Peaceweaver

by Judith Arnopp

  Scouts were posted both ahead and behind and several to the right and left of our cavalcade. Gruffydd rode at the front leaving me with Anwen, Tangwystl and Heulwen who, with her charge strapped to her front, clung to her pony’s saddlepad in some discomfort, unused to travelling on horseback. Rhodri alternated between accompanying us and checking with the rear guard of the party. Ahead, I could see Gruffydd waving his arms around expansively as he talked with his half-brothers, Bleddyn and Rhiwallon. Meurig rode behind, seeming strangely isolated without his brother, Owain, beside him. I smiled at him and tried to engage him in conversation but his answers were taciturn and I soon left him to his own thoughts. It was a good journey, the weather remained fair and, with Cymru basking in the sunshine, everyone was in the best of spirits.

  The llys at Dinefwr, to which we travelled, belonged to Gruffydd but the custodian, Rhys ap Rhys, was a good friend and staunch ally. His wedding to the daughter of a rich Saxon was the result of Gruffydd’s alliance with my father. The bride was barely out of her teens and her name was Alys. Her family had lands in Mercia but I did not think I had ever met her. I wondered if she felt ill-used to be married to a Welshman for she had probably been raised, as I had, to distrust and loathe the race that dwelt beyond the dyke. Although I had no love for my husband I had learned to love his countryman as if they were my own. I felt like a Welsh woman now and hoped that Alys would come to feel the same.

  The branches of the trees hung so low on each side of the path that they almost touched my cap as we passed beneath them. The heads of the ponies dipped and nodded as they strained to carry us up the last steep track that led to the llys. Twisting a way round the side of the hill, the path eventually took us to the summit and we clattered through a wooden gateway into the shelter of the palace. Rhodri helped me to dismount and I stood for a moment, stretching my back as I surveyed the busy scene. My legs were stiff and my buttocks numb from the journey so I was glad of the distance we had to walk to the great hall. The sound of hammering from the blacksmith’s shop paused as we passed by and the smith touched his forelock in greeting. A young slave smiled shyly as she scurried past with a basket of fresh baked bread, hens scuttling from her path. There were people everywhere, grooms rushing to take the horses and children grubbing in the dirt while their mothers stood, hands on hips, to watch the new arrivals. Since our wedding I had been kept close in Rhuddlan and these people of Cymru were eager to appraise Gruffydd’s queen.

  ‘Rhys.’ Gruffydd bellowed, when he caught sight of our host, striding out to greet us.

  ‘Well met, fellow.’ Rhys replied, slapping Gruffydd’s shoulder before turning his attention to me.

  ‘And this is your lady wife? Delighted, Lady, to meet you,’ he said, his voice booming about the echoing hall. He was a big fellow with a big laugh to suit and in his presence I felt my spirits lift. I warmed to him, certain he was a good man. After a similar elated greeting with Meurig, Bleddyn and Rhiwallon, the men walked off together leaving Anwen to help me remove my cloak.

  A servant bustled up bringing us refreshment and I sipped a cup of mead as I looked about me at the splendid hall. Tangwystl, having made enquiries as to our lodging, joined me at the hearth;

  ‘They have put you in the best room, lady, far from the sounds of revelry should you wish to retire early of an evening. The Lady Alys, it seems, is lodged close by and seeks an audience before her nuptials tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely. Yes I am most eager to make her acquaintance. Come,’ I said, putting down my cup, ‘let us go to her at once. ‘

  Alys leapt from her stool and stood uncertainly as we were shown into her chamber. She was about fifteen, her face was pale and strained and I at once empathised with her prenuptial fears. ‘Lady Eadgyth,’ she said, sweeping out her gown into a deep curtsey

  ‘No, no, Alys’ I said, the Saxon words feeling strange upon my tongue. ‘You do not need to curtsey to me, I hope we shall be friends.’

  ‘Oh, Lady.’ she cried, ‘how refreshing it is to hear a civilised Saxon tongue again. All around me all I hear is the heathen Welsh.’

  I sensed, rather than saw, Tangwystl’s displeasure at her words and sought to soothe the air.

  ‘I know how you feel, and it was so with me at first but, believe me, you will soon learn to understand and then to speak it. Once you have got the best of it you will find ‘tis a beautiful language.’

