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Crossroads in Time (The After Cilmeri Series)

Page 20

by Sarah Woodbury


  That prompted a cough of laughter from Edmund, but it stopped him from talking about the legend anymore. While they waited for the rest of the company to ready themselves—or do whatever Bevyn needed them to do—the pair sat in front of the fire. Anna dozed off and on, her head resting on her knees as the hour drew closer to midnight.

  Edmund leaned his shoulder into Anna’s, jostling her gently. “It’s time.”

  Anna opened her eyes. It was dark. She must have slept more than she’d thought. “I’m ready.”

  Anna and Edmund hung back at the end of the line of men as they approached the tunnel. The entrance lay beneath a trap door set in the floor of the old barn, which had been deliberately built over the top of the entrance. Anyone who didn’t know what to look for would have passed it by, such was the genius of the disguise. The whole building leaned ten degrees off center and Anna wasn’t sure if the vines trailing up one side were the only thing preventing its total collapse.

  Edmund swiveled to his left and right, studying his surroundings. Anna stepped in front of him. They would be the last to enter through the trap door and she let the rear guard disappear before she spoke. “You aren’t allowed to use our secrets against us later.”

  Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “I mean it. After this, whatever your past allegiances, whatever your future ones, I’m trusting to your honor that you will not use what you know of us to plot against Wales.”

  Edmund cleared his throat as he hovered with her on the edge of the hole in the floor. “We don’t have time for this—”

  “This is the one thing we do have time for.” Anna pulled her knife from her belt and held it at waist level, pointed at Edmund. “You may not continue with us—you may not be a part of this—if I do not have your word.”

  Edmund stared at her. “Is this really necessary—?”

  “If you can’t swear to it, then you should go back to England now. Better that, than I leave you dead right here on the floor,” Anna said. “You saw me fight at Montgomery. I could do it.”

  Edmund lifted up both hands, palms out, and stepped back. “What good is a man’s word if it’s given at the point of a knife?”

  Anna swallowed hard, amazed at herself. As she’d made for the tunnel, a wave of unease, and yet—certainty—had flooded through her. She’d realized that she had crossed some kind of threshold and after today, she would never be the same again.

  She straightened, resheathed her knife, and opened her hands to Edmund. “See. Gone.”

  Edmund nodded, and then surprised her by stepping closer and catching her chin in his fingers. He gazed down, into her face. The light from the lone torch left to them reflected in his eyes and the gold flecks in the brown glinted at her. “You are Morgana and I will not cross you. I swear that I will never plot against your brother.”

  Close enough.

  He released her. Anna swallowed hard, shocked at her audacity in challenging Edmund Mortimer. Before she said something she might regret, Anna turned from Edmund, bent to grab the top rung of the ladder, and climbed down to the floor of the tunnel. Edmund followed.

  Inside the tunnel, the line of silent men stretched into the distance. The path sloped downward as they headed north towards Aber and as they went along, the height of the ceiling increased another foot. Even David could have walked comfortably under it without fear of scraping his head.

  The light from the torches bobbed and weaved ahead of them. Although she knew the way, since she and David had explored the tunnel back before Anna had married Math, Anna was glad to have so many men with her. The tunnel creeped her out with its dampness and echoing stones. It bent and turned to avoid the winding Aber River (or rather, creek, in this location) that flowed beside the castle. As when she and David had explored it a few years ago, water seeped continually down the walls of the tunnel, but the wooden beams and stone pillars still managed to hold up the tons of earth pressing down upon them.

  “This is a marvelous feat of engineering.” Edmund paced steadily beside her.

  “The Romans have left so many things that we haven’t discovered.” Anna was glad they were back to being politely civil. “That this has lasted for a thousand years is amazing.”

  “But surely it’s been improved upon since then,” Edmund said.

  “The last king of Wales before Papa, Owain Gwynedd, rebuilt all of Aber in stone and included the tunnel in his refurbishment,” Anna said. “Llywelyn Fawr and my Papa continued his efforts. It’s not easy keeping it up, you know, not with the rain we get here.”

