Prince of Time (31 page)

 “Your men must have worked like demons!” Dafydd dismounted from Aneirin, his new stallion, named for the great bard. The tunnel that Goronwy’s men had dug began at a low point, a hundred yards from the southern castle wall. The troops had set up wooden barricades to shield them from watchers’ eyes. The majority of Goronwy’s men camped at the edge of the trees, two hundred yards away and out of bow range. Dafydd walked into the entrance and gazed down the long tunnel. Timbers supported the roof, which stretched into the darkness.

 “As you can see, my lord, we’ve begun the undermining process,” Goronwy said. “The men are near the castle walls now. Conveniently for us at this stage, the rampart is in front of the ditch. The wall’s foundation is deep, however, and it won’t be easy to bring it down.”

“The black powder should take care of that,” Dafydd said.

“We captured the messengers Tosny dispatched to England,” Goronwy said. “No others have left the castle since.”

“Good,” Dafydd said. “Edward has been dead nearly a month, and this is the last thing any of the English lords want or need. We take this castle, and Brecon after that, and they’ll come begging for peace.”

“Hereford won’t,” I said.

“Hereford won’t have a choice,” Dafydd said. “He’s more than a Marcher lord now. As regent, his responsibility is to the whole of England—a new concept for him, I admit, but one that the other regents will force him to see. I want to take the castle before Tosny’s reinforcements arrive, if they arrive.”

“Tonight?” Goronwy said.

Dafydd canted his head toward the wagons behind us. “We should be able to bring down the castle wall with the powder we’ve made. If it works, that is. This could be very dangerous, so I need your most experienced miners to set it up.”

“I will see to it,” Goronwy said.

“Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Dafydd nodded and he and I returned to our horses. Bevyn had brought Llywd home for me. He’d weathered the trip with no difficulties. It still rankled Dafydd that circumstances had required him to leave Taranis in a ditch beside the road in England. I assured him that dying in battle was a noble ending for a warhorse, but he wasn’t comforted. He viewed Taranis’ loss as careless and—
stupid
, was the word he used.

Back in the trees again, we rode north along a path that was just out of bowshot of the walls, and reached the line of archers that hovered on the edge of the woods, occasionally firing off a shot in the direction of the ramparts. It was exactly as it had been at Bronllys, except the terrain here was less hilly.

 Dafydd dismounted again.

“My lord?” I said, wondering why he’d stopped, and then saw who’d caught his attention:
Lili
. As we watched, she pressed and loosed an arrow. Despite my misgivings at her presence, I congratulated myself on teaching her such good form. In truth, she was wasted in this company. A mass of arrows, fired in unison at the enemy and which came down like a rain of hail would win the day, not accuracy.

Once darkness descended, the archers and siege engines could move closer without being seen from the castle. The archers would shoot our new fire arrows, the trebuchets would throw caskets filled with black powder and metal fragments we’d laced with gasoline, and the powder would explode the castle walls.

“I feel your disapproval like a black cloud over my head, my lord.” Lili looked at Dafydd over her shoulder.

He spread his hands wide, conveying his innocence. “Did I say anything? I don’t recall saying anything.”

“But you thought something,” she said.

“More along the lines of ‘what’s
she
doing here?’ I admit,” he said.

“Your sister and mother are to the rear, aiding the wounded.” Lili glanced at me. “Bronwen is there too.”

“We’ll see them now, before it gets dark and the world goes crazy,” Dafydd said.

“Aren’t you going to order me away from the line?” Lili said.

“No.” Dafydd stepped away and remounted Aneirin. “You’ve sworn you can take care of yourself. I expect you to do just that.”

Lili’s face was a pale circle in the darkness under the trees. “Yes, my lord.”

We left, me with my mouth shut and my tongue between my teeth.

Marged greeted us as we entered the pavilion for the wounded. Dafydd stopped short—given pause by the number of men who already lay on the ground around him. “What’s this?” he said to his mother.

“Accidents, mostly,” she said. “One poor man over there almost chopped off his foot with an axe.”

I whispered in his left ear. “Malingering, my lord?”