  ‘It doesn’t sounds like it to me, Lady.’

  Noting Alys’ red-rimmed eyes and trembling lower lip and recalling my own despair at being forced to marry Gruffydd, I sat down on the settle and pulled her beside me.

  ‘What do you make of Lord Rhys? He seems very jovial.’ I asked but Alys pulled away in alarm.

  ‘He is a monster lady, he has no Saxon at all and when he speaks, his tongue is foreign and his eyes don’t look honestly into mine but linger … here.’

  She indicated her generous bosom and the disgust on her prim little face suggested that, unless she quickly learned some harsh lessons, the union would not be a happy one.

  ‘It is hard at first, Alys, I don’t deny it, but I would recommend that your try to accept things as they are. Truly, once your children come, so will happiness follow. I too found it difficult at first to see any joy in my union with Gruffydd but I am happy now I have Idwal and … between you and me, there is another child on the way already. Look how lovable my son is,’ I said, beckoning Heulwen to bring the babe forth. Alys peered at the flushed sleeping face of my child and her expression softened.

  ‘You are fortunate indeed to have found contentment but I fear the intimacy, Lady, in fact I fear even the shortest conversation with Lord Rhys. He is a stranger to me. How can I lay with a stranger? In truth, I had expected to be allowed to wed another, the son of my father’s neighbour and a man I have known since childhood but, suddenly, the plans were altered and my wishes as nothing. I was sent here. Since my lady mother died, my father is not the caring parent he was.’

  ‘Fathers do change once we reach a woman’s state,’ I agreed, remembering my heartbreak the day my father had left me on the Welsh shore, ‘but it is up to us to make the best of things. Look at his wonderful llys you will have the running of, why ‘tis a girl’s dream. You will want for nothing. There will be fine gowns and jewels and the best food to eat. I predict a long and happy, fertile union Alys … truly I do.’

  Later, as I lay sleepless in the guest chamber, realising that the girl was probably weeping into her pillow, I prayed that my words would prove true.

  The day of the wedding arrived and the hall was wreathed with garlands of flowers and herbs were strewn upon the floor to sweeten the rushes. The company, clad in its finery, stood and cheered when Gruffydd and I entered the hall. We bowed our heads to them graciously, Gruffydd, for once, looking almost handsome in his fur-trimmed tunic. About his neck a thick torque gleamed in the firelight and he had trimmed his beard and washed his hair. He looked every bit the king that night and, knowing I looked every bit a queen, I sought his approval. A curt nod was all I received when he saw me in my new sage and yellow gown with a delicate circlet of gold balanced upon my shining dark hair. Rhodri, however, made up for his father’s lack. His eyes lit up and he skimmed across the room to take my hand and make his bow. The kiss that he left upon my wrist sent a dart of delicious agony through my body.

  ‘Lady,’ he murmured, ‘you are beautiful.’

  He was right, I was beautiful that night; in the fourth month of pregnancy I was vibrant with good health and for once it did not matter that I was plump. My eyes shone and my skin glowed with expectant happiness. I loved the company and, at that moment, I loved my life.

  The actual wedding ceremony had taken place earlier in the afternoon at the small wooden church that stood at the base of the hill and now, the piety over with, the good people of the llys prepared to celebrate extravagantly. We sat expectantly while an army of servants paraded into the hall to place laden platters and pitchers of mead on
the tables and the bards struck up a lively tune. Alys sat beside her husband, her huge eyes contrasting sharply with her stark white face; I sent her a comforting smile and she returned it waveringly. I prayed to God that Rhys would be gentler with her than Gruffydd had been with me on our wedding night. He didn’t seem a cruel man, in fact his warmth was a little overwhelming, but you could never tell the secrets that a man reserved for the privacy of his bedchamber.

  Meanwhile the company was merry. Bards played, the wine flowed and the maidens danced. Gruffydd and Rhys beside me, grew drunk, slopping wine on their finery and, as the night progressed, their banter grew more and more obscene. They roared with laughter, almost rolling together beneath the table and my hopes for a gentle deflowering for Alys faded.

