Although he’d fought beside Roger of Haworth
during his brief tenure as ally to the earl of Chester, Rhirid had
never really considered his ability as a opponent. Haworth was
probably his own height but broader and heavier. His dark face and
unsmiling demeanor gave him the aura of being in deadly earnest,
whatever his task. He hefted his sword effortlessly, as if it were
merely an extension of his hand. He stood a few feet from the
horse, waiting for Rhirid, watching him without expression,
motionless.
The Welshman, however, wasn’t intimidated.
He’d thought that the dizziness might return once the battle on the
road had died away and the breathless excitement with it, but
images flashing through his mind of his fortress invaded and Olwen
snatched away kept his heart pounding rapidly and every muscle in
his body tingling. Rhirid wanted this fight. Without hesitation, he
lifted his sword—
“Peace!” someone shouted desperately.
“Peace!”
All eyes turned to the newcomer entering the
clearing, a man on horseback—a Norman—slightly disheveled in
appearance as though he’d also fought in the ambush. He was
followed by other Normans.
“Lord Rhirid, please! One moment!” the man
called anxiously. He pulled up on the reins to halt the horse,
swung himself out of the saddle and onto the ground and removed his
helmet. It was Richard Delamere. “Will you tell me what’s
happening?” he asked, breathing heavily.
“I’ve just challenged this man,” Rhirid said,
sounding faintly puzzled. Wasn’t it obvious?
Delamere’s eyes slid to Haworth and back. “Do
you know who he is?”
“Of course I do, Sir Richard!” Rhirid jabbed
the point of his sword in Haworth’s direction. “He’s the dog who
invaded my land.”
“Yes, but he’s also our most valuable
prisoner, Lord Rhirid,” Delamere said. “I must ask you to rescind
your challenge and turn him over to Lord William.”
“What?” Rhirid asked incredulously. He
snorted. “No!”
“Lord Rhirid, please listen! The earl has
slipped the trap and escaped. If he gets past Lord William, then
all of this has been for nothing—unless we have something, or
someone, with which to bargain! Chester holds this man Haworth in
high regard. He will give anything to get him back!”
Rhirid frowned, and was promptly rewarded
with a stabbing pain behind his eyes. He said angrily, “It’s not my
fault that the plan Lord William concocted failed to trap the earl.
He had his chance! And now I’ve got my chance to kill this one
here. Unlike Lord William, I don’t intend to fail.”
Delamere came up close to him so that no one
else could hear. Although the words he’d already spoken had been
polite and respectful, Rhirid could see quite clearly the hatred
searing his face. It was a mutual feeling; Rhirid would just as
willingly have fought Richard Delamere as Roger of Haworth.
Delamere clenched his jaw and made an obvious
effort to control his temper. In a low, tight voice he said, “I’m
here as Lord William’s emissary. It is in this capacity that I beg
you to rescind your challenge and give up your prisoner. If it’s a
question of payment—”
“Payment!” Rhirid exploded. His eyes bored
into Delamere’s. “This is the man who invaded my land and took
Olwen away by force! The insult he did me is beyond
compensation!”
Delamere was outraged. He took another step
closer. “Now you know how I feel, Welshman!” he said so quietly it
was almost a whisper; a furious, earnest whisper.
“You should never have left
her alone—
Norman
,”
Rhirid snapped, and then his lip curled with pleasure at Delamere’s
predicament. “Soon, she’ll be back where she belongs.
Llanlleyn.”
The knight’s face flushed angrily. “Not if
the earl makes it back to Hawarden and we’ve nothing to bargain
with! This time I’m asking for myself. Don’t fight Haworth. I’ve
seen him work. You’ll lose. And that will deprive me of the
opportunity to kill you myself!”
They stood eye to eye. Rhirid considered
Delamere’s words, a task suddenly made difficult by the headache
which had returned with all its former fury. He managed a cocky
grin. “Sir Richard, I feel so good today I’m certain I could take
the both of you. But Lord William agreed to help me and in honor of
our alliance, I’ll now help him. On one condition: if Lord William
has no use for him after all, Roger of Haworth is given back to
me.”
“Fine,” Delamere said tersely and began to
turn away.
