“We will show our good will by allowing him to gather his wounded on the field in front of the town, even sending down our men to assist the efforts of his soldiers. We will provide medicines and healing herbs as needed.” Dafydd glanced at Anna, who nodded. “I imagine in the chaos, certain … things … might be left behind, hidden in the grass.”
Roger Bacon’s eyes went wide and flicked from Carew to Dafydd to Math. “Surely, you will abide by the rules of safe conduct, my lords?”
Dafydd eyed him. “You forget yourself.”
Roger Bacon swallowed hard and took a step back. Dafydd didn’t often show this side of himself. His face had turned to granite, and his blue eyes had gone cold. Lili shivered. She wouldn’t want to be wearing Valence’s boots this morning.
“I don’t care how you capture him.” Anna was one of the few people in the room who didn’t concern herself with Dafydd’s temper or status. “But I do care what you do with him afterwards. The sooner you think about what that is going to be, the better.”
“I have thought about it. I’ve spent far too much time thinking about it.” Dafydd ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace, too restless to stand still. Anna had told Lili that he’d always been like that, ever since he was nine months old and decided walking and talking went together.
“I know what you should do,” Anna said, “but it won’t be easy.”
“What that is worthwhile ever is?” Dafydd lifted his chin. “Tell me.” If some of the men in the room thought it was odd for the King of England to be taking advice from his sister, none of them said so, even when Anna’s next words were meant for them as much as for Dafydd.
“Are we a rabble seeking revenge or civilized men seeking justice?”
Some of the men shifted uncomfortably, but Dafydd gave Anna a small smile and said, “The latter, of course, but I’m not sure what that means to you.”
“Do what you have to do to take Valence in, but once he’s in custody, you have to do this the right way. He should be tried by a judge and jury of his peers, not beheaded or hanged from the battlement at Windsor, even if it would provide a good lesson to others.”
Lili was surprised at her sister-in-law’s adamancy, but she wasn’t the only one nodding, either. All three traditions—Welsh, Saxon, and Norman—had developed a court system by which fines were leveled and men punished or set free. In fact, in this instance, the Normans had expanded upon the justice system of the Saxons, codifying trial-by-jury in Magna Carta and other documents, for all men. No nobleman wanted an all-powerful king, even one as popular and as even-handed as Dafydd, and for more than a hundred years had pressed for the ability to reign their ruler in.
Dafydd studied his sister for a long moment, and then nodded. “We will do as you say. There never really was another choice. Not for me. Thank you for making me see it.”
Chapter Twenty-six
September, 1289
David
The sun was fully up by the time Valence rode from his command tent with his entourage, and David rode out of the castle with his ten men. He’d left everyone else—Ieuan, Math, Carew, Edmund, William, this new Uncle Rhodri, and a dozen others—behind. It wasn’t to slight them. David could have brought any number of men instead of these few. But he meant to send an unmistakable message to Valence. He, David Arthur Llywelyn Pendragon, King of England, ruled here. And neither Valence, nor anyone else, would be wise to forget it.
David could feel his wife’s eyes on him as he came to a halt two hundred yards from the town gate and an equal distance from Valence’s camp. Lili had her bow in hand and stood with most of the archers who could still stand on the wall-walk above the southeastern gate. Valence had pitched his tents out of arrow range, but the designated meeting point was within it from both sides. David eyed Valence’s lines, and particularly the archers, wondering from which one treachery would come. A well-placed arrow had killed more than one king in England’s history.
He’d set the parameters of the meeting very clearly, even to the point of having his men stake out how far Valence’s men should ride and where Valence’s horse should stand when he greeted David. He’d carefully orchestrated every aspect of this meeting, except, of course, for Valence’s response. David hoped Valence would take these actions as David’s attempt to control the situation (which it absolutely was), and not grasp that it was also an artful mask over his back-up plan should Valence fail to come to heel.
Up until now, Valence had shown a tendency to underestimate David, even as David defeated him. He believed David to be lucky but naïve. David wanted to do nothing to dissuade Valence of this opinion. He couldn’t know that David was dispensing with any pretext of inherent goodness today. He was planning—if Valence forced his hand—to show the world that he could be just as mercenary as his predecessors.
David hadn’t yet looked at Valence himself. It was petty of him, but he didn’t trust himself not to give the game away. The less interaction he had with Valence the better. David held up his hand to stop the men with him from continuing, and rode the last yards to meet Valence alone. They were actors in an ancient play, each reliving the role of innumerable men who had come before them. Some traditions would have had them both dismount, but neither side trusted the other enough for that.
Finally, David brought his eyes to meet Valence’s. The hatred in them shocked him, and bile rose in his throat at how much he shared it. Valence had been responsible for more deaths, more disunity, than any baron he’d ever met, barring King Edward himself. The two men stared at each other for a count of ten, and then Valence said, “What are your terms?” Since Valence had been the one to raise the white flag, it was his job to speak first. He was the supplicant, though David wasn’t sure he knew it.
“Total surrender to me,” David said. “Lay down your weapons and end this war you started.”
