Anna’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Wales is so close I can almost touch it.” She gestured to the room at large. “We’re inside your castle. Surely you have loyal men among the garrison?”
“Do I?” Edmund said, with a glance at her that she couldn’t interpret. “I don’t know that I do, not if my brother leagues with Clare.”
“Be that as it may, can you get us out of the castle if we breach this door?” Anna said.
“Three men guard it,” Maud said.
“And there are three of us,” Anna said.
“Plus two,” Maud said. “You really would risk your son?”
For the hundredth time, Anna wished that Math were with her. She missed his confidence and his support. At the same time, it was almost as if she could sense him leaning down to whisper in her ear. You can do this!
“I’d risk myself,” she said. “But if Clare defeats my father, kills him and my brother, and wins the throne of England, I know what kind of life my son would have. Clare will cage him for the rest of his life.”
Edmund looked carefully at her again. “You speak as if you know something we don’t.”
Anna waved a hand, dismissing his words, though they were right on the mark. In her old world, the victorious King Edward had hung, drawn, and quartered her Uncle Dafydd, and then kept his sons inside an actual cage for the entirety of their natural life, decades in the case of one of them.
“Only enough to know that we need to get out of here. Right now.”
Anna had learned to bow to convention when she had to, but despite living in the middle ages for the last six years, Anna was no medieval woman and never would be.
Chapter 9
26 August 1288
Montgomery Castle
Anna
“We’re going to keep this simple,” Anna said. “I’ll disable the guard who opens this door while you use my knife to skewer the one behind him.”
“And the third?” The amusement in Edmund’s voice was unmistakable, but Anna was deadly serious.
“I don’t know,” Anna said. “I figure we’ll solve that problem once we’re in the anteroom.”
Edmund laughed. “Well that’s honest, anyway. I was beginning to think that there was some truth to the rumors.”
“What rumors?” Anna said, though she thought she might know.
“That you play Morgana to your brother’s Arthur.”
Anna grimaced with annoyance. “I hate that.”
“As well you might,” Maud said, “if it weren’t true.”
“It isn’t!” Anna gestured to Cadell, who remained in the far corner behind the bed with Hugh. “And what about him? Do you think he’s David’s son?”
Edmund started. “What did you say?”
Anna reddened. “Sorry. I heard a hateful story about King Arthur and his sister that originated in France. It’s a new one.” Or has it not been written yet? Anna couldn’t remember. And maybe in this universe, it had never been written.
Movement came from the guardroom. Anna kilted her skirt to give her legs more freedom and took her place to the right of the door, so she would be on the guard’s weaker, left side (provided he was right handed—likely, but not a guarantee by any means). Edmund set his feet ten feet from the door, his hands at his sides, in an unthreatening stance. The door swung open and a serving woman entered the room with a tray of food.
A guard followed close behind. He stood on the threshold, surveying the room; then took a second step, putting him a foot and a half inside the door. “Where’s—”
Before he could properly formulate his question, Anna thrust her right foot at the side of his left knee. His leg collapsed, dropping him to his hands and knees. He was bigger and heavier than Anna had hoped and though his left knee could have been broken he came back up, twisting to the left so he could see her. Her elbow met his temple, however, and though she hadn’t expected that she could hit him hard enough to put him down, she must have hit him just right because he went down anyway.
To his credit, Edmund didn’t hesitate or stay to watch. The instant the guard hit the floor, he leapt over him and was out the door. By the time Anna had subdued the first guard and was ready to follow Edmund into the guardroom, Edmund had driven her knife to the hilt in the second guard’s chest. He’d been slow to draw his sword. His surprise at this sudden attack still showed on his face in death.
Only fifteen seconds had passed.
Maud, for her part, had clapped a hand around the maidservant’s mouth to stop her from screaming. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just want our freedom,” she said, in Welsh.
The woman nodded and subsided. Carefully, Maud removed her hand.
“Where’s the third guard?” Anna asked Edmund.
“Not here. Perhaps he went to the latrine?” he said. “His absence is a gift that we must use.”
Anna crouched before Cadell, terrified that he was terrified, and that she’d scarred him for life. Spending the rest of his life in a cage in Bristol Castle, however, would have been far worse than witnessing his mother subdue their captors. Maud had blocked the boys’ view of Anna’s attack with her skirts, but hearing it may have been bad enough.
Cadell pulled out his wooden sword and held it with both hands in front of him. Anna touched the tip with one finger. “You okay?”
Eyes wide, Cadell nodded.
“Do you feel better with this in your hands?”
Another nod.
Anna picked him up and took him with her into the guardroom. Maud followed, Hugh’s hand in hers.
“Come!” Edmund grabbed a lantern from the guardroom table and led the way out of the room and down the stairwell. Anna tried to move quietly, but it was difficult to keep her feet from thudding on the stone stairway with Cadell on her hip. Edmund shot a glance back at her when he reached the next floor down. The sound of the evening meal echoed up the stairwell from the hall, one floor below.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to go down those stairs. Edmund took them into the corridor and along it to the far end. He opened a narrow door, which didn’t lead onto the battlements as Anna had supposed, but into another stairwell. She wanted to ask where they were going, but decided that she wouldn’t break the silence. Besides, a word from her might encourage Cadell to speak. Both he and Hugh had been far too quiet for far too long. Normally, Cadell talked nonstop from waking to bedtime, and from her short exposure to Hugh, the same could be said of him.
