Chapter Seventeen
Meg
I slipped out of bed and pulled the extra blanket that lay at its foot around my shoulders, careful not to wake Llywelyn. For the third night in a row I was having trouble sleeping. Now, here it was at nearly dawn and I’d slept no more than a few hours. I knew why, knew not sleeping wasn’t going to help me deal with what I was facing. But telling myself over and over to relax was helping no more this night than it had the one before.
I hopped onto the window seat the Bohuns had so generously built under the only window in the castle of any size at all, and pulled the curtain half-way across to hide the light from the open shutter.
Brecon was a fortress, built on a rise at the confluence of the Usk and Honddu Rivers. The Honddu River rushed by in the moonlight thirty feet below my feet. The view was so spectacular I imagined I could see London from where I sat, though mountains rose between us and the plains of England. The water in the river was high from yesterday’s heavy rain, muddy and full of debris washing in from the banks and tributaries. The snow had long since melted away and the spring rains had come.
I glanced at the curtain that separated our room from the one adjacent, but no noise came from behind it. Although reluctant, I’d bowed to the inevitable pressure and moved Anna out of our room to one where she now slept with her nanny.
After more than two months in Wales, I didn’t know if she even remembered what home had been like. I imagined that if she were to see it again, it would come back to her, but she’d adapted well to the day-to-day life of the castle. I didn’t know how I felt about that. She would grow up as a thirteenth century woman, and despite what Llywelyn had said about not seeing much difference between how people were on the inside, it worried me. At least I would ensure she could read, write, and do math. But she wasn’t ever going to understand about dinosaurs.
The rushing water tempted me to dangle my feet as if sitting on a dock, but I resisted. Even I could see that it wasn’t seemly behavior for the companion to the Prince of Wales, even when no one else was looking.
And then someone was looking.
Llywelyn slipped his arm around my waist, lifting me slightly so he could slide in behind me, his back to the wooden wall that formed the box of the window seat, and one leg braced against the stone of the window frame. I rested against his chest,.
“Not sleeping again?” He shoved the curtain wide to let more light from the bright moon into the room and then pulled me closer.
I bent my knees and pulled my nightgown over them so it formed a tent over my legs and covered my feet. “What do you mean, again?”
“Tonight, last night, the one before. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you were gone when I rolled over?”
“You seemed to be sleeping deeply.”
“My hope was that you would share your concerns with me, and then we could both sleep, but clearly that hasn’t happened.”
“Oh, Llywelyn,” I said. “I—”
A snick came from the door to the room as the latch lifted. We froze and watched, unmoving, as a crack appeared between the frame and the door. A hand clenched the edge of the door, silently opening it further to give room to an object that pointed at the bed.
A crossbow!
My breath caught in my throat. The sound I made was slight, but carried loudly enough in the silent room for the assassin to swing the point of his arrow from the bed, where he thought we’d be, to the window seat.
He hesitated, perhaps unbelieving, and then shot—but Llywelyn had already moved. Between one breath and the next, he pulled me with him into a dive out the window, headfirst towards the Honddu River. Somehow, he was able to turn us in a complete flip so we hit the water with a mighty splash, feet first, before I even had a chance to catch my breath.
Cold! The shock forced all the air from my lungs and caused Llywelyn to release me. Our combined weight had pulled us well under and I struggled to the surface, fighting for air and against the current that pulled us downstream, away from the castle. I bobbed to the surface.
“Meg!”
“Here!” I said. He was five yards from me, moving in a faster current and I spun in a complete circle, my legs working furiously, before I managed to angle myself more towards him. He reached for me and I grasped his fingers, allowing him to pull me to him. I stopped fighting the current and began floating with it, thankful to be alive.
“What is it about water in this country! What in the hell am I doing in a river again?”
Llywelyn sputtered with laughter, understanding my resentment. At least it wasn’t February and the water wasn’t quite as cold as before.