“If I do not?”
David gestured to the fields around them where men were lined up as far as the eye could see. “You are outnumbered and surrounded. More men come every hour to join my ranks. How many of your soldiers will you sacrifice to your pride?”
Valence scowled. “What of my captains?”
“I will allow the common soldiers to go free, without their weapons, of course,” David said. “I will decide the fate of the noblemen among you on a case-by-case basis. Some may go free; some may share your fate. It is up to them.”
“What does that mean?” Valence sounded genuinely puzzled.
“You have attempted to incite my people to rebellion,” David said. “You didn’t do it alone. Your captains may have sworn fealty to you, but each has a soul and must answer for his actions.”
“You will have their heads,” Valence said.
“Did I say so?” David said. “Do I look like King Edward to you?”
“If I surrender, what are your plans for me?”
“I have chosen to remain detached from any decision,” David said. “We are not rabble but civilized men. You will be judged in a courtroom by your peers.”
Valence’s face paled, and some of the belligerence seemed to leave him. But then he recovered himself, and his chin jutted out defiantly. “And if I refuse your terms?”
“You sign the death warrants of all of your men.”
Silence fell between them. David watched Valence, who was looking beyond him to the battlement of the town. David didn’t turn to look too, but he knew what Valence was seeing: the wall-walk was lined with the people of Windsor and David’s men.
“This wasn’t how it was meant to end.” Valence’s voice was soft, almost contemplative. It annoyed David. Valence had proved time and again that he responded to little else but overt displays of power. He had no business feeling regret.
“The moment you took up arms against me, it could end no other way.”
“So be it.”
For a moment David thought he’d won—until Valence gave him a wolfish grin and added, “We will fight to the death rather than
surrender our honor to you!”
Valence’s last words were shouted to the sky as he turned his horse and raced back towards his own lines. The men who’d accompanied him made an opening in their ranks for him to pass through, pulling out their swords and raising their shields as they did so.
As Valence raced away, a single arrow shot from his lines, straight into David’s chest at the breastbone. That the archer must be a Welshman passed through David’s head in the second before he was knocked back in the saddle and thrown head over heels off the horse by the force of the shot. He did a complete flip, landing on his feet behind his horse.
The arrow stuck out from David’s chest, the tip caught in a link of his armor. The padding beneath his armor may have saved him without the ceramic plate in the Kevlar vest underneath that. But with both, he’d have no more than a bad bruise on his chest. Regardless, the arrow was meant to kill him. This was more like what David had expected from Valence, and something for which he’d prepared.
As his men converged on him, David straightened and thrust his sword into the air. “Now!”
The trampled and distressed wheat all around Valence’s soldiers burst upwards, revealing armed men. Horses whinnied and reared, and chaos engulfed the field. Arrows flew from Windsor’s battlement. One of Valence’s soldiers was hit in the neck. Blood spurted from the wound, and he fell to the ground. Five men had been given the specific task of subduing Valence’s horse and capturing the renegade baron. At their sudden appearance out of the grass, Valence’s horse spooked. The baron jerked at the reins, while two men grabbed the horse’s bridle and three others hauled Valence to the ground.
The arrows continued to fly from both camps, adding to the carnage. David leapt back into the saddle. Standing in the stirrups, he raised his sword high again and bellowed, “Hold! Hold I say!”
David’s cry to hold, combined with the sight of him plucking the arrow from his chest and throwing it to the ground, stopped all the action.
The men David had tasked with taking Valence wrestled him towards the spot where David waited. Valence had lost his helmet in the struggle, and his normally well-coifed hair was askew. He was a blonde man going gray, with a paunch and jowls. With a wolfish grin of his own, Bevyn reversed Valence’s sword and handed it to David.
“This is an outrage!” Valence said. All he had left was words, so David didn’t begrudge him the opportunity to speak them. “I spoke to you under the white flag. You have no right to take me!”
David dismounted and walked to stand in front of Valence. He knew he was making his retainers uncomfortable by approaching his prisoner, but Valence couldn’t harm David now.
“I have every right,” David said.
Valence spat on the ground. “You have no honor!”
“On the contrary,” David said. “It would be far less honorable to allow you to sacrifice more of your men and mine when you are already defeated.”
“No lord will ever parley with you again! You—”
David cut him off with a laugh. “Why? Because I was prepared for you to throw the peace terms back in my face? To betray the white flag yourself? That arrow that hit me was—what?—a mistake? You have no leg to stand on.”
Valence wasn’t used to being interrupted. “Among noblemen—”
David cut him off with a bark. “I am far less concerned about the sanctity of the white flag than winning this little war you started. The next time I face another baron in battle, he will treat with me for the same reason you did: because he has no other choice. And he will wonder as he does so if I will do to him as I’ve done to you.”
“You—”
“What you don’t seem to understand is that the laws of chivalry don’t apply to a traitor. You seem to think that you have the right to stand before me and speak your mind as one free man to another. You do not.” David lifted his voice so everyone within hailing distance could hear what he had to say. “By capturing you now, I have sent a message to any other baron who resents my kingship. I was chosen by the people to rule them.”