  The quarter mile to the castle took all of ten minutes. Anna and Edmund approached the tail end of the line of men. Anna could feel the excitement among them. Here was action. They hadn’t faced much since 1285. Even David had remarked (being careful not to complain) that men without challenge lost their edge. For Anna’s part, her pulse pounded, the beat so loud it hammered in her ears. She clenched her fists. She wasn’t a warrior. She had a three year old son to care for and a husband who’d have gone all authoritarian on her and put his foot down if he knew what she was doing. This was crazy. But at the same time, she was here. She wasn’t going to let Bevyn down.

  Up ahead, Bevyn swept a hand in an arc above his head, signaling a halt. He’d arrived outside the door to the castle. Anna pictured what was on the other side: a dim guardroom and a steep stone stairway that led to the trap door which opened into the southernmost tower of the curtain wall.

  “Everything turns on this moment,” Edmund said, his voice low in Anna’s ear.

  Anna couldn’t see past the press of men in front of her, but she felt the pull of fresher air in her face as the door opened on silent hinges. The only sound was the scrape of boots on stone as the men filed into the anteroom beyond the door. This was the bottom floor of the tower, sunk twenty feet into the soil. The space was less than fifteen feet on a side—the size of a large bedroom. Once through the door with Edmund still at her side, Anna hung back, keeping to her word not to get involved if Bevyn didn’t want her to.

  “If the English have a guard, he’ll be on top of the trap door,” Bevyn said.

  Anna swallowed hard, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one. For some of the men, this might be their first real encounter with an English force.

  Edmund shook his head. “With less than two dozen men, even if the English commander knows of the tunnel’s existence, he might not waste a man on it.”

  “It depends on whether or not one of their Welsh spies told them what to look for,” Anna said. “If I were an English commander and I knew about the tunnels, I’d place half my men here, and an overturned table on the trap door to stop us from lifting it up.

  “The English don’t know,” Edmund said—again, as if he weren’t one of them. “We’re far west, here. North Wales has always been a hotbed of resistance to the English crown. Finding a Welshman to betray your father isn’t as easy as it used to be.”

  Anna took some comfort in Edmund’s words—that and the fact that the English hadn’t posted a guard down here. Hopefully, they had their hands full with the inhabitants of the castle, of which there were dozens, even without the king in residence. She hoped the invaders hadn’t killed all the members of the garrison.

  Anna didn’t know if Alun and Bevyn had talked about it, or had come to an unspoken understanding, but Alun had relinquished command to Bevyn. Thus, Bevyn had organized the men into groups before they’d entered the tunnel. Bevyn lifted his chin to Alun who obeyed his unspoken command.

  Alun waved a hand at his group and the set of five climbed to the top of the stairs. Alun’s head nearly touched the trap door and he stood with one hand flat against it, pressing up. At four feet square and heavy, with blackened metal fittings, the effort necessary to move it would be considerable. Alun pushed up on it, ever so slightly. The door lifted up an inch.

  Bevyn stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. Alun glanced down at him, and Bevyn nodded. Alun pushed
harder and one of the soldiers beside him bent his head to use the back of his neck and shoulders to help push the door up. As it swung wide, another man surged up the steps and caught the trapdoor before it banged flat onto the floor above.

  They were in.

  Anna’s group consisted of herself, Edmund, three men she didn’t know, and Bevyn. They were the last through the trap door and crowded into the too small space with the other men.

  “We can’t hope for secrecy beyond the next few minutes,” Bevyn said. “We move now, before any chance of discovery.” He stabbed a finger at each group’s leader in quick succession and sent them on their way. Alun’s group climbed the tower to the battlements above, the rest spilled out of the entranceway and into the gap—ten yards wide at most—between the curtain wall and the great hall.

  One group headed towards the gatehouse. They were to open the gate. The remaining two groups were tasked with eliminating all the English soldiers in the barracks, gatehouse, and exterior buildings. Bevyn’s group took the great hall and the apartments associated with it.