  Meurig, alone at the end of the table, watched the proceedings, slowly imbibing cup after cup of mead. I saw him watching his uncle, Bleddyn, making not inconsiderable progress with a pair of serving wenches but he made no effort to join them. As the evening wore on I ate much too much and my under garments began to feel uncomfortable. Gruffydd and Rhys had disappeared from the table. I could see Rhys laughing in a corner with Rhiwallon and some young retainers but my glance shifted to where Rhodri was trying to master the steps of a dance. His comical attempts to keep rhythm made me splutter with laughter, which, in turn, made me realise I was overfull and needed the privy. Placing a hand beneath my tunic I caressed the small bulge of my stomach, I felt content and confident of the future. Swilling the dregs of my mead cup around my mouth, I looked about for Anwen to accompany me. The men, when they needed to relieve themselves, were expected to go outside to the midden but, set discreetly in one corner of the hall, were several screens and behind each screen was a pot for the comfort of the ladies. Full of wine and cheer and still laughing, I swept behind a screen and immediately stopped dead, shocked rigid at what I saw there. My laughter turned bitter in my mouth.

  My Lord husband, with his finest breeches crumpled about his royal knees, was servicing a comely servant maid. Her skirts over her head, she was bent forward with her rear end thrusting out, while Gruffydd humped her from the rear.

  So engrossed were they in their activity that they did not so much as notice my presence and I spun quickly on my heel, staggering from the sight and lurching back into the main hall. The music and laughter seemed an assault upon my ears now and, almost retching as I gasped for breath, I clutched at my stomach while tiny bright lights danced in the periphery of my vision. Unable to shake the sight from my eyes, I grabbed at Anwen, who had witnessed the scene also; she was gabbling and gasping at my side, clearly as disconcerted as I. Certain that I would faint, I clutched tighter at her arm, mortified to feel vomit rising in the back of my throat.

  ‘Lady, come with me,’ said an urgent voice at my elbow and Rhodri was there, leading me dazedly across the hall in the direction of my sleeping bower.

  He ushered me gently to my chamber, making crooning sounds in his throat to sooth me as if I were a child. There, he helped me to lie upon the bed and began to remove my slippers; then, sitting beside me, he chaffed my fingers, looking, questioningly, into my eyes. ‘Go and make my Lady’s excuses,’ he said to Anwen and, as she scuttled from the room, he gripped my hands trying to prevent me from sitting up. ‘Lie still, Lady,’ he said, ‘and tell me what happened.’

  I struggled to sit up and, for a while, so great was my shock that I just sputtered and stuttered but I eventually managed to blurt it out.

  ‘Your wretched father, Rhodri.’ I raged, anger replacing the nausea at what I had seen.

  ‘I caught him humping that maid, the one with the black hair …the one with the enormous dugs, you must have seen her.’

  ‘No, Lady, I don’t believe I have,’ he replied calmly, ‘but do go on. He was humping her … where? In the ladies privy?’

  ‘Yes, Rhodri, the king, your father, was humping a slut in the privy.’

  Rhodri’s face was inscrutable. I was quivering with anger now and he relinquished my hand and rose from the bed, pouring me a drink from the pitcher on the table.

  ‘Try to calm yourself, Eadgyth …’ he said, using my Christian name for the first time, then, after a pause, he added, ‘ I had not supposed you would care.’

  I spluttered into the cup.

  ‘Care? Of course I care. Oh, not that he was doing it, I suppose, but that he was doing it there. And with her. Why anyone could have seen them. Has he no shame? And why with a woman like that when he has the pick of Cymru? God’s grief but men are disgusting.’

  He took my cup.

  ‘Not all men, Lady,’ he replied and I was suddenly very grateful for his support.

  The humour of the situation struck me as the ridiculous scene I had witnessed became vivid in my mind again. I let out a snort of laughter. It came from nowhere, surging up from my belly and erupting from my mouth. It was quickly followed by a stifled giggle.

  ‘He looked like a rutting billy goat,’ I looked up at my confidant, my lips twitching and tears springing to my eyes. I put my hand to my mouth and emitted a high-pitched peal of laughter that ignited a similar instinct in Rhodri. When Anwen re-entered the chamber two minutes later, Rhodri and I were sitting on my bed clutching each other while we howled with ungodly laughter.

