“Then you will not pass.”
Gethin was beginning to become indignant. “This is the only road directly to Pool,” he said. “If I take any other road, I must go miles out of my way. It is not fair for theSaesnegto suddenly put a toll booth here, demanding money from the Welsh to use their own road.”
“Mayhap not, but there is a toll nonetheless,” the soldier said. “And surely you have heard that Lord de Lara is not keeping the money all for himself. Half of it is being given back to the churches in the area as alms for the poor. It is to help tend the needy.”
Gethin hadn’t heard that but, then again, he wasn’t a pious man. He was ashamed to admit it, though.
“Give it back or keep it is all the same to me,” he said. “He is still demanding tolls that he has no business demanding.”
“Pay it or go back.”
“I willnotpay it.”
“Then go back the way you came.”
Infuriated, Gethin and his servant turned away, following the path they’d taken from home. The soldiers watched them go before retreating into the newly built stone toll booth, the one with a hearth for warmth and food, tables and chairs, and even a couple of beds for the night watch. There was a livery out back for their horses. It was rather large for a toll booth and sturdily built because of the money it was meant to protect.
One man remained on the road, however, keeping watch while the others gathered inside. In fact, he was still watching Gethin and his servant as they nearly faded from view before suddenly darting across the meadow that paralleled the road. As the soldier watched, he could see the men picking their way through the sodden meadow.
Their intent was clear. They intended to bypass the toll booth. That realization brought four soldiers from the toll booth astride their heavy warhorses, capturing Gethin before he could accomplish his deed.
The manservant, however, was wily. He managed to escape the soldiers, who gave up chase when the young man darted into a heavy copse of trees. Since there were disgruntled Welsh in the area, no one wanted to make an easy target for an ambush, so they retreated with their prize of the merchant.
Gethin ap Garreg was to have a first-hand look at Wybren Castle and her legendary, and terrifying, vaults. But unfortunately, he didn’t live to see them. In his struggle against a knight who was trying to mount him on a horse that would take him back to Wybren, he lost his balance and fell over backwards, landing on the back of his neck.
As Gethin died a quick and wasteful death as the result of a toll he refused to pay, his clever servant made it home.
Gethin’s daughter was heading to Wybren at first light the next morning.
CHAPTER FOUR
A few days later
Wybren Castle
“It belongs tothe House of de Lara now. Can you smell thatSaesnegstench?”
The whisper came from a small, crooked servant woman. She’d been born that way, with a crooked spine and a twisted leg that caused her to walk with a limp. She’d tagged along on this day of days but, now, her mistress was beginning to wonder why she’d allowed her to come at all.
The maid, Megsy, hated the English.
She was in the thick of them now.
But so were all of the Welsh in this area, from Four Crosses all the way down to Montgomery, and everything in between. The massive structure known asCastell Wybyrn, or Castle of the Sky, was the center of that universe and had seen a change in hands over the past several months.
The English had taken control of a historically Welsh castle.
More changes had come with the new English overlords that affected their everyday lives. One of them was the tolls– her father had been caught up in refusing to pay for a toll on a road he’d traveled upon his entire life.
And now, here she was to free him.
Megsy had insisted on coming with her. She would not let her young, beautiful, and stubborn mistress confront the English alone. Now that they had arrived, they stood at the bottom of the hill that led up to the castle, getting a feel for what lay at the top. The hill was covered with a thick canopy of trees, obscuring the castle walls above and shielding that mighty fortress in the sky.
Juliandra ferch Gethin stood at the bottom of the road that went up to the first of two big gatehouses, fighting down her natural fear of the English. She had not been here since she had been a small child and her father had come to pay tribute to the Welsh lords that used to live here. She had fairly forgotten just how imposing it was. It was also busy at this time of day, with people moving up and down the road.
“Where did all of these people come from?” she asked Megsy, though it was a rhetorical question. Castles like this were always busy. “Do you suppose they all have family in the vaults for refusing to pay the toll?”
Megsy clung to her mistress, holding fast to her as she looked around. “They look like people who would do business here,” she said. “I see farmers mostly. Look, the gatehouse is open and there are soldiers guarding it. What will you tell them?”