  Bevyn led his men (and Anna) to the right, towards the kitchen entrance in the rear of the hall. Unlike the guardroom, the kitchen was a cavernous space. Along with its pantries and butteries, it took up nearly the same amount of room as the great hall, one floor above it.

  “Sir!” Ado, the cook on duty, saluted Bevyn as they entered through the rear door. Bevyn had known him for years, of course, even if Ado was preparing food for his new masters today. Bevyn didn’t offer any recriminations, just clapped him on the shoulder as he went by.

  At the sight of the cook’s familiar paunch and nearly balding head, Anna smiled.

  “My lady!” Ado kept his voice down this time, and moved around the table on which the makings of today’s breakfast waited for the dawn.

  Anna moved to his side and put a hand on his arm. “Are you well, Ado?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Ado said. “They’ve not harmed any of the folk but a few who resisted.”

  “And where is the garrison?” Anna said.

  Ado’s chin stuck out but he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Most are dead, cut down in cold blood after surrendering their weapons. The four the English didn’t see fit to kill are in the barracks.”

  Anna put a hand to her mouth. “Aber’s garrison was twenty strong at least! They’re all dead?”

  “All but those four, my lady.”

  Bevyn had signaled to the men to quickly run through the pantries while Anna questioned the cook. The only other servants in residence were two teenage boys who were found in a lower basement. Bevyn leaned in. “Are we correct that the English have twenty men?”

  “Three fewer now, sir,” Ado said. “The only reason they overcame the garrison at all was because they were let in by mistake, bided their time, and then surprised us. Even so, our men fought hard.”

  “Where are the rest of the servants?” Anna said.

  “Two men who worked in the stable are dead,” Ado said. “They picked up their pitchforks to join the fight, but were overcome. Other than that, none were harmed.”

  Anna patted Ado’s arm. “Thank you. We’ll be going now. Keep your head down.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Ado said, but he held his knife in such a fashion that Anna thought he might wield it this time, if he had to.

  Bevyn jerked his head to his men who formed up with him. The moment any of them set foot on the stairs that led up to the hall, they were committed to the fight. It might well be hand-to-hand in the great hall. Anna was glad that Papa wasn’t there to see it. It had been a long time since blood had been spilled at Aber.

  Anna pulled out one of her knives. It had belonged to Math’s father, who had sharpened the tip to a needle-fine point. She went up the stairs last, hanging back as she’d promised. She had no interest in killing anyone or even fighting. Before she reached the top step, the sound of clashing swords came from the hall and Anna gripped the knife tighter. With gritted teeth, she trotted through the anteroom that separated the stairs from the hall, the door to which opened immediately behind the high table. A man screamed and another shouted.

  Just as she peered through the doorway, Bevyn said, “Hold!”

  He stood atop the high table, his sword pointed towards the ceiling. Bevyn had five men, the English eight. But all had been asleep or drunk and Bevyn’s men, including Edmund, had overwhelmed them. The last two Englishmen had decided that surrender was the better part of valor.

  Edmund stood over a body and prodded it with his toe. He stared down at it without speaking.

  Anna walked to him. “Did you know him?”

  “What?” Edmund came out of his reverie. “No. No, I didn’t know him, but …”

  “But what?”

  “I have never killed a man with my own sword before,” Edmund said, still looking at the fallen Englishman. “I’d never killed anyone at all before you gave me your knife at Montgomery.”

  Anna was glad that Edmund wasn’t looking at her because she couldn’t keep the surprise out of her eyes. She blinked it back and then said, “I thought you fought in the 1282 war?”

  “You forget, I was still with the Church up to two months before the incident at Cilmeri.” Edmund barked a laugh. “Everyone thought I would have a great career, perhaps even become archbishop. And then—” He shrugged.

  “—and then your father died.”

