Rhuddlan (89 page)

Delamere’s eyes opened slowly but Longsword
could tell immediately that he saw nothing. “Olwen…” His voice was
barely audible. He tried to say more but there wasn’t any breath
left. His head fell to one side as if the sinews holding it firmly
to the neck had been suddenly severed. For a horrifying moment,
Longsword was immobile. Then he bent over Delamere’s lifeless body
and grabbed his head in his arms and pressed his face to his,
feeling the rough growth of beard, smelling sweat and horse and the
river water and he couldn’t believe it. Only moments before he was
alive…only moments before…what had happened?…moments before the man
he loved above all others was alive and now he was dead…what had
happened? Already, Delamere’s cheek was growing cold. Longsword sat
hunched, covering Delamere’s face with his own so the rain wouldn’t
fall on it. A loud, growing roar began to distract his tumbling
thoughts. A roar he finally realized was coming from his own
throat.

Roger of Haworth froze. He thought he’d heard
something; a long, anguished howl—human, not animal—but though he
strained his ears, it was gone now. It was difficult to hear
anything over the rushing water and the clomping hooves of the
horses that were just being brought over. Perhaps he was mistaken;
none of the others appeared to have heard it and some of the bowmen
were still shooting arrows out into the river despite the poor
visibility. He called on them to stop wasting missiles which would
be better employed the next day and turned again to the man who was
supposed to have been guarding the ladders.

“I would swear it was Lord William, Sir
Roger,” the man said in a nasally voice. “And Sir Richard knocked
me out.”

“So you’ve said,” Haworth replied dourly.

He was vaguely surprised he didn’t feel shock
at the knowledge that the Bastard was back from Normandy. He
supposed it was merely another rip in the fabric of the perfect
plan he and Hugh had concocted. If Hugh hadn’t been a prisoner of
Rhuddlan, Haworth would have cut his losses and retreated to
Hawarden at first light.

One of his knights approached, breathless
from having galloped from the horse pen to the river. He was
mounted and led Haworth’s horse by the reins. Half a dozen knights
stood behind him, most dressed in nothing more than a tunic,
leggings and boots and holding only their swords because they
hadn’t had time to properly outfit themselves for a fight. Their
horses stepped impatiently, as if they were angry at being awakened
when they’d just settled down for the night.

“Your mount is ready, Sir Roger! Should we go
ahead?”

Haworth shook his head. “No. They’ve crossed
the river; there’s no point riding along this side.”

“Then we’ll cross as well!”

“Save your enthusiasm for tomorrow,” Haworth
answered. “I’m not risking my best men on that river in this
weather. They were lucky to make it…” If they had, he thought,
remembering the howl.

He looked down at the spot where the ladders
had been stacked and his tower had lain. This little surprise had
cost them a day at most but perhaps that price was cheap in view of
the information they’d acquired. The Bastard and Richard Delamere
were back and they obviously knew what was happening at Rhuddlan.
If he were the Bastard, Haworth thought, what would be his next
move?

Head for Llanlleyn.

Teleri awoke in the middle of the night to
frantic knocking on her outer door. Her women, similarly roused,
looked helplessly at each other and with a Norman oath she shoved
back the bedclothes, covered herself with a robe and walked
barefoot to the door. “Who is it?” she hissed.

“Cynan, my lady!”

“Cynan!” She pulled up the latch and opened
the door. “What’s the matter? The earl hasn’t escaped, has he?”

“No, my lady! Can you come down to the
stables, please?”

“At this hour? Why?”

“Please, my lady; they won’t talk to me. They
want to see you and say it’s urgent!”

“Who?”

“They’re fishermen. I don’t know their
names.”

Obviously she wasn’t going to get any
sensible information from the boy. She told him to wait, shut the
door and ordered her women to dress her quickly. Then she lit a
lamp and went out.

They went down the stairs to the ground floor
opposite the kitchens. She was relieved to find the rain had
finally stopped and there was a full moon high in the sky, although
somewhat obscured by streaky clouds. Still relatively early, then,
she thought. Perhaps she’d yet be able to have a decent sleep once
she dismissed these fishermen.

