The Reckoning - 3 (32 page)

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lyn would never begrudge me the money. You'll be paid back, I
T-ril^G^
^r° "Assuming you come back," Isaac said, and angry color flooded
Hugh's face.
"When I give my word, I keep it!"
"I am not suggesting you would gainsay your promise," Isaac said Imlv "I was trimkin§ of the dangers you'd be facing. Have you not thought that you might die on this quest of yours?"
In truth, Hugh had not. He opened his mouth to reassure Isaac, but the words caught in his throat. Why should this man risk so much upon the good intentions of a stranger? "I can indeed promise you that I'd hold to my word.
But I cannot promise that no evil would befall me on the journey. I thank you for your time"
"Will tonight be soon enough?"
Hugh blinked. "What?"
"If you return at dusk, I shall have the documents drawn up, the money waiting for you."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Hugh's companions were even more astonished than he was, for they'd harbored no hope at all. "You mean it?"
Hugh gasped, and the corner of Isaac's mouth hinted at a smile.
But then Wat said aggressively, even angrily: "Ere this devil's deal is struck, Hugh, you'd best ask him how much interest he means to bleed from you.
Master Bevis tells me he has paid as much as forty percent of the debt due!"
"And has your Master Bevis told you about all the times your King has seen fit to cancel Christian debts outright?" Isaac's voice revealed no overt anger, but his eyes had narrowed, belying his apparent sangfroid. "Did he happen to mention those occasions when Christian borrowers decide to discharge their debts by burning all records of them and the Jewry, too?"
Wat had begun to sputter, but before he could give voice to his outrage, Hugh was at his side, his fingers clamping down like talons on Waf s arm. "The
Evesham monks taught me," he said softly, "that rt is the height of bad manners to insult a man in his own house."
Abel was looking resentful, too, and for a suspenseful moment, "ugh's hopes seemed to hang precariously in the balance. But then nan took charge, ushering his friends hastily toward the door. "Hugh be back by dusk," he flung over his shoulder, muttering when Hugh hesitated, "Let's get out of here ere he changes his mind!" , At sound of the closing door, the maidservant emerged from behind e screen, leading
Isaac's son by the hand. "May he play out here

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"Come to me, Elias," Isaac said, and the little boy tottered tow him. He was lifting Elias up onto a high-backed chair when he h footsteps. Whirling, he saw Hugh standing just a few feet away
"I came back," Hugh said, for when he was nervous, he tended belabor the obvious. "I wanted to thank you. You have no idea h ° much it means to me, that you agreed to give me the money."
"I think I do," Isaac said dryly, "for you left without even askin what the interest would be." °
Hugh's smile was sheepish. "I'm not good at business matters," h confessed.
"I'd never borrowed money before. In fact, I ... I'd neve met a Jew before.
You are not what I expected, not at all."
'No cloven hoof, you mean?"
Hugh flushed, but managed a game smile. "May I ask something? Why did you do it? Why did you agree to make the loan?"
"Does it truly matter?" Isaac parried, sounding cautious, but curious, too.
"Let me put a question to you, instead. Why did you tell me your true identity? Did you not fear that I might betray you?"
Hugh shrugged. "It just did not seem right to lie, not when I was seeking a favor."
Isaac was silent for so long that Hugh decided the conversation was at an end.
He was about to retreat when Isaac said abruptly, unexpectedly, "You must have been very young when you entered Lady Eleanor's service, for loyalty like yours takes years to forge. I assume then, that you've been dwelling in
France?"
When Hugh gave a puzzled nod, Isaac hesitated, and there was another long pause. "It has never been easy to be a Jew in England," he said at last, speaking fast and very low. "But life is harder now than ever before, for King
Edward despises us so. His father brought untold grief upon us by his attempts to convert us to your faith. He set up conversion houses throughout England, was truly disappointed when his nets caught so few fish. But Edward cares naught for our souls, cares only for the money he can wrest from us. And when a lemon is wrung dry, you throw it away . . . no?"
"I suppose so," Hugh said uncertainly.
"You are wondering what lemons have to do with this. But in the past year, the
King's mother has banished all Jews from her dower towns, from Marlborough, Gloucester, Worcester, and Cambridge. The Gloucester Jews took refuge here in
Bristol, so I saw for myself what misery the old Queen caused."
"You truly think King Edward might do that? Expel all the Jews from England?"
Hugh's astonishment was genuine; he'd never even considered the possibility before. "But. . . but where would you all gohe asked, and now it was Isaac who shrugged.