“One more thing, Sir Richard,” Rhirid spoke
up. Delamere waited with an impatient expression. “Our duel. Please
arrange for it as soon as possible. I intend to marry Olwen and I
don’t want anyone standing in my way.”
Olwen burst into the room and shut the door
with an unintentional bang. She hurried towards the inner chamber.
“Lady Teleri! Lady Teleri, please wake up!”
“I
am
awake—who can sleep with all the
noise you’re making!” a grumpy voice complained. “Come light the
candles.”
Teleri’s bedchamber was shrouded in murky,
early evening shadows. Teleri herself lay in bed as she had been
wont to do since the earl’s departure several days earlier,
preferring to sleep away the time instead of enduring it with an
increasing lack of spirit. The realization that her arrival at
Hawarden had been a complete accident and that the earl wasn’t
interested in her company had made her melancholy and the routine
of boredom in a household in which she played no part had quickly
killed the initial appeal of her new surroundings.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position
and watched as Olwen flew from one lamp to another. “What on earth
is wrong?”
“The earl has returned.”
“Oh. Obviously the news bothers you…”
“Lady Teleri, he’s returned with only
eighteen men.”
Teleri yawned. “What of it? It’s getting dark
and he probably didn’t want to spend another night outdoors if he
was close to home, so he and some of his knights went ahead
of—Well?” she demanded. Olwen was shaking her head violently.
“I’ve heard terrible rumors, Lady Teleri!
There are only eighteen men with the earl because all the others
were captured or killed. There was an ambush! And Lord William was
there, as well!”
“Lord William?” Teleri frowned. “But how did
he know?”
“Perhaps Lord Rhirid sought him out.”
Teleri made a dismissive gesture.
“Impossible! Why would he—” she started but broke off abruptly and
stared at the other woman with an appraising eye.
“They’re saying the Welsh and Lord William
will be here soon,” Olwen continued, too frantic to notice the
scrutiny. “That there will be a siege and that the earl has said
many times how easily his castle can withstand a siege of
months—perhaps years! Lady Teleri, I can’t stay here for years! My
children need me! I must be with my sons!”
“Calm down, Olwen! You only heard talk; you
don’t know anything for certain.” But even talk had a kernel of
truth to it. The gossip machine ran as surely at Hawarden as it did
at Rhuddlan and it was no secret to them that Rhirid and Gruffudd
had joined forces and that the earl had taken his army to confront
them. And now, if Longsword was also involved, it seemed the entire
western part of Gwynedd was fighting for her and Olwen.
She drew up her legs and put her arms around
her knees. She grinned. “I don’t think there will be a siege.”
Olwen wiped her eyes. “Why not?”
“Well, if the earl has come
back with only eighteen men, then Lord William and Lord Rhirid have
many prisoners. And prisoners must be ransomed…Or exchanged for
hostages. Meaning
us
, Olwen.”
The idea that she was finally of value
cheered her immensely. She scrambled out of the bed and crossed the
floor to the window, which overlooked the upper bailey. She could
see no increase in the mundane activity there but further below,
down the motte, the lower bailey was full of tiny, darting figures:
men swarming along the walls like ants on a discarded bone. She
raised her gaze to the fields beyond and farther, to the hazy
fringes of the forest, to where Rhirid and Longsword would
appear.
As yet, the fields were empty and quiet. Dusk
was spreading quickly; probably Longsword wouldn’t arrive until the
following day. She wondered idly how he would find her—it seemed
years since they’d last seen each other, although it was merely
weeks. A thought crossed her mind and the irony of it made her
chuckle.
“What is it, Lady Teleri?” Olwen asked
anxiously. “What do you see?”
Teleri stepped down from the window. “Nothing
yet,” she said. “I laughed because for the first time, the idea of
meeting my husband doesn’t make me shudder. That’s how desperate I
am to get out of here.”
Olwen was so astonished that her anxiety
evaporated. “But I thought you never wanted to see Rhuddlan
again—when we were at Llanlleyn, you insisted you would only return
to the Perfeddwlad…”
Teleri shrugged. “I know, but I’ve changed my
mind. I’ve had a lot of time lately to think.” Another smile pulled
at her lips and she added in a modest voice, “Besides, it would be
churlish to spurn Lord William when he’s gone to all this trouble
to fetch me.”