“How did they get in here?” she whispered to
the boy. “Didn’t Sir Guy put a guard on the postern?”

“It was the guard who fetched me,” Cynan
said. “He didn’t understand what they were saying. Most of the
craftsmen and their families in the village have come into the
castle for protection and he thought it was just two more. But they
kept saying your name, that much he understood, so he sent for me.
And they told me they had seen Lord William and now they must see
you—”

Teleri stopped walking and grabbed his arm.
“Lord William?”

“Yes, my lady, that’s what they said.”

“He’s back? Where?”

“He wasn’t with them. Perhaps he gave them a
message for you.”

“Impossible! Lord William doesn’t speak Welsh
and they obviously don’t speak French.” She released him and
started walking again, faster than before so that Cynan had to trot
to keep up with her.

“Sir Richard does,” he said.

There was a small crowd outside the stables.
Most of the villagers had gone into the hall for shelter but now
that the rain had stopped, the potential excitement of the next day
had driven the restless ones out of doors to talk.

As she drew closer, she heard two men’s
voices above the murmurs of the others, speaking as if they were
telling a story. The few sentences she heard shocked her. With
tight lips, she strode through the crowd and confronted them.

“You there! Come with me immediately!”

Without a backwards glance she continued past
the stables and down to the postern gate, thinking the nosey crowd
wouldn’t dare follow. She nodded to the Norman guard and then
turned on the two fishermen. “I understand you have a message for
me!” she snapped.

“Yes—”

“Then why were you telling it to
everyone?”

“We weren’t told not to!”

“We are under siege! It is no time to spread
rumors!”

“It’s no rumor, my lady,” one man said
earnestly. “It’s true! The Norman is dead! The lord is beyond this
gate, waiting for you.”

There was a little pause.

“My husband?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Her heart thudded. “What do you mean, he’s
beyond the gate?”

The two men looked at each other, clearly
puzzled. The one who’d been speaking repeated, “He’s waiting for
you…”

She tried again. “And he’s dead?”

“Oh, no, no, my lady! Not he; the other one!
Please, my lady, the lord came knocking on our door. We didn’t
understand his words but he kept saying Rhuddlan and your name. His
companion was lying across the back of his horse. It was plain he
wanted to come here. We took two boats. We know where the safest
crossings are, of course; closer to the bay where the river
widens.”

Teleri didn’t know why, but relief spread
through her body. She was relieved it wasn’t Longsword who was
dead.

“The river is some distance from here…” she
said.

“The lord carried the dead one all the
way.”

Teleri turned to the guard. “I’m going out
with these men. Please open the gate.”

The guard looked uneasy. “My lady, is that
wise? Let me send for Sir Guy.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

He glanced at the Welshmen. “I’m only
thinking it might be a trap of some kind.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Perhaps they were sent by Sir Roger. To
kidnap you. You know, because we have the earl.”

She hadn’t thought of that. She studied the
two men closely. Bah! She was becoming as paranoid as these
Normans. But the truth would be out soon enough, anyway.

“You might as well come, too,” she told him.
“Lord William is outside and Sir Richard with him. That’s what
these two have come to tell me.”

Instead of being cheered by this information,
the guard looked even more alarmed. “Lord William and Sir Richard?
My lady, that’s preposterous! Why would they enter through here?
This is a trap!”

“Shh!” she hushed him. She thought there was
a reason Longsword had summoned her and not Guy Lene and if the
guard continued objecting so loudly, another soldier might hear and
tell the commander. “It isn’t a trap, I promise you! If you won’t
come, at least let me out. I’m ordering you to let me out!”

“I can’t, my lady,” he protested, but his
voice was not too firm. “I will have to speak first with Sir
Guy.”

“Lady Teleri, I will go!” This was from
Cynan, who had followed her and heard everything the two Welshmen
had said.

After further debate, the plan was agreed to
by the Norman. He opened the gate as slightly as would permit the
boy to slide through and quickly closed it behind him.

Teleri turned back to the fishermen. “How did
Sir Richard die?”

