by Kevin Ashman
‘When will he return?’ asked a voice.
‘I know not for sure but it is said he could be back within months. Until then the country is still led by a coalition of favoured nobles and is nothing but a ship without a rudder. You would think, would you not, that a strong Prince of equal nobility would seize the chance of Kingship?’
‘You talk of Llewellyn?’ suggested Idwal.
‘I do, but we all know he is a man of hesitation and fails to see the opportunity which begs for attention at his feet.’
‘Llewellyn would never attack London,’ said another voice, ‘his army is too weak.’
‘And his treasuries too full of the King’s gold,’ sneered another. ‘He has been in Henry’s pay since the treaty of Montgomery. Why would he attack the very system that fills his coffers?’
‘I have heard a different account,’ interceded Sir Robert. ‘They say he struggles to pay tribute to the crown each year and since the King’s death, has neglected to send the three thousand marks the treaty demands.’
‘If that is so,’ said Idwal, ‘why does his tax collector still cast his shadow across my gates? He still collects his taxes from the likes of us and I fear we have a man who has lost his way and kneels to the English crown at the slightest whim.’
‘You do him a disservice, Sir,’ said Sir Robert. ‘Forget not it was he who defeated the English at Cadfan and single handedly united Wales under his rule.’
‘That’s as may be but was over twenty years ago. Since then he signed terms at Montgomery and his rule has been as diluted as the wine in a cheap tavern.’
‘Gentlemen,’ interrupted Tarian, ‘we squabble like washer women yet the facts are these. The crown of England is weak and Longshanks’ return is imminent. The future is unknown and a veil of uncertainty clouds our vision. As a Squire, I carried a Knight’s shield onto the battlefield at Cadfan and yes, Llewellyn was as impressive as the bards’ songs suggest but he is that man no more. His time is done. What we need is a new torch to light the way, a guiding light to take us through the darkness of uncertain times and unite the country under a common banner and if that means facing Longshanks across the battlefield of a misty morning, then so be it.’
A gasp went around the table for though they hated the crown with a passion, another uprising could cause an all-out war between countries.
‘Calm yourselves,’ said Tarian, noticing the angst amongst them, ‘I have not brought you here to plan rebellion, at least not yet. I have a different idea. A path not considered by any man here nor any other I know. It is different and dangerous yet could provide an answer to all the uncertainty that tears our country apart. This is why I have brought you here, to hear my plans and hopefully pledge your support. All I ask is you hear me out and if you think I speak as a fool, then you are free to leave with our friendship intact.’
The noise died down as everyone waited for him to continue.
‘What I am about to suggest,’ said Tarian,’ will stretch your minds to the limit. It will ask you to suspend belief and entrust your faith not only in the Lord but in my ancestry and limited evidence. Yet, if what I am about to propose comes to pass, it will enable this country to be united once more under a common banner recognized by all. However, should this scheme fall upon the ears of the court of either Longshanks or indeed Llewellyn, then I fear all our heads will be set upon pikes above the Tower of London within a month. For this reason I ask that any man not willing to contemplate treason leaves now before it is too late. Absent yourself without fear of retribution for nothing we have said so far is evidence of anything except the drunken ramblings of old men. However, if it is your choice to stay and hear my vision, then there is no going back and if I have any suspicion of even a rumour leaving this tower then my wrath will fall upon you like a rabid bear.’ He looked around the room at the silent men. ‘So, he continued, ‘let it be known which side of these walls you stand, inside or out.’
For a moment nobody moved until an old man at the back of the hall pulled himself to his feet.
‘Tarian,’ he said. ‘I have been honoured to call you friend for many years. Before that, I fought alongside your father at Cadfan and consider myself your family’s most loyal comrade. However, my bones are weary and I find more comfort before the logs of my hearth than hunting the deer on my courser. My heart craves the adventure of youth but my head overrules such foolish whims. I fear my days of campaign are over, so for that reason, I will decline involvement and respectfully withdraw from your presence.’
