“Your plan is to scare them?” I asked, now completely confused.
“So they’ll sue for peace,” Ieuan said. “That’s what you want, really—that they come begging for peace on your terms. The population of Wales is too small to defeat England. What you want to do is make it too costly for them to continue the fight.”
“Got it in one,” David said. “How did the Americans defeat the English in the American Revolution? By force of arms? Hardly. They won just enough battles to make the English count the cost and figure it too high.” He pushed up from the table. “We’re going to get my pack from wherever Lili hid it and then we’re going to go get the car.”
* * * * *
David, in his arrogance, had already alerted his men what he was planning before he asked us, so midday found us mounted and riding through the countryside. Thirty of the men-at-arms and knights really were his men. He had fifty with whom he trained, but twenty of them were still in the north, hopefully coming this way with his mother.
I rode pillion with my arms wrapped around Ieuan, who was in full armor. He’d complained when he appeared in it that it was someone else’s and didn’t fit right. Sitting in front of me, every so often his shoulders twitched as he tried to adjust it.
Lili rode behind David. She’d explained that she was going to ride in the car with me, so they didn’t want to have an extra horse on the way back, which made sense, but I knew the truth, for I’d been present for the argument about it beforehand.
“You are not a soldier,” Ieuan had hissed.
“I can shoot as well or better than half your men,” Lili had replied, her voice rising. “I am not as big as you, but—”
“You’re not as big as I am,” Ieuan had answered, “nor any man here. Bronwen tells me that in her world, some women become soldiers, but in this one, they don’t, nor ever will, and especially not my sister!”
David had interrupted then. “I would really appreciate it, Lili if you would accompany Bronwen in the car.”
Lili had hesitated and then capitulated. For a girl who’d claimed just five days ago that she had no interest in men, she was spending an awful lot of time in David’s company—and listening to what he had to say, though this time, I thought he was right.
“You have to understand, Lili,” David had explained, after Ieuan had stomped out of the room, having got what he wanted but not his way, “that Ieuan’s objections have nothing to do with you or the fact that you’re a woman, despite what he says. It has everything to do with him. He doesn’t want to have to worry about you fighting, but that isn’t something he wants to put into words.”
“Why do you say that?” Lili had asked.
“Because I feel the same way,” David said.
Oh now, isn’t that sweet?
Not that I was one to talk. I was more than a little annoyed with myself for falling for Ieuan so easily. It was just so pat, so typical. Already it was Ieuan and Bronwen this and Ieuan and Bronwen that. Do I really love him or am I so lost in this crazy place that this is the only thing that makes sense?
We’d recovered the backpack without difficulty. I’d asked David, as he helped me mount behind Ieuan, if he was worried about accusations of witchcraft.
“History is written by the victors, Bronwen,” he’d said. “Either we’re going to lose, and Hereford will have my head, in which case I will no longer care—or we’re going to win. I don’t intend to flaunt my peculiarities in front of my men. However, they already know about Aunt Elisa’s van, and we’re about to pick up another vehicle, which you are going to drive. The more they know of it, see it, touch it, the less dangerous the knowledge becomes to us, and the less we have to live in secret.”
We’d taken the road to Aberedw in order to find the pack, and now cut cross-country on a track, skirting the castle of Painscastle to the north. In all, we had only fifteen miles to travel—fifteen minutes in my car—but it was nearing suppertime when we spied the Dyke in the distance. The countryside on both sides of the wall was farmland, nearly as flat as land ever got in Wales, punctuated by stands of trees. The day had started clear, but clouds had rolled in from the west, and as we dismounted in a small wood about a half a mile from the Dyke, it started to rain.
“Perfect,” Ieuan said, helping me down. I tugged the hood of my cloak over my head.
“Why perfect?” I asked.
David pulled out a water skin and took a drink before offering it to Lili. “When it rains, men are miserable. It’s much worse in the winter, of course, but we want the English miserable, huddling inside their fortifications instead of patrolling the border.”
“How long do we wait?” Ieuan asked.
David stepped out from under the tree and checked the sky. The rain plinked off his helmet. “Not long. Let the men rest and eat for a few minutes and then we’ll go.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” I said. “Where’s the road I’m supposed to drive the car on?”
“To the south,” Ieuan answered. “We left the car due east of here.”
“You have the keys, Bronwen?” David asked suddenly, turning to me. “Please say you have the keys.”
I laughed. “I have them,” I said. “What would you have done then? Hotwired it?”
“Broken a window and dragged it behind us,” he said. “It wouldn’t exactly have been what I hoped for, though.”
The rain came more heavily as we left the trees. I pushed the sodden, stray hairs out of my face so I could see. Once across the Dyke, it took another ten minutes to reach the car. The horsemen milled around it while the four of us dismounted. David and Ieuan lifted off the brush.
I almost cried at the sight of it, but instead got out the keys and unlocked the doors. David opened the passenger door for Lili. “Come, sit here,” he said. She obeyed, and he latched her seat belt. After removing my cloak so as not to get the seat wet, I got in beside her. It was nice to be dry.
