Rhuddlan (45 page)

Delamere knew Longsword had to be in an
extremely foul temper to refer to himself as the king’s
bastard.

After the earl had been admitted and they had
gone down to the ward to greet him, Longsword as unenthusiastically
as possible without actually telling him to leave, Delamere started
to wonder if would have indeed been smarter to have risked extreme
animosity with Chester rather than to ensure it with his friend’s
atrocious behavior. When Longsword angrily asked the earl what
possible reason had brought him to Rhuddlan, the man answered
mildly that as the only Normans in Gwynedd, he’d considered it
advisable that they should meet—“And under more favorable
circumstances than our last meeting,” he added gravely.

Delamere was certain Longsword was thinking
that he could have very well gone through the remainder of his life
without ever having met the earl of Chester again, regardless of
the circumstance; he just held his breath and hoped he wouldn’t say
it. But he wasn’t quite as certain what to make of this excuse to
invade Rhuddlan; the earl’s voice was bland enough but Delamere
would have sworn there was the glint of mockery in his eyes.

He winced inwardly. He was becoming as
paranoid as Longsword.

A small figure standing with the on-lookers
at the perimeter of the ward caught his eye. Bronwen. He winked at
her and she raised her hand in solemn acknowledgment. He lifted his
gaze but didn’t see her mother. When the party of visitors and
hosts began slowly making its way to the keep, Delamere paused for
a moment by the child and bent his knee. “Have you come to see the
horses, Bronwen?” he asked.

She nodded. “And the pretty men.”

He laughed and stood up. “Well, remember that
your mother doesn’t want you too near the beasts,” he said, and put
his hand on her head. He laughed again and added, “That includes
the pretty men, of course!”

Longsword had turned around to find him and
was giving him a look that was a mixture of murder and pleading.
Delamere nodded and started following after him, but immediately
felt a tug on the end of his tunic. “Lord William is calling me,
Bronwen,” he said.

“Sir Richard, I only want to know if I may
ride your horse again,” she said.

“Perhaps later, not now, Bronwen.”

“All right, Sir Richard, but later when we
go, can I leave the castle like Gladys did?”

“That depends on your—” he stopped abruptly,
and frowned. “What did you say? About Gladys?”

“Gladys went out of Rhuddlan on a horse and I
want to do the same.”

He knelt in front of her again. “Gladys left
Rhuddlan? That’s impossible, Bronwen; she can’t ride a horse.”

“I know that!” the little girl scoffed. “She
wasn’t alone. One of the grooms was in front and she held on to him
from the back.”

From the corner of his eye, Delamere could
see Longsword waiting impatiently; loath to be on his own with the
earl. Chester and his men were watching him as well, and he could
well imagine what they must have been thinking about a knight who
stopped to talk to a small child.

“When did this happen, Bronwen?”

She smiled broadly. “It was the same day the
loud knight fell off his horse.”

That would be fitz Maurice; Delamere
remembered the incident because it had provided almost a whole
evening’s entertainment in the telling and retelling. Fitz
Maurice’s horse had been startled by a scampering squirrel and the
Norman, who had just taken one boot out of the stirrup to show off
to de Vire the new spurs the smith had made for him, had lost his
balance and tumbled backwards into a bed of nettles.

Where was Gladys now? He was sure he had seen
her moping in the hall just the other night. Or had he? Longsword
would be angry to know that she was jostling up and down on a horse
in her current state—even angrier that she was apparently cavorting
with another man. Delamere wondered…this news cast everything in a
different light. Was it possible that Longsword wasn’t even the
father of Gladys’ baby?

“Have you seen Gladys, Bronwen?” he asked.
“Do you know where I can find her?”

The little girl shook her head.

“Well,” he said, rising to his feet, “better,
anyway, to wait until the earl’s been settled before calling her
before Lord William. Thanks, Bronwen.”

He was about to walk away when he felt that
tug again on his tunic.

“You can’t call her, Sir Richard,” Bronwen
informed him. “She isn’t here. She never came back.”

