A Wounded Realm

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A Wounded Realm Page 32

by K. M. Ashman


  ‘Tarw, there is something you should know,’ said Marcus, stopping and looking at the prince.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Tarw. ‘Your countenance concerns me.’

  ‘Tarw, your brother was in a terrible state when he arrived at Pembroke.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tarw, ‘and I am truly grateful to Gerald for taking him in.’

  ‘Yes, but there is more,’ said Marcus. ‘Hywel has been mutilated and is not the man you think he is, nor can he ever be.’

  ‘What do you mean, Marcus?’ asked Tarw. ‘Spit it out.’

  ‘They castrated him, Tarw, when he was a boy.’

  Tarw gasped and tilted his head back to look up at the sky in shock.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ continued Marcus, ‘but I thought you should know.’

  ‘Who else knows about this?’ asked Tarw, straightening up and facing the steward.

  ‘Apart from the physicians in Pembroke Castle, just you, Nesta and myself.’

  ‘Then let’s keep it that way,’ said Tarw. ‘In addition, send Nesta a message and tell her to keep his rescue a secret. No matter what his injuries, he will always be my brother and when I return, he will ride alongside me with head held high. But until then, he needs to lie low.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Marcus.

  The two men completed their circuit of the bailey before returning to the horses.

  ‘Well, old friend,’ said Tarw, ‘my time to leave is upon us. Look after the castle for me and keep one eye on my sister. She is a firebrand and more than capable of getting into trouble.’

  ‘Nesta will be fine,’ said Marcus, ‘just worry about yourself.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Tarw as he climbed up into his saddle, ‘fare ye well, Marcus. I will see you before the year is out.’

  ‘Until next time,’ said Marcus.

  As Tarw rode out of Dinefwr, the empty castle echoed with the sound of receding horses’ hooves. It would be a long time before it heard the like again.

  At the other end of the country, two men rode silently side by side along a deserted road.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Meirion Goch for what seemed like the tenth time that day.

  ‘Silence,’ said Gruffydd, reining in his horse. ‘I think this is the place.’

  ‘Three years I have rotted in that dungeon,’ continued Meirion, ‘despite your sworn oath to set me free.’

  ‘Indeed I swore such a thing,’ said Gruffydd, ‘though I believe the timing was never discussed. Anyway, compared to the suffering your treachery caused me, three years is nothing.’

  ‘What’s past, is past,’ snapped Meirion, ‘and you promised me my freedom.’

  ‘I am a man of my word, Meirion, unlike you.’ Gruffydd reached beneath his cloak and drawing a knife, leaned forward to cut Meirion’s bonds.

  Meirion rubbed his wrists to ease the stiffness.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘is this it?’

  ‘It is,’ said Gruffydd, ‘you are a free man, as promised.’

  ‘Then I will keep you no longer,’ said Meirion, taking up his reins. ‘I have a new life to build.’

  ‘You do,’ said Gruffydd, as the traitor rode away, ‘though it remains to be seen how long that may last.’

  Meirion stopped his horse and turned to face Gruffydd.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Not much,’ said Gruffydd, ‘but you should know the truth about what awaits you.’

  ‘Explain,’ growled Meirion.

  ‘I promised you freedom, Meirion Goch, and gave you my word that I would not harm you. I have now delivered my promises in these matters, but I also have my honour to think of and was duty-bound to tell Lord Goronwy of how you robbed him for ten years, costing him money as well as the lives of many trusted men.’

  ‘You told him that?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Because we had an agreement.’

  ‘I recall nothing about keeping your vile tendencies secret,’ said Gruffydd. ‘In fact, I see it as fair retribution for all those years I was held in that stinking well.’

  ‘I should have known,’ spat Meirion. ‘You are no better than me, Gruffydd.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ replied Gruffydd, ‘a young man told me not so long ago that I should rule with my conscience. Well, know this, Meirion ap Goch – my conscience is clear.’

  ‘You don’t frighten me, Gruffydd!’ shouted Meirion as the king rode away. ‘I know these lands better than any and know what it takes to stay clear of trouble. I will be long gone before the hunt can begin.’

  ‘Begin?’ Gruffydd laughed over his shoulder. ‘Oh, Meirion Goch look around you. It is already over.’

  As Gruffydd galloped away, Meirion Goch looked over to the treeline and his heart sank as hundreds of men emerged. Behind him, more men appeared and both ends of the track were soon blocked off by cavalry. He was surrounded. At the head of the valley, Gruffydd rode up to Goronwy.

  ‘He is yours to do with as you will, Goronwy,’ said Gruffydd.

  ‘My torturer is waiting, Gruffydd,’ said Goronwy, ‘and will make the traitor’s pain last an eternity before the blessing of death falls upon him.’

  Gruffydd nodded in silence before urging his horse northward once more. Behind him he heard Goronwy give the order.

  ‘Deliver the traitor to the castle dungeons, there is someone there I want him to meet.’