“Go ahead,” I said, with a knowing glance at her. “Touch anything you want. I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”
Through the window, I could hear David talking to his men about the car. “This vehicle runs on burning naphtha,” he said, “which we in turn are going to use to defeat the English.” He gestured to me. “Why don’t you start the car, Bronwen.”
I twisted the key and the car rumbled comfortingly to life. The wheels caught on the grass and we rolled out from under the trees. David moved to the front of the car. “Pop the hood, okay?” he asked.
He waved his men to him and all fifty crowded around the engine for David’s mini-lecture on the internal combustion engine. “Give way, man! I can’t see!” “Gruffydd, down in front!” “Rhys! You’re the tallest—to the back!”
I tuned them out and turned to Lili. “Tell me what’s going on between you and Prince Dafydd?” I whispered. “I thought you weren’t interested in men or marriage?”
“Prince Dafydd would never marry me,” Lili said, matter-of-factly. “His marriage will be arranged to create a beneficial alliance for Wales. Just as well.” Lili raised her chin. “He’s too good at giving orders, just like Ieuan.”
“Okay,” I said. I’d like to see someone tell that to David. I’d not known him long, it was true, but it looked to me like he was coming into his own, getting used to giving orders, as Lili said, and the chances that someone else was going to arrange a marriage for him to some woman he didn’t know were slim to none. I glanced at Ieuan who leaned against the car with his arms crossed, rain dripping off his mustache, listening to David talk. I’ve got my hands full with a certain Welshman as it is.
The lecture ended, seemingly before everyone’s eyes had glazed over, and David closed the hood. It was nearing dusk, now, before what might well be a very dark night.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” David announced. “Bronwen is going to drive the car onto the track. It will be slow going for the first mile because the road is rough. Once she turns south onto the high road from Kington, the d
rive will become easier, and we can ride faster. The Dyke breaks where the road turns west to Painscastle. Very likely, the English will have guards posted at the crossing and more along the road toward the castle.”
David leaned down to speak to me. “Turn on the lights, so they can see them, and then turn them off again.” I did as he asked and he straightened.
“Don’t be alarmed by the lights. We’ll stay together, behind and beside the car.”
Beside me, Lili sat stiffly, watching the windshield wipers scrape back and forth. She’d taken out her knife and was holding it in her lap. David leaned in again and looked across me at her. “I’m glad you have that, Lili,” he said, “but you won’t need it.”
“I know,” she said, “but I fear that you will.” She reached across me to hand David the knife. David took it. They shared a long look before David slipped it into the belt at his waist.
“Thank you,” he said and moved away.
I looked over at Lili. She was gazing at her hands, which were face up and open in her lap.
“Do you think something bad is going to happen?” I asked. “Have you felt it?”
“Yes,” she said, simply.
I didn’t know what to say. Grimly, I started the car and shifted into gear. Here we go.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ieuan
“What do you think, Ieuan?” Prince Dafydd asked across the roof of the car.
Lili’s words had shaken him and he wasn’t as confident as he’d been. I didn’t know what to say, because she’d been right far too many times for me to doubt her now.
“We can only go forward, my lord,” I said. Despite Lili’s warning, we’d reached the main road unhindered; we had only a few more miles to safety.
Lili’s window descended into the door. When we’d ridden to Bryn Mawr in Bronwen’s world, I’d raised and lowered the window upwards of twenty times before Bronwen had informed me that if I did it again, she’d cut off my fingers. Lili had more restraint. “It’s nearly too dark to see,” she said. “Bronwen wants to know when she can turn on the lights.”
“Not until we turn west and are within hailing distance of the guards that bar the road into Wales. Then I want her to hit the lights and the gas at the same time and drive like hell.”
“Yes, sir,” I heard Bronwen say. She took one hand off the steering wheel to salute him.
“Will you keep up?” asked Lili.
“We’ll try,” he said. “If we get separated, follow the road past Painscastle until it ends at the Wye. Twyn y Garth is just there.”
Just as Dafydd finished speaking, hoof beats rang in the distance. I peered ahead at the soldiers riding toward us out of the murk. Without needing to be told, our men moved into ready formation.
“Damn,” David said.
He and I exchanged a look. “No time,” I said.
The company of Englishmen came on faster, having apparently decided to strike rather than run.
“Go, go, go!” Dafydd shouted.
Bronwen turned on her lights and sped forward. Our company raced behind her. Dafydd had his sword out and I lifted mine above my head. Ahead, the English company bent away from Bronwen and she sped by them. She turned right, following the road to Wales. That was as we’d hoped, but as her brake lights disappeared, the English recovered and renewed their attack.
Dafydd and I slowed to allow those with pikes to take the lead and ten seconds later, the two sides crashed into each other. The men in the front of the charge were unseated upon impact and went down under the hooves of the men who rode behind. A cavalry charge under these circumstances involved little strategy. It was a matter of who had more men and the room to maneuver them.
When the English had ridden onto the road, I’d had trouble determining their numbers. As I checked Llwyd, however, having come out the other side of the field without even bloodying my sword, I counted the colors showing on the men still seated—our red to the English blue and white. At least twenty men were down, more blue than red, and only three blue remained upright. We’d accelerated more quickly than they had, and our momentum and numbers had carried the day. They should never have taken us on at all.
