Chapter Eleven #4
Unfortunately, he’d caught her out in the open. There was no running and hiding now. With a heavy sigh, she turned and headed in his direction.
“Greetings, Dadau,” she said evenly. “It is a fine morning, is it not?”
Cader looked weary and furious. He was in no mood for his daughter’s flippant greeting. “What are you doing here?” he growled. “Why did you leave Llandarog?”
Asmara had been anticipating this question at some point and she was prepared. “Because Llandarog is dead,” she said. “There is nothing happening there. The men are lazy and bored. I came to Gwendraith to see if I was needed because, certainly, I am not needed at Llandarog.”
Cader’s lips were set in a hard, flat line. “That is for me to decide, not you,” he hissed. “I need you at Llandarog to oversee the men.”
“Nursemaid them, you mean.”
His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
She threw up her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the bucket.
“It means that an old woman could do the same job you want me to do,” she said angrily.
“The men at Llandarog do not need a commander; they need a nurse to wipe their noses and settle petty squabbles. I am a warrior, Dadau; I cannot sit around and tend an army of fools.”
Cader sighed sharply. “I decide what you will do, Asmara,” he snapped. “You do not seem to understand that. In fact, since you are so unhappy at Llandarog, you may return home to your mother and sister. I cannot use a warrior who will not follow my wishes.”
Asmara paused; she could do one of two things at that moment.
She could fight him, or she could try to ease the situation.
Her father was as stubborn as she was and, truth be told, she’d done wrong by leaving.
She knew that. But she didn’t want to tell him the truth of exactly why she’d left.
She would never admit that she’d come to Gwendraith because of a man.
Instead, she turned the conversation to something she and her father were joined against – Morys.
“I do not think that would be wise,” she said, presenting someone who was much calmer than she had been only moments earlier. “Dadau, I will truthfully tell you why I came. It was something I did not want to speak of to you, but now… now I must.”
Cader had no patience for her. “What is it?”
“I am convinced something is very wrong with Morys.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nothing is wrong with him,” he said. “You simply want to find fault with him because you do not like him.”
“Nay, Dadau, not this time,” she insisted. “There is something wrong. He is up to something.”
Cader was still irritated with her, but part of him was the slightest bit interested in what she had to say.
Asmara had always proven herself wise and a good judge of character.
It was true that she was rash, and bold, and that was just something Cader lived with, but she was also someone he trusted.
Therefore, he was inclined to listen to her as long as she wasn’t trying to stir up anything.
“Merch, I know you do not like your Uncle Morys,” he said, less angry than he had been. “As far as him being up to something, he is always up to something. That is who he is.”
He shook his head and lifted his hands in a futile gesture, as if he didn’t quite know how to address that side of his brother’s character. Asmara closed the distance between them, putting a hand on his arm.
“This is different than his usual ambition,” she said, lowering her voice. “There is something going on that he is not telling anyone, and it centers around Blayth.”
Now, she had her father’s attention. “What do you mean?”
Asmara was very careful with how much she told him; she had a plan in mind, a plan that would allow her to remain at Gwendraith, and with Blayth, but she had to make it believable to her father or he really would make her return home. And she very much wanted to stay.
Therefore, she rolled out an explanation that was half-truth, half-speculation. She wanted her father to hear what she had heard for the most part, at least enough to convince him that she would be doing right by remaining at Gwendraith.
“I am not entirely certain,” she said after a moment, “but I have had a few conversations with Blayth. Do you know he cannot remember anything before he came to live with Morys? He told me that it was Morys who told him he was the bastard son of Llywelyn. That information never came from Blayth; he does not remember if he is or not.”
By now, Cader was over his anger at his daughter, listening intently to what she was telling him about his brother and the mysterious warrior known as Blayth the Strong.
“Morys told him who he was?” he clarified.
Asmara nodded. “Aye,” she said. “I have been asking around and I believe I have the confidence of a few of Morys’ men. I want to know what they know about Blayth. It’s my belief that Morys is trying to use the man for some greater purpose, like a puppet. He gives orders and Blayth obeys.”
