d worn since I’d become a Prince of Wales two and a half years before. In keeping with my disguise, I didn’t wear my mail, but instead wore heavy leather armor under a plain, brown cloak. I looked very much like a third son of a minor house, which was my intent.

  My men were either on shore already or crowded onto the deck of the boat when I came out, and they stared at me, surprise showing on their faces. I knew, then, that I’d made the right decision when I’d sent Sir Nicholas de Carew home ahead of me in a different boat. He would have counseled against what I was about to do.

  I gazed back at my men and smiled, feeling light-hearted and free for the first time in many months. “Aaron and Ieuan, with me,” I said. “The rest of you must stay here.”

  I strode towards the gangplank. Before I reached it, Bevyn blocked my path and tried once again to dissuade me. “My lord,” he said. “You know this is unwise.”

  “I know it,” I said. “But more unwise would be riding with a dozen men through the English countryside. Three are less noticeable, quicker, and more able to outrun any attackers.”

  “That was not what I meant,” Bevyn growled. “This entire expedition is ill-advised. I do not like it.”

  I rested my right hand on Bevyn’s shoulder. “I have a vision for Wales, Bevyn,” I said. “What comes next is part of it.”

  Bevyn bowed his head and gave way, but grasped Ieuan’s arm as he passed him. “You understand your charge, man? What I will do to you if anything happens to him?”

  My impulse was to interfere but I didn’t. Bevyn would give his life for me. He expected the same of Ieuan. Ieuan nodded and Bevyn released him.

  I stepped off the boat, relieved to feel soil under my boots at last. Three horses waited for us and I mounted mine, Bedwyr. Cadwallon, acting as groom, boosted Aaron onto his mare, and then brought Ieuan his Llwyd, “Grey”, named not very creatively by his little sister.

  “You know that I agree with Bevyn,” Aaron said. “Are you sure this journey is necessary?”

  “I’m loath to leave bits and pieces of the twenty-first century lying around unattended,” I said, keeping my voice low so Ieuan couldn’t overhear. “I wouldn’t want them to fall into the wrong hands—or anyone’s hands. They’re too distinctive and remarkable. You’ll see what I mean when we find them.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Aaron acquiesced.

  We rode away from the boats and left the town behind us. It was time to tell Ieuan something, and I weighed how much he could handle. “You’ve seen the vehicle, of course,” I said.

  “Yes,” Ieuan said. “It came from the lands of Madoc the explorer.”

  Aaron breathed in through his nose and let the breath out. As it had Aaron, Ieuan’s statement set me back a pace. It was an explanation for our presence in Wales that my father had latched upon a month ago, and it seemed to satisfy everyone. No mention of time travel was necessary if we could explain twenty-first century technology as simply being from a more advanced civilization.

  “The prince and his mother brought more from that land,” Aaron said. “More possessions that they’ve had to hide, lest others brand them witches.”

  “It does take very little to arouse the passions of the people,” Ieuan said carefully. “Or the priests.”

  Aaron’s mouth twitched. “So you understand the problem,” he said. “But do others see as clearly? What of Princess Marged? When others become jealous of another’s talents, they can fall back on suspicion and superstition. Even had she raised our Prince in this country, she is still a most unusual woman. How much more so if she possessed . . . unusual artifacts.”

  “What kind of artifacts?” Ieuan said, ever the pragmatic thinker.

  I leaned forward so I could see Ieuan across Aaron’s mount. “If they’re where she left them, I’ll tell you. If others have discovered them before us, then there’s no need for me to explain just yet. Suffice to say they are of metals and quality that you’ve never seen, nor will ever see again, I dare say.”

  “Even were you to take me to Madoc’s land?” Ieuan said.

  “I don’t want to imagine the circumstances under which I would be forced to take you there. I hope never to see it again. I’m afraid if we went there, we’d find it difficult to return.”

  “You’ve traveled that distance once,” Ieuan said.

