“Expediency.”
“We are stoking up a conflict.”
“No, my lord sheriff,” said Ralph. “We are risking a skirmish in order to prevent a war. Angharad and the madcap Goronwy are not two young lovers pining for each other. They are merely links in a chain. Join them together in the forge of matrimony and you join Deheubarth with Powys. Is that what you want? A chain that runs almost the whole length of the Welsh border?”
“Ralph counsels well,” said Gervase. “It is in our interests to keep these two apart.”
“My interest is to keep myself alive!” hissed Ilbert.
“Then return to Hereford,” said Orbec with scorn. “We will fight without you and send you news when it is safe to venture out of doors again.”
“Why fight at all?”
“Goronwy slew my reeve.”
“Are we all to be put in jeopardy over the death of a Saxon?” said Ilbert. He turned to Ralph. “I do not fear this marriage as much as you.
It need not bode ill for us. It is a way to reconcile Deheubarth with Powys, that is all. If we let them have amity between themselves on that side of the border, we will not have hostility on this side.”
Orbec was resolute. “The lady stays!”
“I agree,” said Ralph. “We would be poor hosts to turn her out so rudely. Angharad remains.”
“And brings the red dragon into this shire again.”
“It need not be so, my lord sheriff,” said Gervase. “We are arguing only about possibilities. How can we know what is in the mind of the Welsh unless we treat with them? This Goronwy is wild and impulsive, but his uncle is more politic. Cadwgan ap Bleddyn took a Norman wife in the name of peace. When they are weighed in the balance, his own marriage will always tip the scales against that of his nephew.”
“What are you advising, Gervase?” said Ralph.
“That we first find out exactly what danger we face. I side with my lord sheriff, but for a different reason. Peace is our first concern. Use words before weapons.”
“A weapon has already been used against my reeve,” said Orbec. “I will not let that pass.”
“Nor need you, my lord,” said Gervase, “but your quarrel is with Goronwy alone. Not with the whole house of Powys. One more thing.
Angharad must be shown to them. They must see that she is unharmed and not held against her will.”
“I’ll not yield her up!” asserted Orbec.
“You do not have to, my lord. But we must prove that she is alive and well. We cannot do that if she is locked away here. Angharad is our flag of truce. Let us wave her before them.”
“Gervase talks sense,” endorsed Ralph. “Instead of hiding behind these walls, let’s ride out to know their purpose. And take the girl with us. I’ll lead the embassy.”
Orbec was still unpersuaded but made no protest.
“You’ll need a good interpreter,” warned Ilbert. “The Welsh use words as other men use ropes. They’ll bind you hand and foot with lies and false promises.”
“Not if we speak their own language,” said Gervase.
“You are fluent enough in Welsh?”
“Not me. My knowledge of their tongue is not sufficient for this purpose. We need someone whose voice was schooled in Wales itself.
Someone who can talk a bird out of a tree. Someone who is as proud and as devious as they themselves.”
“Where would we find such a person?” said Orbec.
“He waits at your gate, my lord.”
“Saints preserve us!” said Ralph in horror. “Idwal!”
Cadwgan ap Bleddyn gazed at the castle of Ewyas Harold with an amalgam of hatred and respect. It was a despised monument to Norman occupation of Welsh land, but its effectiveness could not be denied.
The prince of Powys had been forced to admire the marcher lords.
Ewyas Harold was one more citadel to defend the border and taunt those who lived beyond it.
Goronwy was impatient. His pugnacity brooked no delay.
“Let us attack at once, my lord!” he urged.
“Control your haste, Goronwy.”
“I have taken inventory of the castle’s weaknesses.”
“You should have made more note of its strengths.”
“We have men enough to storm it, my lord.”
“They are my warriors,” reminded Cadwgan. “They answer to my command and not yours.”
“Why bring them if not to engage in battle?”
“A show of force can often achieve as much as force itself, Goronwy.
I will not spill blood if I can secure our purpose by another means.
We’ll parley.”
“Destruction is the only parley they understand.”
“It would only come at a terrible price.”
“I’d pay it willingly to get Angharad!”
“You may still have her,” said Cadwgan, “but not by violent means.
Our quarrel is not with this castle. Though I would love to see it wiped from the face of Ewyas, I will not lay siege without more cause.
You tell me that Richard Orbec is the man we seek. Let’s ride around this stronghold in a wide circle and confront Orbec instead.”
Goronwy glowered. “Is my uncle afraid of battle?”
“No!” snarled the other. “But I have fought too many. You are still young, Goronwy. You think that everything can be settled with a sword and spear. I have learned to conserve my strength for the moments when a man has to strike.”
“Such a moment is at hand.”
“I do not see it here.”
“Will you let them watch you walk tamely away?” cried Goronwy, pointing at the castle. “Will you let them jeer at us from the battlements? They cower behind their walls in fear. We have only to mount one assault and they will be glad to surrender.”
“There is no chance of that!” said Cadwgan, grimly.
“Look at the size of our army. They are terrified.”
A loud whistling noise took their eyes towards the castle. A huge boulder had just been catapulted over its walls in their direction. It fell fifty yards short of them, but its challenge could not be denied.
The whole army rumbled with anger and pulled back slightly.
“Does that look like fear, Goronwy?” said Cadwgan.
“They want a fight, my lord. Let them have it.”
“No!”
“They fired at us!”
“A warning shot only. I will fire one back.”
Cadwgan gave a signal and one of his soldiers brought his horse trotting forward. The prince gave him his orders and the man went off in the direction of the castle. He stopped when he was within hailing distance and translated Cadwgan’s questions into a language they could understand.
“Who speaks for you?” he boomed.
“Maurice Damville!” yelled the castellan, appearing on the battlements. “Who dares to threaten my castle?”
“Cadwgan ap Bleddyn, prince of Powys.”
“Send him back to his mountains.”
“We come in peace to search for a missing bride.”
“She is not here. Ask of Richard Orbec.”
“We have only your word that the lady is not within your castle. Let us search it to satisfy ourselves.”
“Away with you!” roared Damville. “I am not such a fool as to let marauding Welshmen through my gates. If you wish to fight, then do so with your army.”
“Do not provoke us, my lord. We have five hundred men.”
“Five thousand would not take us!”
Damville waved an arm to unseen soldiers in the bailey below and the catapult was fired again. The boulder went high over the messenger’s head and landed much closer to the waiting soldiers.
They backed away with gathering fury and looked towards their prince for the excuse to retaliate. Cadwgan ap Bleddyn had seen enough.
Recalling his messenger with a wave, he passed a command through the ranks.
The soldiers divided into four groups and surrounded the castle.
Dozens of them dismounted and took their bows from across their backs. Some of the arrows in their quivers were bound with rags beneath the heads. Flasks of oil, which had hung from pommels, were uncorked and used to soak the rags. Fires were lit and the material set alight. The air was suddenly filled with blazing fire as flights of arrows descended from all sides. Some bit harmlessly into the ground and others bounced off stone, but a number landed in the thatched roofs of the timber buildings; flames crackled. Men rushed to put them out with wooden pails of water.