we have not seen before. But some of the wounded we captured spoke that name before they died.”
“Did you see the end?” asked Anora, clasping her hands beneath her chin in anticipation of the answer.
“Aye, my lady. Myself and the other riders—we watched it from the top of the hill. When the standard fell, we scattered with the news.”
“Where will you go now?” she enquired.
“I ride to Gwynedd, to inform the northern kingdoms,” replied the messenger. “God willing, and my horse survives.”
“That horse has run as far as it will go today and for many days, I fear,” replied the king. “I will give you another, and you will rest and refresh yourself here while it is readied.”
“You should stay here tonight,” Anora told the messenger.
“Continue on your way tomorrow.”
“My thanks to you, my lady, but I cannot. The northern kings were raising warriors to join us. They must hear that they can no longer look to the south for help.”
The king commanded his steward to bring food and make ready provisions the messenger could take with him. “I will see to the horse,” said Garran.
“My lord king, I am much obliged.” Having discharged his duty, the messenger slumped, grey faced, into the chair.
“We will leave you to your rest now,” said the queen, leading her husband out.
Once out of hearing of the chamber, the king turned to his wife. “There it is,” he concluded gloomily. “The end has begun. So long as the south remained free, it was possible to think that one day the Cymry might yet shake off the Ffreinc.
There will be nothing to stop the greedy dogs now.”
Queen Anora said, “You are client to Neufmarché. He will not move against us.”
“Client I may be,” spat the king bitterly. “But I am Cymry first, last, and always. If I pay tribute and rents to the baron, it is only to keep him far away from here. Now it seems he will not be satisfied with anything less than taking all of Cymru and driving us into the sea.”
He shook his head as the implications of the catastrophe rolled over him. “Neufmarché will keep us only so long as it pleases him to do so. Just now he needs someone to hold the land and work it, but when the time comes to repay a favour, or provide some relative with an estate, or reward some service rendered—then,” intoned Cadwgan ominously, “then all we have will be taken from us, and we will be driven out.”
“What can we do?” asked Anora, bunching her mantle in her fists. “Who is left that can stand against them?”
“God knows,” replied Cadwgan. “Only God knows.”
Baron Neufmarché received the news of his resounding victory with a restrained, almost solemn demeanour. After accepting a report on the casualties suffered by his forces, he thanked his commanders for carrying out his orders so well and so completely, awarding two of them lands in the newly conquered territory, and another an advancement in rank to a lordship and the command of the unfinished castle that had so readily lured King Rhys ap Tewdwr to his doom. “We will speak more of this tonight at table. Go now; rest yourselves.
You have done me good service, and I am pleased.”
When the knights had gone, he went to his chapel to pray.
The simple room built within the stone walls of the castle was cool in the warmth of the day. The baron liked the air of calm quiet of the place. Approaching the simple wooden altar with its gilt cross and candle, he went down on one knee and bowed his head.
“Great God,” he began after a moment, “I thank you for delivering the victory into my hand. May your glory increase. I beg you, almighty Lord, have mercy on those whose lives were given in this campaign. Forgive their sins, account their valour to their merit, and welcome them to your eternal rest. Heal the wounded, Lord Christ, and send them a swift recovery. In all ways comfort those who have suffered the pains of battle.”
He remained in the chapel and was still enjoying the serenity when Father Gervais appeared. Aging now, though still vigorous, the cleric had been a member of the baron’s court since coming to Beauvais as a newly shorn priest to serve Bernard’s father.
“Ah, it is you, my lord,” said the priest when the baron turned. “I thought I might find you here.” The grey-robed priest came to stand beside his lord and master.