Longsword watched the day wane and with it,
he thought, his last chance to defeat the earl of Chester. And as
the shadows grew, so did his frustration.
He was angry because his plan had failed; the
earl had slipped through every trap laid for him and was,
presumably, once more ensconced behind the walls of Hawarden. He
was angry because Gruffudd ap Madog and Rhirid and their men had
acquitted themselves well during the battle and had done what they
were supposed to have done. He was angry because of all that might
have failed out of all he had planned, it had been his own part
which had gone disastrously wrong.
But above all, he was angry because he’d
wanted to march in triumph to Hawarden, Chester’s head stuck on the
point of a pike, three armies at his back, and impress the countess
with his military prowess.
Well, there would be no impressing now. He
racked his mind for some other way to get to the earl and kill him,
and discarded every idea. The man was absurdly lucky. And there
wasn’t any point in sitting outside Hawarden; he couldn’t possibly
hope to outlast the well-provisioned and secure fortress unless he
was prepared to wait a year or more…
Chester had won. There would be an exchange
of hostages, he and the Welsh would go home and everything would be
as it had been.
The general disposition of the camp was a
pleased satisfaction. No one knew of his desperate desire to murder
the earl and so everyone was content with the effect of the ambush,
the seizure of nearly one hundred prisoners and the forced flight
of the earl of Chester. The ransoms were certain to make many rich.
There was music and merriment on the Norman and Welsh sides of the
camp and even some friendly exchanges of the paraphernalia of
warfare.
Although his smile felt as if it looked
false, Longsword maintained a celebratory demeanor so he would not
dampen the spirits of his men. Delamere, however, had no such
qualms. He rode into the makeshift camp at dusk with Rhirid and his
huge champion and such an evident frown that no one had the nerve
to call a greeting to him. Strangely enough, one glance at his
friend’s set face had the perverse effect of lightening Longsword’s
own mood. Longsword always felt slightly apprehensive when Delamere
was out of sorts, as if the entire natural world ebbed and flowed
according to his whim. It was impossible to dwell on his own
problems when the likelihood of earthly disaster loomed
imminent.
He turned to acknowledge Rhirid but his
attention was caught by a figure on horseback just behind him,
guarded by Normans, and two others, obviously dead. When Longsword
realized who the live one was, his mood improved further still. It
would not be a routine exchange of hostages after all; now, at
least, he could withdraw with dignity intact. All at once, the
smile was genuine.
Delamere dismounted, tossing the reins to a
squire. He inclined his head at Longsword. “My lord…”
“Richard, is that who I think it is?”
“Yes. He was about to kill Rhirid when I rode
up and saved his hide.”
“Whose? Rhirid’s?”
Delamere glowered. “Why should I want to save
Rhirid’s hide? No, Haworth’s. Rhirid’s warriors would have ripped
him apart after he killed their chief.” He looked past Longsword
and across the field to the forest and then his line of vision
swept back to linger on Gruffudd’s men. “The earl?”
“Safe and sound, the hellspawn.” Longsword
spat onto the ground. “Who’re the other two?”
“One’s ours. The other is Ralph de Vire.”
“De Vire!” He was shocked and suddenly felt
uncomfortable. “A bad end…” he muttered.
Fortunately, Delamere was not in the mood for
reproach. “I’ll see to Haworth,” he said shortly and began to walk
away. He stopped almost immediately and turned around. “By the
way,” he added, “keep your new friend away from me. I don’t trust
myself around him.”
Longsword walked off to the edge of the
encampment to relieve himself, and stopped to stare up into the
clear night sky and think. Encumbered by prisoners who needed to be
guarded, baggage carts pulled by lumbering oxen and scores of men
on foot, he figured he’d need the better part of a day to make it
to Hawarden. If the weather held. Negotiations could start the next
morning…He knew Chester would pay generously to ransom his
men…Haworth was certainly worth Olwen…Teleri he’d part with for
nothing, to avoid problems with the prince, who might complain to
the king…If there was any part of the drama which caused Longsword
the slightest anxiety, it was the thought that the earl, in his
anger, might exact on Gwalaes the revenge he could not take on his
more inaccessible adversary. Having Haworth was no advantage if
Gwalaes was to be threatened—