Footsteps in Time (6 page)

“
Thanks, Owain.” The
sudden camaraderie of shared experience surprised David. He’d felt
so alone since they’d arrived at Castell y Bere, isolated in his
difference and lack of Welsh, scrabbling so hard to catch up he’d
not even thought he could make friends.

The two boys turned to walk
together toward the stables where their horses waited. Mom had
indulged Anna with a horse phase for about a year when she was
eleven, and David had been given riding lessons too. There was a
big difference, however, between riding sedately around a ring and
galloping across the Welsh countryside with a shield in one hand
and reins in the other. So much of what the boys were learning had
to do with riding using no hands at all, just signaling with the
knees.

David loved his horse
though. The gelding was big and black—bigger than he wanted now,
but Bevyn was convinced David would grow a lot taller and Taranis
would fit him then. David knew only that he was proportioned all
wrong, with too long legs and a ridiculously short torso. He was as
short as Anna when he sat down, but his shins alone were three
inches longer than hers!
Humiliating
.

With only thirty
men-at-arms housed at Castell y Bere, they were under-manned, and
the stables, a long, low building which hid the postern gate, was
only half full. The stable boys worked hard all day long, trucking
manure and hay out of the stables, making clean beds for the
horses, cleaning them, brushing them, and saddling
them
—
and yet, for
Hywel, born a poor shepherd boy, this was an advancement, and would
provide him with a secure future for his entire
life.

If Llywelyn lives through
this war, that is.

Typically, all the men and
boys threw themselves at the food when it appeared at dinner and
were in bed not long afterwards. Books and movies of medieval times
often depicted feasting in the great hall as a long drawn-out
affair, and while the meals could last for a couple of hours,
people didn’t usually eat that whole time. It was just that there
was nowhere else to go in the castle, so people sat around,
munching and drinking until it was time to sleep, often on the
floor of the great hall itself. David had done it a couple of times
when the barracks were particularly cold and thought it not so bad,
especially compared to sleeping on the rocky ground
outside.

Taranis whickered as Owain and David
walked into the stables. David stroked his nose, telling him what a
good boy he was.

“
What did you say?” Owain
said.

“
I told him he was
beautiful and fast, and we would have a fine ride today,” David
said.

“
Tell him so in Welsh,”
Owain said. “He’s a Welsh horse and needs Welsh words.”

David ducked his
head, embarrassed.
There is too much to
learn; too much I do wrong by instinct, and no time to make it
right.

“
Let’s go, boys!”
Maredudd, Bevyn’s second-in-command, shouted into the stables. One
by one, they led the horses out of their stalls, across the
courtyard, and down to the first gatehouse (Castell y Bere had
two), situated on the western approach to the castle. Because of
the uneven ground, horsemen usually didn’t mount until they were
near the gate. It was as easy for a horse to misstep and go lame as
it was for a man to turn an ankle, and the horses were, quite
frankly, more valuable than the boys.

As always, Cadair Idris
rose high to the northeast of the castle, a spectacular mountain
peak in a country of beautiful mountains. Clouds circled it, and
David wondered about the possibility of more snow. They would ride
on patrol regardless of the weather. Rain or snow made no
difference if the Welsh were to keep the English at bay.

This day, however,
was a special day. Everyone had breakfasted on the remains of the
Christmas feast, and now the boys, along with a dozen
noblemen
and
Prince
Llywelyn, were going to hunt boar, apparently a tradition the day
after Christmas.

Anna’s comment when
she’d heard about it resounded in David’s ears:
That sounds about right. Good will and peace to all men, and
now let’s kill a giant pig!

Christmas had not been
wonderful, other than the singing, which David had enjoyed. Anna’s
misery combined with thoughts of Mom’s lonely Christmas had pretty
much put paid to anything in the way of good cheer for
him.

Prince Llywelyn stepped out
of the keep just as Hywel brought his horse from the stables.
Everyone mounted: eight boys, ranging in age from fourteen to
eighteen; Bevyn; Maredudd; Prince Llywelyn; and the other noblemen,
most of whose names David had a hard time remembering because they
were all named either Owain, Gruffydd, Hywel, or Rhys, as were
their fathers—and headed down the long, twisting road to the valley
floor below Castell y Bere. Trackers, handlers who would control
the hunting dogs, and stable boys who’d hold the horses once they
found the boar, came too.

They rode in two lines,
each paired with another rider. Dai and Fychan always led the
group, and today David maneuvered to a position that allowed him to
ride with Owain. He was perhaps two years older than David, the son
of one of Prince Llywelyn’s cousins. Genealogy was incredibly
important to the Welsh, but that (and Latin verb forms) was
something David was having a difficult time getting his head
around. Plus, as was the case with Latin, he didn’t care. As far as
was relevant here, David had no genealogy at all, so it always made
for awkward conversation.

In what village were you
born?

Uh.

Who was your grandfather on
your mother’s side?

Uh.

Fychan had taken to whacking David up
the back of the head on his way by, while saying “Who’s your da?
Who’s your da?” When David didn’t answer, he would sneer and say,
“Dafydd hasn’t got a da!”

For all practical purposes, that was
true in both this world and the old one, which certainly didn’t
make David feel any better. While his mother had been married to
his father, even if David were illegitimate it would have been okay
here, as long as his father acknowledged him. David didn’t even
have that consolation.

They reached the valley
floor and reformed the group, as it had become stretched out in too
long a line. Amazingly, Prince Llywelyn himself approached and
aligned his horse with Owain’s. Owain and David bowed their heads,
a little awed to have him in such close proximity. He looked well,
with no apparent aftereffects of the fight at Cilmeri.

