‘It is as I tell you,’ Lady Olwen insisted, ‘you spend too many an hour on matters that are of no importance and not practical.’ It seemed she had more to say on the subject, but Rufus interrupted her.
‘Wait! Yes, there is a rider, only now brought into view. He moves at speed.’
It was then the sound of hooves galloping over the summer-hardened earth confirmed what Gwen had promised. They could not have guessed how that sound would herald such a fateful, brutal change in all their lives. The women exchanged glances of concern. They hurried to the gate in time to see a single rider, his horse’s flanks lathered, its mouth foaming, as he urged it on yet faster. He galloped past them, racing for the house.
‘A messenger, Lady Olwen,’ said Rufus.
‘Go,’ she instructed him. ‘Find out what has sent him here with such reckless haste.’
Rufus ran for the house. Gwen returned her knife to her belt, they picked up their baskets and hurried after him. By the time they reached the front door he had disappeared inside. Lord Llewelyn’s manservant could be heard shouting for his master.
‘What is it?’ Lady Olwen called in through the open doorway, her own hesitancy giving away her fear. She was reluctant to enter, as if keeping a distance from badtidings could deny them their existence. Rufus came charging back out.
‘There are soldiers on their way!’
‘Oh! Baron Shrewsbury’s men?’ she paled.
‘It is not known, my lady. Lord Llewelyn told me to take you inside. We must bar the doors.’
‘He thinks they will come here?’ she asked. ‘To our home?’
There were shouts from the stables behind the house. Gwen hitched up the unhelpfully long skirts of her dress and started for where the horses were kept.
‘Lady Gwen!’ Rufus called after her. ‘Lord Llewelyn says you are to be kept safe!’
‘Gwen! Can you not this once be obedient?’ her mother begged.
‘Take Lady Olwen in, Rufus. Do not leave her side.’ She ran on, deaf to her mother’s cries.
In the barn where the horses were stabled Gwen found her father and the men he kept close as his personal guard, all saddling their steeds as quickly as they were able, servants and slaves scrambling to help them. Her father’s beloved wolfhound, Taran, shadowed his every step.
‘Father, where do you go?’
‘Towards Talgar. There is a war-band gathering.’
‘But, whose? Surely the French Baron will not descend upon us, or at least, not from the north.’
He tightened the girth on his stallion’s saddle, while his manservant buckled the sword at his hip.
‘It matters not whose men they are, daughter; they are intent on taking this valley for themselves.’
‘But, it is yours, father. It is your birthright.’
‘Given my father by a Welsh Prince. Think you that the King of France who now sits upon the throne of England cares for such details? He wishes his own nobles to take what they will and keep it for themselves. In such a way he shores up his own defences. Brynach! To horse, man, for God’s sake!’
‘Father,’ Gwen shook her head, ‘there are so few of you…’
‘More will join us, from Lord Eifion’s estate, and that of his brother. Others will come from neighbouring holds once they hear the alarm has been raised.’ His servant held the fidgeting horse as he swung up into the saddle and snatched up the reins. All the horses had sensed the urgency of the day and stamped and fretted, some whinnying, others pawing at the ground. Her father was an excellent horseman and paid no heed to their antics. He looked down at her then and for a brief moment he was not Llewelyn ap Ioreth, Lord of Cwmdu and the Black Mountains, but the father of a much-loved and frightened girl. He leaned down and touched her cheek. His gaze was so tender it brought tears to her eyes. Did he know then, she wondered, what impossible odds he faced?
‘You have a good heart, child. Follow it,’ he told her. And then he signalled to his men, marshalling them. ‘To me! We must meet our foes before they reach the valley’s end. Only there will our number matter less.’
‘Wait!’ Gwen put her hand on the reins. ‘What of the villagers? They too must take refuge in the hall.’
‘There is not time.’
‘But we must warn them!’
‘Get to your mother, Gwen!’
