way of things in France, but we have the opportunity to do better now.” He smiled at the grave expression on his daughter’s face. “But do not worry, mon coeur. It will soon be second nature to you.” He glanced from his daughter to his wife, and added, “Why, you’ll be surprised at how naturally it grows.”
“And you will have your handmaids and servants to help—as well as a seneschal,” Agnes continued. “A good seneschal is worth his weight in gold—and we shall make it a matter of some urgency to find one who knows what he’s about. Your grandfather will have some ideas, I think; I will write to him and ask him to send two or three and you can choose the one that suits you best.”
“A Welsh seneschal would be better, surely,” ventured Sybil. “Because of the language . . .”
“Tch!” her mother countered. “That would never do. You would soon fall into the errors of their ways. As I said, it will be your duty—the duty of us all—to teach them.”
They talked of this and other things, and the day passed with the countryside juddering slowly by. Because of all the wagons, they could not move with any speed, and as the sun dropped lower and ever lower in the west, Marshal Orval searched for and found a suitable place to make camp for the night. While the servants prepared a meal for all the entourage, the baron and baroness walked up to the top of the nearest hill to stretch their legs after riding in the carriage all day. In the distance they could see the dark, close-crowded hills of Wales, misty with the coming of night.
“What do you see?” asked Agnes.
The baron was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I see wealth and power and a throne to rival England’s.” His naked declaration embarrassed him a little; he could feel Agnes’s eyes on him, so he shrugged and added, “At least, it is closer now than it has ever been. The wedding will make a glorious beginning.”
She returned his smile and took his hand. “That, mon amour, is exactly what I was thinking.”
CHAPTER 4
It was five days of anxious travel before Bran and the Grellon reached Coed Cadw. Footsore, weary, and disheartened beyond measure, they sought the safety of their forest keep. As they moved into the lush, green-shadowed solitude of the Guardian Wood, the heat of the day dropped away and they walked a little easier and lighter of step. There among the trees the weary, heartsick band began to heal the wounded memories of the last days—the betrayal of the Ffreinc king, the treachery of the Black Abbot, the fierce and bloody battle, and their anxious flight.
Though they had escaped the battle without fatality—a few of the men suffered cuts and bruises, one a broken arm, and another a deep sword wound to the thigh—the carnage had exacted a toll that only became apparent in the days that followed. For most of the Grellon the panic and horror of that day was a plague that worked away on their souls, and they were infected with it.
Thus, soul-sick and exhausted they crept back into the solace of the greenwood to heal the raw, inflamed wounds of their memories, arriving at Cél Craidd to the great relief of those who had been left to look after the settlement in their absence.
The watchers had seen them on the road and hastened back to prepare a welcome: jars of cool water flavoured with elderflower blossoms and honey seed cakes to restore their strength. But the travellers were in no mood to rejoice, and their stark response to what should have been a glad homecoming soon dashed any notions of celebration. “Something is amiss, my lord,” observed Henwydd delicately; an older man, he had been given the care of Cél Craidd in Bran’s absence. “Forgive me if I speak in error, but the faces I see around me would be better suited to a funeral party, not a homecoming.”
“How can it be otherwise?” said Bran, his voice thick with bitterness. “The black-hearted English king broke his promise. The realm belongs to the Ffreinc, and we are outlaws still.”
“Sooner have milk from a stone,” grumbled Iwan, following Bran, “than get satisfaction from a Norman.”
Angharad arranged her wrinkled face into a sad smile. She thanked Henwydd and the others for their thoughtfulness and accepted a drink from the welcome cup. Then, taking her leave of Bran and the others,