Justice: Book I, Pendyffryn: The Inheritors

Contents

Anarawd ap Rhodri Mawr Regis Gwynedd a Phowys

Cadell ap Rhodri Mawr a thad Hywel Dda Regis Seisyllwg

One

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The blow caught him on the jaw, breaking the skin, drawing blood but not enough to bring him down. The crowd circled, cheering Eilir when he struck, laughing when he raised his fist in triumph. Still Marshal kept upright, lunging at his opponent as Eilir returned his attention to their quarrel. The crowd, among them men he knew, had fought beside and shared deprivation, shouted their encouragement for the Celt.

Marshal expected nothing less or more from them. Until his death, he served—and was the son of—a man they also served. Their service was dictated by necessity for survival. Though he loved his father and trusted he was loved in return, this hatred was a circumstance he endured in silence. If he fell now, if he complained, if he faltered, they were ready to inflict cruelties he need not imagine.

The kick, meant for Marshal’s groin, dropped Eilir Meinor like a child at Marshal’s feet. He stepped back, flexed the muscles of his shoulders, waiting for Eilir to rise, but the Celt kicked out again, twisting enough to bring Marshal to one knee while he leapt up, swinging at the gelyn[2] man’s head.

Man. Could he claim manhood? Had he reached that status? Four years of this battle, on his own in this land he had grown to love like a native son. And still to be hated as a foreigner. He lived, survived without the ready tears of his childhood. Yes. Man. And soon, to endure four years of separation from his family.

He leaned back, steady on his back foot, pushed forward and swung his leg out as Eilir raised his fist to strike Marshal in the face again. Instead, the Celt toppled in the dust, spewing dirt and curses, struggling to his feet.

The crowd heaved forward.

Marshal ripped his tunic from the corral gate and strode toward the Gaer.

Gwennan Pendyffryn, shushing the squabbling youngest ones behind her with a quick snap of her fingers, greeted him with a shake of her head.

What matter this time?

"As it is always, Mam," Marshal replied, accepting the scrutiny of her skilled gaze.

Marshal—.

He shook his head, washed the blood from his chin, twisting his lower jawbone to test its condition. When he turned back to his stepmother, he smiled and submitted to her affectionate pat on the opposite cheek.

Marshal’s fighting again, Tes, his younger sister, said to a dark-eyed girl at the table.

As much as he wanted to respond, to deny, to defend his actions, Marshal refrained, as he always now had to refrain, from striking back.

Tes, Gwennan commanded, take Elan and Guidry to wash their faces. Tanglwystl, prepare another place at the table. Marshal will have his meal with me this evening.

"I am on duty, Mam."

The thin girl he did not know stared at the table, her long fingers stilled at the edge. Another of Gwennan’s students. Marshal had lost count of the number of girls and little boys passing through the final years of his childhood, all of them the offspring of his father’s warriors, all of them gone within a few months to proffer their new skills elsewhere. Since he was also a beneficiary of her generosity, he could not fault them any more than he faulted his elder brother or Tes.

Until the birth of Daran Pendyffryn’s own grand-daughter, Tes had been the favored companion of their step-grandfather’s solitude. In a few months, though still young enough to stay with her family, his sister was to begin her training as Pendyffryn’s castellan, so adept at the position had she grown under Gwennan’s tutelage. One by one, Ieuan deFreveille’s first family were parted from one another.

I will relieve you of your duty tonight.

If you do, I will have another fight tomorrow.

His stepmother sighed, nodding her reluctant agreement. At least, you can sit with me a moment. She caught his hand as she had done when he was still living in the pennaeth’s[1] household, and drew him away from the children to sit near the hearth. Before many months, only his younger half-brother, Guidry, and half-sister, Elan Cerith, would have the privilege of Gwennan Pendyffryn’s comfort and wisdom.

The stool at her knee had been a place of sanctuary for as long as he had known her but, on this night, he refused the offer, crouching instead to stoke the fire into flame.

I know what you will ask, but I have no answer to give you. I came only to see you for a moment before I take my post at the gate tonight.

Is there nothing I can do?

Marshal shrugged. They had had this talk many times since his tenth year but his answer was ever the same. If I am unable to stand without you, I will not stand at all in their eyes. They may hate me, but they trust I am capable and a soldier in my own right.

Your father returns from Garn in a few days. He will have a way.

