42
Shrewsbury was thronged with visitors from all over England and Wales, and some from as far off as Scotland. Traveling merchants crowded the town square, competing with the permanent tradesmen whose shops lined the streets.
Vendors sold meat pies and ale, wine from Gascony and Normandy, Welsh sweet mead, and baked confections sweetened with honey.
Minstrels and jongleurs performed on street corners while musicians set up wherever they pleased, entertaining the crowds with their lively tunes.
Wedding or treason trial, Shrewsbury came alive much the same.
When the crier ascended the steps to the platform, the crowd jostled in to hear the verdict. Dressed in a surcoat displaying the king’s coat of arms, he unrolled a parchment and read to the mesmerized gathering, his voice booming despite his small stature.
“For treachery to His Majesty King Edward, Dafydd ap Gruffydd is sentenced to be dragged by his heels to the gallows.”
The crowd murmured their approval. Heads nodded and hands cupped the ears of the persons standing next to them.
The crier drew in his breath. “For the willful murder of English citizens, he is to be hanged. For shedding blood during Passion Week, he is to be cut down before he is dead and disembowelled.”
Cheers burst forth in riotous harmony.
“For plotting the king’s death by war, his body will be quartered, with the parts being distributed to the cities of Winchester, Northampton, Chester, and York. Lastly, his head will join that of his brother over the Tower of London.”
The resulting tumult was deafening.
Gwen sat in the window seat, gazing out at the town. She couldn’t hear Richard behind her, but she knew he was still there.
“’Tis ridiculous,” she said softly. “I hate him, and yet I cannot like what will be done to him.”
Dafydd did deserve everything he got. She hated him for betraying her father those many times, especially hated him for nearly taking Richard from her.
But if Dafydd hadn’t told her the truth about her mother, she might never have reconciled with her father. She couldn’t help but wonder if, somewhere inside her uncle, there was something left that was good. Certes, his wife thought so.
Gwen toyed with a golden girdle chain. “Did you see Lisbeth when ’twas announced?”
“I did not see her until they carried her away.”
Richard was watching her intently, his expression soft and full of concern. It was one of the things she loved most about this fierce warlord. Inside him was a softness only visible to her, a softness solely for her and their son.
She turned back to the window. “Disbelief. ’Twas disbelief on her face, then horror, then overwhelming grief. I cannot help but imagine what it would be like to lose you in such a way…”
He came to her and pulled her up, holding her close. “Do not think of it any longer, cariad. ’Tis over. We will not stay to see the sentence carried out. I am taking you home.”
She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her face to his chest. Losing him was her greatest fear. Her father was gone. Elinor was gone. Soon Dafydd would be gone too, though she could not grieve his loss. But it did remind her how easy it was to kill a man.
Richard held her for a long while, unspeaking, unmoving.
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut. Why was the sadness so heavy? Her father had been dead for nearly a year, Elinor longer than that. Old Einion had succumbed this past winter.
She still had Alys and Owain and Rhys. And most importantly, she had Richard and William.
Gwen pulled Richard’s head down and kissed him with a desperation she felt to the depths of her soul.
“Make love to me,” she whispered against his lips. “’Tis too much death, too much death…”
He swept her into his arms and carried her to bed.
The revelry in the hall that night was spirited, the feast enormous. Wine and ale flowed like water. The queen had joined her husband in Shrewsbury, and the royal court made the most of the victory banquet.
When Edward motioned Richard aside, he followed obediently. Gwen was busy chatting with Eleanor and Margaret de Valence so he didn’t bother to tell her he was leaving.
“What is it, Ned?” he asked when they stood in the passage.
Edward’s face was haggard. Richard recognized the look in his keen blue eyes. It was the look of a man whose duty weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“We will talk in my solar,” he replied, turning to lead the way through the bowels of the castle.
When they entered the solar, Edward poured wine and handed it to Richard. “Sit.”
As was the king’s habit when agitated, he paced. Richard waited, his own apprehension growing.
Finally, Edward spun around and leaned against the table. “Jesú, Richard,” he said, raking both his hands through his hair and letting out a long breath. “I have thought long about this and there is only one way I can save you.”
