“We need this alliance,” he called. “Edward has already established himself in Wales and I have just received word that the English king has captured Castell y Bere and that Dafydd ap Gruffydd has barely escaped him. Dafydd has asked me to send him support, which is what I intend to do. At dawn tomorrow, we will ride for Dolbadarn Castle where Dafydd is and save him from the English king. You will all ride with me, as my trusted brothers, and we shall defeat this man who covets our country. We shall crush him as he has tried to crush us and in this, we shall confirm our loyalty and love for Wales. I will risk my life for such freedom. I am an ap Gaerwen, the seed of Welsh royalty, and my love for this country runs deeper than yours. I will prove it. Will you join me?”
Bhrodi had a magnetism that was readily apparent and even though many of his vassals were still unhappy with his marriage to a Saesneg, his impassioned speech about crushing Edward had them rallying to his cause. The tide of favor was slowly turning because these men truly loved Bhrodi. He was their shining star, a man with a legendary reputation that they called one of their own.
Of course they wanted to trust him; rumors of his Saesneg marriage had filled them with outrage and disappointment. But his reasons behind the decision were sound, enough to sway their opinion for the most part. As the shouts of insult began to turn to shouts of support, Bhrodi caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
Penelope had mounted the battlements, now standing at the top of the stairwell that led up from the gatehouse. She was dressed in a long leather and fur tunic, leather breeches, and heavy boots. She was also wrapped up in a heavy woolen cloak, her long hair braided and draped over one shoulder. She was dressed more like a soldier than a fine lady, but it didn’t matter; in the mist of the morning, she looked surreal and ethereal, like an angel emerging from the clouds. When their eyes met, she smiled timidly, and Bhrodi reached out a hand for her.
Taking her husband’s hand, Penelope came to stand next to him on the battlements as he spoke to his vassals. She had heard him yelling but, not knowing Welsh, she had no idea what he had said. She could see a massive crowd below and the sight was rather startling.
“So many men,” she whispered.
Bhrodi held her hand tightly. “It would seem that all of my vassals have come to hear me speak,” he said. “I am pleased.”
She tore her gaze away from the group below and looked at him. “What have you told them?”
He shrugged. “That my wife is an English tyrant and I fear her greatly.” When Penelope shrieked with outrage, he laughed. “I told them that I married you to ally with your father. I also told them about Dafydd and asked for their support. That is what you hear them discussing.”
She was still shaking her head reproachfully at him as she once again turned her attention to the crowds below. Even she could see that their angry shouts had become those of encouragement, but not entirely. One of the men who had been shouting loud insults at Bhrodi was standing directly below, hollering up at him.
“Bring Edward to these lands!” he shouted. “Let him come! Turn the beast of the marsh loose on him as you do all of your enemies! Even Edward cannot fight The Serpent!”
Penelope was hanging over the side of the wall, listening to the man shout in the harsh Welsh tongue. She looked at Bhrodi. “What did he say?”
Bhrodi had a half-grin on his face. “He says that I should allow Edward to come to Anglesey and turn the beast loose on him,” he said, shrugging. “I have truthfully never thought of that. It might be worth considering.”
She shrugged her shoulders in agreement. “You Welsh need all of the help you can get,” she said. “Not even Edward can profess to have a beast to slay his enemies with.”
Bhrodi’s grin grew as he grasped her by the arm and pulled her against him, where he stood at the edge of the parapet. He lifted his hand again to get the attention of his vassals.
“This is my wife, daughter of The Wolfe,” he yelled, introducing her to the crowd of men below. “She has his heart and his spirit, and you will respect her and love her as you do me. This I command.”
The reaction was mixed for the most part but the men were very curious to see Penelope, who looked at Bhrodi with some uncertainty.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
Bhrodi paused before answering as he listened. “They are trying to decide whether or not to give you their loyalty,” he said. “Tell them this: Yr wyf yn tyngu i chi byddaf yn rhoi fy loyaty i Gymru.”
