Chapter Six
“What you heard was wrong, my lord,” Gruffydd said as he stuffed his face with bread. “Llywelyn has never been in possession of Brython.”
Seated in his cushioned traveling chair next to the brazier that was giving off a good deal of heat, Christopher watched the starving man eat.
“We’ve spent a month here trying to gain control,” he said seriously.
“We were summoned by English soldiers who had been welcomed here by your father, many years ago. It was a contingent that King John had stationed here, with Gwenwynwyn, and when Henry became king, he kept them here. That was the bargain your father had agreed to—as long as your father kept English soldiers here, the English left Brython alone. It was Welsh held, but as long as you did not cause any trouble…”
Gruffydd was nodding even as Christopher was speaking. “I know, my lord,” he said. “And I was happy to keep them here because it was what my father had agreed to. Let me assure you that I am not your enemy.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Gruffydd swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I assume you have already spoken to my sister,” he said. “Has she told you anything?”
“She told me a little,” Christopher said. “But I want to hear about this situation from you. This castle belongs to you, does it not? As your father’s heir?”
Gruffydd sighed faintly. “Aye,” he said. “I am his heir. But my sister… She does not think like I do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that she is convinced I am the enemy,” Gruffydd said.
“She thinks that because I honor my father’s word to the English king that it makes me a traitor.
I believe as my father believed—that if there is any hope of retaining control of Powys against Llywelyn, that we must ally with the English.
Llywelyn is very powerful, my lord. He wants Powys.
I refuse to pay homage to him when it is my right to make decisions for my people as my father did. ”
Christopher had a cup of wine in one hand, swirling it over the heat of the brazier to warm it. “But your sister does not agree,” he said. “How did you end up in the vault?”
Gruffydd tore off more bread from the meal that had been brought to him.
“It is not her fault,” he said sadly. “Elle has been raised by rebels. My father taught me everything he knew, but Elle was left to fend for herself. My father simply had no interest in her. She went to live with my grandmother for a time, but when the old woman died, Elle returned to us, but she spent all of her time with the men. Men who talk. Men who were willing to teach her of Wales and of the struggles against each other and against the English. She listened well.”
Christopher was listening with increasing concern. “Is that the only education she has ever had?” he asked. “From the mouths of ignorant men?”
Gruffydd smiled weakly. “Our grandmother insisted she be educated by the priests at St. Nicholas, near her home,” he said.
“Do not misunderstand me, my lord. Elle has a brilliant mind. She can read and write and do sums in her head. She can recite enormous passages of the Bible from memory. She speaks three languages, so she is quite learned. She will always be two steps ahead of you, in anything you do. Even though she was educated by priests and raised by soldiers loyal to her father, it does not mean she is ignorant. Not in the least. It was she who led the siege against you, my lord. She held the castle until it could be held no more.”
Christopher was both puzzled and intrigued by the eldest child of Gwenwynwyn. “But why does she rebel?” he said. “Why did she send the English soldiers from Brython?”
Gruffydd took a bite of the bread in his hand before answering.
“Because she is convinced that Wales, or at least part of it, can be united under Llywelyn,” he said.
“This is not something she decided last month, or even last year. This is something our grandmother taught her, a woman who is part of Llewelyn’s family.
My grandfather married her at the demand of his father, who had hoped for an alliance with the princes of Gwynedd.
But instead of an alliance, it only seemed to make the princes of Gwynedd more hostile.
They did not want an alliance with Powys—they wanted Powys. ”
Christopher was starting to understand. “So your sister went to live with a grandmother, who filled her head with poison,” he said. “And given that your father paid her little attention, she clung to the only person who showed her any affection—your grandmother.”
“Exactly, my lord.”
It was certainly turning into quite a tale. Christopher sipped at his warmed wine, mulling over the warrior woman who had tried to take out his eldest son. The same woman he wanted for said son. Now, he was finding out more about her and was not entirely happy about it.
“How did she manage to get you into the vault?” he asked.
Gruffydd’s eyebrows lifted. “There is a village to the west of Brython,” he said.