Richard bolted upright, the forgotten goblet of wine falling to the floor. A crimson stain spread through the rushes. “Save me?”
Edward met his gaze. “Aye. Gloucester and De Mortimer. They know about you, as do the rest of the Marchers by now I would assume.”
Richard gripped his sword hilt. “How?”
“Dafydd, no doubt. His parting gift to us.”
While Richard tried to digest it, Edward went on. “They demand I strip you of everything and try you for treason.”
“Treason? How in the hell do they come up with that?” Richard roared.
“Your wife. She was with Llywelyn at Builth castle. De Mortimer saw her, so we cannot deny it.”
“She was not engaged in treason,” Richard said stiffly.
“Aye, I know, but there is nothing I can do to make it seem otherwise. You must do as I tell you, Richard.”
“I am listening.”
“You must denounce your wife. I will send her to the convent at Sempringham where her half-sister now resides. Your son must go too. The royal house of Wales is no more, and the line will die with him. I will have no claimants to the throne ever again.”
Richard sank into the chair he had abandoned, his legs unwilling to hold him a moment longer. Inside, he was screaming. Outside, a lifetime of control was strained to near breaking.
“You know not what you ask of me,” he said in a daze. “I cannot do it.”
“You have never disobeyed me, Richard. You are sworn to me.”
“Christ Jesus, Ned, you cannot ask this of me.”
Edward came to stand before him. “I know you care about the girl, but ’twill fade in time. You are young yet. I will find you an English heiress and you will have a castle full of children in a few years.”
Richard leaned against his hand, covering his eyes. He could never have children with anyone but Gwen. Could never love anyone but Gwen.
Gwen and William. A raw ache rose in his throat. He would not give them up. “If I say no?”
“You cannot say no.”
Richard snapped a defiant look at his king.
Edward’s eyes widened. “Do not do this, Richard,” he said quietly. “Do not throw ten years of loyalty and friendship away. If you defy me, I cannot say what the consequences will be. You will be arrested. I will sign the writs, though it will pain me to do so. And she will still end up in the convent.”
Richard was drowning. How could he give her up? How could he live without her?
And yet if he refused, he could be hung for treason. Though dying would not pain him once she was gone, what about her? How could he protect her and make sure, even from afar, that she was well?
Without him to keep an eye on her and William, their lot in the convent might not be easy. At least if he were alive, he could make sure they were taken care of, had all the best of everything.
And mayhap eventually he could get them out.
Oh God, how could he even consider it? “And if I agreed to your plan, when would it happen?”
“She will not return to Claiborne with you. You would be free to go and I would have her and the child escorted to Sempringham.”
Richard stood, his heart aching and heavy. “I need time. Give me a couple of days.”
Edward nodded. “Very well. I wish there were another way.”
Richard laughed bitterly. “Jesú, if you had not forced me into marriage in the first place, we would not be having this conversation. You gave her to me when I did not want her. Now you want to take her away when I want no other. ’Tis bloody ironic, is it not?”
“We are warriors first, Richard. We do what we must.”
Richard focused on a distant point behind Edward’s head. “Aye, we do what we must. We always have.”
Gwen knew something was wrong with Richard. When they retired, he dismissed William’s nurse, then stood by the cradle for a long time. Sometimes he touched the baby’s brow or his silky curls.
Gwen tried to hold a conversation with him, but he wouldn’t respond with more than an occasional grunt or nod of his head. She gave up and sat down to brush out her hair.
He was still standing by the cradle when she finished. Sighing, she stood and went to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “What is the matter, Richard?”
A tremor passed through his body and into hers. He turned and crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you? What I would do to protect you and our child?” he asked in a voice raw with emotion.
Bewildered, Gwen tried to push away, tried to see his face, but he would not let her. She hugged him tight. “I know you love William and me. I know you will protect us.”
He cupped her face and tilted her head back, kissing her with a hundred times more desperation than she’d kissed him earlier. His mood soon caught and she was meeting his fierce hunger with a very real hunger of her own.