Penelope looked at him in fear but dutifully struggled to repeat it. She leaned over the parapet and began to shout. “Yr wyf yn tyngu…”
He nodded encouragingly. “I chi byddaf yn rhoi fy loyaty i Gymru.”
She spit the rest out in one long sentence. “I chi byddaf yn rhoi fy loyaty i Gymru!” she said, looking to him for approval. “Did I say it right?”
“You said it beautifully.”
“What did I just say?”
He was serious. “That you hate them all and you curse their families.”
Penelope shrieked. “I said what?”
Bhrodi broke down into laughter, as did the teulu commanders; they had all been listening to the conversation, amused by her reaction to Bhrodi’s tease. The man had been known to have a wicked sense of humor at times, as she was no doubt coming to discover. Bhrodi squeezed Penelope tightly around the shoulders, giving her a gentle hug.
“You told them that you swore your loyalty to Wales,” he said, looking at the men below and trying to gauge their reactions. “They seem pleased by it.”
Penelope still wasn’t over his joke, shaking her head in exasperation. “You are a terrible man with your jesting,” she told him. “You could have told me to repeat anything to them and I wouldn’t have known what it was.”
“Then I would suggest you learn Welsh very quickly.”
Penelope could hardly disagree. “To be safe, I’d better,” she said, watching Bhrodi as he listened to the crowd below. “What else are they saying? Are they agreeing with our marriage?”
He was leaning on his elbows over the parapet, listening to the rumblings. “It is difficult to tell,” he said. “But they seem to be far less angry than they were even a few moments ago. Mayhap I can let them into the castle now and we can calmly discuss our plans to join Dafydd.”
He turned to Ianto and Ivor, instructing them to begin letting the chieftains into the castle. Rhydilian wasn’t big enough to hold thousands of men so those loyal to the chieftains needed to be kept outside the gates, an uncomfortable arrangement for men who were very aware of the beast that roamed the area. They felt vulnerable. Still, it couldn’t be helped. Now that the initial animosity was over, Bhrodi was eager to get down to business and do what needed to be done.
He made Penelope go into the keep and lock it up tight before he opened the gates and allowed his chieftains admittance to the castle grounds, so she watched men pour in through the front gates from the safety of the chamber Thomas and Kevin shared. In fact, all three of them watched the bailey of Rhydilian fill up with Welshmen, a very strange sight indeed for the English. The only time they ever saw such numbers of Welsh were in battle, so it was an odd vision to Thomas and Kevin in particular.
With Penelope locked up tight in the keep, Bhrodi conducted business in the bailey, walking among his chieftains and reaffirming bonds. He discussed his marriage again and his reasons, and the second time around, almost all of them were willing to listen and also willing to agree. There were a few who were still uncertain but not in a violent way; they were men who had daughters of marriageable age and were offended Bhrodi hadn’t considered their daughters first, but that insult soon passed into memory.
For now, they had a battle to plan because the last Welsh prince was in need of their help and with Bhrodi de Shera leading the army, they were apt to give it.
On the morrow, The Serpent would lead the way.
*
Corwen Castle
The Welsh Marches
&n
bsp; At forty-four years of age, Edward the First of England was a tall man with curly dark blond hair that was starting to turn white. From years in combat, he was rather muscular but a poor diet had contributed to a rounded belly and an occasional bout with gout. Oddly enough, he was rather soft spoken but when he did speak, his persuasive tone was hindered with a hint of a lisp. Intelligent to a fault, he didn’t need a great booming voice to get across his wishes; his well-spoken diatribes were filled with hazardous innuendos. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who was in control of the whole of England.
