The child was their salvation. The prince looked down curiously at the tiny head, covered with dark hair, and the crumpled face all new infants wear, and said: "I am glad to see you so well and happy, and safely delivered. It is another son?"
"It is," she said.
"And healthy and strong? I grieve that it was I who sent you running from Dynevor with him, when most you needed to be safe at home."
"He has taken no harm," she said, "and neither have I. He is whole and perfect." And she parted the shawl to show him, and Llewelyn touched the shrunken pink cheek with a large, marvelling finger, and then thrust the same finger delicately into the minute, questing fist that groped in the air. The child's fingers closed on it strongly, and clung. Thus held, he looked at her with innocent pleasure, and asked, as men do over children, valuing symbols: "What will you call this one?"
"He is already named," she said. "And I trust he will grow up as gentle, valiant and magnanimous as his namesake." She looked up into her brother's face, and said, flushing deeply: "His name is Llewelyn."
CHAPTER XI
I came to the Lady Gladys in the evening, when she had withdrawn to the high chamber and left the lords to their wine, and spoke to her of Cristin, for I thought it no blame to Llewelyn if he forgot this one small pledge among all his triumphs and cares of that day. And she was soft and warm and gracious, who had been a proud girl and a prouder woman, for she was much moved by what had passed, and utterly disarmed by all her husband had told her of Llewelyn's dealings with him. She spoke of her brother with wonder and gratitude, and said that she was glad he had by him so loyal and true a friend as I. And she talked of the years of her estrangement as of an ill dream past with the night.
"Had we but met," she said, "I could not have held out against him all this time. I must surely have seen him as he is, honest and generous, better than wise. Oh, Samson how strange a childhood we had, that separated us so far and sent us into the world by such different ways. Ways," she said, "of which only he chose his own, and against great pressures, as now I see."
I told her that exactly so he had spoken, grieving that she was his only sister, and he did not even know her. And she smiled, and said: "That shall be remedied."
Then I asked her if my lord had thought to question her, or Rhys, as he had not until this visit had opportunity to do, concerning a certain landless knight who had been in Rhys's service at Cwm-du, one Godred ap Ivor. She said that he had not, which was small wonder considering the excitement they had been in, and their total absorption in each other. But even had he so remembered, she said with regret, she could have had nothing to tell him, for though many of Rhys's household army had made their way to one or another of the English-held castles in Ystrad Tywi, and thus the tale of the survivors had gradually been made up, and the war-band reformed, yet nothing had been heard again of Godred. True, she said, there were some of the fugitives from Cwm-Du who were thought to have drawn off over the wilds of the Black Mountain, southwards, and placed themselves in the hands of Earl Richard of Gloucester, and possibly some had stayed and entered his service in Glamorgan, but if Godred was among them, that she could not say.
"And surely," she said, "if he lived he would have appeared again by now. I knew the young man well, for his wife was one of my women, and dear to me. And to speak truth, I might well say I am glad, if that is not a sin, to think that Godred may be dead, and grateful that I need never meet him face to face and have to answer his questions. For his wife," she said heavily, "died in the forest after we fled to Brecon, and I cannot get the load from my heart that her death lies at my door. I should never have let her take so mad a risk for me. It has been heavy on my mind ever since, and will be as long as I live."
At this I was so stricken with wonder and so moved that I trembled before her and could not speak for a while. For this was one reason I had never thought of, why the lady had not sent after to enquire about Cristin. She had believed from the first that there was no need of questions to which she already knew the answer. Though what had so persuaded and convinced her I was foolish and slow to imagine.
"Madam," I said, as softly as I might, "if you can find heart-room for one more joy in this day without surfeiting, I believe I can supply yet one more. With your lord, your possessions, your child all secured, your brother restored, can you yet bear another gift?"
She could not fail to see where I led her, and her dark eyes grew great with incredulous wonder. She said: "No one ever died of joy. If you mean what you seem to mean, oh, Samson, quickly, tell me so! Is she truly living? Cristin, Llywarch's daughter?"
"Living, and well," I said, "and safe under Llewelyn's guardianship in the north. We have been making enquiry after her husband for her sake all this time, but could not reach you in Brecon, to pair our half of the story with yours. And now for my life I do not see how you came to be so sure that Cristin was dead."
"But they came riding hard after us," she said, bright and fierce with remembrance, "through the snow in the early morning. They were gaining on us, we should have been ridden down before ever we could reach the town, and Cristin offered to lead them off by the valley path and leave us free to go forward in safety if the ruse succeeded. She knew of a hut in the woods where she could hide from them and let them by. All this she did for me, and did well…"
"I know it," I said, "for I was captain of that company that pursued you, and God knows for no ill purpose." And I sat down with her and told her all that story, while she sat still and silent, listening. And at the end she said, in a very low voice: "How strangely we deal with one another! Such horrors as I imagined, and yet they were only ordinary men who rode after, not monsters. If I had known that it was you, I should have been calmed and ready to trust. And yet I had not such trust in him. And you know and I know that such things as I imagined have happened, and will happen again, wherever there is warfare. It is not so great a step from man to monster. And what I afterwards believed was not so hard to believe. For you see, she did not come. She said that if the way was clear, and the hunt passed by the hut without pausing, she would return to the upland way and follow us. She knew the country as well as any among us, and she was not afraid to ride alone. But if she had cause to feel it dangerous to come out of hiding, she would bide the night over, if need be, and wait for us to send for her. And in Brecon we waited, but she never came."