The stairs led down and kept on going. Blindly, Anna and Maud followed with their boys. At one point, Hugh started to ask how much farther they had to walk, his child’s voice echoing among the stones, but Maud shushed him.
“It’s all right, Maud,” Edmund said. “My brothers and I played down here many times. We could shout and no one would hear us.”
“Where do the stairs lead?” Anna said.
“Out,” Edmund said, as he reached a door at the bottom of the steps.
He pushed it open. At his appearance, the lone guard in the room shot to his feet. “My lord!”
“Hello, John. I’m leaving now. Will you raise the alarm when I’ve gone or do I have to kill you?”
Anna knew what Bevyn would have advised her brother to do in this situation—kill him—accompanied by his characteristic growl. David had changed so much in the last few years, she didn’t know if he would have heeded Bevyn or not.
“M-m-my lord!” John said. “I never wanted any part of thi—”
“No doubt,” Edmund said, in that dry tone of his, “but you are a part of it. If I let you live, I expect you to lie through your teeth and deny that we came this way.”
“Yes, my lord!” John said.
Anna hoped John wouldn’t betray Edmund, whom he appeared to respect. At the same time, what did it matter? The castellan would send men after them once he discovered them missing, regardless of how they’d escaped. As long as John didn’t run to the hall immediately and report their absence, they had a good head start. Sh
e longed to be free with Cadell and heading west.
“Have a look outside. We need to know if anyone is on the other side of this door.” Edmund pointed to the exterior door behind the guard. “And remember, I have a knife in your back and a Welsh witch with me.”
Thanks for that. Anna caught the wide-eyed look John sent her and she shot back a daggered one, first at him, and then at Edmund’s back, which he, of course, didn’t see. John lifted the bar, his fingers fumbling not to drop it, and pushed open the door.
The sky had darkened in the minutes since they’d left their prison. The sun had fallen behind the hills to the west and left this part of the castle wall in shadow. “I see no one,” John said.
“We were never here,” Edmund said.
“Yes, my lord,” John said. And then added, “Good luck!”
They’d certainly had good luck up until then, though Bevyn might have argued that she’d made her own luck. Together with Maud, Hugh, and Edmund, Anna and Cadell slipped out the door. They perched on the edge of a grassy slope that descended fifty yards at a steep angle to a little valley below their feet, and then up again to a stand of trees directly opposite their position.
Following Edmund, Anna slipped and skidded down the hill, Cadell still on her hip. When she reached the bottom, she shifted him to ride piggy-back and took off up the further hill at a crouching run. Anna would have put Cadell down but he might have tripped and she couldn’t have him crying. All the while, she kept her ears open for a shout from the battlements. Her footsteps pounded dully on the soft earth, but no shout came from above them. Maud and Hugh kept pace beside her, with Maud’s breath coming in airless gasps by the time they reached the trees.
They entered the darkness of the woods. Anna slowed to catch her breath and rested a hand against the rough bark of a pine tree. Edmund directed a wry smile at her. “Remind me in future that a successful attempt to escape my own castle is a good way to discover holes in my defenses and poor discipline among the garrison.”
“You may dislike it in principle, but I’m thanking the Lord for it,” Maud said, hugging Hugh to her. “What now?”
Anna set Cadell on his feet. “We start walking. And then I need a horse.”
“You need a horse?” Edmund headed further into the woods with long strides that Anna and Cadell struggled to keep up with. “And what of us?”
“You are Norman.” Anna picked up Cadell again in order to trot beside Edmund. Maud followed suit. “Surely you don’t want to come all the way to Aber Castle with me?”
“My husband is a hunted man,” Maud said, gasping again between her words. “My son is in the care of your brother. Where else would I want to be?”
“We should not go to Aber, but south, to Caerphilly, and speak to your father, the king,” Edmund said.
“Papa should already know about the planned attacks in the south. By the time we find him to warn him what Clare intends for the north, it will be too late,” Anna said. “I’m going to Aber.”
“As am I!” Maud said.
Edmund slowed slightly, glancing from one woman to the other. Even in the dim light of the forest, amusement showed plain in his face. “Then I am your guest as well, my princess. I hope you have a plan for getting us there in one piece.”
Chapter 10
26 August 1288
Brecon Castle
David
David’s company entered beneath the gatehouse, the horses’ hooves clattering on the cobbled stones, and came to a halt in the bailey of Brecon Castle. Morning had finally come, with the sun peeking over the edge of the world in the eastern sky. David slid off Cadfarch and then reached up to help Lili from her horse. She didn’t need the help, of course, but he liked helping her. She had the grace to let him. He tossed both sets of reins to the stable boy who came to greet them, turned towards the keep—and stopped short.
