Conquest II

by Tracey Warr

  ‘Early gentian,’ I said. ‘They are lovely. He would have liked them.’ I smiled sadly at the double cruciform of the flowers, realising that they reminded me of the small cross Gerald had given to me and that I had used in Dublin to pay for Dyfnwal’s freedom. The flowers had four purple petals in a simple cross and another interior yellow cross, formed by their stamens. It was our habit to walk to Gerald’s grave every Sunday after the service and place fresh flowers there. We lit candles for him too, inside the church, but I preferred our ritual with the flowers. It was more like him, to be outside in the open, under the sky, than to be inside in the darkened, hushed church.

  I had been a widow for nearly a year, and silently thanked every messenger arriving with news that the King was still in Normandy. Whilst Henry was there, distracted with rebellions and wars, he could not be thinking of marrying me off. With my husband gone, by rights I should come under the protection of my brothers, Gruffudd and Hywel, but nobody knew where they were. Somewhere in the Snowdonian mountains. Since I owned my own lands and was still of childbearing age, it seemed unlikely that the King would allow me to continue ‘unused’ forever. My only alternative was to enter a convent in England, but that would mean leaving Deheubarth, leaving my children, Amelina, my life. I could not countenance that option.

  Perpetually wearing black gowns and veils was depressing me, and I thought that the arrival of the spring gentians and other bright flowers must be a sign to take off my widow’s weeds. I would do it tomorrow. They could not protect me in any case. Amelina had been stitching a new pale blue tunic for me with the bird’s foot motif in silver thread at the neck and hem. I could wear a dark blue undergown with tight sleeves beneath it.

  As we returned from Gerald’s grave, Haith was waiting for us on the path. ‘Hello, Angharad, Lady Nest. I wondered if you might stay and eat in the hall, before returning to Carew?’

  I acquiesced gladly to his suggestion. Haith went about his work with dogged competence and was ceaselessly cheerful, often when he had no right to be, when he must search for ways to soothe the constant tensions between the Flemings and the Welsh. He often talked to me of his long days’ work with complainants, calculations on his abacus, or a mountain of correspondence from the King’s chancery and exchequer since he knew I was familiar with the business that Gerald had formerly carried out.

  ‘How has the week been?’ I asked him.

  ‘Seems whole world is cup-shotten.’

  I laughed. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘Not fit for lady’s ears,’ he said, but launched into his tale with relish nevertheless. ‘Got drunks falling from windows, falling in river,’ he counted them off against his long fingers, ‘relieving themselves against respectable merchants’ stalls like dogs! Mostly Flemings in that case, I must say.’

  I laughed. ‘Just drunks this week?’

  ‘No. Look, I wanted to show you this!’ He slapped a large tithe measuring bowl on the table. The wide, shallow bowl had two handles either side and was made from black leather.

  I shook my head. ‘A tithe measure?’

  ‘Aye, but look close. See here?’ He showed me how it had a false bottom. ‘The villagers from Lamphey trying to short change the King.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Gave them a stern caution. Told them if I catch them cheating King again I have to hang them for it.’

  ‘Taxes are high, Haith. Much higher than in the times of my father. What the King takes in taxes they cannot put on the table to feed their families.’

  ‘These are troubled times. The costs of Henry’s war in Normandy run high.’

  ‘You can see why Welsh farmers and tenants might struggle to see the relevance of that for them.’

  He shrugged, looked away at the tapestries decorating the walls, before turning back to me. ‘Kingdom prospers under Henry nevertheless, as never before. No more Vikings or Irish warbands dare invade.’

  I nodded. I did not want to be in disagreement with him and there was no arguing with Haith’s loyalty to Henry.

  He grimaced. ‘Had to call an inquest for tomorrow for murdered man in Tenby. And there’s been stolen horses and oxen ….’

  ‘A murdered man?’

  ‘Likely killed by a neighbour. I’ve summoned citizens to hear evidence, but likely will end: neighbour needs to see priest.’

  A hanging he meant. I closed my eyes briefly.

  ‘Yes, horrible. I will have to send command to all to witness the hanging, if evidence damns him.’

  ‘Must you?’

  ‘Not you, lady. That’s not necessary.’