We followed the Honddu under the bridge that led from the castle to the town, and then for the short distance it ran before reaching the Usk. The water was frighteningly choppy now, as it swung us into the main current of the larger river. Llywelyn tried to stop us at the ford across the Usk, but even his long legs couldn’t resist the force of the high water.
We sailed a hundred yards before we passed a rocky outcrop in the river that had created a sandy spit on the western bank. I kicked off for it. My sluggish limbs could barely move and my teeth chattered.
Llywelyn grabbed my arm. “No!”
“Why?” I swung around, uncertain. He got an arm around my waist and we slid past the spit.
“They will look for us there first. There is another place, a half a mile downstream.”
“Are you sure?”
“The river curves east,” he said. “We’ll find safety there.”
A log floated by to our left and he grasped it, swinging it in front of us so I could hold it too. Another three minutes, and Llywelyn was able to push us toward the southern bank. The riverbed had widened and grown more shallow as it swung east, and consequently slowed. My feet hit bottom and we stumbled onto a sandy spit on the southern side of the Usk, formed as the river curved. I fell to my knees and crawled out of the water, and then turned onto my back. Llywelyn threw himself onto his stomach, his arms and legs sprawled wide.
“I’m clearly too old for this kind of exercise,” he said.
I coughed, choking on the mix of water and laughter. “You’re only forty-something, you silly man. You’d better not be too old. We’ve a long road ahead of us.”
“We’re only a half a mile from the castle. Admittedly, I don’t spend much time walking, but I don’t think that distance will task me greatly.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I lay flat on my back, my hand resting on my belly.
Llywelyn rolled onto his side and pushed up on one hand so he could see my face. “What do you mean?”
I turned my head to look at him and didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. He must have seen something in my look because his eyes narrowed. “Speak plainly, madam.”
“I’m going to have your baby,” I said. “That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.”
“What?” Llywelyn loomed over me so he blocked the moonlight. He patted me up and down. “Are you all right? Mary, mother of God! I can’t believe I just threw you into the river!”
“I’m fine, Llywelyn. Honest. A little cold water can’t hurt the child.”
“How late are you?”
“Ten days,” I said. “I’ve never been this late before except pregnant.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“So you’re happy?” I was suddenly a little worried. He had to be happy.
Llywelyn laughed. “By all the Saints in the Heavens! I hadn’t a hope it would come this soon!” He laughed again and pulled me into his arms. I’d never seen him laugh like this, but it wasn’t the same for me.
“I’m scared, Llywelyn,” I said.
“You’ll be fine. I know it.”
“It’s just—” I couldn’t articulate everything I was feeling: I was afraid of dying in childbirth, of what a sibling would mean to Anna, of raising a child in the thirteenth century. Not for the first time, I longed to see my mother.
Llywelyn squeezed me more tightly. “If you hadn’t been pregnant and stewing about it these last three nights, you wouldn’t have been sitting on that window sill. And if you hadn’t been sitting there, I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed, and we’d both be dead.”
“There is that.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, “but I think we ought to get moving.”
“I don’t feel very good,” I said, starting to shake.
He checked the location of the moon to gauge the hour. “I’m in a rather telling state of undress, your wet nightgown reveals more than I want another man to see, and it’s too cold for us to be outside and wet. We need to find some clothes quickly.”
“I can rip my gown,” I said. “You can tie the scrap around your waist.”
“Good idea,” he said.
We scuttled forward into the brush at the edge of the sand bar and I worked at the lower section of my gown, starting at just above my knees. My hands were stiff but Llywelyn held the ends of the gown tight and I found a loose thread Llywelyn wrapped the scrap around his waist and I tied it in a sarong-type knot.
“Very dashing,” I said, as he crouched down again behind our bush to check the area for any signs of human activity.
Llywelyn took my hand and began to lead us west through the trees, back towards the castle. It was very dark under the trees, but there was a hint of grayness to the murk that told me dawn was not far off.
“Do you have a plan?” I asked.
“Not much of one,” Llywelyn said. “It begins and ends with clothing.”