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awkward silence fell. Isaac was standing behind his son's chair reached down, ruffled Elias's bright hair, but it was obvious his ^ hts were elsewhere; his was the taut, disquieted distraction of a t"° tartled by his own candor. But then Hugh smiled. "* "T think I understand. My lady tells me the Welsh have a saying, The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' "
"And was I right, Sir Hugh? Is Edward your enemy, too?" Isaac ked quietly, and saw Hugh's guileless blue eyes take on a sudden, hard sheen.
"With my lady on her way to a Windsor prison, need you even ask?"
They looked at each other, experiencing an odd sense of empathy, strong enough to take them both by surprise.
"Shall I tell you the second reason why I decided to lend you that money?"
"Because you were bedazzled by my juggling?" Hugh suggested with a grin.
"No . . . because my son was." And in those last fleeting moments before the barriers went back up, they exchanged smiles, as the child looked on, innocent, uncomprehending.
THE sky had been clear when Caitlin rode away from Cricieth Castle, but by noon, it was mottled with small, circular clouds. From time to time, she gazed upward uneasily, for those speckled wisps of white reminded her of the patterned splotches on a mackerel's back, and she was familiar with the folklore, "Mackerel sky, rain is nigh." Well, she'd have to risk it, for she did not know when she'd get another chance to seek out the soothsayer.
If the woman had a name, Caitlin had never heard it. People just called her the hag, for she was as ancient and gnarled as Llyn's oldest oak trees.
Sometimes they called her the witch. Caitlin was frightened °f facing her alone, but she was determined to go through with it, for her uncle's sake. If it was true that the old woman could foretell the ture, mayhap she could reveal what had happened to Uncle Llewelyn's English bride.
Men said the witch lived in a hut on the eastern slope of Y Garn, a stone's throw from the church at Dolbenmaen. Caitlin reckoned she could get there and back by dusk, for the trail was well marked, the now packed down and solid.
Glancing again at that dappled sky, *e w°ndered if the hag could read minds, too. What if the witch could erret °ut her own secret? If she could tell how much she'd dreaded the coming of the English bride?

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Caitlin bit her lip, for it shamed her to think of another person knowing of her jealousy. It was not that she'd ever believed the taunting of her spiteful cousins; she'd never liked Tegwared's sons. Even if a new broom did sweep clean, even if the Lady de Montfort did not want Davydd's bastard waif, she knew her uncle would not abandon her would not send her away to please a new wife. But life would never be the same. Sometimes it seemed to Caitlin as if she could already fee[ t the new wife's disdain, see those elegant English eyebrows raising in f the way ladies showed displeasure. And she'd begun to hope, even to pray, that her uncle's marriage to Eleanor de Montfort would never come to pass.
She'd often heard people joke that a man should watch what he prayed for, lest he get it. Like most adult humor, its point had escaped heruntil now. Until the days dragged into weeks, January yielded to February, and her uncle's gaze strayed again and again to the grey winter seas, searching the horizon for a distant sail.
Caitlin looked skyward, but not this time to track clouds. "I did not mean it," she cried. "I did not want any harm to befall her. I just wanted her to stay in France!" She'd turned inland now, no longer heard the rumble of the surf or the screeching of gulls, heard only the echoes of her own words, long after the wind had carried them away.
So caught up was she in her own thoughts that she did not see the sudden dip in the trail until they were upon it. With another mount, it might not have mattered, but Caitlin's mare had an idiosyncrasy peculiarly its own; every time it came to the crest of a hill, even a slight incline, the horse felt compelled to run down it. Now, as the ground suddenly sloped away, it bolted, and Caitlin, caught off balance, went sailing right over the filly's head.
A snowdrift cushioned her fall, but by the time she'd gotten to her feet, the mare was vanishing into the distance. There was nothing for Caitlin to do except brush the snow from her mantle, while calling the mare all those names she'd heard her uncle call the English King.
There was no hope of catching the animal; she saw that at once. As furious with herself now as with her runaway filly, she turned, began the long, tiring trek back toward Cricieth. The horse might well find its way home on its own.
But if the mare turned up, riderless, someone would surely recognize it, hasten to tell Llewelyn that his niece had suffered a mishap. She'd meant to ease his mind, not add to his troubles. Yet now it was likely all of Cricieth would be turned topsy-turvy, because of her. And once she was found, what in
Heaven's Name could she tell them? Uncle Llewelyn would want to know why she'd been out on the road by herself. She could not lie, not to him. But how could she tell him about the soothsayer?