  I shook my head gratefully. ‘Everyone in Tenby?’

  ‘It’s the King’s orders. That people must witness punishments so they think two times before committing their own crimes. Keep order instead. And what about this reeve for a day election I have to go to at Llansteffan?’ he asked. Now Angharad and I had to laugh outright. Haith, meanwhile, pulled comical faces at us. ‘Not dignified! Maybe I ban it!’ he said. The laughter lines incised on Haith’s brown cheeks were looking more and more like the mark of a kite’s claw these days.

  When I had controlled my laughter, I told him, ‘No, don’t ban it, Haith.’ Every year the peasants at Llansteffan elected one of the men among them to be the fake reeve for one day. Inevitably the first proclamation was always that the actual sheriff should be pelted with rotten vegetables.

  ‘So you say I must go and be pelted with cabbages and listen to this fake one make ridiculous fake proclamations?’

  ‘It’s important,’ I told him. ‘It’s a way for them to let off frustrations harmlessly. Just fun. I think we’ll come and watch and maybe throw a few soft apples ourselves!’ I said, looking to Angharad for her agreement.

  Haith had been away at Cenarth Bychan for a week, supervising repairs. He wrote to let me know that he was staying for a few days at Cardigan Castle where Gilbert FitzRichard de Clare had recently died and his son Richard FitzGilbert de Clare had inherited. Haith had to collect the heriot, the death duties, for the King. I hoped Haith would return soon with news of how my sons went on there but he arrived instead with my boys: Henry, William and Maurice, with Gilbert FitzGilbert de Clare. From my chamber window, Amelina and I looked down on Haith taking the steps up to the hall, two at a time, on his long legs. ‘He’s coming to you,’ Amelina said.

  I stood as Haith entered. ‘What is it, Haith?’

  ‘I come to give you notice, Lady Nest, in private, that your brother, Gruffudd ap Rhys, has been taken.’

  I thought before the words came from his mouth that I would be able to bear myself with fortitude whatever it was that he came to tell me, but I was mistaken. I dropped down onto my stool.

  ‘He is not injured,’ he reassured me. ‘We are riding to Kidwelly, where he has been taken to Bishop Roger of Salisbury, who will stand in judgement on him as the King’s vice-regent. I thought that you would want to come with us?’

  ‘Yes!’ I stood again. It was thoughtful of Haith to take me and my sons to Kidwelly. It might help Gruffudd’s case to remind the Bishop that Gruffudd had numerous kin who were loyal and dear to King Henry. ‘Quickly, Amelina, make us ready.’

  Haith smiled unhappily. ‘Your sons are below.’

  ‘Yes, I saw your arrival. I will be down soon. We will ride out in the next hour or so?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I will be with you.’ He turned to go. ‘Thank you, Haith, for thinking of me. For your kindness.’ He nodded and left me.

  At Kidwelly Castle, I ran from my horse straight to the hall, not caring what anyone thought of my lack of decorum. I was appalled at the sight of Gruffudd, Gwenllian and their children loaded with chains, and standing before the Bishop and his steward, Maurice of London.

  ‘I am come to plead for my brother, Bishop,’ I exclaimed, out of breath, holding my hand to my chest, and Gruffudd turned towards me but did not raise his eyes to my face, shamed by his shackles.

  ‘There is no need, Lady Nes
t,’ the Bishop said. ‘I have clear instructions on the matter from the King.’

  I heard Haith, de Clare and my sons come into the hall behind me. ‘Does King Henry give my brother his life?’

  The Bishop nodded slowly. ‘The King does not forget you, Lady Nest. Your brother will be treated fairly.’ He ordered that the shackles be removed and I listened with relief to the clank of the chains being taken off. With deliberation, the Bishop informed Gruffudd and Gwenllian that King Henry demanded their sons, Anarawd and Cadell, as hostages. ‘The King is prepared to offer you land, Prince Gruffudd ap Rhys, in exchange for your fealty and your promise of peace,’ Bishop Roger said. ‘He gives you Cantref Mawr, on condition that you take no more actions against the King’s interests, and that you keep only a small household, for domestic purposes, and no standing army.’

