The Brothers of Gwynedd (95 page)

  Child as she was, she was already once wedded and widowed. She was close kin to the king, her mother being his niece, Mary, daughter to the count of La Marche, Henry's eldest half-brother, a royal lady who had been married to Robert Ferrers when she was but seven years old, and her bridegroom only two years older. After the same dynastic custom they had married Elizabeth as a child to one William Marshal of Norfolk, who by his first wife already had sons old enough to be father to this tender creature. But her elderly husband followed the fortunes of Earl Simon, and died in that cause in the year of Evesham. Maid and widow, she had come into the king's wardship when her father, too, was dispossessed of all he had for his part in the civil wars, and since law had allowed her part of her dower lands from the Marshal inheritance, she had brought with her certain manors in Norfolk when King Henry, at the Lord Edward's instance, bestowed her upon David in marriage. A match not to be missed, and David accepted it willingly, lands and lady and all, together with the Lord Edward's patronage and favour. Of all of which, I fancy, he thought he knew the relative values. Yet I saw for myself, now for the third time seeing those two together, a year married after the world's practical fashion, that Elizabeth had had something to teach him, and he had found himself learning without resentment. For every look they exchanged, every touch of their sleeves brushing every intonation of their voices when they talked together, was eloquent beyond words.

  I looked among the dismounting company within the courtyard for the face I most desired to see, knowing she would not be far from Elizabeth. For ever since David had brought his bride home, Cristin had been her closest confidante and attendant. David would have no other to care for the child, for in a world where he doubted most men and held most women gently enough but lightly, for Cristin he had and kept always a deep regard and that alone was enough to incline his wife most warmly to her, even if they had not, from the first, been drawn to each other. And I was glad that Cristin should have a fair young creature close to her, to love and guard, she who had no child by her husband, and never would have child by her love. For we were cursed and blessed, she and I, in mutual loving blessed indeed, but cursed in that ours was a love forbidden and impossible of fruit, since she was the wife of my half-brother.

  I found her among the first to follow into the maenol, Cristin, Llywarch's daughter, her black hair hidden under a white wimple, and a white mule stepping delicately under her. And as happened always with us at every new meeting when I found her, her eyes were on me, and when mine held them they grew so large and crystal-clear in their purple-grey, the colour of irises, and so drew me into them like the seduction of deep water, that I died in them and was reborn into bliss as a drowning man by the mercy of God and the grace of faith may sink through death into the peace of paradise.

  She was within a month or two the same age as David, both being then thirtythree years old. We were long experienced in loving without greed or regret, she and I, and though we never spoke words of love, nor asked any fulfilment but the mutual knowledge we already possessed, neither did we avoid each other, nor any longer dissemble the truth that we had between us such trust and regard as few ever enjoy with man or woman. To what end? Godred knew very well how things stood with us, and knew that we knew, and by all means in his power, having glimpsed a passion of which he was incapable, had sought to drag it down to a level he could first understand, and then befoul. Who knows but it was Godred who kept us resolute in our purity?

  So at this meeting, though I knew well that he was there among the company of knights and squires that followed David into the maenol, and needed no telling that he would be looking for me as hungrily as ever I looked for Cristin, I made no ado about going to her directly and with open gladness, and she gave me her hand, and said the same current words that I was saying to her and let me help her down and take the bridle from her. Assignations we never made, but met when we met, and were glad. Surely we had, after our fashion, a compact with God to be endlessly grateful for what had been given us, and not to grasp at more. But we had never undertaken not to hope.

  She had barely set foot on the ground, and her hand was still in mine, when he was there between us, clasping an arm of each in his long hands, and deliberately scoring against my wrist the silver ring he wore, the fellow to one I had once worn. His father and mine had long ago given the second ring to the girl he took for one night in the rushes of the hall at Nevin, and she, years afterwards, to her son, the fruit of that union. By that token I had known my half-brother when we met. He had not then known me, nor for some time after, nor had any word ever been said, even now, to make it clear that he knew me for his father's bastard, yet always, when most he willed to remind me how we three were bound together, and how I might, if I willed, draw even closer, make myself his familiar and equal, and enjoy what now I only revered, always he contrived to twist that ring before my eyes, with its little severed hand holding a rose. But he had no power even to make us start, or loose too soon the clasp of our hands. With nothing to hide, why should we hide it?

  "Well, Saint Samson?" I said Godred, in that high, sweet voice of his, and linking his arm in mine. "We are to go on pilgrimage together, it seems, to the Confessor's shrine. Three or four weeks of sweet companionship and easy living! I mean to enjoy you to the full, this time." And with the other arm he encircled Cristin, and so drew us with him towards the hall, leaving the grooms to lead away the horses.

  I am swart and plain, and he was lithe and fair and comely, with curling hair the colour of ripe white wheat, and round, gold-brown eyes. Yet she loved me, and not him!

  "And Cristin shares my pleasure," he said, closing his fingers possessively about her shoulder, "though she is not so quick to utter it as I. We never forget, Samson, that it was you who restored us to each other, when we never thought to meet again. I speak for both—do I not, my love? This once join your voice with mine!"

  She looked straight before her, and smiled. "Samson knows my mind," she said. "There is no need to look back so far. He knows I forget nothing. But if you want me to say it, yes, I shall take pleasure in this journey together. Yes, I am happy."

