with barns, cattle pens, granaries, and all surrounded by apple orchards and bean, turnip, and barley fields scraped from the ever-encroaching forest which blanketed the hills and headlands—it had become the royal seat of the northern Welsh and was, as the shepherd had suggested, perfectly suited to keeping out of the voracious earl’s sight.
Bran and Tuck rode directly to the fortress and made themselves known to the short, thick-necked old man who appeared to serve the royal household as gateman and porter. With a voice like dry gravel, he invited them to enter the yard and asked them to wait while he informed his lord of their arrival.
Whatever life the kings of North Wales had known in earlier times, it was clear that it was much reduced now. As in England, the arrival of the Normans meant hardship and misery in draughts too great to swallow. The Cymry of the noble houses suffered along with the rest of the country, and Celyn Garth was proof of this. The yard was lumpy, rutted, and weedy; the roof of the king’s hall sagged, its thatch ratty and mildewed; the gates and every other door on the nearly derelict outbuildings stood in need of hingeing and rehanging.
“I hope we find the king well,” said Bran doubtfully.
“I hope we find him at his supper,” said Tuck.
What they found was Llewelyn ap Owain, a swarthy, nimble Welshman who received them graciously and prevailed upon them to stay the night. But he was not the king.
“It’s Gruffydd you’re looking for, is it?” he said. “Aye, who else? It pains me, friend, to inform you that our king is a captive.” Llewelyn explained over a hot supper of roast pork shanks and baked apples. They were seated at the hearth end of the near-empty hall. Their host sat at table with his guests, while his wife and daughters served the meal. “He’s held prisoner by Earl Hugh, may God rot his teeth.”
“Wolf Hugh?” asked Bran. “Is that the man?”
“Aye, Cousin, that’s the fellow—Hugh d’Avranches, Earl of Cestre—devious as the devil, and cruel as Cain with a toothache. He’s a miserable old spoiler, is our Hugh, with a heart full of torment for each and all he meets.”
“How long has Gruffydd been captive?” wondered Tuck.
Llewelyn tapped his teeth as he reckoned the tally. “Must be eight years or more, I guess,” he said. “Maybe nine already.”
“Has anyone seen him since he was taken prisoner?” Tuck asked.
“Oh, aye,” replied Llewelyn. “We send a priest most high holy days. The earl allows our Gruffydd to receive food and clothing and such since it whittles down the cost of keeping an expensive captive. We use those visits for what benefit we can get.”
Bran nodded; he and Tuck shared a glance, and each could sense the sharp disappointment of the other. “Who’s ruling in Gruffydd’s place?” asked Bran, swallowing his frustration.
Llewelyn paused to consider.
It was a simple enough question, and Tuck wondered at their host’s hesitation. “You must be looking at him, I reckon,” Llewelyn confessed at last. “Although I make no claim myself, you understand.” He spread his hands as if to express his innocence. “I merely keep the boards warm for Gruffydd, so to speak. I am loyal to my lord, while he lives, and would never usurp his authority.”
“Which is why the Ffreinc keep him alive, no doubt,” observed Bran. As long as Gruffydd drew breath, no one else could occupy his empty throne, much less gather his broken tribe.
“But people do come to me for counsel and guidance,” Llewelyn offered, “and I see it my duty to oblige however I can.”
“I understand,” said Bran. He fell silent, contemplating the depth of his difficulty. The kingdom of Gwynedd, leaderless and adrift, was in no shape to supply a war host to help fight a war beyond its borders. He realized with increasing despair that he had come all this way for nothing.
“So then, I’ll be sending for your relations,” said Llewelyn, breaking the silence. “They’ll be that glad to see you.”
“And I them,” replied Bran, and complimented his host on his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Llewelyn; I am in your debt.”
They finished supper, and the guests were given their own quarters so they would not have to share with the rest of Llewelyn’s household, who mostly slept on benches and reed mats in the hall. The next morning—on the counsel and guidance of their host—Bran and Tuck rode out to get the measure of the land and people of the