  I watched my brother’s face as he struggled with the insult of it: to be offered such a small estate when he was the rightful king of all these lands. I saw Gwenllian nod almost imperceptibly and heard my brother speak the words of acceptance and submission. I knew Gwenllian would already be planning their next fight, and that King Henry and the Bishop would keep them under very close surveillance.

  25

  Mererid and Seithininn

  I lifted the hasp and pushed back the dark, carved wooden shutter, looking from my chamber window onto the new day at Carew. A heron on the opposite river bank was disturbed and rose on its vast grey wings. It was early summer and morning mist still shrouded the distant hills and the village rooftops but had already burnt off from the river. It would be a hot day. A sapling close to my window was strung with a perfect spider’s web that was just beginning to slack in the slight breeze. Beneath the water sliding over the weir, brilliant green waterweed acquiesced, perpetually bent and flattened with the flow. I heard voices but could not see who made the noise. I moved to the far casement and threw back the shutters. Amelina was below, near the well, rinsing the last of her wash in a bucket to peg out with the other lazily waving cloths. Haith sat on his horse, talking with her. They heard the creak of my shutters and looked up. I was still in my nightdress and stepped back from the window, blushing, although I doubted that much of me was visible to Haith from there.

  As I rummaged in the chest for my clothes, I heard Amelina’s footsteps come stomping up the stairs. She burst in, leaving the door ajar, rushed to the bed and bounced herself down upon it, holding a hand to her heaving chest. ‘Let’s go to.’ She stopped, breathless.

  ‘Why the rush?’ I laughed at her.

  ‘Sheriff Haith’s waiting below.’

  ‘He won’t mind waiting for a while I’m sure. Let’s go to?’ I prompted her.

  ‘Llansteffan!’ The front of her chemise was wet from her laundry and one of her nipples showed through the thin cloth.

  ‘Well, you’ll need drying off first!’

  She looked down at herself and shrugged. ‘It’s not my undergarments the Sheriff’s interested in,’ she said, looking meaningfully at my nightdress. ‘He’s on his way to Llansteffan and I thought we might accompany him. I’d like to go, Nest. I have some urgent news for Dyfnwal.’

  ‘What urgent news?’

  ‘I’ve started making him a warm tunic,’ she said, lifting her legs up one at a time, and inspecting the toes of her boots.

  I stared at the top of her bent head. ‘Well, that can hardly be urgent, Amelina, with full summer coming on.’

  ‘There are still chills in the early mornings and late evenings when he’s obliged to ride his boat out with the tides,’ she said. She stood and took over from me, laying out clothes for me on the bed.

  I was not averse to taking a ride on such a fine summer’s day and we were both soon more suitably attired. I went to greet Haith while Amelina found the stableboy to tell him to saddle up our palfreys.

  ‘I hope I haven’t made you hurry, Lady Nest,’ Haith said.

  ‘Not at all. A ride to Llansteffan is an excellent idea.’

  The road was overgrown with new summer growth. Haith and I rode side by side with Amelina behind us. Yellow butterflies crossed the path ahead and white seed motes hung in the air. The sky was a flawless blue. I was in a confiding mood. I voiced my concerns to Haith about my widowed state and how Henry might decide to marry me off to somebody or some land- or powerhungry Norman or Welsh lord who might take it into their head to pay court to me. Haith expressed his sympathy with my dilemma.

  ‘I suppose I should marry. It is the best course but I don’t want to have my life controlled again, shaped for somebody else’s purpose.’

  Haith nodded, looked at the overgrown bushes. We reached a fork in the road and Amelina left us to ride towards Dyfnwal’s cottage. ‘Let’s take the road to the beach,’ I said, automatically turning my horse’s head where I had ridden so often in my childhood. ‘Do you think that I should let her go?’ I asked Haith, looking at Amelina’s retreating back. ‘It seems unkind to keep a wife from her husband.’

  ‘I think, this case, would be unkind to keep friend from friend. Dyfnwal knows that. If they live together all day, every day, maybe they not so fond.’