‘Sir Bevan,’ answered Tarian. ‘Go with head held high for there is not one amongst us who doubts your courage and I know you will keep your silence in these matters. Go forth with my gratitude and respect.’
Sir Bevan nodded silently and turned to leave the hall. When he had gone Tarian turned to the remaining nobles.
‘Is there anyone else?’
Nobody moved, so Taran walked over and secured the door once again before returning to the head of the table.
‘So this is it,’ he said. ‘Brothers united in a noble cause. Prepare yourselves for astonishment, my friends for the tale I am about to relate has the power to change our world.’
----
Chapter Three
The Benedictine Abbey
Brycheniog 1274
Father Williams walked around the cloisters taking in the morning air. His journey from the holy-land had been arduous and had taken much longer than he had anticipated. Longshanks had decreed he would travel via Rome and he had been escorted on his journey by a unit of Hospitaller Knights. As instructed, they had sailed via Cyprus before landing at Venice and travelling overland to surrender the relic recently discovered in Syria.
The sea voyage had been rough and in his weakened state he had caught a fever, coming close to death but the prayers of the pious Knights seem to have been answered and the fever broke before they reached the mainland. As soon as he was strong enough, the Hospitallers bought a covered wagon and they continued their journey to Rome to deliver his sacred package.
That had taken the best part of two years and though he was now back within the familiar walls of his own abbey, he was exhausted from travelling and he drank in the familiarity of his surroundings with silent gratitude. He looked up at the familiar pre-dawn stars visible in the navy sky. This had always been his favourite part of the day, the time between morning prayers and breaking his fast.
A noise behind him made him turn and he saw a silhouette of a hooded man standing quietly in the shadows.
‘Brother Maynard,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘Father, forgive me,’ said the Monk. ‘I know you favour this place and since you have been away, I too have taken the opportunity to wonder at God’s majesty during this quiet time. I intended being gone before you came out but alas was slow in my execution.’
‘Worry not, Brother,’ said Father Williams, ‘God’s majesty is big enough for both of us. Come, join me under his splendour.’
The two Monks walked quietly around the cloisters, talking quietly about the business of the abbey. Finally Brother Maynard broached the subject everyone was desperate to hear more about.
‘Father,’ he said, ‘would it be remiss of me to enquire about Rome?’
‘I don’t see why,’ said Father Williams, ‘knowledge is good for all men and as such we have a duty to share. What do you want to know?’
‘Everything,’ said Father Maynard, ‘I have heard it is a beautiful city.’
‘It is indeed,’ said the Abbot. ‘The Cathedrals are a sight to behold and all the holy palaces are lined with the finest marble.’
‘Is it true that artisans roam the streets in search of commissions?’
‘Indeed they do,’ said the Abbot, ‘and many are given tasks to decorate the walls of the churches. Personally I prefer something a little more austere but there is no denying their work is remarkable. Pictures the size of ten men atop one another illustrate passages fr
om the bible and the gaze of our Lord peers down from every corner.’
‘It sounds wonderful,’ said Brother Maynard. ‘You must have been immersed in the glory of Christ but it does make me wonder why you have returned so soon. Surely it was an opportunity to bask in our Lord’s glory, especially as you were the bearer of Christ’s cross?’
The Abbott turned to stare at the Monk.
‘You know about the cross?’
‘A little,’ said the Monk. ‘Apparently the taverns are rife with rumours and the tales are repeated here by the traders who supply the kitchens.’
‘What do you know exactly?’
‘Only that Garyn ap Thomas, the blacksmith’s son, rescued the artefact from the possession of the heathen and delivered it unto Prince Edward. Subsequently you were tasked with delivering the relic to the Pope himself. Is this true, Father, for surely the fact that two people of this manor played such an important part in the tale is something to be celebrated? We are truly blessed.’