Longsword didn’t believe any of it. Delamere
knew the turmoil of the earl of Chester’s visit was taking up most
of the room in his friend’s head but he’d thought Longsword would
have welcomed the diversion. Besides, the evidence was, if not
damning, then certainly compelling. Longsword waved it away
irritably. No, he didn’t remember the last time he’d seen Gladys,
but he wasn’t complaining because her attitude in the past month
almost made him wish he’d never see her again. Always looking at
him accusingly, always bent over as if she were about to vomit.
Good God! he burst out, if his son turned out as disagreeable as
Gladys had become, he wasn’t sure he wanted it after all!

Delamere told him to stop thinking about
himself and if the baby had a foul temper it was more likely than
not to have come from its father, whose history of foul tempers was
already noted, and not its mother.

Over the rim of his cup, Longsword glared. He
swallowed a mouthful of wine. The idea that Gladys had gotten on a
horse and ridden out of Rhuddlan was ludicrous. Only a fool would
take the word of a two-year old child.

Four
-year old, Delamere corrected him. And of course he’d checked
her story. According to the stablemaster, there was indeed a cob
missing and one of the grooms hadn’t been seen in a week. He’d
spoken to some of the other Welsh. No one could remember seeing
Gladys recently. He’d questioned Bronwen’s mother, who hadn’t seen
Gladys either, and who swore that her daughter had a keen eye and
wasn’t prone to inventing tales. But if Longsword didn’t
care…

Longsword hesitated. Not for a moment did he
believe anything was amiss but Delamere had that look on his face
with which he was all too familiar. Delamere getting angry and
riding home to Olwen and leaving him alone with Chester wasn’t a
pleasant prospect. He relented.

“Of course I care! It’s just Chester has put
me out of sorts and I can’t think about anything else. Of course I
care,” he repeated, in case he hadn’t sounded sincere enough to
Delamere the first time. He sighed resignedly and put his cup down
on the side table. “It’s too late in the day to send out
searchers…”

“I’ve already arranged it for tomorrow
morning,” Delamere said, mollified. “I think our best bet is the
abbey. I can’t imagine any other place she could go.”

“Did you check under Teleri’s bed?” Longsword
said humorlessly. “She probably murdered the girl.”

“Be serious, Will!” He continued outlining
his plans for the next day but it was soon obvious that Longsword
wasn’t paying any attention to him. “What is it now?”

“Did you question Teleri?” Longsword demanded
abruptly.

“Of course not! What would she know—”

“I want to question her.
Have someone bring her here and tell him I will
not
be refused. She must come if he
has to use force.”

Delamere was mystified but Longsword’s stern
expression brooked no argument. Two men were delegated to confront
Teleri, in case she turned violent.

“She gave me warning,” Longsword said when
Delamere returned. “On the day she told me Gladys was pregnant, she
insisted I get rid of the girl and when I refused, she swore that I
would regret my decision.” It was plain he now believed the entire
story. He believed Gladys had disappeared. “I’ll kill her,” he
added grimly.

To Delamere, it didn’t sound like an idle
threat. “It doesn’t make sense, Will. She was just talking. How
could she possibly get rid of Gladys?”

“I’m telling you—she’s behind Gladys’
disappearance,” Longsword insisted.

Footsteps approached the open door of the
council chamber and then stopped. They heard Teleri’s voice in the
hall but she didn’t appear on the threshold. Delamere thought she
had cleverly sized up the summons and refused to put herself in any
physical jeopardy by entering the small, closed chamber to meet
with her husband.

Longsword immediately strode into the hall.
Because of the turmoil and curiosity surrounding the earl of
Chester’s arrival, there was a larger number of men there than
usual for the time of day, standing in groups, idly talking. All
eyes snapped to Longsword when he appeared and all voices gradually
stilled. Teleri waited a dozen paces from the council chamber,
flanked by her servants. Her face was angry and suspicious but not
fearful. Because she was petite, she looked almost like an outraged
child confronting an obtuse adult who had just debunked some
favorite myth. Delamere felt the stirring of sympathy for her; men
had plenty to keep them happy, if not in the home then outside it,
but women had only their marriages and their children. Teleri’s
marriage was a political bargain between a prince and a king and
not any source of satisfaction for her and the likelihood of
children emerging from it seemed more remote with every passing
month.