"But in the morning," I said, "you did send out for her?"
"We did. And surely you remember what there was for us to find?" She gripped her hands together in her lap and wrung them, remembering, for in grief remembered and changed to rejoicing there is very painful pleasure. "In the hut, the ashes of a fire, and the trampling of many feet, and blood. But no Cristin. Round the hut the hoof-marks of many horses. And when they hunted further afield round that place, there was the hollow silted with leaves and mould, and in it, covered over with stones, a new grave…"
"You thought it hers?" I cried, suddenly pierced through and through with understanding.
"What else could we think? It seemed as clear as day, and as black as night. We thought she had taken shelter there as she intended, only to be discovered by the men she had decoyed away from my trail. Oh, Samson, can you not see how it would have been, if they had been what I supposed? Cheated of their success, with their lord to face after their failure, and this creature in their hands, the girl who had made fools of them and loosed me safe away! We thought they had had their sport with her through the night, and at dawn killed her and buried her. Such things have been and will be again, to all ages. You know it as well as I," she said.
I owned it, for it was truth. Though by the grace of God there may some day come a time when such things will cease. But in this world? Who knows!
"You did not disturb the grave?" I said. For that also mattered to me.
"We did not. And for two days thereafter there was heavy snow in the hills, and it was a week or more before we could go back there. That time I went with them. The gr
ave had been opened. The stones were laid aside in a cairn, and the hollow was empty. The religious from Talley and Llywel and Llangefelach had been busy collecting and caring for the dead, and this was the work of men of reverence. We did not question any more."
"He is buried at Talley abbey," I said, "Meilyr, my mother's husband. Where I pray he rests in peace, and his soul in bliss, for he had little enough bliss in this world. But Cristin is alive and well in Bala, or perhaps at Aber if Goronwy's family have moved there, and you need not mourn for her any more. If we come safe out of this summer's campaign, and if that is what she wishes, and what you wish, then she shall come back to you."
And she was so glad, and so moved, that my own resolution to silence was shaken, and I would have told her, I know not how barely and poorly, something of what I felt for Cristin, Llywarch's daughter, as never yet had I told it to anyone, even Llewelyn, who knew the inmost of my heart upon every other matter. But while we were thus rapt into our remembrances and dreams, she most grateful and tender, I most in peril of self-betrayal, Llewelyn came in with his arm about Rhys's shoulders, and after them David with Rhys's second son riding on his back and driving him like a curvetting horse, and Rhys's eldest son, also Rhys, plucking at his brother's ankle and doing his best to bring him down. And there was so much laughter and noise that we were delivered from all solemnity until the children were borne away to bed, very unwillingly. David had always a charm for children, as for their elders. All the more if they were women, but men had no remedy, either.
But afterwards we told this story over again to those three princes. And Llewelyn, counting days, said that we had still time to make some small foray into Glamorgan, not merely to carry the word to any men of Rhys's bodyguard scattered there, that they might return to their allegiance at Dynevor without fear if they would embrace the Welsh cause with their lord, but also to send a very different message to Earl Richard of Gloucester, who had lived too easy and too undisturbed a life heretofore in his southern lordship. And so it was agreed, though we were drawing near to the middle of July now, and the muster was called for the beginning of August at Chester.
"We made full provision before we came south," said Llewelyn, unperturbed, "and Goronwy will have seen all carried forward ready for the day. We have still time for one more fling before we go to stand off King Henry and his host. And though I think it a very slender hope, if by some chance we can recover a lost husband for our shepherdess of Bala, that would be a fitting ending to this campaign, and a goodly gift to take back with us."
But David was silent, who would commonly have been the first to applaud any such audacity. And his eyes were fixed upon me, as I knew before ever I glanced at him, and they had a chill and rueful blueness, and saw, as always they did, too much, too clearly, and too deep.
Howbeit, we went, leaving Dynevor two days earlier than we should otherwise have done, to the disappointment of the Lady Gladys, who had found great joy in this unlooked-for reunion with her brothers. For there was something in her of David, without his penetration, in that everything she did was done with her might, whether it was loving or hating, and gratitude came as impulsively to her as either of these, so that after his generous and skilful championship of her husband's cause among his peers there was now no one in the world for her like Llewelyn, against whom she had once been implacable.
