Here Be Dragons - 1

what I'd hoped you'd say, Hugh. You see, when I was in London atWhitsuntide, I had the good fortune to encounter his Grace, the Earl ofChester. Naturally the conversation turned to our common interests, protecting our respective lands from Welsh raids He was most interested to learn that your stepson is the grandson of Owain Fawr, and he suggested that he find a place for the boy in his household.""Jesu!" This was so far above Hugh's expectations that he was, for the moment, speechless, and Robert grinned, well pleased with himself."I see I need not tell you what an opportunity this will be for the boy, for us all. Chester is one of the greatest lords of the realm, and as shrewd as a fox for all his youth. He saw at once the advantage of befriending a boy who might one day rule in his grandfather's stead. Llewelyn has the blood-right, after all, and most assuredly the spirit. With luck ..." He shrugged again and said, "But a chance like this, to come to manhood in an Earl's household!Loyalties given in youth often last for life. As Chester's squire, the brilliance of Llewelyn's world cannot help but eclipse all he's learned in the woodlands of Wales. He'll find himself amongst the greatest Norman lords, at the royal court, and in time he'll come to embrace Norman values, to adoptNorman traditions as his own."Robert paused. "Do not misunderstand me, Hugh. I know how fond you are of the boy, and I find him a likable lad myself. But I cannot help feeling a certain disappointment that, after four years, he clings so tenaciously to the teachings of an undeniably primitive people. Despite all the advantages you've given him, Llewelyn remains so stubbornly""Welsh?" Hugh suggested dryly, and Robert laughed. He'd actually been about to say "untamed" before thinking better of it, and he did not demur now at his brother's interpretation; they were, he thought, merely different ways of saying the same thing."Well, I shall talk to Margaret this forenoon, tell her about Chester's offer"Hugh began, and then turned toward the opening door."Ah, Margaret, we were just speaking of you. Rob hasMat" garet?"Upon seeing Marared for the first time, Hugh had blessed his luck suddenly found himself eager to consummate their political alliance ill the marriage bed. Marared was a beautiful woman, if rather exotic by
23r h standards, and after four years of marriage, he still took consid-f.1 pleasure in the sight of her. But she had no smile for him now, ef rl the golden glow that owed so little to the sun was gone. Bleached of3 i her face was ashen and her lashes were sooty thickets, smudgedC°ith the kohl bleeding into a wet trail of tears.She paid no heed to Robert, crossed to her husband. "Hugh, we st eo home. We must go back to Powys at once. It is my brother Owain. He ... he's been murdered."THERE was a word in Welsh, hiraeth, that translated as "longing," but it meant much more, spoke of the Welsh love of the land, of the yearning of the exile for family, friends, home. Whenever he was claimed by hiraeth, Llewelyn would flee to the heights of Breiddyn Craig, and there he would spend hours in sun-drenched solitude, gazing out over the vales of the rivers Hafren, Vyrnwy, and Tanat. Now he was back at last, sitting Sul before the grey stones and slate roof of Llanfair, the church of St Mary.This ancient church in the vale of Meifod was the traditional burial place for the princes of Powys; here his mother's father had been entombed and here his slain uncle would be laid to rest. He sought to summon up grief for this uncle he could little remember, but to no avail. He'd come back for a funeral, to mourn a man who was his blood kin, and yet as he looked upon the wooded hills that rose up behind the church, he felt only exhilaration, felt like a caged gerfalcon, suddenly free to soar up into the sun-bright azure sky.Here he'd passed the first ten years of his life. Seven miles to the south wasCastell Coch, the ancestral seat for the princes of Powys. His mother's family had a plusa palaceless than a mile away, at Mathraval. The woods of mountain ash and oak and sycamore, the river teeming with trout and greyling, dappled by summer sun and shadowed by willow and aldereach stone was known to him, each hawthorn hedge rooted deep in memory. He was home.He glanced sideways at his companion, one of his stepfather's squires. Should he tell Alan of his family's plus, he knew what the other°y would expect, a Norman edifice of soaring stone and mortar, forW lle most castles were timbered fortresses, the word "palace" conjured up images of grandeur and luxury. Llewelyn had been to London, had^een the Tower and the palace at Westminster, and he'd heard of the corn" °f Windsor Castle. He knew there was nothing in Wales to mpare to the magnificence of the Norman court, and he cared not at311 *at this was so.
24He laughed suddenly, and when Alan shot him a curious look, he slid from Sul, handing the squire the reins."I'd be obliged if you looked after Sul, Alan. Should my lady mother or my stepfather ask for me, concoct what excuse you will."Alan grinned. "Consider it done. But are you sure you'd not want company?"Llewelyn was tempted, but only briefly. He thought of Alan as a friend, but his were memories, emotions, sensations that no Norman could hope to understand.The Vyrnwy was free of the mud and debris that so often polluted English rivers, for there were no towns to despoil its purity with refuse and human waste. Llewelyn could see chalk-white pebbles glimmering on the shallow river bottom, see the shadows cast by fish feeding amidst the wavering stalks of water weeds. He forgot entirely that his uncle had died by