Chapter Three
Two months later
“If you wish to use this road, then you must pay the toll.”
The words came from a severe-looking English soldier, though he wasn’t speaking unkindly or cruelly.
Simply matter-of-fact. Beneath skies of blue, with a swift and brisk wind blowing through the small valley that was crisp and clear and green, a well-dressed Welsh merchant and his manservant faced the six English soldiers guarding the road.
The merchant appeared rather stunned.
“But… I do not understand,” he said in his thickly accented English. “I have traveled this road my entire life. No one owns the road. Who has placed a toll booth here?”
The soldier shifted on his big legs, his mail coat creaking. “The Lord of the Trilaterals, Kevin de Lara,” he said. “This road is the property of Wybren Castle that Lord de Lara has recently taken possession of. Did you not know that?”
The old man nodded in resignation. “I heard,” he said. “I knew the family who held it before. An old family, who held the castle when the Normans came. Arglwyddi Breidden.”
The English soldier understood Welsh. “It no longer belongs to the Lords of Breidden,” he said.
“Old Lord Breidden passed away a few months ago without an heir. But before he died, he made a bargain with the House of de Lara. He didn’t want to leave the castle to the Welsh, who would only fight over it.
He thought it better to give it to the English, who can manage it better. ”
The merchant frowned. “Mayhap they can, but it will only bring them strife,” he said. “The warlords of these lands will not stand for such a thing. They’ll fight to remove the English. De Lara has many castles in England. Why does he need Wybren? It has always belonged to the Welsh.”
The soldier shrugged. “I do not know the man’s reasons,” he said. “But it does belong to de Lara now and this road is part of the Wybren holdings. If you want to travel upon it to the village of Pool, then you must pay the toll of two pence.”
The merchant was becoming increasingly unhappy. “For a road I have traveled upon my entire life?”
The soldier sighed heavily. “Change has come and you must accept it,” he said. “What is your name?”
“Gethin ap Garreg,” he said. “My home is to the north, called The Neath. Everyone knows me in these parts. I sell goods.”
“What kind of goods?”
Gethin shrugged. “Fabrics, beads, perfumes,” he said. “My father before me was a merchant. He made his fortune selling goods. I have men sworn to protect my merchandise.”
The soldier eyed him. “An army?”
“A tiny one.”
“Yet you travel alone, with merely a servant?”
Gethin looked at the skinny, young servant standing next to him. “It is a short journey,” he said, realizing he sounded foolish even as he said it. Wealthy men never traveled without armed escort. “We were only going to Pool.”
“Why?”
“Because my men have brought a shipment of goods all the way from Paris,” he said. “They are guarding the goods and I am going to meet them.”
The soldiers looked at each other. “Then you are going to meet your army?” the one in the lead clarified. “That is why you travel alone?”
“Aye.”
The soldier scratched his head. “Very well,” he said. “But you must still pay the toll. I will not, however, force you to pay the toll on your return trip.”
The merchant didn’t seem to think that was a good deal in the least. “But I have traveled this road my entire life,” he said. “My father did and his father before him. Now I am expected to pay to use a road I have always used? I will not do it, I say.”
“Then you will not pass.”
Gethin was beginning to become indignant. “This is the only road directly to Pool,” he said. “If I take any other road, I must go miles out of my way. It is not fair for the Saesneg to suddenly put a toll booth here, demanding money from the Welsh to use their own road.”
“Mayhap not, but there is a toll nonetheless,” the soldier said. “And surely you have heard that Lord de Lara is not keeping the money all for himself. Half of it is being given back to the churches in the area as alms for the poor. It is to help tend the needy.”
Gethin hadn’t heard that but, then again, he wasn’t a pious man. He was ashamed to admit it, though.
“Give it back or keep it is all the same to me,” he said. “He is still demanding tolls that he has no business demanding.”
“Pay it or go back.”
“I will not pay it.”
“Then go back the way you came.”
Infuriated, Gethin and his servant turned away, following the path they’d taken from home.
The soldiers watched them go before retreating into the newly built stone toll booth, the one with a hearth for warmth and food, tables and chairs, and even a couple of beds for the night watch.
There was a livery out back for their horses.
It was rather large for a toll booth and sturdily built because of the money it was meant to protect.
One man remained on the road, however, keeping watch while the others gathered inside.
In fact, he was still watching Gethin and his servant as they nearly faded from view before suddenly darting across the meadow that paralleled the road.
As the soldier watched, he could see the men picking their way through the sodden meadow.
Their intent was clear. They intended to bypass the toll booth. That realization brought four soldiers from the toll booth astride their heavy warhorses, capturing Gethin before he could accomplish his deed.
The manservant, however, was wily. He managed to escape the soldiers, who gave up chase when the young man darted into a heavy copse of trees. Since there were disgruntled Welsh in the area, no one wanted to make an easy target for an ambush, so they retreated with their prize of the merchant.
Gethin ap Garreg was to have a first-hand look at Wybren Castle and her legendary, and terrifying, vaults.
But unfortunately, he didn’t live to see them.
In his struggle against a knight who was trying to mount him on a horse that would take him back to Wybren, he lost his balance and fell over backwards, landing on the back of his neck.
As Gethin died a quick and wasteful death as the result of a toll he refused to pay, his clever servant made it home.
Gethin’s daughter was heading to Wybren at first light the next morning.