We went south by Carreg Cennen to Neath, and from there ranged for two days eastward along the fringes of the earl's honour, sacking his manors and levelling his defences, with little resistance. So unprepared for us were they—for I think they had believed us already on our way north again, the king's threat being now so close— that we were able to split our forces into two, and even three, parties, and so range further afield than we could have done with a single army, though not attempting any fortified place while we were so divided. Then we met together again for an attack upon the earl's castle of Llangynwyd, finding it close at hand and in no great state for standing us off, for though well-manned it was in some disrepair.
The garrison put up but a very brief fight. I think a number of them were Welshmen not greatly affected to their lord. Then, when we pressed home our attack, many of them escaped by a postern and fled into the valleys of the small rivers that flanked the castle, where there were woods to give them cover, and so scattered to take refuge in two or three fortified manors belonging to the earl, which could be reached quickly from that place.
Llewelyn was not slow to consider that those who ran might well number among them some of Rhys's men, not yet apprised of the change in their lord's fortunes, and none too happy in the service of the English earl. Therefore he detailed off three small parties of us to beat the woods in the direction of those manors, and take up, if we could, such stragglers as would accept Welsh service in its place, while he and the greater part of our host laid waste the defences of Llangynwyd to make it untenable against us for some time in the future. Of these three parties he gave me one, and we rode due east, down from the highlands where the castle stood, into a river valley well-treed and rich and beautiful. We were but seven men with myself, and we had orders not to adventure against any companies in arms, but to use our Welsh tongues to lure the Welsh, and let the English alone. And so we did, and sent several promising fighting men back to Llangynwyd with tokens from us to ensure them a welcome.
We had reached the limits of our territory, and camped for the night before returning, for the weather was hot and kindly, and we had ample provisions, and good horses if we should need to elude some unexpected attack. Against such possibility we put out two pickets, and took our rest by turns in the grass under the trees. We were not far from one of the small, clear rivers of that country, which covered us by the south approach with a coil of its waters, and at earliest dawn, awaking, I thought with pleasure on that cool stream, and walked down to its banks to bathe. The river-bed being stony and turbulent where the curving channel was worn, I thought there might well be a quiet, spreading pool below, where the ground opened out a little, though still well wooded, and so walked down in that direction, and found it to be as I had supposed. I shed my clothes in the grass among the trees, and was about to cross the open sward to the gentlyshelving bank, when I heard a light splash as of a big fish rising, or a diver entering the water, and froze where I was, still within cover. And in a moment I heard someone before me, at no great distance but hidden beyond the silvery alders, begin to sing, by watery snatches as he swam, a light love-song.
A high, pleasant voice it was, and it sang in Welsh. I was in two minds whether to go back and put on my clothes, but here was an evident Welshman, and as evidently alone, for no man sings like that but for his own private pleasure. And if this was one of those scattered souls I was seeking, I could hardly affright him if I came to the bank as I was, or have much to fear in my turn from his nakedness. Then I thought to draw nearer to him, still in cover, for I judged he had entered the water from my side of the river, and somewhere nearby he must have discarded his own clothing. So I went softly between the trees, and found he had left more than shirt and chausses unguarded, for there was a horse grazing on a long halter in the sward, and saddle and leather body-harness and lance propped against the bole of an oak. His sword lay there beside, and a saddle-roll with his cloak strapped to it. This one had not fled from Llangynwyd entirely unprovided!
Coming thus between him and his armaments, I was at advantage over him, and had no need to demonstrate it by any show. I went down through the trees to the bank, which sloped down to a little sickle of gravel.
He was there in midstream, turning and plunging like a gleaming fish, and as I watched he struck out almost silently for the bank opposite, reached two long, muscular arms out of the water, and hauled himself up to turn and sit in the short turf, dangling his feet in the shallows. In the act of turning thus, he saw me and was abruptly still and silent, though for a moment only. It was not surprise or fear, but the wild wariness of woodland animals that gazed across the
river at me, measured and weighed me, and was assured of being able to outrun or outwit at need. He laughed and said:
"Goodmorrow to you, Adam! But I had rather it had been Eve who came." And he drew up one long leg out of the water, and wrapped his arms about his knee and studied me as I was studying him, with his wet hair plastered over his forehead and temples, and the drops running down through the golden-brown curls that matted his chest.
He was younger than I by a few years, and very finely and gracefully made, for a Welshman uncommonly fair. The streaming locks on his brow looked no darker than wheat, even thus full of river water, and when dry showed almost flaxen. He was gilded round the jaw and lips with a short, bright stubble, but clearly he went normally shaven clean like a clerk. Under easy golden brows he gazed at me with round brown eyes, for as yet I had not spoken, and what is there in a naked man to make clear if he is English or Welsh? I had it in my mind that this debonair and gay young man had all those lean, long muscles braced for action, for all his smooth face. But whether he had more reason to fight shy of English or Welsh I could not yet be sure.
"You need not trouble yourself," I said in his own tongue, and watched his shoulders relax and his smile widen, "at least I'm no serpent. Your beast and your gear are safe enough for me, but lest you should entertain any thought of meddling with my goods, let me tell you we are seven, and a whistle would fetch the rest running."
The Brothers of Gwynedd Page 30