Even worse, Marshal laughed. His way may get me killed. He hoped his smile belied the truth of his words. If she knew of Ieuan deFreveille’s plans for his second son, Marshal saw no evidence in her earnest gaze. While his father trusted his second wife in all things of consequence to Pendyffryn, he reserved the management of his first family’s future to his authority. The discussion between Marshal and his father had not been made known to her. Though Marshal respected his father’s decision, he longed for one last moment of childhood solace.

He has never counted diplomacy among his skills, but he does surprise me.

Gwennan’s perpetual faith in his father brought a sad smile but no comfort. Hers was the kind of love that he, her unsought stepson—like his two brothers—admired but was destined never to experience.

Tanglwystl stood back from the table, turning toward Eira Pendryw, her eyes widening at the other girl’s sudden stare. Marshal fights with your brother. Did you know?

No, Tanglwystl murmured, dropping her gaze to the stone flags. Eilir does not live with us, my mother, not since my father joined deFreveille’s army.

You were fortunate tonight. If Gwennan knew the truth, she would have sent you away.

Why do you say that?

Gwennan knows nothing of how Eilir behaves toward her stepson, even though they are in the same command. Marshal refuses to tell her.

Why?

Why do you think?

Tanglwystl met her friend’s gaze for a moment but shook her head in response.

"Ach, you are so innocent. I should know better than to question you about such things. Marshal is the gelyn as far as the other boys are concerned. Not my brother, of course, since Gareth grew up with Marshal, but the boys from the hafodydd[3] resent that he is better at everything they attempt to do."

Is he? Tanglwystl’s question inspired a short laugh from Eira and a severe purple stain spread over her cheeks.

Of course he is. He is deFreveille’s son.

Though Tanglwystl had anticipated the extraordinary occasion of visiting with Eira in the pennaeth’s home, her excitement had been tinged with fear. Although her mother gave permission for the visit, Tanglwystl had not been forthright about where she was to share a meal with the older girl. Eira’s father, Pendryw, and his wife, Siriol, lived among the Cymry[4] in the hafodydd beyond the gates of the Gaer but Eira, their eldest child, was among the tutored children in Gwennan’s house.

That her mother would inevitably discover the truth of the invitation from her friend had not deterred Tanglwystl Meinor from eager acceptance. The opportunity to meet Gwennan, their pennaeth, and see how the crachach[5] lived their daily lives was too alluring to the disgraced warrior’s daughter. The consequences had been far from her thoughts then but were stark and unavoidable in the face of this new circumstance.

Until her father, Meinor Hedydd, had abandoned his resistance, living in the hafodydd even after all the fighting ceased between the gelyn and her people, had been harder for her family than for those who surrendered. Meinor’s decision to feed his family disgraced his wife. The anger between her parents drove her father to live in the barracks with his command.

Though she did not fully understand all that had happened, the home her father could now provide was clean and warm. The bacon and cabbage on their table each day was plentiful. She had a new frock and a heavy cloak, wooden-soled shoes and plenty of woven carthen[6] to snuggle beneath when the easterly wind lifted the thatch and howled like the wolves in the woodlands.

Their home was less fraught than before her father chose to join deFreveille’s army, but Tanglwystl ached for his presence. Eilir too had gone, to join the young men who served in the invader’s employ. Like his father, Eilir Meinor sought the warrior’s life. The heroics and the promise of accolades for his bravery attracted him more than the sense of obligation and duty that determined her father’s choice. Her mother did not view Eilir’s choice with the same venom she attached to her husband—Eilir was a boy, influenced by the poor judgment of his father.

Though she was then old enough to be apprenticed when the foreigners first came, the wars had so disrupted life in the Gaer that Tanglwystl Meinor was one of many girls whose fathers harbored resentment and whose skills were restricted to simple chores. Having nothing better to occupy their time than washing and cooking, many resorted to seeking occupation among the invader’s soldiers and a few were mothers of children her mother spat upon.

She had no ill-will toward her pennaeth for accepting one of them as her husband. If Daran Pendyffryn, a warrior and a prince, had no objection to his only daughter being married to the foreign invader, Tanglwystl found no fault. Four years of constant war was little different to how they had lived before. Her father was disgraced only in his wife’s eyes. Tanglwystl saw his choice as that of a man protecting the lives and futures of his family—not so different from those made by the crachach to protect their citizens and no mystery to her.