Prince Llywelyn spoke. “The
English are known to have quartered in the north for the Christmas
feast, and the scouts report that we should remain undisturbed
today.”

David glanced at Owain, but he seemed
struck dumb by this conversation opener, so it was left to David to
keep it going. “Will we meet them soon?”

“
Soon enough,” Prince
Llywelyn said. “Is your spear sharpened?”

“
Yes,” David said. “Bevyn
tells us we’re ready.”

The prince nodded. “I would
have you watch yourself today. A boar is a dangerous beast and not
the easiest first hunt.”

“
If I were Bevyn, I
wouldn’t want to rely on me,” David said. “I don’t know
enough.”

Prince Llywelyn raised his
eyebrows. “Then I suggest you learn faster.” He spurred his horse
away.

Owain sputtered at Llywelyn’s back,
perhaps wanting to protest on David’s behalf, but it merely left
David speechless, not only at his words, but at the wink that had
taken some of the sting out of them.

“
Twice in one day?” Owain
said, once the prince was out of earshot.

“
What do you mean?” David
said.

“
First Bevyn and now the
prince took the time to speak to you today. I’ve lived among the
prince’s entourage for three years and that’s the first time he’s
looked at me directly.”

“
And you didn’t answer!”
David said.

“
Of course not! What was I
supposed to say? He was talking to you anyway.”

“
Why?”
David finally put voice to the question that had nagged him since
that first sword fighting experience on the road from
Cilmeri.
Why are they bothering with me?
Why am I not a stable boy like Hywel?

Owain shrugged. “Because you’re
smarter than the rest of us combined?”

Like that counted for
anything? The lessons with the priest after breakfast, other than
the impossible Latin, were the basics: reading, writing, and
arithmetic. It was astounding, really, that they were learning
anything academic at all, but it was important to the prince that
the future knights of his household were even mildly educated. That
David was learning to speak, read, and write three unfamiliar
languages simultaneously was incredibly challenging for him, but
that wasn’t what was impressive to the Welsh. The nobility learned
multiple languages routinely.

It was his ability to
do all the math in his head as well as his grounding in philosophy
that startled them—just the fact that David had
heard
of Plato and Aristotle and could
describe their philosophical positions. He knew how to
think
and discuss
abstractly. It was all thanks to his mom, really, but David
couldn’t tell them that.

At first, David didn’t even speak up
in class, partly because he didn’t know this middle version of
Welsh well enough, and partly because he didn’t want them to think
he was smart and send him in the direction of becoming a priest or
monk. David might not think sword-fighting was the best job ever,
but it was better than sitting in a scriptorium for the rest of his
life, copying books. Then again, they’d seen his handwriting, so
probably that job was a non-starter from the beginning.

The company headed north from the
castle, crossing a stream about a quarter mile from the road.
Taranis got wet, but only up to his knees. David made a mental note
to make sure he rubbed him down particularly well when they got
home. The riders continued northeast, skirting the mountains that
fronted the valley to the north, and following the Cadair River
east. They spread out, more than they would have if looking for the
English, and kept an eye out for traces of a boar.

Once under the trees, they
slowed, and the tracker got down from his horse. Owain had told
David that they wouldn’t be here today unless he’d found the boar
last night, in preparation for this morning’s hunt. Boars are
nocturnal. In winter, the adult males live alone so the intent was
to approach his burrow, roust him out, surround him, and let him
charge. What could be more fun than that?

A rustling sound came from
the right. A thicket screened whatever made the noise, but David
turned, finding the spear loose in his hand and slipping in his
sweaty palm. David had carried it straight upright, its base
resting in a leather cup near his right leg, but now he pulled it
out and held it, javelin like, in his right hand.

“
Steady,” Bevyn
said.

The dogs bayed. Their handlers pulled
them back and unleashed the larger hunters—at least one of which
was a mastiff.

“
Dismount,” Prince Llywelyn
said.

Everyone obeyed, trying to hurry,
leading their horses away from the scene and handing them to the
servants. David gave Taranis’ reins to Hywel.

“
Good luck, sir!” he
said.

David decided it wasn’t the
time to remind Hywel that David was no more noble than he was.
Heart pounding, David took his place in the semicircle of men,
spaced some three feet apart, spears out, waiting for the boar to
come out of his bush.

The dogs barked in a cacophony now.
They had pushed through the brush to find their prey. The branches
rustled and a dog backed through a hole in the bush. Another dog
squealed. At the sound, David hefted his spear again, and just to
be on the safe side, pulled his sword from its sheath to hold in
his left hand. He was near the far left of the circle, with an
older man on one side and Bevyn on the other.

“
Steady, lad,” Bevyn said.
“Hold your spear low, not over your shoulder. You open yourself up
to his tusk that way.”

David shifted position, and
the next second, a huge boar—maybe five feet long and nearly two
hundred pounds of compact, angry pig—burst out of the bushes in
front of him, scattering branches and throwing off a dog that he’d
impaled. As one, the men crouched to face him. He squealed and
grunted, no longer advancing and still distracted by the
dogs.

“
Now!” Prince Llywelyn
said.

Half of the men, including
Bevyn, threw their spears at the same time. Yet the boar must have
thought the prince was talking to him because as the men threw, he
charged toward the center of the ring of men. Two of the spears
hit—one on the right shoulder, another in the left rear. Perhaps
because of them, the boar changed direction at the last second and
turned toward where Bevyn and David stood.