Gifts of the Queen (43 page)

And two days later, perhaps it was, perhaps more—time still had no meaning here—there was an outcry in the valley below, like the sound of falling trees, loud enough for us to hear in the inner hall.

'Harken.' The Lady of Gwynedd suddenly stood up, tall and regal in her woolen shawl which she and all the women wore indoors and out to give them warmth. Her needlework rolled off her lap and fell unnoticed on the stone floor. 'Open wide the gates,' she cried; and as the guards ran to do her bidding, and the heavy gates creaked apart, she and her women moved toward them, stood waiting in the open court. It was dark now, and ever and ever from the pass we heard the sound, a crash, as if men struck their spears against their shields. Then the lady stretched out her arm for silence, and she and her youngest daughter, Lilian, drew me toward them and held my hands between their own. Hers were work-worn, and I could feel the hardness of the palm, the lines across it, the ridges on the thumb. But she held my hand for pity's sake.

And the other women, although their expression did not change, I saw how their eyes flickered for a second and I heard them whisper as a prayer, 'Praise God, it is our gain.'

They came riding in, doubled for the most part, their many wounded clinging each to a rider's back. And at their head rode Owain, his hooded eyes sunk with fatigue, his own horse almost lame; and he too had a wounded serf hanging on his waist. One by one the men came into the courtyard and as each entered in the gates, he clashed his spear and shield. The womenfolk led away those who needed aid; those who could walk went into the hall where already serviteurs had begun to heat up great cauldrons of meat and slice loaves of bread. There would be feasting without formality (no tablecloths, no fine linens, no gilded cups), but long, and with songs. And the Celtic bards, whose rank there stands as high as any lord's, would sing their victory chant. But I saw Dafydd, son of Howel, or rather, he seeing me where I leaned against the wall, he dismounted, looped the reins around a post, and came to stand beside me. His eyes were bloodshot and strained with watching, and he was weak with loss of blood, having taken a cut in the upper arm. I tended it as best I could, but the jagged edges had already been pulled together and the flesh was clean.

'You forget,' he said, almost smiling, 'you are among the Celts, who know more of living things and more of healing than anyone in our northern world.'

But even he was silent when he heard their bards begin to sing:

Fair western dragon, the best was theirs;
Sword blade in hand, inviting death,
Death bidden, ready, red-handed . . .

You, poet, I have heard you sing that song in quieter times at Cambray, you praise their skill who gave it words and tune. You do not know, I am sure, that I had heard them sing it first; you did not realize where I heard their victory song and stood listening when the harpers struck their Welsh harps and made the rafters of Prince Owain's hall ring with sound. But it was Dafydd who spoke the truth of it, carefully, thoughtfully, so I should know.

'That is Prince Owain's son who sings,' Dafydd told me after listening for a while, 'he is a fearless warrior who sings as he fights. Hark to him—The bright land of the north—that is how he thinks of us. And that is how it has been for us today.

'Well, Lady Ann, for all that I could sleep standing here, and may yet, I will tell you all I saw and heard, not so eloquent as our bardsman there, but the best I can. Prince Owain is old, but what he lacks in youth he makes up for in cunning. And King Henry underestimated us as Owain knew he would, for he set his whole force to cross the boundary, over the estuary flats at Basingwerk. The tide was high and it hampered him. Suddenly, on the western shores we appeared. Owain had kept us hidden until then; now we rose up from behind the sand dunes, clashed our spears and shouted until the very air rang. Many good horsemen were drowned; their horses, taking fright, dashed them down among the sandbars where they were trapped by the inrushing tide; and some of our bowmen, having secretly positioned themselves in midstream among the elder bushes that grow there on small isles, they too shot among the ranks to cause confusion and fright. And so that Norman army milled about on the eastern bank and could not contrive to cross.'

'And Lord Raoul?' I scarce dared ask.