  Unfortunately the fourth month of pregnancy cannot last and soon my body began to bloat and digestion became a problem. I lightened the size and frequency of meals but still it persisted. The intention had been to stay a month at Dinefwr and then return to Twthill but continuing insurrection in Deheubarth meant that Gruffydd was forced to stay. Had I paid more attention at the time I should be able to relate in detail the problems that beset him but I was caught up with the excitement of my coming child and thought of little else. It was toward the end of summer that Gruffydd, realising that the last trimester of my pregnancy approached, agreed I should begin to journey back in small stages so that I could be safe at Rhuddlan when the child came.

  Expectant women were advised against many things, the consumption of pork and ale and, of course, horseback riding. However it was decided that a slow journey with lengthy stops along route should do me little harm and it was late August when I made my farewells.‘God be wi’ ye, Alys,’ I said, as we embraced, ‘Remember to entreat your Lord to bring you to us in the spring and we can spend all of the next summer together.’

  ‘I will, Eadgyth and do not fail to send me word as soon as that babe arrives.’

  In many ways Alys had taken the place of my family and, for all I loved my Welsh companions, it was good to have a Saxon friend with whom I shared a similar background. When I looked back and saw Dinefwr dwarfed by distance I felt sad to be leaving my friend but glad to be riding away from the oppression of Gruffydd’s company. I turned my thoughts toward home and the long journey ahead, calling to Rhodri to strike up a song.

  At first things went smoothly; we rested at Hay and Dinas Bran and various smaller settlements before arriving in Chester three weeks after our departure from Dinefwr.

  Anwen and I again took advantage of the shops, buying ribbons and laces and a pair of fine slippers for my swollen feet. As we set off on the last leg of our journey we remarked upon the curious mix of blue grey skies and pink wisps of cloud. Heulwen, who saw bad omens in most things, distrusted it and warned of evil portent but we laughed at her superstition, glad to be nearing the last leg of the journey and eager to be home.

  The sun climbed higher and, as it did so, the cloud in the distance thickened, piling up like duckdown on the far off mountaintops. We stopped for refreshment on rising ground and, as we ate, watched the wading birds in the flooded valley below. Anwen fussed and cosseted me, asking if I were comfortable and, as the day had grown chill, ensuring I was warm enough. Rhodri tended the horses while I watched Idwal at Heulwen’s breast and afterwards took him on my lap to relieve his wind while his nurse partook of some food herself. I blew raspberries on his fat red cheeks to make him giggle and then I removed his napki
n so he could stretch his legs for a while in the fresh air. His limbs were stout and strong with rolls of fat at the top where they joined his torso; not content to stay still, he kept trying to escape, crawling bare arsed from the blanket. Heulwen, not at all pleased that he had become so mobile, constantly retrieved him and lay him on his back again.

  When we set off again the first spots of rain had begun to fall, large, sparse drops but, by the time we had travelled a further five miles, it was raining in earnest. The ponies held their heads low to avoid the driving force of it as it beat its way beneath our clothes and stung any part of exposed skin it happened to fall upon.

  I glanced behind to see Anwen with her head down and her cloak pulled about her ears and Heulwen with my babe clutched to her chest in much the same manner.

  ‘We must stop and shelter, Lady,’ Rhodri yelled at me, ‘there is an old abandoned lodging not far ahead, it is rough but it will have to do, it will be better than nothing. I shall send a couple of men to clean up and start a fire for when you arrive.’

  I nodded, too drenched to mind where we sheltered, and Rhodri spurred his mount to the rear of the small, straggling cavalcade. We made haste then, cantering along a track obscured by rain and dark and, when we arrived at the abandoned lodging, we found that a portion of our party had fallen behind. Rhodri, Anwen, Heulwen, a few retainers and I had somehow left Tangwystl, her maid and members of the teulu with the packhorses somewhere along the road.

  Inside, the thatch was patchy and leaked in one corner. It was little better than a hovel but a small fire struggled for life in the centre of the room, promising some comfort. I squatted inelegantly with my hands stretched toward the meagre flame as smoke eddied around, making me cough.

  ‘Not long now, Lady, and we’ll be warm,’ said Rhodri, spreading a dry blanket for me to sit on. ‘ Here, take off that wet cloak and wrap yourself in my blanket, it is dry.’