The Brothers of Gwynedd (137 page)

  Much of this land had come back into Griffith's hands during the war, but not all, and he sought to regain the rest, and to establish his title to all. Now it must be said of the parts in question, notably Arwystli, that they had belonged in old times to Gwynedd, not to Powys, and only during the last three generations had they been in dispute, sometimes held by Powys, sometimes by Gwynedd, which was the reason the prince had kept them in his own hands when the chance offered. Though Arwystli was almost surrounded by the cantrefs of Powys, it belonged by tradition to the mountain lands of Snowdon, and though ringed on all sides by portions of the sees of St. David's and St. Asaph's, itself it belonged to the see of Bangor. Thus a case could be made upon both sides, but the prince's case rested upon longer history, and he felt strongly about this portion of his hereditary lands, as a matter of pride and principle. He resented in particular that it should go to the insolent renegade Griffith, who had turned his back upon his own people.

  The prince had no intention of appearing in any court to the plea of Griffith, and therefore at a later sitting of the commission, in this same month of February, he had his attorneys take out a writ and proceed with a claim in his name to the whole of Arwystli. The head of the commission then was a certain Master Ralph Fremingham, but shortly afterwards he was removed, upon some suspicion of his own probity, which hardly promised well for his judgments. However, this first lodging of Llewelyn's writ was under Fremingham, and took place at Montgomery, to which place he considered he ought not to have been cited, Montgomery being a royal town, whereas the lands impleaded were wholly Welsh, and the treaty was precise in stating that pleas concerning Welsh land should be tried according to Welsh law, and that meant in the lands concerned, as well as by Welsh process. Llewelyn's case throughout rested on this, and he insisted on Welsh law, as was only right. However, in order to initiate his case at once, he allowed his attorneys to produce his writ at Montgomery, but also made a formal protest to the king against being cited there to a court in England.

  King Edward replied reasonably that in cases concerning two magnates holding in chief of the crown it had always been usual, even where Welsh law was concerned, to hear them at fixed dates and places, appointed by the justices. There were already some differences in their reading of the treaty. Llewelyn held that the phrase "according to the custom of those parts" was crystal clear, meaning Welsh law for Welsh lands, but the king was beginning to hedge it about with other phrases of his own choosing, such as "as ought to be done of right, and according to the custom of those parts," or "as was usual and accustomed in the times of his predecessors," as if what mattered was to adhere to the previous usage of King Henry and others before him in dealing with matters either Welsh or English.

  "And who," I said once to Tudor, "is to be the judge of what ought to be done of right? Edward?" For if so, clearly that phrase might on occasion cancel out the treaty phrase, if he chose to consider that what Welsh law decreed did not fulfil his own notion of right.

  However, the prince continued in his arduous but resolute patience and good humour, and therefore when the king himself appointed a day for the commission to hear the Arwystli plea at Oswestry, on the twenty-second day of July, the prince sent his attorneys, fully briefed, to present his formal claim against Griffith for the whole cantref of Arwystli.

  Griffith ap Gwenwynwyn was a litigious person at all times, and well versed in all the tricks of delay, annoyance and obstruction. The commission was now headed by one Walter de Hopton, and the remaining three justices were all Welsh, and one of them our own Goronwy ap Heilyn, which on the face of it certainly argued that Edward's intent was to avoid bias and do right as well to Wales as to England. But the other two were Rhys ap Griffith ap Ednyfed, renegade from the prince's own trusted household, and another defector, from the Welsh cause, Howel ap Meurig, both of them now in the king's service. Both were experienced justices, but their reputation was hardly calculated to give us confidence in their impartiality in such a cause. And in fact, with all the goodwill in the world, the commission, like its plaintiffs, was tied hand and foot by the difficulties of its task, for to disentangle Welsh, marcher and English interests and laws was then work for heroes or madmen.

