Heart's War (Heart and Soul) (2 page)

Her father sighed heavily, pulling Rose tighter into his embrace. “Rose, my dear, you know I wish you to choose a husband, but praise the
saints it was not that one.”

She could not help the giggle that bubbled within her. “You taught me better than that, Papa.”

He grinned down at her.

She tugged on his hand and he followed her to a bench in the gardens. He made a strange noise in his throat.

“Papa?”

“’Tis the same bench
where Gwen found me…when I decided to tell her about you and your mother.”

She smiled and sat, lifting his arm so it draped about her shoulders and she was tucked firmly against his side. “Gwen is my mother
now,” she said firmly.

"Aye.” He hesitated. “Rose, you have kept your own counsel. Answer me truly. What do you
think of the Welsh?”

Only one Welshman came to mind, one who was the epitome of chivalry, one whose voice whispered in her dreams with
the burr of the commoner’s tongue.

“They are a noble people, Papa,” she said softly. “They deserve to live their lives and govern themselves as they see fit. Yet for the first time I have heard word of a
united kingdom whispered. That is simply sound strategy on Longshanks’s part. I know I do not wish to face a threat from France or Europe with an enemy snapping at my backside.”

As she spoke, her father’s smile grew. “Sweet Rose,” he murmured, hugging her tightly. “There is not a day that passes that I do not thank God for Brynmor bringing you home.”

Rose’s heart leapt in her chest. “Papa, speaking of Brynmor—”

“
My lord Montgomery!” a sentry cried.

Her father’s head shot up.

“A herald with armed men approaches the gates. They bear Longshanks’s livery!”

Talon lunged to his feet. “Rose, fetch your mother,” he growled. “Men at arms, ready your weapons!”

“My lord,” Marcus, the aging constable of Montgomery Castle, said as he fell in stride with her father. “Are you sure that is wise?”

“Aye,” her father snapped as he strode for the gates. “Let them see Montgomery poised for battle and then we shall know their courage. Edward would expect nothing less.”

****

“Damnation,” Brynmor muttered under his breath as he once again approached Llywelyn’s holding. The herald escorting him and the guard surrounding him made him wonder if he was actually under arrest this time, especially considering the result of the last meeting so many years ago. Yet this time the missive summoning him had been worded a bit more politely, although not much. It was still an order to appear before Llywelyn, an order Brynmor could not refuse.

Once again, Brynmor, with his head high, his shoulders straight, and his stride resolute, entered Llywelyn’s hall. Not much had changed since his last visit, except Llywelyn appeared as if he had aged far more than the eight years that had passed.

Brynmor dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I bid thee fair greeting from Powys,
Your Highness.”

“Rise
, Brynmor ap Powys,” Llywelyn said. He once again studied Brynmor intently. “Do you know the reason for my summons?”

“My scouts have reported your brother moves troops against English holdings.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “Am I to understand your brother has returned to your grace,
Your Highness?”

Llywelyn’s jaw tightened subtly. “Aye
, but I still have some concern over the details.”

Brynmor swallowed hard
, knowing that while Dafydd had been forgiven, Brynmor had not, even though he had nothing to do with the plot.

“Five years ago, you betrayed me again.”

His gut clenched. In 1277, Llywelyn had sought to increase his holdings and therefore his bargaining position with Longshanks by seizing more land in the north. This had made southern Welsh landholders, including Brynmor, nervous. When Longshanks moved to quell the uprising, the Earl of Montgomery counseled Brynmor to join with the English king, along with nine-thousand of his Welsh brethren. Longshanks stopped the rebellion and Llywelyn had found himself defeated, although it had nearly killed Brynmor to raise his hand against his own.

Llywelyn leaned forward in his chair.
“But past misunderstandings have tarnished what should be a powerful alliance, Powys.”

Alliance?
Brynmor’s thoughts raced.

“A land divided was able to stand against King Henry, but it will fall to Longshanks. I have forgiven my brother for his treachery against me, therefore
, I am willing to forgive you.”

“Forgive me?” Brynmor’s anger simmered. He had done nothing wrong. He had not plotted to assassinate Llywelyn
, and Llywelyn’s land grab had needed to be stopped.

“Ally with House Gruffydd. Together we will hold the line against Longshanks and protect our nation.”

Brynmor’s heart battered against his ribs and he clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to defend his people. But the fact that Llywelyn did not believe his innocence in the plot to assassinate him vexed Brynmor greatly. He didn’t trust Llywelyn not to turn on him if it became convenient, using the plot and Brynmor’s past alliance with Longshanks as his excuse.

Llywelyn frowned at Brynmor’s silence.
“My brother moves against the English despite my counsel to the contrary. He seeks to start a war we are not prepared for. Yet the Welsh nobility support him, as do the people. They resent Longshanks’s efforts to impose English law upon us. Our independence, our very way of life, now comes under threat.”

He felt a terrible sinking feeling in his gut. He could not trust either ruler to stand by their word. “By asking me to ally with you, you ask me to stand with your brother. He provokes a powerful English king
, not to protect Wales, but because Edward did not grant him all the holdings he originally promised.”

“It matters not the reason
; it matters that our people are under threat.”

“
Does it not?” Brynmor asked, aghast. “By standing with him, you encourage his actions. I am a Welshman, and by God I will stand for my own, but I have not, nor will I ever ally with your brother.”

Llywelyn gazed at him curiously. “Your idealism is admirable, but this is our time to throw off the English
yoke once and for all.”

Damnation! He had a point.
Yet Brynmor had witnessed firsthand Longshanks’s cunning and military might when he had fought with the English king.