Cader wasn’t following her. “For what purpose?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Think about it,” she said. “What if Morys is trying to unite Wales under Blayth, but Blayth will have no real power? It will be Morys with the power, Dadau.”
Cader was looking at her with great skepticism but, on the other hand, it sounded very much like his brother.
Morys had always been extremely ambitious and with the bastard son of Llywelyn under his control, the power Morys could wield might be limitless.
In truth, he couldn’t put anything past the man.
“That is serious speculation,” he said. “What proof do you have?”
Asmara shook her head. “None,” she said. “All I know is what Blayth has told me and what Morys has told all of us. But it all seems so strange, Dadau… doesn’t it?”
Cader had to admit that it did. “And that is why you came here?”
Asmara nodded, even though she was lying about it.
“If Morys is trying to gain power, then we should know, shouldn’t we?
” she said. “And what about Rhys ap Maredudd? He is the one heading this rebellion, but Morys is telling everyone that Blayth is the only true Welsh prince and that he is the one who should lead it. Rhys will not take any of this without a fight and it is possible that Morys will lead us all into a massive civil war – Rhys against Blayth.”
It was a horrific thought. But knowing what he did about his brother, none of this was far-fetched. It was not only possible, but probable. With that in mind, Cader suddenly wasn’t so angry about Asmara’s presence at Gwendraith. The woman had good instincts.
“Then you wish to remain here?” he asked.
“Someone should, don’t you think? Someone needs to watch Morys and see what he is planning.”
“You could just ask him, you know.”
“Do you truly believe he would confess such a thing?”
Cader shook his head reluctantly. “Nay,” he said. Then, he sighed heavily. “Very well. You may remain. But you will send word to me if you discover anything.”
“I will come and tell you myself if I discover anything.”
“I will hold you do that.”
He was going to allow her to remain. Asmara struggled against showing the relief she felt.
“You may as well see Morys while you are here,” she said. “He returned from Carmarthen two days ago, some kind of secret meetings with Howell, so you should ask him about it. He did not tell me anything.”
Cader was never in the mood to speak with his brother, but he thought that might be a good idea.
“I did not know about any meetings at Carmarthen,” he said.
“I did not think so.”
Cader’s gaze trailed up the massive keep as if to see Morys somewhere inside. “I am interested to know what was discussed.”
“Then go and ask him,” Asmara said. She held up the bucket in her hand. “I am going to the kitchen yard for hot water. My horse has a wound on his hoof that must be soaked. Oh… and if Morys asks you, I told him that you sent me to Gwendraith to see if I could be of any help. That is all he knows.”
Cader simply lifted his hand, acknowledging the situation, before heading off to the keep.
Asmara stood there a moment, watching him go, wondering what would take place in the coming discussion between her father and his ambitious brother.
If Morys felt cornered, or probed, the discussion might not go well at all.
Asmara was coming to think that it might be a good idea to remain at Gwendraith to make sure a brotherly meeting didn’t turn into a brotherly argument.
That had been known to happen.
Not surprisingly, when she told Blayth that her father had arrived and wanted to know about the meeting with Howell, Blayth thought remaining at Gwendraith as the brothers ap Macsen held their meeting was a good idea, too. The trip into town could wait for another day.
After several long hours of arguing, Cader never did find out the details of Morys’ meeting at Carmarthen, only that there was a larger meeting for all of the warlords slated several days later.
That was all Morys would tell his frustrated brother, who ended up riding out just before dawn and heading back to his village.
Asmara had seen her father as he’d ridden from Gwendraith, knowing how genuinely upset he was at his brother’s secrecy.
It gave even more credence to her supposition that Morys was up to something, or even hiding something, and she knew without question that her father would be present at the big meeting at Carmarthen. In fact, he wouldn’t miss it.
Something told Asmara that the meeting was going to be a volatile one.
In truth, she had no idea just how volatile.
It would be life changing for them all.