Marged overheard me. “Don’t say that. That’s the last thing we need, though I don’t see it as a concern at all. Overall, my impression is that morale is very high.”

Dafydd looked past her to Anna. “What are you doing here?”

Anna’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? Why shouldn’t I be here?”

“What about Cadell?”

“He’s sleeping in the car with his nanny. Like every other baby ever born, he fell asleep within minutes of starting the car. Wena promised to come get me when he wakes and Bronwen will drive me back to Aberedw.”

“Right,” Bronwen said, from her post at a man’s side. She was winding a strip of cloth around a cut on his wrist while he sat on a stool in front of her. I walked over to her and patted the man on his shoulder.

“You’re in good hands,” I said to him.

“I know it,” the man said. “And not just because of your beautiful lady. This is just a scratch. It could have been an arrow’s wound. I was walking up the hill and slipped in the mud just as an arrow shot over my head. I’ll be back in the line by sunset.”

“They’re all like this, Ieuan,” Bronwen said. “Not one of them will hear of staying behind.”

I kissed the top of her head and turned to leave, but Bronwen grabbed my hand and followed me out of the tent. “I heard that you’re going to lead the assault through the breach in the wall, if the black powder brings it down as David hopes.”

“Bronwen—”

“I heard you volunteered to do it.”

I wanted to touch her, but she’d folded her arms across her chest. “This is who I am, Bronwen.”

Goronwy had offered to lead the footmen in their attack on the castle, but Prince Llywelyn had dissuaded him of it. That job belonged to a younger man.
Me
.

“Why?” she said, anguish in her voice. “When we rode with Dafydd to get the car, I had no idea what we were getting into. Now, I do.” Her shoulders sagged and she softened her stance. Recognizing that her need matched mine, I tugged her into my arms.

“Because it’s my job,” I said, “and I’m good at it.”

“What if you don’t come back?” Bronwen looked up at me. “What is there for me here without you?”

“There are two answers to that question, Bronwen,” I said, “and you already know them both. The first is that I don’t believe I’m going to die tonight. I don’t feel it, but I can’t promise you that I won’t.”

“Then don’t go,” she said, her voice muffled in my chest.

“I could die tomorrow, next month, next year. Your happiness can’t depend on me, as much as part of me wants it to. If I die, other people here will still love you.”

“And that’s the second answer,” Bronwen said.

I pulled her closer and bent my head to kiss her. She tightened her arms around my neck. “Come back. I need you to come back.”

“You’re not the only one who needs it,” I said, my voice soft in her ear. “I will come back for you.”

* * * * *

The battle started as soon as it got dark. We had only two trebuchets because they are expensive to build and complicated to work. Dafydd let me hold his binoculars so I could watch the flaming casks hit. The first one fell short, as the men who manned it tried to find the range. Meanwhile, a stone from the other trebuchet slammed into the side of the curtain wall, ripping off the top crenellations. I glanced at the Prince. He wanted more. He didn’t just want to destroy Painscastle, he wanted to demoralize the English.

With the next shot, the men manning the first trebuchet got going in earnest. Each cask arced through the air in a magnificent trajectory of light, then disappeared over the curtain wall into the bailey. The screams of the defenders were audible from where we stood. In an hour, we managed twelve shots.

“Have they put up a flag?” Dafydd said. “I don’t see one.”

“No, my lord,” I said.

“Tell Goronwy before you join your men that he can bring down the wall whenever he’s ready and Madog to move the archers forward,” he said. “Make sure they’re properly shielded.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Madog was the captain of the archers, whom I’d not met personally before. I’d made it my business to become acquainted with him, however, once it became clear that Lili was determined to fight amongst his men. “If anything happens to her, I will personally rip your head off.”

“She’ll be well protected, my lord, but safer yet would to have her at home, weaving among your women.”

I growled at him. “Did you tell her that?”

He’d grinned at my ferocity. “Me?” He held up his hands, palms outward. “Worth more than my life to tell her anything, I think. That’s
your
job, my lord.”