“I fear this war will only cause the
yoke to settle more firmly about our necks.”

“If we remain divided
, it will most certainly do so.”

An idea stirred and Brynmor’s eyes narrowed. “If I am to ally with you, then proclaim my innocence
in the plot to murder you.” He lifted his hand, gesturing to the audience in Llywelyn’s great hall. “Proclaim it for all to hear.”

Llywelyn’s jaw tightened and he spoke naught.

Anger simmered in the pit of Brynmor’s gut.
Aye, you will not speak the words. You need cause to turn against me when it becomes convenient.
He forced down his ire and spoke pleasantly, “Then once again, I shall take my leave.” Brynmor turned on his heel and left the great hall. Sweet Mary have mercy, this war would destroy Wales entirely.

****

Rose and her mother, along with every able-bodied servant in the keep, scrambled to prepare everything. The herald that had arrived had come to announce that Montgomery would have a noble visitor. King Edward would come calling in three days. They cleaned the keep until it was spotless, while her father loomed over the guardsmen, making sure armor was in good repair and polished. Gwen worked with Cook to prepare the kitchens and a feast the likes of which Montgomery had not seen in years.

Montgomery was a large and powerful keep, guarding the marches
, and there was no denying its wealth. Rose worked along with every other family member to make sure the king’s visit would be a comfortable one.

The sentries on the tower called out the moment they first spotted the entourage in the distance. Rose and her mother, along with the rest of the children
, flew upstairs to change into their finest clothing. By the time Longshanks arrived at the gate, her father was striding across the bailey with her brother, William, his heir apparent, beside him. William, now eighteen, was growing into a size and stature that matched their father’s. He had Gwen’s black hair and green eyes but his father’s features, and the combination made the ladies fair swoon over him. Both wore their armor, gleaming in the sunlight, breathtaking in their finery.

Rose stood next to her mother at the base of the keep’s stairs, helping
to hold the other children in line, although thankfully they had grown out of most of their wildness and knew to be on their best behavior. The twins, Sarah and Michael, looked nothing alike. Sarah was the epitome of her mother and Michael of his father. But the two were inseparable and stood up for each other ferociously. Little Marcus was the youngest, only eight now, and was the quietest, most well-behaved of the group.

The king’s entourage entered the bailey and Rose was surprised it was so small, only twenty men including the king, and most were knights and high
-ranking lords, their duty to see to the king’s protection.

As Longshanks pulled his horse to a stop, Talon Montgomery dropped to one knee before him. Following the example of their earl, everyone in the bailey also moved to demonstrate their respect.

Longshanks dismounted. Rose stole a quick peek at him. The last she had seen him was at his coronation at Westminster Abbey eight years ago. He had aged but otherwise had hardly changed. He was still as tall as her father, his bearing and attitude still intimidating, and he had an air of cunning about him. He had short, curly brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His dark eyes glittered with intelligence and he exuded confidence. His armor and silks were finely made and he wore a golden coronet on his brow.

With him rode Roger Mortimer, their neighbor to the north and longtime friend. He too dismounted.

“Your Majesty,” her father said, still on one knee, his head bowed. “I bid thee welcome to Montgomery.”

“Rise, Montgomery,” Longshanks said.

Her father did so, and again the others in the bailey followed their lord’s example and also stood.

To Rose’s surprise, Longshanks caught her father’s forearm in a warm greeting. “Well met, Montgomery.”

“My liege,” her father replied with a nod, and introduced his son, William.

Longshanks greeted Rose’s brother in the same fashion.

Mortimer then stepped forward and her father and brother welcomed him warmly.

Her father
gestured toward the keep. “Come, refresh yourself at my table.”

Longshanks fell in stride with him. Rose saw his gaze travel appreciatively across the bailey
, but when he looked to the west wall, his gaze focused on the towers of the Welsh holding directly across the Severn River, and his eyes narrowed. Castle Powys, the Welsh holding Brynmor controlled.

Rose swallowed hard.

Montgomery paused at the base of the stairs, introducing his wife and family. Longshanks took Gwen’s hand and kissed the back of it as she curtsied, then did the same with Rose. Rose’s heart slammed against her ribs and she fought to remember everything she had been taught regarding the proper etiquette of greeting a king. She was glad her father stood near; Longshanks was an impressive, intimidating man, even though he smiled and greeted her courteously.

Mortimer stepped before her and grinned. “Rose, my dear, how are you?”

“Fine, thank you.” She smiled back at him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. The man was the closest thing she had to an uncle. When her deceased mother’s cousin, John de Warenne, had launched a surprise attack against her father, trying to slay him and his family, Mortimer had been present and had fought steadfast at her father’s side. It was one reason why her father had since counted him a strong ally.

They entered the great hall and Longshanks glanced around, nodding. “You have done well over the years, Montgomery,” he said and looked again the family.

“Thank you, my liege.”

“But my business here is urgent and I have little time. Perhaps there is somewhere we can discuss this privately?”

“Of course, Your Majesty, perhaps you would find my study comfortable.”

Longshanks nodded and spoke
to Mortimer.

“Of course
, my liege,” Mortimer said.

At his instruction, the guardsmen sat at the table. Mortimer and another earl,
Gloucester, she thought, if she remembered her heraldry correctly, followed her father and brother to the study.

“Rose,” her father said
, “please bring bread and wine.”

“Aye,
Father,” she said and moved to quickly obey. Her father was not one to order her around like a servant, but in this regard, she would be able to enter the study and learn the reason for Longshanks’s visit.