  Griffith began by challenging the credentials of the prince's attorneys. They produced Llewelyn's letter accrediting them, and firmly stating that the cause must be heard according to Welsh law. Griffith still refused to admit their authority, upon every technical point he could dredge out of his litigious memory, and on his plea the case was adjourned to the next sitting in September. Yet two days later, when Griffith brought up his own claim against the prince, and Llewelyn did not appear, as he had determined from the beginning, the court, seeing his attorneys present though silent, gave them instructions to notify him of the date he should appear in September, thus acknowledging that they were indeed his accredited representatives, though two days earlier they had allowed Griffith's objection to their status to cause the prince's case to be adjourned.

  These are tedious matters, but they can ruin, madden and even kill, can undo good men and lay waste noble countries.

  Letters and messengers went to and fro between the king and the prince, civil, dutiful but persistent on the prince's part, voluble and legalistic on the king's. Sometimes he used so many words, and they revolved clause within clause so artfully, that it was difficult to be sure of his real meaning, but always his professed meaning was to do even-handed justice, and that as rapidly as he could without risk to the rights of either party. He was then conducting cautious advances towards settling the details of the prince's marriage, but was in no hurry about it. Llewelyn shrugged, conceded the genuineness of the king's doubts, however vain they might be, and endured stubbornly, assured of the ending. And he was encouraged when Edward appointed a court session at Rhuddlan in September, over which he would preside in person, and hear both the Arwystli plea and also the case of Rhodri's final settlement, which was still pending, and had been committed to the king by both brothers.

  That was a strange hearing, as it concerned Arwystli. Llewelyn had high hopes of it, for now he had Edward himself to deal with, and in our experience Edward was decisive and swift once he had facts before him. The attorneys put forward the claim, asked and were granted Welsh law, as was only right for lands deep in the heart of Wales, and produced their proofs. Griffith ap Gwenwynwyn appeared in rebuttal, and made his answer. By Welsh law the status of the land was clear, and no law but Welsh had ever run in that land. By Welsh law, all the formalities having been observed, and each party having had its say, it should not even have been possible to put off a judgment. Yet Edward, pondering long and attentively, in the presence of the lawful Welsh judges of Rhuddlan, who had been brought in to hear and pronounce, of his own will and on his own responsibility adjourned the case, putting it back into the competence of the Hopton commission.

  "He was all too sure what the judges would decide," said Tudor angrily, that evening, when we debated this setback. A very severe shock it had been to Llewelyn, but he would not do less than justice to Edward.

  "No," he said, "he is honest. I am sure of it. He has honest doubts about these procedures of ours, and whether they produce truth or not. He finds himself at sea in Welsh law as I do in English. He wants to examine further. It is galling, but we should not complain unless we have something to hide, and I have nothing."

  So he accepted what desperately disappointed him, and made no ado. And the next day, in some measure, he had his reward. For that was the day when Rhodri appeared against him with a formal claim on his purparty of all the lands of Gwynedd. This cause went forward readily enough, and with mutual consideration. Rhodri made his claim through his attorneys. Llewelyn through his produced in court Rhodri's quitclaim for those same rights, in consideration of the payment of a thousand marks. Rhodri acknowledged the quitclaim but said he had not received the money payment. Llewelyn said and showed that he had made a first payment of fifty marks, and in his turn acknowledged that the balance was still due. Thus they came without dispute to a fair settlement. Rhodri agreed to renew his quitclaim and Llewelyn acknowledged a debt to him of nine hundred and fifty marks, and not having the money ready to be paid immediately into the court, agreed to a date for its delivery, and that it should be distrained by the king's officers on his lands and chattels if he defaulted.

  There were some among us who had doubts of this procedure, and thought it a dangerous precedent, for if once such an interference with his right was allowed in his own lands, it might be used against him in other causes. But he was positive that he could do no less, the debt being acknowledged, and further was disdainfully certain that he was risking nothing, since by meeting the obligation before the date assigned he could and would prevent a precedent from being created.

  Then came the first check, and though it was delivered so reasonably and simply that Llewelyn himself attached no importance to it, and found in it no sting, yet I did, and so did at least one other. The king looked up mildly from under his drooping eyelid, and said: "The sum being so great, I require another surety."