All three of the English came to themselves at the same instant, dug in their heels, and spurred their horses off the road and into the field to the east. “Follow!” I shouted and ten of our men broke from the battle to give chase.
I turned back, searching for the Prince. He had his back against a tree beside the road. Three of our men guarded him, swords out, as a fourth and fifth dispatched the last attacker. With nobody left to fight, I rode up to him and dismounted.
Dafydd saw me and pushed his helmet to the back of his head. “We got all of them but those three?” he asked.
“I believe so, my lord.”
Dafydd shouldered through his guard. He stooped to wipe his sword on a discarded surcoat, sheathed it, and surveyed the dead and wounded on the road. The fighting hadn’t even touched twenty of our soldiers. Half of them formed a perimeter around the battlefield while the rest of us picked our way among those on the ground, looking for survivors.
“We’ll need torches before it’s full dark,” Brychan called from across the road.
I pointed at several of the men who knew without further orders what to do. We dragged the dead English off the road, gathered up our men, and prepared to return to Wales. Then, I found Prince Dafydd, who’d taken part in none of this, standing at the crossroads, his hands on his hips, staring up at the starless sky.
“What is the cost?” he asked.
“Always too high,” I said. “We have three dead, six wounded and unable to ride unassisted, and six more with minor wounds.”
He nodded. “I’ve lost Taranis,” he said.
“I know.” I put a hand on his shoulder.
“I slit his throat with Lili’s knife, rather than see him suffer.”
“You loved him,” I said.
Dafydd nodded again. “What bothers me most is that, in my heart, I mourn the loss of my horse more than the loss of the men.”
“He was your friend.”
Dafydd let out a breath. “We need to get going and we’ve horses to spare. Find me one that’s suitable for the ride home.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said.
* * * * *
At last, we trotted down the road from the Dyke, riding in the open to Painscastle, torches lit. With the road rising steadily ahead of us, patrols on the castle’s ramparts could have seen us for the full three miles from the Dyke. Prince Dafydd’s face told me that he didn’t care and that he didn’t believe Tosny, who held the castle, would send men against him.
In truth, there was no reason for Tosny to suspect anything was afoot. The drawbridge and main entrance to the castle actually faced west, as that was the direction from which attacks usually came. The notion that a company of Welshman, with a prince of Wales at its center, would arrive from the east was so unlikely as to be dismissed as soon as it was conceived. As it was, we had no intention of besieging anyone and followed the road as it forked to the north of the castle and continued around it.
An hour later we reached Twyn y Garth. Bronwen had pulled onto the grass to the left of the road, within the shadow of the curtain wall. I gazed up at it. Home. It had been a long time, made all the longer by the distance traveled.
We clattered across the drawbridge that spanned the ditch, and through the gatehouse which protected it. We dismounted at the base of the motte. Bronwen and Lili came out of the keep to find us.
“We have wounded,” I said.
“I feared that,” Lili replied. “We’re ready. Rather than bring them up the stairs to the keep, we’ve prepared the barracks to house them. How many?”
“Six serious, with another six in need of some care.”
Lili nodded and began to direct the soldiers carrying the wounded. Bronwen had been standing on the second to last step, and I went to her. She held out her arms; I caught her and buried my
face in her hair.
“I was so scared for you. It was the worst feeling in the world to drive away and leave you to face those horseman.”
“You did the right thing,” I said.
“I understand that now,” she said. “Maybe before I didn’t; maybe I thought you were just being stubborn and male.”
“We lost three men,” I said, “and Taranis.”
“Oh, poor Dafydd,” she said. She pulled away. “I need to help Lili. Bathe and eat. We’ve food prepared in the keep.”
I nodded. “I’ll see to the men, first,” I said, and we walked together to the barracks.
* * * * *
It was a chastened company that rode into Buellt the next morning. We’d left Lili at Twyn y Garth, as she insisted was her duty, though her eyes had tracked to Dafydd for approval rather than to me. Bronwen drove the car once again, carrying three of the wounded men the last miles home. Prince Llywelyn met us at the entrance to the keep.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Dafydd said to his father, by way of greeting.
“Leave be, son,” the Prince replied. He was pale and thin, though smiling as he grasped Dafydd’s shoulder. “It’s good to be on my feet. I am well enough. And you?”
“Perhaps not so well,” Dafydd said.
“You retrieved it,” the Prince said, indicating the backpack which Dafydd wore on his shoulder.
“Yes,” Dafydd said. “But as usual, not without a price. I’ve some things to show you, and whatever you say, you shouldn’t be standing.” They retreated into the keep.
I stopped Bronwen from following, tugging her away from the steps and towards the battlements. We mounted the stairs to the top. We’d had no rain today and we could see for miles along the river. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“What are you sorry for?” Bronwen asked. She allowed me to pull her into my arms, even though anyone could see us.
Prince of Time (Book Two in the After Cilmeri series) Page 22