  “And I dare not risk it a second time,” I said. “Come. We have some way to ride before nightfall. Aaron thinks it’s at least twenty miles to our destination. We have a few hours before full dark and I want to have ridden past Carlisle before we rest.”

  “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Ieuan said.

  “To the great wall built by Hadrian.” I spurred Bedwyr forward. These questions are so difficult. The longer I lived in Wales, the easier to pretend that the twenty-first century was impossibly far in the future. On the outside, I was nothing more or less than a prince, the son of the Prince of Wales. I liked it that way—wanted it that way—but then the façade crashed down and I was left with a truth that only a handful of men from the thirteenth century knew. Aaron was one, and to open the circle to Ieuan was hard, even though I trusted him.

  I was five strides ahead of Ieuan before he signaled Llwyd to catch up with me. I could almost hear him thinking: The Roman Wall? What could he want with it?

  * * * * *

  We chose to rest before it was fully dark, in a copse of trees that could hide us from prying eyes.

  “How much farther?” I asked Aaron.

  “If we rise at first light, we should reach the place in less than two hours.”

  “Excellent,” I said.

  Ieuan grumbled. “If I knew what we were doing, and how long it would take, it would make it easier to prepare for what I might have to defend you against,” he said.

  “Just the English,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “As usual.”

  “Oh, that’s just great.” He turned away, but not before I caught him rolling his eyes at Aaron. Bevyn would have cuffed him but I ignored it. Better to ignore it. I want a thinking man more than one who merely obeys.

  “I will take the first watch,” Aaron said. “I don’t sleep until after midnight under normal circumstances, much less on the ground with only my cloak for warmth.”

  “Sorry, Aaron,” I said, feeling contrite. “I wanted you along for your knowledge, but didn’t think how uncomfortable it might be for you, out here under the open sky without a fire.”

  “You’re allowed a brief lapse, every now and then,” Aaron said. “I’m here by my choice as well as yours. Don’t think on it further.”

  I nodded, accepting as I often had to the sacrifices of those who surrounded me. Instead, I jerked my head at Ieuan. “Come,” I said. “We’ll sleep and let the old man keep his own counsel.” I threw myself on the ground, wrapped my cloak around me, and used my arm for a pillow. What I hadn’t admitted to anyone was my delight in being out in the open, with only Ieuan and Aaron for company. It felt great to run Bedwyr under the open sky with nothing more pressing on my
mind for the next couple of days then picking up a few of my mom’s things.

  Ieuan lowered himself to the ground and braced his back against a tree. He rested his head against the trunk and closed his eyes. I followed suit and was trying to empty my mind for sleep when Aaron spoke.

  “You Welsh remain a mystery to me.” His voice was so matter-a-fact, he could have been commenting on the weather.

  I squinted at him, trying to make out his expression through the fading light. Then I realized he wasn’t looking at me, but at Ieuan. I feigned sleep so as not to disturb their conversation.

  “Excuse me?” Ieuan said.

  “You bicker among yourselves, you hate the English, you sing with fervor and you love absolutely. You have an intensity that contrasts so sharply with the English. Is that why they have defeated you time and again?”

  Ieuan was insulted. “They’ve not defeated us this time. They will not. They wouldn’t have even had King Edward survived.”

  “What’s the difference this time?” Aaron said, and then stopped before Ieuan could answer. “Ah.” Reflexively they both looked at me, and then away again.

  Ieuan took the watch after Aaron, and I after him. This far north, dawn came quickly and I woke both of them with a shake just as the sun peeked over the horizon. We mounted and rode east, through wide open country. After three years among the mountains and forests of Wales, the empty space disconcerted me. I glanced at Ieuan. Beneath his armor and cloak, his shoulders tensed. “When I rode north to join Prince Llywelyn in Gwynedd,” he said, “I thought I’d come a long way from Twyn y Garth. In the last few days, I’ve learned how little of the world I knew.”