and of powerful build, had the figure of a man in his prime. Though his hair and beard were grizzled, they showed still the signs of the red gold which had been his glory as a young man. He wore a corselet of steel over his gown and his sword was still at his waist.
‘I wanted to see you, father.’ Gruffydd went to him and knelt down on one knee. ‘Alone.’ He had seen his half-brother waiting in the shadows at the top of the stairs.
Eleyne pressed herself back into the window embrasure out of sight, but neither of them looked at her.
‘There’s nothing you can say to me which can’t be said in front of Dafydd,’ Llywelyn said stiffly. ‘I hope there’s to be no more nonsense about your claim, my son. All that is done with.’
His voice sounded very weary. Eleyne frowned, as always sensitive to her father’s every mood. He was not well – she could see it at once – and Gruffydd was going to make him worse. Llywelyn might normally look far younger than his years but today, as he unbuckled his sword and laid it on the table, he was stooped as if in pain.
Behind him his wife had entered the room. She was petite and dark, a contrast in every way to her husband. ‘So, Gruffydd, have you come to plague us again?’ Stripping off her embroidered gloves, Joan sat down in the chair at the head of the table. As always Llywelyn’s face softened as he looked at her. Even when he was at his angriest, Joan could soothe him.
Gruffydd managed a graceful bow in her direction. ‘I haven’t come to bother anyone, princess. May I ask how your negotiations fared with the king, your brother?’
Joan gave a tight smile. ‘They went well. I brought back letters from Henry accepting your father’s apology for interfering in England’s affairs.’
‘And you think that will stop a war?’ Gruffydd could not keep the scorn from his voice. ‘How could you bring yourself to grovel before Henry of England, father? Henry has ordered de Braose and the others to Montgomery to his standard. He has vowed to subdue you and all the Welsh with you. He is not going to withdraw, surely you can see that? If he invades Welsh territory again you will have to fight!’
‘What do you want here, Gruffydd?’ Llywelyn interrupted wearily. ‘I am sure you have not come to tell me of the inevitability of war in Wales.’
‘No.’ Gruffydd glanced at Joan. ‘I should like to talk to you alone.’
‘Are you afraid of talking in front of me?’ Joan’s tone was mocking. ‘Are you about to put some new hare-brained scheme to your father? He won’t listen, you know. You have tried his patience too far!’
‘Father!’ Gruffydd exploded. ‘Does this woman speak for you now?’
‘Silence!’ Llywelyn stood up stiffly. ‘I will hear no word against your step-mother. Ever. Do you understand? I want you to leave Aber now. We can have nothing else to discuss.’
‘We have to talk, father!’ Gruffydd leaned forward threateningly. ‘My God, if you don’t listen to me here, I’ll make you, later. You’ll regret the day you turned me from your door!’
In the window embrasure Eleyne put her hands over her ears miserably. Why did it always have to be like this? Why couldn’t Dafydd and Gruffydd be friends? It was her fault. Joan. Her mother. Eleyne’s eyes went to her mother’s face, noting the intent, hard expression, beautiful and youthful still in spite of Joan’s forty-one years, the firm, uncompromising mouth, the steady blue eyes, so like, did Eleyne but know it, her mother’s father, King John.
As if feeling Eleyne’s gaze upon her, Joan’s attention flicked briefly towards the window and mother and daughter exchanged hostile glances. To Eleyne’s surprise, however, Joan, distracted, said nothing and her gaze returned thoughtfully to her husband.
‘Enough, Gruffydd,’ Llywelyn said slowly. ‘If you threaten me, I shall have to take steps to contain you.’
Eleyne caught her breath, horrified by the threat implicit in the words.
‘I do not threaten you, father – ’
‘You threaten the peace of this country.’
‘No, it’s Dafydd who does that. You have set him against me! You set the people against me! This is my land, father. This was my mother’s land –’ there was no mistaking the emphasis in the words as he glared across his father towards Joan ‘ – and if it came to a choice between Dafydd and myself the people would choose me.’
‘The people have already chosen, Gruffydd. Two years ago, the princes and lords of Wales recognised Dafydd as my heir – ’
‘No, not the people!’ Gruffydd shouted. ‘The people support me.’
‘No, Gruffydd – ’
‘Do you want me to prove it to you?’
There was a long moment of silence. When Llywelyn spoke at last his voice was hard with anger. ‘What you are suggesting is treason, my son.’
‘Why do you let him talk to you like this, father?’ Dafydd interrupted at last, abandoning his position by the door. ‘This confirms everything I’ve told you. Gruffydd is a hotheaded fool. He’s a danger to everything you and I believe in – ’
He broke off as his brother hurled himself across the room and grabbed him, groping for his throat. As the two young men reeled across the floor, Llywelyn closed his eyes in bleak despair. When he opened them, his face was calm and resolved.
‘Guards!’ There was no trace now of fatigue in his voice. ‘Guards – ’
‘No. Stop! Please –’ Eleyne catapulted herself from the window seat and threw herself at her brothers. ‘Gruffydd, don’t! Please stop!’
But the guards were already there, leaping up the stairs two at a time, pulling the princes apart, as Llywelyn himself dragged Eleyne away from them. It took three of them to hold Gruffydd and as he struggled furiously to throw them off Dafydd retired to the far side of the room, mopping a cut lip on the sleeve of his tunic.
‘Take him away and lock him up,’ Llywelyn commanded.
‘No, papa, you can’t! Gruffydd is your son!’ Eleyne clung to his arm. ‘Please, he didn’t mean it – ’
‘What is this child doing here?’ Llywelyn shook her off.
‘I gave orders she should be sent away before we got back,’ Joan put in quietly. ‘The Lady Rhonwen has seen fit to disobey me.’
‘She has not!’ Eleyne turned on her furiously. ‘We all knew you had no time for me, so we were leaving this afternoon. You came back too soon.’
‘That is enough, Eleyne! How dare you speak to your mother like that! She loves you, as she loves us all!’ Angry, Llywelyn watched as his guards dragged Gruffydd from the room. They could hear the young man’s curses echoing down the staircase until they were out of earshot. For a moment Llywelyn stood gazing at the empty doorway, then he turned his attention back to Eleyne, looking thoughtfully down at the child with her long untidy hair and her rumpled pale blue gown. His face softened. ‘Go. Go and find Lady Rhonwen and tell her you are to leave at once. Where is she to go?’