  Epilogue

  The Palace of Aberffraw, November 15th, AD 1105

  Gruffydd ap Cynan, King of Gwynedd, dropped onto the bench beneath the oak tree and reached for the hand of his wife. For a few seconds he stayed silent, enjoying the last of the autumn sun and catching his breath after the exertions of the last half an hour.

  ‘Tired, my love?’ asked Angharad with a smile.

  ‘Those children will be the death of me,’ he gasped. ‘Where do they get their energy from?’

  Angharad looked over at the four children running around the grass wielding their toy swords.

  ‘They have the stamina of their father,’ she said simply, ‘a man who goes on and on, never knowing when he is beaten.’ She squeezed his hand and looked at him lovingly. ‘Are you home for good?’

  ‘For as far as I can see,’ said Gruffydd. ‘The treaty is holding with Henry, Cadwgan is keeping peace in the marches and even his troublesome son, Owain, seems to be quiet at the moment.’

  ‘Good,’ said Angharad, snuggling in close to her husband. ‘That means we get to have you all to ourselves for a while.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Gruffydd. ‘I may have to start a war just to get some respite from my children.’

  Angharad nudged him with her elbow and continued to watch the children playing.

  ‘Do you think they have a good future?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ said Gruffydd, ‘they are royal born, live in relatively peaceful times and have a loving family about them. Whatever happens, I will ensure the boys have adequate training so whatever this world throws at them, they will be ready to meet it head on.’

  ‘And our daughter?’

  Gruffydd’s head turned slightly and he stared at the eight-year-old girl. She had knocked her eldest brother down and now stood over him, pointing her wooden sword at his throat, demanding surrender.

  ‘Gwenllian?’ he said with a smile. ‘Something tells me that she is going to be just fine.’

  ‘You really think so?’ asked Angharad. ‘For not a day goes by without me worrying about her.’

  ‘Trust me, my love,’ said Gruffydd as Gwenllian raised her toy sword in the air and roared her victory. ‘Something tells me that one day that girl is going to be one very special woman.’

  Author’s Note

  The Rescue of Gruffydd ap Cynan

  Estimates of the length of Gruffydd’s imprisonment by Huw the Fat vary from eight to sixteen years. However, most sources agree that he was rescued from Chester by a man called Cynwrig the Tall who seized an opport
unity and carried him to safety. Gruffydd fled to Ireland to recover from his long imprisonment before re-joining the struggle against the English, carrying out a guerrilla campaign before finally capturing Ynys Mon.

  Gruffydd ap Rhys

  Gruffydd ap Rhys (Tarw in our tale) was sent to Ireland for his own safety as a child, eventually returning to Wales as a young man to take part in the continued fight against the English. His tale becomes a very important part in the history of Wales, which is expanded upon in book three.

  The Assault on Ynys Mon

  Hugh Montgomery actually did face a Viking fleet on the shores of Anglesey (Ynys Mon) and it is said that he was cut down before the battle began by an arrow to the eye, shot by the king of the Vikings, Magnus Barefoot. Gruffydd later went on to recapture the island before consolidating his rule across North Wales.

  The Siege of Pembroke

  Gerald of Windsor did actually defend Pembroke Castle against a Welsh army and it is very interesting to learn that he did indeed use cooked meat to taunt the besiegers, and tricked them into believing he was well armed by arranging a false letter to be intercepted. The ruse worked perfectly and the Welsh abandoned the siege, thinking the enemy was in a far better state than they actually were. It was a brilliant strategy and due to the important location of Pembroke Castle, possibly altered the course of Welsh history.

  During the siege, up to 15 of Gerald’s Knights deserted and made their escape by boat.

  Nesta ferch Rhiwallon

  Nesta did indeed attend the court of William II and had a passionate relationship with his brother Henry. She went on to have Henry’s child before returning to Wales to become the wife of Gerald of Windsor, having been given the estate of Carew as part of her dowry.

  The Death of William II

  William the Second, or William Rufus as he was known, died after being hit by an arrow fired by Walter Tirel while hunting stags. Some say it was an accident while others say it was deliberate and a conspiracy with Henry who went on to rule as king. Whatever the truth, Tirel fled to France and never returned to England.

  The Incarceration of Hywel ap Rhys

  Hywel ap Rhys was a prisoner of the English for many, many years and was probably incarcerated in a fortress called Hen Domen. Records vary as to whether he was released or escaped but most agree he was in a terrible state when he finally joined up with his brother, suffering from severe injuries as well as castration.

  About the Author

  Photo © Steve Powderhill

  Kevin Ashman is the author of fifteen novels, including the bestselling Roman Chronicles and highly ranked Medieval Sagas. Always pushing the boundaries, he found further success with the India Sommers Mysteries, as well as three other standalone projects, Vampire, Savage Eden and the dystopian horror story The Last Citadel. Kevin was born and raised in Wales and now writes full-time. He is married with four grown children and enjoys cycling, swimming and watching rugby. Current works include the highly anticipated Blood of Kings series, of which A Wounded Realm is the second instalment. Links to all Kevin’s books can be found at www.KMAshman.co.uk.

 

 

 


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