Two

A full week passed after Tanglwystl had been in the pennaeth’s house, but her hope that she had escaped her mother’s wrath shattered the moment one of the jealous girls called out to her as she opened the door, Did you enjoy your meal with Marshal?

Before the door fully opened, Eleri yanked her daughter in, shoving her aside as she slammed the door, first against the wall, then grabbing its edge to crash it into its frame so hard that the walls of the hafod shook and flecks of dust tumbled from the thatch into her hair. Tanglwystl raised her hands in supplication and finally in surrender.

Eleri Meinor crossed her arms tight around her chest, her fingers clawing at the frayed sleeves of her dress. She shook so hard she could not speak. Sounds came from her mouth that could have been curses but she uttered no words.

The girl stood to the side of the door that still shuddered on its hinges from the force of her mother’s rage and flinched at the first strike, knowing better than to attempt to prevent injury. The broom handle caught her on the shoulder but she made no move to cower or defend. The second blow, aimed at her head, glanced the back of her neck and propelled her against the bed’s frame. Falling to her knees, she took the next blow on her arms, wrapped around her head. Time and time again, her mother brought the handle down until she was exhausted and grunting with the effort.

Eleri slumped against the wall. The broom slid from her hand, clattering against the hearthstone and upsetting the andiron. When the objects settled, only her mother’s gasping breath disturbed the silence that had descended on the cluster of hafodydd when the tumult began. Tanglwystl uttered only a whimper as she released her protective grip. Her arm bled but she did nothing to stem the flow or recall her mother’s attention to her.

Now you see what comes to liars.

Picking up the bloodied broom, Eleri swept the dust from the hard-packed floor around the hearth, whisking it in Tanglwystl’s direction. The girl remained motionless, willing her mother to think she had fainted. She breathed slow and shallow, as quiet as a mouse, as small as—

Are you listening to me? You deceitful witch! Her mother clutched her hair and dragged her head up. Did you think you could hide your crimes from me?

"Mam…"

"No daughter of mine eats with the gelyn spawn who fights my son. That one keeps your brother a stable boy and you share a meal with him. What else do you share with him? Are you his whore?"

"No! How can you think that? I would never…will never go near him, ever again, Mam, I promise you."

"You had better not, merch, or I will beat you to death rather than allow you to live in your father’s house. You have brought shame on us all."

How? Before the word was fully formed, Tanglwystl covered her face to defend against the blow but her mother dragged her hands away and slapped her.

Tears were the worst response but these were angry, not weak or submissive. If she had had the strength, Tanglwystl would have risen but her arms did not support even the slight weight she put on them to sit erect, let alone rise. Although taller than her mother, she did not hold within her the will to challenge Eleri Meinor’s authority again. She lowered her head to stare at the welts banding her wrists and forearms.

The dust swirling in the air around her aching head was the least of her complaints. The more her mother swept, the more agitated she became until she flung the broom at Tanglwystl. Without defending her already damaged back, the girl clasped the broom and, with slow and agonized strokes pushed the dirt into a small pile. Her mother huffed with satisfaction and opened the door.

A gawking crowd of women stood across the narrow lane from Meinor Hedydd’s house and stepped back against the slatted front of another hafod as Eleri dragged her daughter to her feet. Pushed forward with her mother’s trembling hand at her back, Tanglwystl moved the dirt to the threshold. With the little strength she had left, she swept dust and straw through the door and onto the lane. All the while, the gawkers chattered and clucked.

Without a word, Eleri Meinor raised her chin and shut the door.

Within a day, Eilir dragged his sister along the same lane, slapping her head and whipping her shoulders for all the inhabitants to see toward the fields to take his place in the rows of tillers preparing the soil for planting.

When her father, Meinor Hedydd, returned with deFreveille’s army a few days later, Tanglwystl gave her hoe to another girl working in the field and followed him toward their home. Eilir walked beside his father, questioning with every step but Meinor had little to say to satisfy his son’s curiosity. There was no battle, he growled at last, pushing open the door of his house and greeting his wife with a nod. Where is my daughter?

I am here, Dada. She stood in the lane, holding down the long sleeves of her dress to hide her injuries, waiting for her mother to report her crimes.

"Come in, Merch[7]. I have news."

Eilir folded his arms across his chest and smirked at her, privy to all her mother’s complaints and a catalogue of her bad behavior. Stating her own case, defending her action, denying her intent to deceive crowded into Tanglwystl’s thoughts but she scuttled into the small room and bowed her head. Eilir cuffed her on the arm and sneered. You will not be able to hide any longer.