His earlier lovemaking had been tender, calming her fears and soothing her hurts. This time it was like being lost at sea in a tempest. When he was braced above her, driving relentlessly into her body, she arched up to him, kissing and biting his hard chest to keep from crying out and waking William.
Richard groaned, pushing her back and pressing his lips against the column of her throat. “I could never feel this way with another woman. Never, never, never…”
Gwen ran her hands down the rippling muscles in his back. “My love… my life… my heart…”
With a strangled sound, he crushed his mouth to hers.
When she was too spent to move another muscle, Gwen lay on her side. He lay behind her, his big body curved around hers. His lips nuzzled the sensitive flesh behind her ear while his hand cupped her woman’s mound.
“Mmm, Richard, I could stay like this for days and days.”
“Forever,” he said, his arms tightening around her.
William started to cry. Gwen stirred from her blissful lethargy.
“Nay, I will get him,” Richard said.
Gwen lay back on the pillows while Richard picked up William and rocked him. She watched her husband walk back and forth, his naked body splendid in the candlelight, his powerful form such a contrast to the tiny babe he carried.
When William was asleep again, Richard bent to kiss his brow, then returned him to the cradle.
“You are wonderful,” Gwen said as he walked back to the bed.
“Nay, I am not. You are blind to my faults,” he said softly.
“What faults?” Gwen teased.
He gathered her in his arms and she laid her cheek against his chest. Absently, she kissed the taut muscles, stroking him with her palm.
His fingers threaded through her hair, massaging the back of her head. “I was empty before you came along, devoid of all things that were not dark and cold. I do not wish to be that way ever again. I do not want to lose you.”
Gwen pushed herself up. She understood the dark demon tormenting him. The events of the day could rouse fear and uncertainty in the strongest of hearts.
“Oh Richard, I will not leave you ever again.” She smiled, wanting to reassure him. “You are stuck with me.”
If anything, his expression grew more serious. He pulled her down and held her tight against him.
His reactions tonight confused her and she tried to soothe him in the only way she knew how. She kissed his chest, lingering on his hot flesh. Her tongue traced his nipple.
His breath caught on a groan of pleasure. Between them, his manhood stretched and came to life like a lazy cat.
Gwen moved upward, touching her mouth to the pulse in his throat. It beat strong and fast beneath her tongue. After all this time, it still thrilled her she could arouse this man’s passion. “I want another babe, Richard,” she whispered. “Fill me with your child.”
He rolled her over and sank between her thighs, sheathing himself within her slick heat. Their gazes locked for an instant. Gwen saw the flicker of torture in his eyes before he masked it.
But her question was lost as his mouth captured hers and his body took control of her senses.
Gwen wakened alone. She found William in the antechamber with his nurse and Alys. She’d tried to leave Alys at Claiborne with Owain, but the woman wouldn’t hear of shirking her duties as maid.
Alys helped her to dress and plait her hair, then left to get food and drink. Gwen went to the window and threw the shutters wide. The day was miserable. Rain beat down on the glass, running past her face in rivulets.
She rubbed her arms. She was chilled suddenly, though not from cold.
Richard’s behavior last night had been strange to say the least. Almost as if he were the one about to be dragged to the gallows instead of Dafydd. He had certainly loved her like a condemned man.
She shook herself as she heard the door open. “That was quick, Alys.”
A man cleared his throat.
Gwen jumped. “M-majesty,” she said, sinking to her knees. “I am sorry, I thought you were my maid.”
“I have been called many things, but this is the first time I’ve been called a maid.” Edward Plantagenet smiled. “I believe I told you once that formality was not necessary in private.”
Gwen stood. “Aye, you did. I beg your pardon.”
She thought he winced at that, but she was too nervous to be sure. The last time he’d had her alone, he’d kissed her.
Gwen swallowed. “Richard is not here, Majesty. I am not certain where he is, but you might find him in the hall.”
“I didn’t come to see Richard.”
Gwen twisted her fingers into her dress.
Edward’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Very softly, he said, “’Tis about Richard I wanted to speak to you.”
Gwen’s heart quickened. “What is wrong? Has something happened?”
Edward held up his hand. “Nay, but I need you to help me keep something from happening.”