  Whatever the prince might have replied to that demand, through his attorneys, it was never needed or delivered. At the back of the hall there was a sudden movement, light and swift, as someone leaned and plucked at a sleeve before him, and I caught the blue-black sheen of David's hair. During all those sessions of the court he had of necessity been present in Edward's train, but he had kept out of sight, and refrained from troubling his brother even by appearing before him. Now he stooped his head to whisper in his law-clerk's ear, and in a moment the man stepped out free of the public ranks, and addressed the king.

  "Your Grace, a further surety is forthcoming. The Lord David ap Griffith desires to be partner in the acknowledgement, and grants that the money shall also be levied on his lands and chattels in England or elsewhere."

  A stir went round the court at that. Llewelyn's eyes opened wide in astonished wonder, and he turned his head quickly to look for his brother, the first time, I swear, he had done so since David fled to England. Edward jerked up his head and sought him no less sharply. I will not say he was displeased, but he was startled, and whatever caused him surprise, or did not in every way behave as he expected, was in some degree offensive to him. However, he had no choice but to accept the proffer, which he did without comment, and had it enrolled in the records.

  While the clerk was entering it, I saw Llewelyn's urgent gaze roving the ranks from which the attorney had stepped, and knew the moment when his eyes lit upon David, withdrawn as far as he could into the corner of the hall. The colour rose into David's face in a great wave, but knowing himself discovered he stood his ground, and looked back steadily at the prince, without by smile or frown or movement of any kind acknowledging how the meeting of eyes pierced and shook him. As for Llewelyn, he was lost in amazement, and stared as though by the very constancy of his regard he might penetrate this last of David's mysteries. But the width of the hall was between them, and there was no more he could do, until the king declared the case settled, the deed of quitclaim was delivered once again, and the court rose for that day.

  Then, as soon as Edward made to withdraw, and all his magnates gathered about him, Llewelyn turned his back upon them, and thrust his way through the press towards the corner where David had stood. But David also had turned, as soon as he might with propriety, and stalked away towards the nearest door, and the tides of movement within the hall parting and crossing every way, we saw only the lofty flash of the light on his blue-black crest in the doorway, and then no more of him.

Whatever Edward's intended stab, whatever David's impulsive generosity and resentment, in that session at Rhuddlan, both passed by without great significance, for Llewelyn paid his debt to Rhodri long before the day appointed, as was his habit, and that was the end of all Rhodri's claims in Gwynedd. Nor did Llewelyn pursue David to seek any explanation, but let him go his own way, and said no word of what had passed, even to me. In a little while it was as if it had never passed at all. David had made his gesture, which had cost him nothing, and which he had known, since he knew his brother, would cost him nothing. Nothing, that is, in money or goods. Edward had made his, drawing in the rein sharply to remind a spirited horse who was master, and Llewelyn, by reason of his free Welsh acceptance that he had no more privilege at law than any other man, had never even noticed the curb. And the irony was that Edward took that princely and proud humility for submission to himself, and was appeased and gratified by it, when no part of it belonged to him or did him any homage. And Llewelyn took the king's resultant benevolence for true and voluntary goodwill, and liked him the better for it. So they were both encouraged.

  Within ten days after he left Rhuddlan, King Edward set free the hostages delivered to him under the treaty, and wrote appointing the day and the place of the marriage of his beloved kinswoman Eleanor de Montfort to his noble and well-loved vassal, Llewelyn, prince of Wales.

  The day assigned was itself an omen, as was the king's appropriation of the right to assign it, and to order as his own pageant the marriage he had gone to such lengths to prevent. He had chosen to give his cousin in marriage with his own hand, upon the thirteenth day of October, the day of St. Edward the Confessor, the special patron of his father and himself, and the place, appropriately, was the border town of Worcester, where Welsh and English could fitly meet, and where there was a noble cathedral. For the whole court was to remove there to grace the marriage day. And clearly the royal patron of the feast also intended to bear the whole expense himself.