  I laughed. ‘Is that your view of marriage then, Haith? Is that why you have not taken a wife? You could not stand the sight of one person for so much time!’ I was sorry to realise I had embarrassed him. He laughed but his face coloured and he studied the bushes with greater application. I turned our conversation to another, less raw subject, asking if he had heard lately from his sister, who I understood was a nun and in London with Princess Mahaut’s household. There was evidently a great fondness between them and I enjoyed listening to Haith talk about her. I was surprised when the vista of the long, yellow beach suddenly opened up before us, not realising that we had made such progress already.

  ‘Shall we gallop on the beach?’ Haith said with enthusiasm.

  Now it was my turn to be flummoxed. This beach was where my brother, Goronwy, had been killed. The last time I had seen horses galloping here it was the Norman invaders with their swords drawn bearing down upon us; it was Gerald (as I now knew) swinging his blade towards my brother’s delicate neck. I looked at the sand twinkling. Little rills and pools left behind by the tide sparkled with sunlight. I stroked my horse’s neck. ‘Yes,’ I said. It was time I replaced bad memories with good ones. I had learnt to ride on this beach with Goronwy. We had trotted up and down, side by side on our small ponies; he so sceptical that I could stay upright and not tumble to the sands in a bundle of aprons and frills he said, scoffing at me. I had proven him wrong, and had always been a good horsewoman.

  With that memory in my eyes, I took off, giving Haith a surprise, kicking my horse into a sudden gallop, racing fast across the long, sunny stretch. I raced past the jagged, green shards of a shipwreck sucked down and embedded in the wet sand like the ribcage of a cow rotting into the ground. It took Haith a while to catch up with me, even on his big destrier, and then we raced wildly neck and neck, my hair blowing in my mouth and eyes, my knees gripping. At the high cliff, the beach ran out abruptly with the turning tide starting to swirl back around the harshly serrated rocks that were chiselled in green, grey and purple striations. We were forced to pull up our horses. I stared silently for a while at the layers of gnarled rock folded around themselves, mesmerised by the relentless to and fro of the waters, the relentless erasure of all traces of each day beneath the heavy grey swell of the water, thinking of everything that it had covered over.

  We dismounted to rest the horses. They were lathered with white patches of sweat. ‘There’s a freshwater pond just up here.’ I pointed to a goat’s path, barely discernible amidst the lush reeds. ‘They can drink up there.’ I led the way with Haith behind me. When we came within sight of the pond, we let go of our bridles and the horses ambled to the water’s edge to bend their necks.

  ‘If only we could do the same,’ said Haith, looking at the unappetising green swirl of the pond.

  ‘The spring is close by.’ I took his h
and and ignored his surprise at it, leading him through a small copse of trees and up a slight rise. I, too, was surprised that I had taken his hand, but decided it would be more awkward to let go now. Perhaps it was an old memory of running here, hand in hand with Goronwy that had prompted me to it. The spring was a beautiful sight with a good run of pure water spurting straight from the rock into a small, deep pool surrounded by boulders. We let go of each other’s awkward hands with relief and reached to the flow, cupping mouthfuls. I swiped a little of the freezing water across the back of my neck.

  ‘Hot,’ Haith said.

  I unclasped my cloak and set it down and Haith followed suit, soon resorting to stripping off his necktie and tunic too, and standing in his white shirt and green trews. Looking down at myself, I wondered if there was anything else that could decently be removed. It was unbearably warm. I looked with longing at the small stone pool. If I had been alone, I would have immersed myself in the water. The horses ambled up the slope to join us and stood in the dappled shade at the edge of the trees. We sat on the green mossed rocks at the edge of the pool.

  ‘I was thinking to take off shoes,’ he said.

  ‘Good idea.’ I slipped mine off and let out an inadvertant screech and laugh as I dipped one foot in the frigid water. The wet stones were slippery and I nearly lost my balance. Haith leant rapidly to grip my arm and the shoe he had been in the process of removing flew from his hand, plopped into the pool and sank.

  ‘Drat!’

  ‘You’ll have to retrieve it,’ I laughed. The horses swished their tails at the flies and chomped quietly on the grass. The air felt leaden, lazy. We sat gingerly at the water’s edge, dangling our feet in the water to cool down. Peering at the surface, I thought I could see Haith’s shoe below one of my feet. ‘I think that’s it there.’ I leant a little, reaching with my toe to try and hook it.