Fortunately, we didn’t have to walk more than a hundred yards before we came upon a hut, centered in a patch of dirt scraped bare of vegetation. It stood under a shaft of moonlight that filtered through the trees.
“You or me?” Llywelyn said. We inspected each other. He certainly looked better than I did. His shoulder length black hair was thrown back from his face and I loved that he’d not grown that mustache he’d threatened me with. He was tall and muscled; I knew he was laughing at me as I studied him because of the way his eyes were twinkling, even if he wasn’t smiling.
“Me,” I said. “I’m not threatening. I may look bedraggled, but you are completely unacceptable.”
Llywelyn smirked at what he viewed as a compliment. “I’ll wait here.”
Wincing on the stubby grass, rocks, and sticks that poked my feet, I tiptoed across the yard to the hut, took a moment to gather my thoughts, and knocked. A woman opened the door. She was much older than I, with gray hair pulled tight in a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a dress that was patched, but clean. I was glad to see that the floor of the hut behind her was well-swept and the room ordered.
“Yes,” she said, looking me up and down. “What is it?”
“My man and I fell in the river,” I said. “Do you have a spare change of clothes we could borrow?”
“Borrow, is it?” she said. “You mean take.”
“We would leave you ours in exchange. When we are safe again, we can return your clothing to you.”
“Humph,” the woman said. “Where’s your man?”
“Waiting in the bushes,” I said. “He’s wearing fewer clothes than I am.”
“And that’s not much,” the woman said. She looked past me and I waved a hand towards where Llywelyn crouched. He stepped out from the trees. The woman sighed. “You might as well come in.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Llywelyn minced his way across the uneven ground. At his approach, the woman’s eyes widened. “My lord!”
“Indeed,” Llywelyn said, coming to a halt on her threshold. “Have you seen any English nearby?”
“I haven’t, my lord,” she said, “but others from the village have spoken of it. Little groups of them, poking their nose in where they don’t belong. Coming from the south, they are.”
“Is it Clare’s men, do you think?” I asked Llywelyn.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It was a bold move indeed to get past my guards and into our room with a crossbow. We’ve had traitors up and down Wales apparently, about whom I’ve been completely unaware.”
“That’s always the way of it, my lord,” the woman said. She’d gone to a box set in a corner of the room and removed a small stack of clothing from it.
“We must get back into the castle,” Llywelyn said.
“Anna’s there, Llywelyn.” I grabbed his arm, the panic rising as it hadn’t before, even in the river. “They won’t hurt her will they?”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Meg,” Llywelyn said. “They won’t bother with her. She’s not my natural child and they know it.” He turned back to the woman. “I need another way inside the castle, other than through the front gate. Has the river flooded the undercroft gate, do you know? My engineers have been concerned about the Honddu side of the castle for the past year.”
“Not that I’ve heard,” she said. “One of my neighbor boys and my nephew got into it just the other day.”
“What undercroft gate?” I said.
“Clare arranged a way to provision the castle from the river, just in case it was ever attacked—by me,” Llywelyn said.
“Can we use it?” I said. “I need Anna, Llywelyn. We need to go now.”
“I know, cariad,” he said, drawing me closer. “We’re already there.”
“I can tell you the way,” the woman said. “Straight out the back door and across the clearing is a trail between two matched trees. It leads directly to the gate that guards the Usk. If you follow the river west you’ll see the ford, though with the flood, you’ll be hard pressed to cross before noon.”
“Thank you,” Llywelyn said.
We dressed quickly in the clothes she provided, the fabric well worn from use, but not by her. I glanced at the woman out of the corner of my eye, acknowledging the loss she must have suffered to have these clothes to spare. I didn’t know that I could ever get used to it.
“The boots are a little tight,” Llywelyn said, tugging them on and cursing under his breath. His toes were well scrunched at the tip.
“At least they’re well-worn,” I said. “The leather is soft. Can you walk?”
Llywelyn gingerly put a foot on the ground and hobbled forward. “Well enough,” he said. Llywelyn tugged my hand and I followed him out the door.