When Edward heard that William de Wolfe had entered his encampment, the king went out of his way to seek William out just as the man was dismounting his weary charger. Edward had grown up idolizing William, as the knight had been a great friend of his father’s, so he promptly hugged William in greeting. It was an extreme break in royal protocol, but Edward showed no hints of embarrassment. He was thrilled to have The Wolfe in his camp and he took William and his men into his very large tent for conversation and refreshments. There was much to discuss.
“I received your missive last week regarding your daughter’s betrothal to Bhrodi de Shera,” Edward said as he handed William a pewter goblet of wine. “Has the wedding taken place?”
William sipped at the very fine wine. “It has,” he said. “I sent the missive to you when we departed for Wales. She married de Shera probably about the same time you received the announcement.”
Edward’s pale eyes were alight. “I am extraordinarily pleased to hear that,” he said. “I am more than pleased that de Shera accepted the contract.”
William nodded. “He accepted it without much resistance,” he said. “Therefore, the hereditary kings of Anglesey are now linked to the House of de Wolfe. I knew you would be pleased.”
Edward was nodding eagerly, but it was clear that the wheels of his mind were turning. Edward’s mind was always turning. “It is a fine day, indeed,” he said. “It makes my life so much more… controlled.”
“Why is that?” William asked.
Edward collected his own cup of wine. “Because de Shera is now allied with the English, of course,” he said as if William was an idiot. “I have waited for this day, de Wolfe. I am so proud and happy that you have given this gift of peace to me.”
William wasn’t as joyful as Edward was, not in the least. He had no patience for not coming straight to the point of the matter. He’d spent three long days riding to Corwen and wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter as Edward seemed to be. William was here for a purpose.
“We have heard that you captured Castell y Bere,” he said, looking Edward in the eye. “We have also heard that Dafydd ap Gruffydd escaped the siege and is heading north, where you already have a heavy presence at Caernarfon, Rhuddlan, and Conwy. Where you do not have a heavy presence is Anglesey and it is my concern that Dafydd has sought refuge with de Shera.”
Some of the joy drained from Edward’s face. “Why do you worry?” he asked. “De Shera is now our ally.”
William signed faintly and set down his wine. “It is not that simple and you know it,” he said, his voice low. “Simply because de Shera married my daughter does not instantly make him your ally. He is still a Welshman and still deeply entrenched in his country’s struggle against you. Did you truly believe something as simple as a marriage would remove all of his loyalty to his own people?”
Edward’s good mood was completely vanished. He moved closer to William, a deadly gleam to his eye. “I offered a marriage contract between him and a daughter of your choosing for exactly that purpose,” he said. “Never forget that de Shera is the Earl of Coventry. God’s Blood, the man is half-English. It is time he shows some loyalty to that half. It is time he shows his loyalty to me.”
William could see that Edward was inflexible in the matter. It didn’t surprise him necessarily, but it concerned him. He knew Paris and Kieran were in earshot; he could feel them. Having served with those men most of his life, he knew when they were close. It was a bond they shared. He could also sense their concern as well. But before William could reply, Edward turned away from him and focused on Paris.
“De Norville,” he said amiably. “How do you find living at Castle Questing these days? It must be quite odd no longer serving as the captain of the guard for the Earl of Teviot.”
Paris forced a smile; he didn’t particularly like Edward and never had. There was something very untrustworthy and seedy about the man.
“I was very happy to turn the job over to my eldest son,” he said. “Now I live at Questing with my wife and our younger children, and I force William to pay for my food and drink. It is an excellent arrangement.”
Edward laughed, clapping Paris on the shoulder as he turned back to William. “William is a wealthy man,” he said. “He can afford you. How is your wife?”
Paris’ smile faded; he didn’t like talking about his wife even on a good day, and he certainly didn’t want to speak of her condition to a man he didn’t like.
“She is well,” he lied. “She sends her greetings, of course.”
Edward nodded. “Of course,” he said, moving on to Kieran, who was standing big and silent several feet away. Edward looked the man over. “And you, Hage? How is your family?”