  So he had his answer, but it was not the right answer, though he swallowed it with grace. For it was not what he wanted, it was outrage to him, that she should be happy, when he, though through his own curst nature, was surely among the unhappiest souls on earth.

  During the days of our preparations it did happen now and then that I had speech with her alone, while he was busy with his own duties. It was not that at these times we spoke of our own affairs, but there were other things I had to ask of her that needed a degree of privacy, too. David was my breast-brother, my mother's nurseling, my own charge in his childhood, as now Cristin cared for the child he had taken in marriage, and I needed to know the best and the worst concerning him, for no matter how often he offended against Llewelyn and discarded me, yet I could not but love him.

  "He is still sore," said Cristin, "and still denies with anger that his wounds are selfinflicted. He knows his own sins, but will neither repent them nor accept forgiveness for them. Edward embraced him when he deserted Llewelyn, and he despises Edward in his heart for embracing a traitor. Llewelyn in honour of his triumph tossed David's offences out of mind, and haled him back openly without penalty, never denying he deserved it, and David worships him for it because he could not have done as much himself, and hates him for it because so easy a forgiveness slights both the offence and the offender. They are two creatures made in moulds so different, and yet so linked, they cannot touch without hurt, nor be apart without loss. And yet he does love his brother! Sometimes I doubt he loves Llewelyn more than Llewelyn loves him. He could not so hate him if he did not."

  I asked, for God knows I had good reason to understand the power of personal happiness, what was to be hoped from this marriage Edward had made.

  She was standing beside me in the twilight when this passed, having put her lady to bed, for that shy royal creature awoke with the light and tired with the fail of darkness like all children. From the portal of Elizabeth's apartments we could see the silver of the lake like a spilled coin in moonlight. My sleeve was against my love's sleeve, and we were at peace, but for all these souls we loved, and for whom we desired the same peace.

  Cristin said: "She has tamed him. She does not know it—how could she? She is still half a child. There is no one so astonished as David. And how is that possible, since he knows his own beauty? None better! I think he never considered that a wife should look at him and find him beautiful. He took her as a chattel, a means to lands, and to the Lord Edward's continuing favour. I doubt he ever looked at her, until she had looked at him, and gone the way of most women who look at him. Half child she may be, but she is half woman, too. She looked at him, and she loved. Is it so strange? And you know him, he is gentle and playful with children, he awoke only when he found himself clasping a woman he had warmed into life, roused and ready for him."

  "He has bedded her, then?" I said.

  "Surely! You have only to look at them. There have an understanding of the flesh." It was true. There was no mistaking that radiance that shone out of them when they touched each other. She spoke of it with a calm face but a careful voice, regarding without envy but with secret grief what they had and we could never have. "Her women told her, when they married her the first time, child as she was, what would be expected of her some day as a wife. She was prepared. And did you ever hear of a woman who complained of David's loving? He would have let her alone a year or two yet, I judge, if she had not stirred him. It charmed and moved him that she should love him and show her love."

  "And he," I said, "does he also love?"

  "He is pleased and disarmed and startled, how can he choose but respond? It's a new delight and a great flattery. Whether it will last, and keep its power, who knows and who can ever know with David? But yes. I think I would call it love. Whatever he does, he will never wilfully hurt her. But without willing it he might destroy her," said Cristin with great gravity. "Whoever loves David is in danger."

  And that was truth. And I was all the more glad that this proud, confiding and sensitive child should have Cristin watching over her. The time might come when she would need a friend, and nowhere could she have found another so brave and so loyal.

We rode for London at the end of September, a great party, not only to do credit to the royal house of Wales, but also to pay honour to King Henry, who by and large had played fair with us since the agreement, and who deserved his triumph. We crossed the Berwyns in brisk, bright weather, and had good hawking there. Llewelyn's falconer had in his charge not only the prince's own birds, but several he had been training as gifts for the king and the Lord Edward, and they made splendid proving flights along the way, and showed their mettle to such good effect that he was in high content with the fruit of his labour. We carried with us also venison for the feasts and for the king's larder.

  At Oswestry we crossed into England, with no need of the letters of safe-conduct sent from the court, and that was pleasant indeed. So it should always be, yet men have free passage so seldom, and so briefly. But this autumn was blessed, even to the weather, and the ride into Shrewsbury, where we halted overnight at the abbey, was truly as serene as a pilgrimage, a dream of ease in those lush fields and softly rolling valleys. Yet on this road I had memories, too, for I had ridden it once in Llewelyn's service on the way to the parliament of Oxford, thus far the same road, and there was no evading the reminders of that journey, or the remembered face of the man I had seen at the end of it, kneeling in grand, contained and private prayer at the shrine of St. Frideswide. And Llewelyn, too, felt his presence, for I saw how he watched me, and willed not to be seen watching me, and hesitated whether to speak or be silent. Silent he was in the end, for of speech there was no need. He knew and I knew that the image of Earl Simon rode with us all the way.

  After Shrewsbury we were on a way new to me, for we took the king's great highway called Watling Street, which they say the Romans made, and which drives by long, straight stretches headlong for London. One night we passed at the priory of Lichfield, and the next at Coventry, no great ride, for we had time and to spare. And when we were private after meat at Coventry, Llewelyn suddenly raised his head and turned to gaze to the south-west, and said, so low that I knew it was for none but himself and me: "We are very close, are we not, to Kenilworth?"