The Traitor's Wife (30 page)

The administrative center of Glamorgan was not Caerphilly Castle, but Cardiff Castle, not far off, and it was there that Hugh, his father, and Eleanor traveled a couple of days later, the children and Bella staying behind at Caerphilly.

Hugh was much busier at Cardiff than he had been at Glamorgan, meeting with someone almost constantly, and Eleanor herself, as the lady of the household, was almost as beleaguered by petitioners wanting her to exert her influence over Hugh on their behalf. So occupied were they both that there were days when neither saw each other except in the great hall for meals and at bedtime, and sometimes Hugh barely had time to eat before ushering in yet another group of men. It was to her father-in-law, then, whom Eleanor spoke when she noticed Hugh speaking to some men she had seen him with several times already. “Who are those men, sir? Hugh seems uncommonly interested in them.”

Her father-in-law shifted in his chair uneasily. “They are from Wentloog.”

“Wentloog,” Eleanor echoed, wondering what on earth the name looked like on paper. “But sir, didn't my sister Margaret's husband get Wentloog?”

“Yes, but my son has his own ideas about the matter.” Hugh sighed. “You'd best get him to explain to you.”

She did not have to ask, however, for it was just several hours later when Hugh, beaming and carrying a parchment, strode into their chamber. “My dear! Guess who shall be giving us their fealty?”

“The men of Wentloog, Hugh?”

“Yes, the men of Wentloog, and Machen as well. But my love, how did you guess?”

“Your father told me. Hugh, this is not right. That land is Margaret's—and Hugh d'Audley's.”

“But the men of Wentloog do not wish to be separate from Glamorgan, my love. Wentloog has always been administered with Glamorgan—or at least since your father's time, which is as good an 'always' as need be.” Hugh looked for a smile and got none.

“How did you get them to agree, Hugh?”

“They are to have the same privileges as the men of Glamorgan. I shall show this indenture to the king"—he held up the parchment—"and if the king does not approve, a new indenture shall be drawn up.”

“What if Margaret and Audley do not approve?”

Hugh shrugged. “Can I help it if the Welshmen would prefer my lordship to theirs? I think not!”

He sauntered out of the room, ending the conversation.

The king did not receive the news about Wentloog as docilely as Hugh had expected. He promptly ordered the men of Wentloog to pay homage to Hugh d'Audley.

Meanwhile, the Despensers returned to Caerphilly Castle for Christmas. They were still there as January wore on, and were undressing for bed one evening when a messenger arrived, with a note for Hugh. Hugh read it and tossed it into the fire. “Seems I must go to Cardiff tomorrow, my dear.”

“The weather has been so sunny the last few days. Perhaps I shall go there with you.” She liked Cardiff Castle, with its view of the river.

“Not tomorrow, my love.” He said this so quickly and urgently that Eleanor started.

“Why not, Hugh?”

“I didn't like Joan's looks tonight, Eleanor. She looks as if she might be catching another cold. If she does, she'll want you.”

Eleanor was a most solicitous mother, but she had noticed nothing amiss with Joan or the other children, nor had Hugh seen fit to mention his concerns before. As it was plain, however, that Hugh did not want her going with him, she said, “Very well, I will stay here.”

Hugh's relief was almost palpable. “Next time, my love, you shall go.”

“Yes.”

Nothing more was said, and they rolled on their respective sides to go to sleep. But Hugh was up and gone very early the next morning, as if he did not want another chance for Eleanor to question him.

The atmosphere in the castle was very odd that day, too. There were much fewer petitioners than usual, and conversations stopped when Eleanor came within earshot. Eleanor had little leisure to contemplate this in the morning, as her chamberlain, her almoner, and her children's tutors, governesses, and nurses all had business to transact with her, but after a very quiet meal in the great hall, she excused herself to her chamber and dismissed everyone but her damsel Gladys. Having come from Gilbert de Clare's Welsh estates, Gladys spoke excellent Welsh, and her English was good as well. She was an inveterate receiver of gossip, although she was much more guarded in what passed her own lips. “Gladys, what is happening here?”

Gladys shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “You remember the rebel Llywelyn Bren?”

“The man who caused so much uproar here two years ago? Yes, I remember. He is in the Tower, is he not? The Earl of Hereford and that dreadful Mortimer urged the king to spare his life.”

“And the king agreed. But he was taken from the Tower some days ago, my lady, and arrived in Cardiff yesterday. On Lord Despenser's orders. He was to be executed today. I suppose it has happened by now.”

Eleanor's stomach churned. “On Hugh's orders?”

“Yes, on his orders.” Gladys crossed herself. “He was to die a traitor's death, my lady.”

Hugh arrived back from Cardiff the next morning. He made his way immediately to his chamber, where Eleanor sat in a window seat. She had seen him and his men approaching, but had made no effort to hurry and greet him as she usually did, nor did she turn to greet him now. “My love?”

No answer. Hugh sighed. “I see you have heard.”

“Yes. I have heard.” Her lips were barely moving.

Hugh put his hands on her shoulders, and she wriggled away. “Do not touch me.”

“Eleanor—”

“Do not touch me, did you hear me? I cannot bear it!”

He looked at her, and the expression of hurt puzzlement in his eyes almost made her relent. But before she could, he sighed and dropped his hands. “Very well. I'll have a bed made elsewhere tonight. As our Hugh has pointed out many times, there's more than ample room for all of us here.”

Eleanor resumed her gaze out the window. Hugh turned to go. “It was what your grandfather the first Edward would have done, Eleanor. You know that.”