He said, 'Lady, we had spies at the Norman camp, as they had sent their spies against us; Prince Owain's brother being there had many messengers going freely to and fro to him, and so our men slipped in among them. Until the very moment that the king ordered their march, your noble husband cautioned against it, steadfastly maintained the king should disband his troops, an army he could not long keep under control, advised (I use that word although some said command would be more like) that the king made good his offer to treat with us and meet with Owain's counselors as he had at first promised. They say he offered himself as emissary. But the king was in a strange humor. He had returned alone from hunting in a black and despondent mood, had shut himself up in his tent, would not speak to anyone, and gave the order to march even before some of his men were prepared.

' "Move out," he is supposed to have said, riding up on his gray stallion and, without telling anyone of his council what he had done, sent dispatches to his fleet moored at Pembroke to sail round to meet him on the coast. A joint attack then, planned by land and sea, which would have gone hard for us, had it come without forewarning. Yet he kept sullen even on the march; they say his brother failed him, who did not come, although no word of the attack on you or your men had reached the camp. They thought you safely at Cambray. And the king did not enlighten them. I saw those Normans come, Lady Ann, a great and noble host; like a flood themselves, they rolled across the estuary sands. And among the many banners that flew, I saw the hawks of Sedgemont.'

'And then?'

'Ah,' he said. 'I told you Owain was a crafty man. He guessed that Henry would not be stopped long, that failing to cross the estuary, he would ford the river further inland; and so, with that in mind, our leader had divided his troops in three parts: one third had waited at the estuary, had stepped out to make such a noise, both to frighten and to seem more numerous than they were. The other two-thirds he had stationed on either side of the narrow track leading to the ford, and hidden them among the woods of Coleshill, with his sons in command. Their instructions were simple: to prevent Henry's crossing the river there. The forest in that part is thick, one of the oldest stretches of trees in the north, a perfect place for an ambush. And Henry fell into our trap. He led his troops himself, riding recklessly without his helmet on so that his men might know and follow him. And those who saw his face say it was white with rage to have been so thwarted by the wind and tide and a handful of scarecrow men.'

'Who rode with him, did you see who they were?'

'I did, lady.' His voice was sad. 'Your lord's red and gold standard was ranged beside the Angevin one. Like showers of gold, those flags blew in the sun. But in the shadows of the wood, we waited for them, in the ditches where the path funnels toward the river bank. Their van went through and we let it go. I was there: I saw them, those proud Norman French who rule your land and think to take ours. I heard your lord shout out, "Send scouts ahead, lord King, watch where you go." Henry would not wait, pressed on, shouted his reply over his shoulder for those to catch as they could, "He is coward who lags behind." Your lord's face grew grim. He drew his sword, gave the word to his men. They held their place, not one faltered out of line; Jesu, had they all been like that, an iron blade slicing across the countryside, even an ambush might not have halted them. And when the path narrowed, they spaced themselves, kept a horselength between them, to swing their swords. The king, seeing what Raoul had done, clapped spurs, rode full tilt ahead, forcing his household guard and his noble lords to accompany him. Courage has that English king, but no sense. He willed a victory for himself, knowing it was defeat.

'We waited until he was fairly in our grasp, then Prince Cynan, Owain's son, gave the signal for the archers to fire. They stood up on both sides, fitted arrow to their bows. How at that distance could they miss? The men around the king dropped like flies. I saw one man like a hedgehog pricked through. Henry himself was cut about the face and arms, although only one arrow hit him squarely, mainly because of the speed he rode. Even where the path had deepened, he still galloped like a madman to run us down. He shouted, "Ride to the riverbank," slammed on his helmet, plucked out his sword, flailed at air. Where were we, that enemy? Dropped again out of sight, slid back into ditch and bank that lined each side; all he had seen was that deadly hail of arrows.

'Lord Raoul caught up with him where our main force was hid—no, he was not hurt. He and his men, by holding to their pace, they had had time to throw up their shield wall above their heads, but he had to ride over the dead and dying to reach the king, his black horse nimble as a cat, leaping almost daintily. The king would have still forged on alone had not Raoul taken his bridle rein and forced him to stop.