‘The tale is true to an extent,’ said the Abbot, ‘but unfortunately falls short of the conclusion.’
‘There is more?’ asked the Monk.
‘There is and I will share it with you soon but first there is business to attend. After we have broken our fast attend me in my rooms, for I have a task I would have you undertake on my behalf.’
‘Of course,’ said Brother Maynard and together they re-entered the corridors to make their way to the eating hall. Outside, the first birdsong heralded the approach of the dawn.
----
The day passed warm and sunny and down near the village, Garyn ap Thomas stood atop of a wooden scaffold passing up bales of packed straw. The sun was hot on his naked back and sweat dripped off his chin as he laboured to replace the roof that had been destroyed by fire four years earlier. The thatcher placed the bales in place ready to be pinned to the lower layer, keen to get them all up before it got dark.
‘One more day, Master Garyn and all the hard work will be done. The rest will be trimming and dressing.’
‘A welcome thought indeed,’ said Garyn, ‘I never realised it was such hard work.’
‘Lucky we have the weather,’ said the thatcher. ‘At least the house will be habitable again before the autumn sets in.’
‘Garyn,’ called a voice, ‘I have ale and cheese.’
‘A few minutes more, Elspeth,’ answered Garyn. ‘We’ll get these last few bales up and then take a break.’
Elspeth was Garyn’s young wife and was the daughter of the village fletcher. They had been wed soon after Garyn had returned from the holy-land two years earlier. He lifted the last bale onto the rafters and climbed down the ladder to face the girl.
‘I can’t stay long,’ said Elspeth, ‘my father needs more goose feathers from the manor. By the time you return home I’ll be back and we can eat together. Father has caught a couple of hares and mother is cleaning the turnips as we speak’
‘Soon this will be our home,’ said Garyn, glancing at the smoke blackened walls. ‘Another week, two at most and we will be sat at our own hearth making our own hare broth.’
‘It has been a hard few years, Garyn, I can hardly wait. What about the shutters?’
‘Geraint is making them. By the time the roof is finished the walls will be weather tight and a new door will keep wolves and brigands at bay.’
‘Don’t even jest about such things,’ said Elspeth. ‘It is said a Wolf took a child from the outskirts of Senni just a few weeks ago.’
‘A mere tale to frighten children,’ said Garyn with a smile.
‘Possibly but you can’t deny they are getting braver. Anyway, how is Geraint? I haven’t seen him for many weeks.’
‘He is much better,’ said Garyn, ‘and has regained much of the muscle he lost in the dungeons of Sir John. He still refuses to speak about what happened down there but at least he is regaining his health.’
‘And Misha?’
‘She has settled in well though many heads turn to stare when they walk into Brycheniog.’
‘To be fair, not many have seen anyone with such skin colour before,’ said Elspeth, ‘it has been likened to a seasoned hazelnut. Does Geraint intend to take her as his wife?’
‘They have got very close,’ said Garyn, ‘but marriage between Christian and Muslim is forbidden by the church. Until recently he was too sick for such things to be an issue but as he regains his strength his thoughts turn to the future and I feel there may be upset to come.’
‘In what way?’
‘At the moment, Misha shares the rooms of the serving girls at the manor while Geraint helps with the stock and sleeps above the stables but soon he will want to make his own way and as far as I can see, whatever future he pursues, it will include Misha.’
‘But surely there will be a place alongside you at the forge?’
‘I had hoped so but he has never taken much interest in the ways of iron. He seeks a more adventurous life and talks of making his fortune overseas.’
‘God will decide his path,’ sighed Elspeth. ‘Anyway, take this cheese for now and we will eat a meal fit for Kings when you get home. ‘
Garyn kissed her goodbye and watched as she made her way to the track that would lead her to the manor a few miles away.
‘A fine looking woman,’ said the thatcher joining Garyn on the ground.
‘She is,’ said Garyn. ‘Sometimes I feel I don’t deserve her.’