For the next two days they lived the most formal of married lives, eating together in the great hall, talking over what business needed to be talked over, even saying good night to their children together. For the latter they made some show of affability, for the children adored Hugh and had greeted him after his one-night absence as if he had been gone on crusade. Hugh to his credit was a loving father who saw no loss of dignity in letting Edward and Joan ride him like a horse, in pretending that Isabel was nowhere to be found until she at last emerged from underneath her bedclothes, and in promising Hugh that they would go for a ride tomorrow, all by themselves. It was a promise Eleanor knew would be kept. But when the children were at last put to bed, she and Hugh went into different bedchambers, for the first time in their twelve years of marriage.

On the third night, however, she was despondently letting Gladys braid her hair for bed when Hugh appeared in the room. He waited until Gladys had excused herself. Then he said, “Llywelyn Bren surprised the people here while they were holding manor court and slew five of them. No warning, no time for them to fight him like men. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“No one in Caerphilly but the Countess of Gloucester and one of her ladies. For weeks they were penned up there, under siege, with only a small garrison to defend them. Do you remember that?”

She nodded.

“Others were killed too, many of them innocent Welsh who just happened to get in the way. Buildings and livestock were destroyed, crops ruined. The town of Cardiff still shows the effects, as do some of our castles. Do you remember that?”

“Yes. Hugh—I don't say Llywelyn Bren was a saint by any means. Perhaps he earned himself the death he suffered. But he was promised imprisonment.”

“At the instigation of Mortimer and Hereford, neither of whose lands—or tenants—were harmed. Do you really think they would have showed him any mercy had it been Ludlow or Brecon that was attacked?”

“But he was in prison, Hugh. What harm could he do there?”

“A prisoner can escape.”

“From the Tower?”

He shrugged. “It's been done. And if it was done while I was away, and you and the children here if he made his way back—that's not something I was prepared to face.”

“Yet it was a noble thing he did, surrendering so that his men would not suffer.”

“Or so they would not turn on him. But maybe he did have a higher motive, albeit rather late in the game. And I'll spare you the trouble of telling me that among his confiscated goods was a copy of the
Romance of the Rose
. Would it make you hate me less if I had a copy made for myself?”

“Hugh! You know I could never hate you.” Her eyes were streaming tears. “But it seemed so unworthy of you, and such a terrible death.”

“It was vile; I'll grant you that, though if it's any consolation, he died bravely. I was impressed.”

“You watched?”

“I had to, my love. One shouldn't give an order like that and then shirk from seeing it carried out, as Warwick did.”

She shuddered, and Hugh touched her hand. “But this was not a Gaveston, a man who did little more than make the wrong people angry and enjoy the royal largesse. Llywelyn Bren was an enemy of the king, whatever his motives.”

“Yes. I suppose he was.”

Hugh was silent, watching the moonlight play on the man-made lakes that surrounded Caerphilly Castle. “Tomorrow I go to the king, to give him much the same explanation I gave you just now. I was hoping to depart knowing that when I came home, I might share a bed with you again.”

“Yes, Hugh.”

“Tonight?”

“Just to sleep. I am bone-tired, Hugh. I have not slept well these past few nights.” She sighed. “I never sleep well without you.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Nor I without you, my love. But now I am here, so let us rest.”

At Westminster his father was waiting for him with a lecture, albeit a halfhearted one, for Hugh the elder also had to tell Hugh that his younger sister Margaret, married to John de St. Amand, was ailing. “John thinks she will not last until spring. Consumption, just as poor Philip had.”

“Poor thing. I will try to see her on my way back to Wales.”

“If the king doesn't toss you in the Tower. Hugh, have you lost your mind? First this business of Wentloog, and now Llywelyn Bren, all without a word of warning to the king.”

“Well, he can't say I've had things all my own way in the March. Those whoresons in Dryslwyn and Cantrefmawr won't let me near the lands, and they were a grant for life by the king himself!”

“I hope you don't expect sympathy from him. When he got word about Llywelyn Bren, he all but burst a blood vessel.”

“I shall deal with him. My Eleanor has forgiven me, and that is far more important to me.”

Hugh scowled. “You don't deserve that woman, Hugh, you truly don't.”

He turned on his heel and Hugh, having sent in word that he would await the pleasure of the king, was left with nothing to do but await it. His brothers-in-law Audley and Damory had noticed his arrival and were pointedly ignoring him, Audley being angry about his Welsh lands and Damory siding with Audley. William de Montacute was friendly enough with Hugh and would have probably talked to him, but as he had been one of the captors of Llywelyn Bren, his execution would likely be his chief topic of conversation, and Hugh was in no mood to discuss the Welsh rebel further than what would soon have to be discussed with the king. So he stayed in an obscure corner, waiting.

Hugh's feelings toward the king were somewhat confused. Like most men, he had feared and respected the first Edward in equal measure. The second Edward had dared to cross his father on several occasions, and this took no small amount of courage, Hugh knew. Yet few feared the current king, and a distressing number did not respect him. Hugh did not fear Edward, that was for certain, and he did not much respect him, although Hugh was honest enough to admit to himself that fear and respect were areas in which he was somewhat lacking anyway. But he did like the king; to Hugh's mind he was impossible to dislike, rather like a big friendly hound dog. If the king saw reason and let him have his way in Wales, there'd be nothing Hugh would not do for him, for if disloyalty was not one of the king's vices, it was not one of Hugh's either.