Chapter 14 #2
Two days later, Merewyn had just finished a game of chess with Lady Ermentrude when the countess stifled a yawn.
It was late and dinner long concluded. Merewyn sat back, waiting to see if her hostess would play another game.
She had replaced her archer’s clothing with a lovely rose silk gown, one that had belonged to the countess’ daughter.
Around her neck on a riband tucked into her gown was Alex’s ring.
She did not wear it on her finger because she did not wish to explain its sudden appearance to Lady Ermentrude.
But knowing she belonged to Alex, that he had decided to make her his wife, was a happy truth that settled deep within her.
She only hoped his parents agreed with his decision.
“ ’Tis time I retire,” said the countess. “Will you stay awhile by the hearth fire or is it time you looked in on your patient?”
“I will bide here for a bit. Rory and Guy are keeping Alex company, each trying to beat him at chess. He claims I only defeated him because of his weakened condition.”
“Humph! Even he does not believe that. You are a fine chess player, Merewyn. Sir Alex has always been an arrogant young pup. And his handsome face keeps him so. To lose a game of chess to a beautiful young woman will keep him humble.”
Merewyn laughed. She did not think it was possible to keep Alex humble for long. “I thank you for the compliment, my lady. I will check on him before I seek my bed. He wants to leave on the morrow.”
“Whenever you think it prudent, my dear.” The countess pressed her palms on the table to assist her to stand. “ ’Tis late and I am not one for late nights.” Ermentrude bid Merewyn a good night and went to the stairs, ascending them slowly.
Merewyn picked up a candle from the table and wandered about the hall, retracing the path the countess had taken when she had shown Merewyn around the castle the day after they arrived.
Peeking into the alcoves behind the tapestries that adorned the castle’s main hall, Merewyn made her way around the cavernous room.
The weavings displayed beautiful scenes of gardens and animals, likely reflecting the countess’ taste.
They were so unlike those that hung in the king’s hall in London.
Each alcove was sparsely appointed with a small table and bench seats. One held two narrow beds.
As she neared the far corner of the hall, she spotted stairs leading down. She had not noticed them before as they were partially hidden by a wall that extended part way into the room.
On either side of the stairs were copper lanterns hung on sconces.
In each lantern burned a small candle. Curious, she decided to see where the stairs led.
Still holding her candle, she followed them down to the floor below where she encountered a corridor with many doors.
Each door had an iron grate at the top that allowed one to look inside.
Before she could look into the first one, she heard the sound of men’s voices ahead.
From a door halfway down the corridor came a gruff voice. “Have another cup of wine, Marcel. The castle’s asleep and the prisoner is locked away. Why should we stay sober all night guarding an old man in fetters?”
An old man in fetters? The King of Gwynedd?
“Well, mayhap just one more before I leave you to your watch. ’Twill be a cold night.”
She must hide! Holding her candle to the grate of the door closest to her and standing on her toes, she peered into the chamber.
Sacks of grain and spices filled the room.
The smell of cinnamon and cloves was distinct in the air.
Quickly she tried the handle and it gave way.
Blowing out the candle, she entered and crouched behind one sack, glad for the strong smell of spices that masked the smoke from her snuffed candle.
She waited until she heard the men’s heavy footfalls on the stone floor.
“I will see you to the hall as I must pay a trip to the privy before I stand watch for the next hours,” spoke the gruff voice.
“With all that wine in my belly, I will join you,” said Marcel.
Their voices faded as they ascended the stairs. She took her candle and left the small room. Continuing down the corridor, she found a large chamber some distance from the others. Peering through the grate, she glimpsed a man chained to the wall. Straw had been loosely strewn about the floor.
She no longer had the light of the candle, but the moonlight falling into what she realized was a prisoner’s cell revealed a man clothed in a frayed red tunic, chained to the wall.
Tall, blond and bearded, he sat on a bench leaning against the stones, his eyes closed.
He may have been sleeping, she could not tell.
“Are you Gruffydd ap Cynan?”
The prisoner opened his eyes. “I am.” He seemed to study her face for a moment. “Have you come to peer at the earl’s prisoner, my lady?”
“Nay, King of Gwynedd. Fi yw ffrind i ffrind. I come as the friend of a friend.”