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It seemed to her that the sky had darkened, and as she trudged
1 ne the winding trail, she thought she could hear the distant howling , wOjves. People feared wolves more than any other predator, but her cle had assured her that wolves were actually wary, cautious creatures, unlikely to attack men. If Llewelyn said it was so, that was enough for Caitlin; her faith was absolute. But she would rather not meet a wolf foot and alone, would rather not put its character to such a tempting test, and she quickened her pace. When she stopped again to listen, the wind brought to her a far more familiar and reassuring sound, the jangle of a harness, the rhythmic thud of hooves upon hard, snow-encrusted ground.
Caitlin's spirits soared. But the horse now coming into view through the trees was not her fugitive mare, was a big-boned rangy bay. The gelding's rider looked as startled as Caitlin. His reflexes were good, though; he reined in beside her in a spray of snow.
While Caitlin would have preferred to find her mare, to keep her mishap between herself and the filly and the Almighty, she was grateful, nonetheless, for this stranger's providential appearance; Cricieth would have been a long walk. "How glad I am that you happened by! My mare threw me; you did not see her, did you? Can you give me a ride as far as Cricieth Castle?"
Puzzled by his silence, she moved closer, found herself looking up into eyes of a deep and uncomprehending blue. At the same time, she noted his beard, the blond hair shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat. "Blessed Lady, an Englishman!"
Hugh had yet to understand a word she'd said. "I speak no Welsh," he said apologetically, and Caitlin gave a vast sigh of relief.
"French, thank Heaven! Some of your countrymen speak only English, or so I've been told. Does it not get confusing for you sometimes, like the Tower of
Babel in Scriptures?"
She stopped in surprise, for Hugh had begun to laugh. "If you are real, lad, and not conjured up by my lack of sleep, tell me what a Welsh mp speaking perfect French is doing all alone out here in this wilderness?"
"My uncle made me learn French because it is the court Ian A 'ad? I am a girl!" Caitlin exclaimed indignantly, and jerked back her mantle hood to reveal a long shining braid.
"Lord forgive me, so you are!" Hugh's demeanor changed dramatically, from friendly to protective in the blink of an eye. "It is dan§erous for a lass to be wandering about on your own like this. I'd best ee you home straightaway, no arguments now!"
'Who is arguing? No, there is no need to dismount; just give me y°ur hand,"
Caitlin directed, and to Hugh's amusement, she scrambled

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up behind him, as nimbly as any boy. "Can you take me to Cricietj. Castle?"
"If you tell me how to get there," Hugh said agreeably, and Waited until her thin little arms were securely clasped about his waist before spurring his horse forward. "So . . . what is a little lass like you doing out here all by yourself?"
"I am not so little, will be twelve next month. Anyway, what is an Englishman doing all by himself so deep in Wales?"
Hugh grinned. "This uncle who taught you French must also have taught you military tactics. Whenever possible, carry the attack into the enemy's territory!"
Caitlin grinned, too. "I did not mean to pry, truly, but it is unusual to see an Englishman in this part of Gwynedd. Most of your countrymen keep to the south."
"I am on my way to Pwllheli, where I hope to find Prince Llewelyn."
Caitlin stiffened. "What makes you think he is there?"
Hugh hesitated from habit, before remembering that there was no longer reason for secrecy. "Because that is where he is awaiting his wife's arrival from
France."
Caitlin's gasp was so audible that he turned in the saddle. "Prince Llewelyn is my uncle. Can you tell me, please, about the Lady Eleanor? We've been so worried. She is still coming?"
"No . . . no, lass, she is not."
LLEWELYN'S impressive self-control was acknowledged even by his enemies. But it had not come easily to him. He had learned wariness the hard way, only after years of youthful turmoil, scarred by irreconcilable family loyalties, by his unrelenting struggles with the English Crown, by his brother's betrayals. He had learned, too, to keep his own counsel. And so he did not confide his uneasiness, his growing fears for Ellen's safety.
For those who knew him well, though, there was no need for words. They watched him gazing out across Pwllheli's harbor, and they tried to help, each in his own way. His Seneschal, Tudur, sought to keep Llewelyn so busy, so preoccupied with statecraft and the affairs of Gwynedd that he'd have no time to worry.
His cousin Tegwared tried to cheer him with jests and practical jokes, with surprise gifts and the songs of their best bards. And his uncle, Einion, confronted his fears head-on, brought them out into the open.
Llewelyn must remember that they did not know the Lady Ellen s exact departure date. Her last letter had expressed the hope that they d