Chapter 40 #3
For whatever reason, Tristan loved his mother. Certes, there must be something good about her even if Richard could not see it. Reluctantly, he put an arm around her. “Stop crying, Anne. ’Twill be all right.”
She sobbed all the harder. “I hate you,” she choked out.
“I know,” he said softly.
They set out for Rhuddlan castle later that day.
Dafydd was accompanied by his wife and seven children and his mistresses, one of whom was Anne Ashford.
Dafydd’s Welshmen marched to Rhuddlan as well.
They would be required to swear fealty to their king, and then most of them would be released.
A few of the chieftains would be tried for treason along with their prince.
Edward refused to see Dafydd, ordering him tossed into the tower instead. Lisbeth and her children were given quarters with Dafydd’s other children and their mothers.
Anne was granted an audience with Edward. Richard stepped back quickly when the door to the solar flew open and Anne ran out, shrieking so loud it echoed through the stone walls of the castle.
He entered, shaking his head. The musky scent of sex permeated the air, jolting Richard with the memory of how long it had been since he’d made love to Gwen.
Edward downed a goblet of ale. “Nothing like a good tumble in the middle of the day.”
“I do not believe she shared your sentiment, Ned,” Richard said dryly.
Edward’s laughter rang through the room. “Jesú, she just told me that was the best fuck she’d ever had. Of course that was before I told her her punishment for committing treason.”
“Which was?”
“I took your advice to go easy on her. I should think a life spent in a convent would be preferable to sharing the hangman’s noose with Dafydd.”
“Aye,” Richard said. It was less than she deserved perhaps, but more than she would be able to stand. Anne was lusty and sticking her in a convent was like depriving a starving man a crust of bread.
“I am going to convene a special parliament in Shrewsbury to try Dafydd. Hanging him outright would not send the message I want to Wales. I want them to see his humiliation, his condemnation.”
“When?”
“Immediately.” Edward smiled then. “I think you have time to go to Claiborne first.”
Richard stood. “If you do not object, I would like to go now.”
“Go then,” Edward said.
Richard bowed to his king before leaving the room.
He ached to see Gwen and his son again. It had been months since he’d left her enroute to Claiborne.
The memory of that kiss had sustained him through all the long months of the campaign.
He vowed that when he saw her again, he was going to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her.
Dafydd paced the round tower room like a caged beast. Where had he gone wrong? When had he lost control? He’d had it all, and he’d let it slip from his grasp.
Questions with no answers. Once he’d been a prince, a lord, and a knight. Now he was nothing, nothing.
He raked both his hands through his hair, then sank onto the pallet against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest. It was all over now. His life was forfeit.
Edward refused even to see him, despite the fact he’d told the messenger he had information the king might be interested in. But Edward would relent eventually, once his notorious Plantagenet temper cooled.
Dafydd curled on his side and dozed, only waking when he thought he heard a key clang in the lock. The door swung open and he was on his feet instantly.
Gilbert de Clare entered, followed by Edmund de Mortimer. Gilbert spoke first. “We hear you have information about Dunsmore. What is it?”
Dafydd’s gaze went from one man to the other. Red Gilbert was not a man to mince words. Edmund’s countenance was stony, as if he were irritated at the Earl of Gloucester’s forthrightness.
Dafydd sat at the small table in the center of the room and crossed his legs. A lazy smile cracked across his face. “Well,” he drawled. “I cannot just tell you without some sort of payment, now can I?”
Gloucester looked taken aback. His face turned red and a vein stood out in his forehead. “You are not in a position to demand payment of any kind, you Welsh rubbish!”
Dafydd refused to be cowed. What more did he have to lose? “Nevertheless, I have something you want. You will pay for it.”
Gloucester took a step forward, his fists clenching. Edmund put a hand on his arm and said something too low for Dafydd to hear.
Gloucester nodded. Edmund joined Dafydd at the table. “You are a traitor to the Crown, Dafydd. If you expect us to work a miracle with the king, you are asking too much. He will not release you.”
Dafydd studied his knee. “Very well,” he said at last, lifting his chin proudly, defiantly. “I wish to see my wife and children again. I also wish them kept safe from Edward’s wrath. ’Tis my burden, not theirs. I want him to know they are not to blame.”
Edmund turned to Gloucester. A look passed between them and Red Gilbert nodded curtly.
“You have our word, Dafydd,” Edmund said. “We will plead your wife’s case to the king.”
Dafydd sighed heavily. May God grant him this one last boon. “Then I will tell you what I know about the Earl of Dunsmore.”