Tanglwystl darted a look at her father but he stood near the hearth, filling a tankard with the ale her mother brewed in the winter. Meinor guzzled half the drink before noticing his two children again. He finished the refreshing ale before sampling the evening’s meal of leek cawl[8].

Come here, Tanglwystl.

Still clutching the cuffs of her sleeves at her wrists, Tanglwystl stepped forward. Yes, Dada?

"You will not be living here after tonight, Merch."

Before she could protest, he continued, "I have made an agreement with the commander. It seems you have made an impression. Gwennan has asked that he grant her your assistance in the Gaer, for what service I cannot guess."

Her breath stopped. Her mother screamed. Eilir cursed. Meinor Hedydd studied the faces of his family and shrugged. My commander has granted his wife this boon. I have no objection. You will go, he declared, pointing his finger at his daughter.

Yes, Dada.

Take her, Eleri hissed, pushing Tanglwystl against the wall. "She is your daughter to sacrifice to that monster. She has already defied me, shown her contempt for me and all that I believe. Do not ask me to be content that you sacrifice your honor. The girl is of no consequence after such shame." Though her mother was grateful for the food her husband’s decision to join deFreveille’s army had put on their table, Eleri Meinor made no secret of her loathing for the necessity of the alliance with the gelyn invader.

During the night, while her parents coupled in the only bed in the the hafod, Tanglwystl covered her head, blocking the sounds of their marital exchange. The injuries from the beating Eleri had visited upon her still festered on the girl’s body but she blamed no one for her misfortune. She had chosen her path to accept Eira’s invitation as her father had chosen his.

Their king, Anarawd ap[9] Rhodri Mawr[10] and his brother, Cadell, sought an alliance with their enemy, Alfred—to protect their kingdoms from the Dane pirates. Every battle with the Saeson[11] bandits led to defeat and further shame for those who refused to stand with Gwennan’s husband. Although deFreveille stood between the Cymry and the Saeson, Eleri cursed the day Meinor made the decision to feed his family, capitulating and joining the now combined army of Celt warriors and foreign mercenaries.

During the four years deFreveille had fought beside the Pendyffryn pendefig[12], warriors in her father’s command, one by one, had chosen to find work in deFreveille’s army. His skills had weakened, day by day. His son’s resentment that his friends who had worked with him in the fields now took training as gwastrodion[13] in deFreveille’s cavalry led to frequent fights with the gelyn’s second son, Marshal. Eleri encouraged Eilir’s special animosity, extolling his pride in his Celt heritage.

That her son’s pride gained him nothing but injuries and humiliation was of no consequence. The act of defiance gained him notoriety and the respect of equally resentful men and boys.

The following morning, Eleri Meinor complained and lamented, even as she ate the meat her husband’s shame put on their table. Sacrificing her daughter to serve in deFreveille’s household mattered little. Withholding her permission was a game Eleri played to annoy her husband. Tormenting her daughter provided the same amusement but with more satisfying results.

Her father, one of the few who held out the longest against the force of the gelyn since the fall of the Gaer and the marriage of their pennaeth to the invader, shrugged in response to his wife’s objections. This was agreed, he declared. "You will not to take her away from her duties to the pennaeth. Gwennan will not put food on this table if these whims persist."

He clasped his daughter’s hand and led the tall girl, stumbling to keep up with his long strides, through the buarth[14]. Tanglwystl kept up with his long strides, as much as to avoid the stares and smirks of others as to keep from wincing with the pain of her still tender bruises and having to explain them to her father.

Grasping her father’s rough hand with all her strength, Tanglwystl merch Meinor entered the Gaer barely a fortnight after she had been a guest at Gwennan’s table. Now, her father took her back. The return journey was of no less humiliation, though with no accompanying violence, for the young woman nearing marriageable age. Knowing sneers greeted her at every turn in the road from their home, past the fields where the tillers raised their gaze from their grueling effort and nodded to one another.

In the crowded porth[15], where they waited among the horses and bustling house attendants, her brown eyes were wide with awe and terror at the prospect ahead of her. The proud Celt warrior squeezed his daughter’s hand in response to her quaking, patted her dark head and pushed her forward into Gwennan Pendyffryn’s line of sight. Tanglwystl held back, lurking behind her father until Gwennan beckoned her to show herself.

What frightens you? Meinor demanded of his