But he immediately discovered there was no
cause to feel sorry for Teleri. She was quite able to defend
herself. She turned on Longsword before he could even open his
mouth, a tactic which Delamere applauded as admirable because the
accuser was now the accused.

“My lord husband! I demand to know the reason
I have been confronted by your men in my private chambers and
threatened with injury if I did not show myself before you at that
instant!” she said furiously. “I know I must live under the same
roof with you but I did think I might find some peace in my own
rooms!”

Longsword ignored the tirade. “Gladys is
missing. I think you know what’s happened to her.”

Teleri stared at him, her expression
astonished. “Missing?” she echoed. “Do you mean you can’t find her?
Have you had your men try breaking down her door and bullying their
way into her room? She’s probably cowering under the bed!”

“Of course we searched her room, Teleri!”
Longsword snapped, oblivious to her sarcasm. “She’s not in
Rhuddlan; she’s taken a horse and disappeared—with someone’s
contrivance!”

“I see—you think that someone is me. Why
should I help your whore, my lord husband? We’re not exactly
friends.”

Delamere felt the confrontation his friend
had initiated slipping away in Teleri’s favor. He could see
confusion now mingled with the anger on Longsword’s face. The man
was not equal to a battle of wits with this woman.

“You would do it because it would punish me!”
Longsword said.

Teleri smiled. “I can think of more personal
ways to punish you, my lord husband. It’s news to me she’s
disappeared. Not that I blame her, of course; if I had half the
chance, I’d run off, too.”

Longsword muttered something incoherent.

“Why wouldn’t you blame her for running off,
Lady Teleri?” Delamere asked. “You make it sound as if she imagines
Lord William has injured her in some way.”

Teleri’s eyes slid to Delamere. She stared
appraisingly at him and he wondered if he were clever enough to
tangle with her. He suspected she would use any weapon that came
her way in her battles with her husband, and he knew he was one of
the biggest. He could not permit himself be fooled by her mien of
physical vulnerability; he could not allow his oaths to be
compromised in such a way that Longsword would start to doubt his
loyalty.

“I shouldn’t think she’d
have to
imagine
anything,” she said slowly. “Not with my beloved husband
mooning over the latest addition to his household.”

There was a brief silence. Then Longsword
said quietly, “What are you talking about, Teleri?”

“Not what but who, my lord husband. The
healer. Gwalaes. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that you’re
besotted with her.”

“You—”

“Will!” Delamere put a restraining hand on
Longsword’s arm.

Longsword angrily shook him
off. “That’s enough of this nonsense! I
know
you had something to do with
Gladys’ disappearance, Teleri! I don’t want to compliment you in
any way, but you probably have the quickest wit of anyone in this
fortress, save Richard. So…? I don’t even care how you managed to
contrive it. I just want to know where she is!”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, Teleri!” Longsword suddenly
roared.

Teleri backed up a few steps. Longsword
pressed his advantage and began walking slowly, menacingly towards
her.

“I swear before God and all these men,
Teleri,” he continued in a voice that seemed all the more
threatening for its quiet after the loud outburst that had preceded
it, “that if I do not get my son back, I will make you suffer such
torments that Hell itself would be ashamed. If any ill befalls my
son, you will pay for it in kind. Now do yourself a favor and start
remembering…”

There was a pause. Then Teleri lifted her
chin. “You don’t care about her at all, do you?”

Longsword frowned. “Care about who?”

“Gladys. You don’t care
about
her
, only the
baby. She’s already suffered these torments of which you boast but
you don’t care at all. You’re worse than an animal, William fitz
Henry,” she hissed. “Whatever’s happened to Gladys now is probably
the finest thing that’s ever happened to her in her miserable
life!”

Without thinking, Longsword’s right hand shot
up in the air. Teleri didn’t flinch. Her women cried out in
protest.