Valence tried to sputter a response, but David stepped closer and took Valence’s chin in his hand. “Your rules don’t apply to me. You, and every other baron who defies me, should look upon this day and fear.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
September, 1289
David
“Keep your eyes closed and open your mouth.” David obeyed his wife from his supine position on a blanket with Arthur asleep on his chest.
The family had gathered for a picnic on the lawn by the Thames River: Lili and David, Math and Anna, Bronwen and Ieuan, plus all the children. David missed Cassie and Callum acutely, for they should have been here today. His mother and father were absent too, as they remained in Wales, and he resolved for all of them to journey there before winter came. Maybe they could celebrate Thanksgiving at Aber.
Lili popped something cool and juicy into his mouth, but as the taste hit him, he gagged and half sat up. “What is that.”
Lili stared at him, but Anna giggled. “It’s a cantaloupe!”
David spit out the offending piece of fruit. “Not a moldy one, I hope!”
“Of course not.” Lili took Arthur from David, looking disgruntled. She laid the baby on his back on the blanket. “We saved one for eating. I think it’s lovely.”
“What David isn’t telling you, sister of mine,” Anna said, “is that he has always despised most fruits and vegetables. The fact that we can’t get the same variety here as we did in the modern world has never bothered him in the slightest.”
“I’m with you.” Bronwen raised a hand to David, who slapped her palm. “In graduate school, my four food groups were diet Coke, coffee, onion rings, and doughnuts.”
“And pizza,” David said.
Bronwen laughed. “Clearly, I’ve been starving since I got here.”
“You two are disgusting.” Anna pinned her brother with her gaze. “Enough with the stalling. You need to tell us everything that happened since you left Windsor. Start at the beginning and talk until I don’t have any more questions.”
David saluted his sister.
“Yeah, David, do tell,” Bronwen said. “And what’s with the empty duffel? You bring us back another ream of paper and nothing else? Where’s my Chapstick? My coffee?”
“I was incarcerated and sick the whole time I was there,” David said, “as you already know.”
Bronwen rolled onto her stomach and put her chin in her hands. Ieuan and Math had taken Cadell and Catrin to the river to throw rocks into the water, so she was momentarily childless. “Did you ever consider not coming back?”
David scoffed. “Of course not.”
“You could have been killed, you know,” Bronwen said.
“I was nearly killed about a dozen times, both here and there,” David said. “Today is the first day since I returned that I’m not wearing the Kevlar, and you can bet that I will wear it under my armor from now on.”
“Do you think we’ll ever discover who informed Valence that you were sailing for Ireland?” Lili sat cross-legged, slathering butter on a slice of bread. “Or who sabotaged the rudder of your ship?”
“Only if we’re very lucky,” David said. “Dad is pursuing all leads from the Cardiff end, but it’s hard to think that finding the individual saboteur matters. Like the Welsh archers who fought for him, he was paid by Valence, and Valence is going to pay for his crimes.”
“You hope,” Bronwen said. “You and your justice system. You should have hanged him from the battlements like everyone wanted.”
“That I didn’t is Anna’s fault.” David put out a hand out to his sister. “If Valence is exonerated, it will be a miscarriage of justice, but I rule by the law, which isn’t something I should use when I feel like it and not when I don’t. Besides, Clare took Valence’s castle in Ireland, and all of Valence’s supporters have come crawling to me asking for forgiveness. He’s finished.”
“Valence has pride,” Anna
said, “I’ll give him that.”
“His trial is already a circus and it hasn’t even started,” Bronwen said.
“I don’t know what a circus is,” Lili said, “but I think I know what you mean anyway.”
David mumbled to himself. “I was arrogant enough to think I could control the situation.”
Anna punched his shoulder. “When are you not arrogant?”
“Hey guys!” David called over to Math and Ieuan. “The girls are ganging up on me. Again!”
“It’s only what you deserve,” Anna said.
“I thought the whole point was that you didn’t control what happened next,” Bronwen said. “You aren’t even going to testify against him, are you?”
“No,” David said. “That would be unfair to the jurors. Bad enough that many of Valence’s crimes were committed against me and mine.”
“You’re probably right,” Anna said. “This isn’t a true democracy. Your barons can’t vote you out of office if they don’t like what you do, but you can punish them if you don’t like what they do.”
“You can only change so much so quickly,” Lili said.
“I’ve told myself that for years. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to believe it,” David said, turning serious.
“You are too hard on yourself,” Lili said.
“If I’m not hard on myself, who will be?” He took back his son and lay down, adjusting Arthur’s little shirt, which was warm from the sun. A hat shaded the baby’s face, and he slept with his little fist just touching his lips. “Not you, I don’t think.”
“Bevyn always tells you what you don’t want to hear,” Lili said.
“Less so than in the past.” David had never told Lili—or anyone else—how Bevyn had conspired on his behalf, but without his consent, in the run up to David’s coronation. He didn’t intend to either.
“You’ve still got me,” Anna said.
David laughed. “Thank God for that!”
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