Now, the foot soldiers and I crowded behind and to one side of the archers. They’d provide cover for us for the two hundred yards separating the tree line from the castle walls. In the momentary lull, I pulled my sword from its sheath, stabbed it into the ground in front of me, and knelt.
Dear God, keep me safe. Let me return well and whole.
I kissed the point of the cross and with each heartbeat that passed, locked my emotions more tightly into a box in my mind and put it away, on a high shelf. Some men fought angry and it gave them power. I strove to feel nothing—no anger, hatred, love—that would distract me from the task at hand.
I’ve no love for Bronwen; no fear for Lili; no regret for a life half-lived. There is only the sword in my hand and my men beside me, with death a widening abyss beneath my feet.

A commotion came from the tunnel entrance. A man ran out, shouting, “It’s lit! It’s lit!”

Whump!

I felt the power of the blast, more than heard it. Less than a second later, the ground shook and Painscastle’s curtain wall exploded into the sky. Fragments of stone and dirt shot fifty feet into the air. They came down like rain, thudding into the ground on both sides of the rampart.

Then the archers started firing their arrows over our heads and we ran across the grass towards the castle, screaming our battle cry until our throats went hoarse. I shouted at the top of my lungs, my sword raised high, but even I couldn’t make sense of what I was saying. The trebuchet fired a cask; it exploded on the keep and shot metal fragments (shrapnel, Dafydd said) in every direction.

It took us thirty seconds to reach the wall—fast considering the rough terrain, but the men had spent the day preparing themselves for battle and were fully charged with courage. We stormed through the breach in the wall, the men stumbling over the stones that descended out of the opening on both sides and filled the ditch behind the wall. The men behind were pushing hard, and some of those in front went down. I grasped one man’s collar and hauled him to his feet as I passed him.

Painscastle was lost the moment we passed the wall and surged into the defenders, who’d been slow to fill the gap. If they’d been able to meet us at the top, we would have fought, pressed against each other so closely a man could hardly wield his sword. Instead, I got three paces down the other side of the pile of stones before anyone countered my advance, and my men spilled into the bailey behind me.

All the buildings had caught fire and metal littered the ground. I hoped Tosny had pulled his non-combatants into the keep, because any left out here would be dead within the half hour. We outnumbered the English, and no matter the ferocity of their defense, now that their wall was breached, they would lose.

I faced an Englishman, his helmet askew and wearing a scorched surcoat. Our swords met, but we were pressed so close together, I only managed one swing before I gave up and bashed his face with my shield. He staggered back, tripped on the stones behind him, and fell. I lost track of him instantly as I had to meet the sword of the man behind him. This one was much larger, but like his fellows, shocked by the barrage and the explosions. I caught his downward slash with my shield, and slid my sword under his guard and into his belly. He fell, and I moved on to the next man. And then the next.

Finally, I reached the barbican—the fortified gateway that protected the motte on which the keep sat. I swung around. We’d charged the wall with nearly two hundred men and encountered less than a third of that number. Most of Tosny’s men had fallen, but it was not my job to finish the rest. I grabbed the arm of one of my men, one of the youngest.

“Run to Lord Goronwy. I need archers atop these battlements.” I gestured to the walls that surrounded the bailey—those that were still standing, that is. “Tell him we’ve penned Tosny in his tower. We need to keep him there until he sues for peace.”

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said. He flitted through the wall and was gone.

The intensity of
being
that always filled me during battle began to fade and my vision cleared. Soon, my men had finished their work in the bailey and archers began struggling through the gap in the wall. Lili was among them, but before I could berate her, she grasped my arm.

“I’m a messenger, only,” she said. “Your man, Brychan is here, and knows what to do. Prince Dafydd asks that you return with me. He would have your counsel as to what comes next.”

* * * * *

We met in the early hours of the morning. Bronwen had taken Anna to Aberedw Castle, and returned with Prince Llywelyn. He stood with Dafydd and his other lords, including Goronwy and Math, who’d ridden in from Brecon an hour before.

“Tosny refuses to surrender?” Math said. “Why?”

“Perhaps he fears we will put him to the sword,” I said.

“Edward would have,” Goronwy said. “Edward did, in fact, most recently at Castell y Bere. For all the years he’s lived in Wales, Tosny knows little of its Prince.”