He sat up, giving her his full attention. “And who might your friend be?”
“Iorwerth ap Bleddyn, My Lord, though I call him Rhodri.”
He struggled to rise from the bench, his chains rattled and he strained against them. In a tone that spoke of hope, he said, “He and his brother, Cadwgan, are my allies.”
“I know Cadwgan’s son, Owain.” She did not tell Gwynedd’s king that she had just sent Owain away, rejecting his suit.
“Are you their messenger? Are they here to free me?” the Welsh king inquired.
“Nay. I am alone but if I can, I will free you.” Trying the door, she found it locked, a bar across it held firmly in place. “The guard will soon return to his post. What can I do?”
“In the years I have been here,” the blond Welshman said, “I have heard the guards speak of keys kept on a hook behind a tapestry in the hall.”
“I will find them.” She started to go and he called her back. “Beware the guard and the earl’s men.”
“There is only one guard and he is in the privy. The earl and his men, or most of them, are away.”
“Then hurry, for the guard will certainly return.”
She set down the candle, turned and ran, racing up the stairs, glad for the lanterns that lit her way. As she neared the top, she slowed, listening. Hearing nothing, she peeked around the corner, her heart pounding. But the guard had not yet returned.
Behind the tapestry closest to the stairs, she found a ring of iron keys she had not noticed before. Carefully, she lifted them from the peg and pressed them close to her body so they would not jingle.
When she returned to the King of Gwynedd’s cell, she fumbled in the dim light of the corridor, trying three keys before she was able to locate the one that freed the crossbar. Lifting it, the door opened.
Gruffydd stepped as far away from the wall as his chains allowed. “Good lady, you have done it!”
She hurried to his side and handed him the ring of keys.
In short order he had the fetters unlocked. “Go quickly and I will follow. Speak loudly of the weather should you encounter the guard.”
Merewyn picked up the snuffed candle and slowly retraced her steps.
As she climbed the stairs, she listened for any sound.
But for whatever the reason, the guard did not appear.
Then she thought of the hounds she would have expected to see lying about.
The earl must have taken them with him. And for that, she was grateful.
She was certain the Welsh king would kill any guard or hound that got in his way.
After years as the earl’s prisoner, she could hardly blame him.
Behind her she heard his faint footfalls.
She froze, seeing someone moving in the hall. A servant woman swept across the large room blowing out candles.
Merewyn stepped into the light. “ ’Tis a gloomy night with snow on the way. Might you leave some candles lit?”
The woman of middle years, judging by the face beneath the head cloth, started. “Oh, my lady! Ye gave me a fright. I did not see ye. Are ye alone?”
“Yea, the countess retired. I was just admiring a tapestry, but I am on my way to my chamber now.”
“Here,” said the servant, lighting Merewyn’s candle with one of her own. “Yer candle has gone out. I will return later to snuff the ones we do not keep lit for the night.”
Merewyn waited until the woman left the room before turning to face the Welsh king. “There will be guards at the gate and men in the bailey,” she whispered. “How will you get past them?”
“Leave that to me. You have done the impossible. What is your name, my lady?”
When she told him, he said, “You have risked much to free me, Merewyn. Be certain Iorwerth will know of this.”
Merewyn moved aside, allowing him to go before her. He moved like a shadow, skirting the edge of the hall, before disappearing through the door that led to the kitchens.
Never would she have believed she could free Gwynedd’s king imprisoned for so long. She was both excited for what she had done and afraid. What would Alex think of her treachery against Earl Hugh and England’s king? But after all Rhodri had done for her, how could she have done otherwise?
* * *
Alex had just defeated Guy in a second game of chess when Merewyn opened his chamber door. “Still playing?” she asked.
Her face was flushed as if she’d been running, making her unusual eyes all the more striking. When he looked at her more closely, she averted her eyes. Now what has she been up to?
“Alex is having a good night of it,” said Guy, beginning to gather the chess pieces off the board. “Took my queen with his rook.”
“I was able to beat him once,” said Rory, who had been watching their game.
“Want to play?” Alex asked her.
“Nay. I just finished two games with the countess,” she said, closing the chamber door. Again, Alex wondered what had left her ivory skin so flushed. Her breathing was more rapid than normal, her chest heaving slightly.