The one who had been speaking shrugged. “I
don’t know, lady. It was dark and raining when the lord appeared at
the door and the other Norman was just slung over the horse, as I
told you. Of course, we didn’t dare go near him.”

“So, how do you know he’s dead? Perhaps he’s
merely wounded or ill.”

The two men exchanged another glance and the
first one looked at her pityingly. “He was in my boat when we
crossed the river, lady. He never drew a breath.” He sighed. “I
suppose I will have to have the priest out to bless it now.”

Teleri was just about to make a sharp retort
when Cynan thumped on the gate and announced himself. The guard
opened it cautiously. “It’s him!” the boy said breathlessly, as if
he’d been running. “And he’s angry the lady wasn’t with me and he
says to get over to him right away!”

“Are you satisfied?” Teleri asked the guard,
who still looked doubtful but he knew Cynan wouldn’t put the
soldiers he admired so much in jeopardy and so he dutifully
followed her out, the two Welshmen behind them and the boy jogging
ahead into the maze of little houses.

Longsword was standing in the middle of the
ox path, waiting for them with his arms crossed over his chest.
Cynan stopped but the guard maneuvered past Teleri and approached
his master with sudden enthusiasm. “My lord, is it truly you?” he
exclaimed. “Welcome home!”

Longsword nodded to him. Teleri paused. The
light from the sliver of moon was thin and cast his angular face in
various degrees of shadow which made it impossible to read his
expression. But for some reason, she could quite clearly see the
tension around his mouth and the guarded look in his eyes, which
soon fell on her.

“Come here, Teleri.”

She moved forward slowly, unaccustomed to
seeing him so still. It was one of his less endearing qualities: he
constantly moved or fidgeted, as if he were eager to be anywhere
than where he was, but now he just stood and she was
disconcerted.

“My lord,” she greeted him cautiously.

He turned abruptly on his heel. “Follow me,”
he said without looking back and entered the nearest building, a
workshop of some kind; it was hard for her to distinguish in the
darkness. But there was a long table in the center of the room and
she saw right away there was a body lying on top of it.

“Oh, no,” she breathed. She supposed she
hadn’t really believed the fishermen. She went closer. It was
indeed Richard Delamere.

Longsword exhaled noisily. “Oh, yes,” he said
steadily. “I want you to take him back to the castle. I want you
to—to—well, you know,” his voice was brusque, “do what is usually
done.”

“But—”

“All right?”

“Of course…But what happened, William? What
happened to him?”

“What do you think happened to him, Teleri?
One of Haworth’s men killed him!”

It was plain to her that he was keeping
himself under tight control, although she didn’t understand why; it
was only the two of them in the room. It was as unnatural for him
as his lack of movement only a moment earlier.

“I am sorry, William,” she said quietly. “He
was a good man.”

He ignored the acknowledgment. “What brought
all this on, Teleri? Why is Haworth camped outside the gate and why
is the earl my prisoner?”

She told him the story but didn’t include her
own conversation with Hugh, and he was apparently too numb to
notice that she had explained the mechanics but not the
motivation.

Neither did he seem surprised by the earl’s
treachery. Instead, he indicated Delamere’s body with a jut of his
jaw. “Take care of him, please.” Then he turned towards the
door.

“William, wait!” she said. When he hesitated,
she approached him. “Why don’t you come back with us? You must be
exhausted. You can rest—”

“I don’t want to rest,” he said curtly and
turned back to the door.

“Please!” She touched his arm. He jerked it
back as if stung, but again he paused. “What are you going to
do?”

“Find fitz Maurice.”

“What should
we
do?”

“Keep Haworth out. You have hostages, don’t
you? Use them. Threaten to kill them if Haworth tries to scale the
walls. I’ll need a couple of days.”

She began to feel frantic. “Why don’t you
come inside and tell this to Sir Guy? Perhaps he has
questions—”

“That’s why I asked for you, Teleri!” he said
in a low, sharp voice. “I don’t want to answer questions; I just
want to leave! Do you understand? I don’t have time for
pleasantries and condolences and questions! I didn’t think you’d
give me any of those. Now—just do as I say, will you?”