‘It is said she waited for you while you were on crusade,’ said the thatcher.
‘It is true she waited,’ said Garyn, ‘but I never took the way of the cross. I simply travelled to the holy-land to ensure my brother was safe.’
‘But wasn’t there a little matter about a holy relic?’
Garyn looked at the thatcher and laughed.
‘Gossiping in the tavern again Tom?’
‘I wouldn’t say gossiping,’ said Tom, ‘for such things are for the likes of washer women but you have to agree, it is not often a man as young as you travels to the holy-land and returns alive within two years. Either you are extremely lucky or blessed by Christ himself.’
‘I suspect the former,’ said Garyn, finishing his ale. ‘Now, I reckon there is an hour of light left. Shall we get those last bales fastened while we can?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Tom and climbed the ladder once more.
----
The following morning, Garyn lay exhausted in his bed. Elspeth lay next to him and smiled as she saw him stir.
‘Good morning, husband,’ whispered Elspeth, kissing Garyn on the cheek, ‘do you intend waking up today or do you hope to sleep the day through?’
Garyn opened his eyes and stretched his arms above his head.
‘I think I slept the sleep of the dead,’ he said between yawns. ‘It seems that roofing wears out the body more than the severest beating.’
‘A few more days,’ said Elspeth, ‘and it will be done. Here, I have brought you milk and fruit.’
Garyn lifted himself up onto one elbow, pushing the woollen cover to one side. Elspeth was already dressed in her linen Kirtle, a one piece dress with long sleeves and though her hair fell loose about her shoulders, he knew it would be tied up and covered with a loose wimple prior to going out in public.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
‘I have had some cheese,’ she said.
‘Are your parent’s here?’
‘Why?’ she asked slowly, recognising the gleam in his eye.
‘I thought you could come back beneath the covers,’ he said with a smile.
‘No time for that,’ she laughed, ‘besides, my father is loading the cart with feathered arrows. We have to take a delivery this morning to the manor.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Garyn, draining the tankard. ‘Tom Thatcher has some business in Brycheniog this morning and won’t be here until noon.’ He threw back the blanket and stood up.
‘Garyn,’ shrieked Elspeth with a laugh, ‘cover your
self up, my mother could come in at any moment and she would surely die of shame if she saw your naked body.’
‘Don’t fret so, Elspeth,’ answered Garyn pulling on his Braies, ‘she shouldn’t be looking.’
Elspeth laughed and walked around the wicker screen. Her parents slept on a platform above while the newlyweds had been given one end of the long room normally used to store the un-fletched arrow shafts that provided the family with their living. She picked up the bucket used for the night-time toilet and made her way out of the door.
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ she called and made her way up the path to the ditch they used for the latrine waste.
Garyn donned his woollen stockings and pulled a tunic over his head before adding a belt around his middle. Fully dressed he put on his shoes and left the house to find Elspeth.
‘Ah, you have arisen’ said Elspeth’s father.
‘The height of the sun shames me,’ said Garyn, ‘but I have no work until noon.’
‘There is always work, boy,’ said Fletcher securing the last bundles of ash arrows in the small cart, ‘you would do well to remember that.’
‘I will, Sir,’ said Garyn before adding, ‘if you like I could take this load for you. I have a few hours to spare.’
Fletcher paused.
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ he said. ‘Unlike you I have plenty of work to do and could do with the extra time. Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ said Garyn. ‘I intended to go and see my brother anyway so I can do both at the same time.’
‘So be it,’ said Fletcher. ‘Give me ten more minutes and I will have this done.’
Garyn nodded and walked toward the returning Elspeth.
‘Good news,’ he said, we have the morning together. ‘I am coming with you, your father is staying here.’
Elspeth grinned and held his hand.
‘Good news indeed,’ she said before adding a little more quietly, ‘and if you are lucky we may just stop off in the woods for a while.’