Dad stood on the top step to the keep, gazing at him. David could feel Lili begin to slip from his side, and he grabbed her arm before she could hide herself from his father’s eyes. “Oh no,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”
“Dafydd—” she said, her tone imploring.
He looked down at her, all pretense discarded. “I need you, Lili.”
At once, Lili stopped trying to pull away. Her expression softened, and yet at the same time, she squared her shoulders. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” David said, even as his mouth twitched at the Americanism that seemed to have taken over this world too, without him and Anna even trying. If only real conquest were so easy. He took Lili’s hand and marched towards his father, who came down the steps to meet them, his hand out.
David had a moment of hesitation, but pushed through it. He reached out to clasp his father’s forearm, and then his father pulled him into a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, son.”
David held himself stiff for several heartbeats, before he capitulated and returned the embrace. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.” And he had, every day that they’d been estranged. Even so, he pulled away. “But what are you doing here? What about Clare?”
Llywelyn brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? What about Clare?”
“Gilbert de Clare, possibly Edmund Mortimer, and Humphrey de Bohun are involved in a …” David’s voice trailed off. “My God, you don’t know!”
Llywelyn had put his hand on David’s shoulder, and now gripped hard. “I think you’d better come inside and explain.” Then he looked past David and Lili, whom he still hadn’t greeted, to David’s company. “Your men are in disarray.” He brought his eyes back to David’s. “And you have too few. What has happened to your teulu? Have you been in a fight?”
“We have,” David said. “With more coming.”
And then, if the battles of the last day weren’t enough, a lone horseman rode up the hill to the gatehouse. He entered underneath the portcullis, his horse steaming with sweat. The man, one of Math’s whom they’d left to garrison Buellt Castle, dismounted. He must have left not long after they had in order to have reached Brecon on their heels.
Math started at the sight of him and trotted over to catch his horse’s bridle. “What has happened? You have news?”
The messenger dismounted. “My lord, just after you left Buellt, a rider arrived from the east. He was one of your spies. The child King Edward is dead.”
“How?” Dad said. He and David moved closer to the horseman.
“His illness took him,” the messenger said.
Math turned to look at David, who shook his head, not voicing what they were all thinking: Or was he helped along the path towards death?
David pressed a hand to the messenger’s shoulder. “Thank you for your efforts. You’ll find food and your fellows in the barracks.”
“Thank you, my lord, but there’s more,” the messenger said.
“Yes?” David had been turning away, but now looked back at him.
“Humphrey de Bohun has been taken.”
“What did you say?” William took a step closer to the messenger. “When?”
“Yesterday, near Shrewsbury.”
“He’s alive, though,” Math said. “You said taken.”
“His men are dead, but rumor has it that he lives.”
“So is that what those men wanted at the Abbey? To capture, not to kill?” David turned to look at Math. “If they haven’t killed him, what do they plan?”
Math shook his head. “Who can say?”
The man bowed his head. “Pardon me, my lord, but your man reports that Bohun is for the Tower of London, as quickly as his captors can get him there.”
“And quietly too, eh?” Math said.
David glanced towards William, whose face had paled at this news. Evan put an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“Your father sent you to us because he feared exactly this,” David said to William.
“He knew his position was precarious,” William said. “I should have been with him!”
“And then you would
have been captured too,” David said.
“Clare will not harm your father,” Math said.
“Won’t he?” William said. In two minutes, the boy had grown five years older. “It seems to me they already have.”
“Your father is a regent of England,” Math said. “That can’t be lightly put aside, no matter what these treacherous barons are planning.”
William’s chin jutted out. “What are we going to do about it?”
David studied the boy. “I promised to watch over you, and that is what I will do. So we are not going to do anything. Your father is a grown man and can take care of himself. Or not. He is the least of my worries right now.”
“Because Clare invades,” William said.
“So it seems.”
“But you have men to see to that,” William said.
David snorted laughter. “Is that what war is to you? Something to ‘see to’?”
William’s expression turned sullen. “My father says that soon we won’t need swords anymore. That you’ll have your men killing from a distance, with fire and iron and steel.”
David gazed down at the boy, stunned that Bohun could articulate what David had struggled to explain to his advisors. “Is that what he says? We already have what he describes. They’re called arrows.”
“But if you’re Arthur—”
“There’s no magic here, William. Weren’t you at the Abbey two nights ago? Men died to protect your father because he sought to protect you.”
“And now that’s your job,” William said.
Why did the boy look so satisfied? David pursed his lips. “It is.” He gave William a wary look. “As I promised your father.”
Dad had been listening to the exchange and now interrupted. “Enough, William. Your horse needs attention.”
William bowed. “Yes, my lord.”
Dad nodded at David. “My steward will see to your men. You need rest. Let’s get inside.”
David took in a deep breath. That Bohun might end up in the Tower of London was no small matter. Yet David didn’t see what he could do about it. William would just have to accept that for now. It might well be the most difficult thing he would ever have to do. David turned towards the keep. For his part, he had a war on his doorstep.
Crossroads in Time (The After Cilmeri Series) Page 9