“It is a rather large village, and my sister is well known and well liked there. I do not know what pushed her into deciding that the English troops should be removed from Brython at this time, nor do I know what caused her to act, but someone did. She purchased a sleeping potion from the apothecary in Rhayader, put it in my wine, and when I fell unconscious, she had me taken to the vault. She purged the English soldiers from the castle, declared that it was now a Welsh holding for the people of Powys—and it was until you came along and took it back.”
“And that’s all she did to you?”
“That was all she did.”
Christopher scratched his head. “But you said something earlier when you saw her,” he said. “You told me to burn her at the stake because she only wanted our death.”
Gruffydd grunted. “I was angry,” he said with regret. “I did not mean it.”
“Then she does not want to see us all dead?”
Gruffydd shrugged. “More than likely,” he said. “You must understand how convinced she is that every English warlord is the devil. The only person she ever trusted—our grandmother—told her that. She believes it.”
“You are speaking more kindly of her than you did earlier.”
“She has had a difficult life, my lord. I try to remember that.”
“Even when she throws you in the vault?”
“Even then, though I could have done without that experience.”
“Then you do not believe her… wicked?”
Gruffydd shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Elle is headstrong and bold, and in many ways she is more fearless than any man I know, but I do not think she is wicked. It is simply that she only knows one point of view.”
“And you never tried to change that?”
Gruffydd sighed with some remorse. “She views me as the brother who received all of the attention she never had,” he said. “There is jealousy there. Bitterness, if you will. But in answer to your question—nay, I never tried to change her thinking. She would not listen to me anyway.”
Christopher fell silent for a moment, but it was clear that something was on his mind.
Gruffydd kept eating the food in front of him, more food than he’d seen in a month, as Christopher digested their conversation.
Mostly, he was digesting what Gruffydd said about Elle.
Some of it was encouraging. Some of it wasn’t.
But one thing was certain—she was a tempest. But she was a tempest with a mind.
A rebel with intelligence.
That brought him great concern.
“I have orders from Henry to secure Brython,” he finally said. “But I also have orders from Henry to secure it with one of the surest ways of forming an alliance.”
Gruffydd looked up from his trencher. “What is that, my lord?”
Christopher fixed him in the eye. “A marriage.”
Gruffydd nearly choked on the food in his mouth. “It is true that is a sure way of forming an alliance,” he said, sputtering. “But I already… There is a woman I am already fond of, and—”
Christopher waved a hand at him, cutting him off. “Not you,” he said. “Your sister. I intend to marry her to an English knight.”
Gruffydd wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes wide. “Elle?” he repeated, shocked. “Married to an English… knight?”
Christopher nodded. “It seems no one has been able to tame her,” he said. “A husband will do that. He will settle her. Marriage and children have a tendency to quiet a wild heart.”
Gruffydd was looking at him in genuine horror. “Her heart isn’t wild,” he said. “It bleeds the Brecon Mountains and pumps the blood of our ancestors. It calls to Wales, and Wales answers. We are speaking of a woman who has been taught to hate the English like the church hates Lucifer.”
“I understand,” Christopher said, unwilling to give in to Gruffydd’s fears.
“But she is young still. She had only been taught one perspective on life, as you have said. Let someone who is patient and firm teach her another perspective. If she is as intelligent as you say she is, then she will learn and she will understand… and Llewelyn will have lost a devoted follower.”
Gruffydd shook his head slowly. “I am not certain it can be done,” he said. “This has been her entire life, my lord.”
“We are about to change her life.”
“But at what cost? And what risk to this man you shall marry her to?”
Christopher shrugged. “As I see it, we have little choice,” he said.
“What am I to do? Simply throw her in the vault and forget about her to rid myself of her trouble? Or do I marry her to a man who can help her see more than the narrow view of the world that she has? You said yourself that she is very intelligent. If she is intelligent, then she can learn there is more to life than Llywelyn and Wales.”
Gruffydd still wasn’t convinced. “I suppose the decision has already been made, my lord?”
“It has.”
There wasn’t much more Gruffydd could add to what he’d already said. He had expressed his fears and concerns, but in his opinion, de Lohr had no idea what he was getting into.
Or what he was asking.