' “Turn back," he said, "folly to ride on. Look about you, great King." He made the king turn and look back. Half your nobles are hit or dead and the Celts lie in wait to strike again. You cannot reach the ford this way.' It was only when he had repeated himself twice that Henry seemed to hear. We saw him wheel his horse and turn about, as if searching for an escape. The grass beneath its hooves was splashed and torn, the sun filtering through the trees on red, not green, and at either side, we waited to send another rain of death.

' "Where is my standard-bearer?" Henry cried, "where is my flag?"

' "Fallen," Lord Raoul told him, but that was not the truth. They say the king's standard-bearer, the Earl of Essex, also had seen the trap, and when the first arrows began to fall, he had thrown the banner aside, forced his horse round, and had galloped out the way he'd come in. We found the flag, its Angevin blue stained and blotched, its gold lilies torn.'

He stopped. Against my will, I had raised my hands as if to fend off his words, as if, like that Norman army, its king and its feudal lords, I hoped to protect myself from blows, as if I hoped to protect my noble lord.

‘Your lord is a seasoned warrior,' Dafydd assured me, he has fought many times and lived; he knows us and our ways. He took no hurt. Or rather, he took no hurt from us. I will tell you it the way it was.'

He said, 'Lord Raoul also looked about him, one quick look to assess the lie of the land, to see where we were most likely hid, to see where the remnants of the mounted nobles were, the rest having fallen or, like the Earl of Essex, turned tail. For now there was scarcely any knight between the foot soldiers in the rear and us, waiting to pounce on them. There was no cavalry at all, save these few who remained with the king, Lord Raoul and his men, either to protect the infantry as they ran or to prevent us from picking them off, one by one. Seeing this, Lord Raoul seized the king's bridle, spurred on his horse, shouted out his battle cry so his men came on with him. Athwart the path, straight at us they spurred, where we lay in ditch and under hedge, straight across our line, broke through the bank. I myself saw the bellies of their horses as they mowed us down, as they leapt the gap in a flail of hooves and swords. Although many of them were unhorsed, either by stumbling at the banks or thrust through, our soldiers did not have chance to stand up, our bowmen could not draw with them upon us. Our line was broken and they rode past. Henry himself had recovered enough to swing out on one side, Raoul on the other, stirrup to stirrup they rode and hacked a path for the rest. But those who could not ride through at that place, we cut them down.

'So, swinging then in a half circle, they beat up the path by which they had entered, driving their foot soldiers before them like sheep, making a barrier against which we could not pass. So was the rest of the army saved, but the king's courtiers suffered grievous loss. And had not your noble lord rallied them when he did, our victory would have been complete. They say one-third of England's knights were there; by Saint David, it was almost a massacre. And so the remnants of that army withdrew toward Chester. But this I will also tell you, as it was told to me.

'When Henry, faint from his wounds, would have fallen. Lord Raoul dragged him by the waist, carried Henry behind him on his own horse, through the outposts that we had set, and got the king back to the estuary flats. Even then, they were not completely safe; Owain could have caught them with the men he had stationed there, but the tide which earlier had hampered them, now hampered him. He could not get his troops across in time and so was forced to wait in turn, balked by the river which they say rises to give warning of Celtic victory.

'In full view of the Celtic host, Lord Raoul let the king drop to the ground, and waited for the surgeons to rush from cover to tend him. He pushed his helmet back, his Sedgemont guard, most of whom had followed him, stood beside him, few else.

' "Here is the flower of England, King," he said, "here we be at your command. The rest are gone or dead."

'Henry looked up from where he lay, "Gone," he said, "fled, wherefore?"

' "They cannot fight an unseen enemy," your lord told him. "They would follow you to the death if you command, but being sensible men, they would rather know what death and why. There can be no crossing of the river floods today."

'Henry's face was mottled blue and white, the veins stood out on his neck. He tried to speak, choked and spat.

' "This is your doing, Earl of Sedgemont," he said. "We owe this day's defeat to you."

'His nobles who were left, Raoul's men, gave a cry of outrage. In truth, even we, his foes, would take that lie amiss.

'Your lord said nothing, leaned forward on his horse's neck, smoothed its mane and spoke in its ear. They say it answers to his call, knows his mind before he speaks it; they say when he rides it, horse and rider think as one, and it too has killed many men.