Chapter Six
The Neath
“And then she sent me home!” Megsy sobbed. “I just know he’s ravishing her, the big Saesneg brute. They’re all brutes!”
It was a wet morning, cold and damp. A storm had blown in from the west and the land was sopping and wind-whipped. Megsy had limped home that morning in such weather to the manse known as The Neath, the home of Gethin ap Garreg and his daughter.
Gethin’s father had built the home about sixty years earlier.
He had been a very wealthy man, a fortune he had passed on to his son.
He had also passed on the family business, which was importing fine goods from France and places beyond.
He had one of the only import stalls in the mid-Marches, so people from far and wide would travel to the village of Pool to visit his store of exotic and coveted goods.
The manse was a large and well-appointed place, showing off the wealth of the family with rare and exceptional items. There were two full stories and a third partial story, and a virtual maze of chambers to get lost in.
The structure was built of pale local stone that had turned dark with age and the elements, and there were three entrances only, and those were protected by heavily reinforced iron and oak doors that were very elaborate.
In all, The Neath was an impressive piece of architecture and it had vast grounds that included gardens, stables, and large storage barns where livestock and feed were kept.
Gethin employed about fifty men who were always well armed and well supplied to protect his little empire, and they had their own complex of cottages to the rear of the kitchen yard.
The house was always well protected but, unfortunately, Gethin had become lax about his personal security, which is how he had gotten into trouble with the new Lord of Wybren.
Even now, more than half of his men were still in Pool, waiting at his shop for a lord that would never come.
The rest of them were stationed at the manse, going about their usual rounds, but two of the sergeants were listening to Megsy and her terrible tale.
They’d been on edge since Gethin’s manservant had returned with his harrowing tale.
But now, the situation had gone from bad to worse.
The Saesneg had Juliandra, too.
“This is why I did not want Lady Juliandra rushing off to Wybren,” the first sergeant said angrily. “She has only made it worse. Now, she is a prisoner also. I told you not to go.”
Megsy was wiping her eyes and nose with her apron. “She insisted,” she said weakly. “There was no stopping her. You know that.”
The old soldier rolled his eyes, frustrated and at a loss. He looked at his companion as the two of them decided what needed to be done now that both their lord and his daughter were caged by the new Lord of Wybren.
It was one big mess.
Unfortunately, both soldiers knew the situation for what it was – they knew that they had no chance of wresting their lord and his daughter from the English.
Everyone in the area knew that a sizable English army had been moved into Wybren, so there was no chance of a rescue attempt by just a few men.
The first sergeant sighed heavily.
“Even if we had all of our men here, there’s nothing we can do,” he said. “The English army is too big. They’ll kill us before we get through the gate.”
The second sergeant, an old man who had been with the family since the days of Gethin’s father, was more pensive. He appeared to be seriously mulling over the situation.
“It would make no sense to try and negotiate their release,” he said. “If the English would not surrender the lord to his daughter, then we have no chance of negotiating their release. We are too few alone, but we have… allies.”
The first sergeant looked at him curiously.
“Of course we have allies,” he said. “But to summon our allies for this could mean the start of something bigger. We are all well aware that the local warlords are not happy with the English at Wybren, but I don’t think this situation would warrant the raising of an army. ”
The old sergeant nodded. “Mayhap not,” he said. “But if we are to help Gethin and Juliandra, then we should bring this to a higher court. This is not our decision to make.”
The first sergeant wasn’t quite following him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that we should plead the situation to Lord Aeron,” the old sergeant said quietly. “You know that he wishes to marry Lady Juliandra. He will want to know that the English now hold her captive.”
The first sergeant was beginning to understand. “He will be very angry,” he said slowly. “Lord Aeron is one of the warlords who has made it known he does not want the English here. He views Juliandra as his property.”
The old soldier nodded his head in a knowing fashion.
“Exactly,” he said. “That is why we must tell him and let him make the decisions. This may give him an excuse to summon more allies. More allies mean more armies and more men, and more opportunity to oust the English from Wybren. We will only set the bait – Lord Aeron and his jealousy will do the rest.”
It all made perfect sense. The soldiers could do nothing alone to save their lord and his daughter, so they had to leave it to someone who could actually do something about it, someone who wouldn’t be the least bit happy that Juliandra was the captive of English knights.
It was bad enough that they occupied Wybren, but to have Juliandra as well simply added fuel to the fire.
They would be lucky if Aeron ap Gruffudd didn’t burn down half the Marches in his rage.
It was the perfect solution.
With a weeping Megsy in tow, they were riding to Llanwyffyn stronghold before the day was out.