  Edmund nodded. “I conspired with my brother at Buellt in an attempt to convince King Edward to grant me my inheritance, which he’d so far refused. Did he think me unworthy?” He paused. “Perhaps I was. That was the first day I wore a sword at my waist. I hadn’t even held one in seven years. Yet, I hadn’t earned it and my peers knew it.”

  Bevyn jumped off the table and came forward. “You did well, then. The second man you engaged surrendered because he was afraid you’d kill him.”

  “There’s nothing more terrifying than a man who is himself terrified.” Edmund said this without apparent embarrassment. He turned to Anna. “You weren’t afraid, were you?”

  Anna bit her lip, realizing that her external calm had genuinely reflected what had been going on inside her. “No.” Edmund snorted under his breath and Anna hastened to add. “But I don’t know why.”

  “Because you’ve faced much worse and lived,” Bevyn said. “Besides, the odds were in our favor and God is on our side!”

  The door to the courtyard beyond burst open at the hands of a young man whom Anna hadn’t seen before. He skidded to a halt and gazed about him, taking in the dead men on the floor and the Englishmen whom Bevyn’s men had forced to lie face down on the floorboards. He pushed back his hood, revealing sweat-matted hair and bright blue eyes. “I’ve just come from Caerhun. The men at the gatehouse let me in.” He swallowed hard. “The beacons have been lit!”

  Chapter 23

  29 August 1288

  Near Caldicot Castle

  Math

  Dafydd hadn’t found the resources to implement all the weapons he knew how to build, so Math and Llywelyn stood on top of what Dafydd had laughingly called a gun emplacement, but which really was a protective hide for archers. Math faced the sea and held the binoculars to his eyes, gazing across the Severn Estuary. Dafydd had brought them home from the twenty-first century three years ago and Math had always thought them a singularly useful item.

  Up until now, Llywelyn hadn’t known either the number of boats the English were prepared to launch or their intended landing site. The English had been very savvy, developing plans within plans within plans. But the Welsh had put some thought into this too. Once the king’s spies had reported a gathering of boats across the Estuary a few days ago, the assault became easier to prepare for and track.

  “How much longer, do you think?” Math said.

  Llywelyn leaned over and took the binoculars from Math’s hand without asking. Not that the king needed to ask, or that Math minded giving them up. In the dawn fog, he couldn’t see anything anyway and they’d been s
erving as a foil to his feverish thoughts, the most pressing being not the disposition of the English army—but the whereabouts of Anna and Cadell.

  He had hoped, even assumed, that his wife and son would have arrived at Caerphilly by now. Admittedly, to have done so would have meant Anna had left Dinas Bran when she thought she might, pushed the horses, and taxed Cadell’s tolerance for sitting still. At the same time, his wife was full of common sense and could easily have chosen to stay safe at one of her father’s lesser holdings rather than travel further with war so close. Or that’s what he was trying to tell himself, anyway.

  “If I were the commander of the English forces, I would launch the attack now,” Llywelyn said, unaware of what was really on Math’s mind. “Low tide is the best time to cross the Estuary. It will give them enough beach upon which to land.”

  At first glance, it might seem that the English could have come across the Severn Estuary anywhere. They could have forced the Wye River above Chepstow too. But the landscape limited both their ability to maneuver and their choices. The Wye had no good ford until Monmouth, some fifteen miles as the crow flies north of where it met the Severn. It was too far to move so many men without the Welsh detecting them long before they passed into Welsh territory, and the terrain was too rugged to cross anywhere closer.

  Caldicot Castle lay opposite several possible crossing points of the Severn Estuary near Bristol. The choices included the shortest expanse of water west of the Wye River, a little over two miles from shore to shore, but the union of the Severn and the Wye had created few beaches. Instead, it had fostered mud flats, sand flats, rocky platforms, and islands that made it impossible to successfully bring an army across in most places. It also had some of the highest tides in the world—routinely fifty feet from low to high tide. If this were the solstice, the tides could have been even higher and had the potential to generate a wave that traveled upstream against the river’s current.

 

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