Kieran didn’t like him, either. “They are well,” he said generically. “Thank you for asking, Your Grace.”
Edward wasn’t inclined to carry on any more of a conversation with Kieran than he already was; everything he’d said had only been pleasantries, anyway, mostly because he hadn’t wanted to get into a heated discussion with William about de Shera’s loyalties. Chatting with de Norville and Hage was a way of cooling his temper. As he reached for more wine, William spoke.
“What are your plans for seeking out Dafydd, Your Grace?” he asked. “Do you have any intelligence on where he may have gone?”
Edward poured himself more wine before answering. “We know he is north, in Snowdonia, but we do not know exactly where,” he replied. “I have many men out searching for him as we speak and in two days, the entire encampment is moving out to aid in the search. I must be on-hand when Dafydd is found and flushed out, but now that I know de Shera is married to your daughter, I shall send men to Rhydilian Castle to see if Dafydd has gone there. I am sure your daughter will be truthful and tell us if the man has arrived even if de Shera’s loyalties are not quite so clear.”
William’s jaw began to tick. “And what happens if de Shera chooses to side with Dafydd?”
Edward looked at him. “Then the man is in breach of the terms of his marital contract and I will treat him as I treat any other Welshman,” he said coldly. “After I destroy Dafydd, I will destroy Bhrodi de Shera and you will help me. Am I making myself clear, de Wolfe?”
William met the king’s gaze without flinching, even though it was a terrible and wicked gaze. God, there were so many things he wanted to say at that moment but just couldn’t bring himself to. He had to get away from Edward and rethink his strategy. He also had to rethink his loyalties for if Edward went after Bhrodi, William wasn’t entirely sure he would go with him. If he refused to fight for the king, that would bring up an entirely new set of issues. In fact, the prospect was quite horrifying.
Nay, he couldn’t engage the king in any manner of argument. At least, not at the moment. Edward had to believe that The Wolfe was still loyal to England as he had always been. Fact was, William wasn’t loyal to England at all. He was loyal to his daughter. After a moment, he forced a smile.
“Clear indeed, Your Grace,” he said, rather lightly as he tried to throw the man off of his true thoughts. “But let us hope it does not come to that. For now, I would ask permission to rest. I’m too damn old to be riding day and night without sleep and if we are departing in two days, then I must ease my old bones for the difficult journey ahead.”
Edward was back to being amiable; he had that ability in his personality to go from deadly to joyful in a split second, a trait that worried
even his closest advisors.
“Go and rest, my friend,” he said. “I will send for you when it is time to sup. You must tell me all about the wedding and all about de Shera. I’ve never met the man. I’d like to know what you think of him.”
William nodded, set his wine down, and bowed out of the tent with Paris and Kieran on his heels. The three of them marched towards the southern end of the encampment where their men were gathered. All the while, William was struggling not to explode. His hands and jaw were working furiously.
“Breathe, William, breathe,” Paris said quietly. “Be calm, man. We must think our way through this.”
William was struggling. “There is nothing to think about,” he said. “I have fought for England my entire life but at this moment, I will not fight for Edward if he goes after de Shera.”
Paris put a big hand on William’s shoulder. “Will you fight for de Shera, then?” he asked softly.
William came to an abrupt halt and looked at Paris. “My life, my love, and my loyalty are with my daughter,” he said. “I will not let Edward destroy her. If it comes to that, I will fight for de Shera. I must. I cannot let the man destroy Penelope.”
“It is what he has planned all along,” Kieran said softly. When William and Paris looked at him, he met their gaze steadily. “We all know that Edward has always intended for complete domination of Wales. He will have it one way or the other. He was hoping that by marrying Penelope, de Shera would submit to English rule but I am equally sure that is not the case. De Shera may be half-English, but he is all Welsh – his heart and soul lie there. If Edward wants all of Wales, he is going to have to go through de Shera to get it. He has planned that all along. The marriage was just a ruse.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 303