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‘We haven’t received any messages attached to a slaughtered animal since the day we brought her here.’
‘There were weeks between messages before and the villain still won’t show himself.’
‘It is all very odd. The messages never demand anything, neither money, nor horses, nor services. There’s never a pattern to their appearance. Everything we’ve been taught about an enemy doesn’t apply, except the slaughtered animals and the threat of your death, which is always there.’
Teague leaned over the rampart to feel the burst of cold night wind. Everything Rhain said was true. The enemy didn’t follow any normal pattern. He couldn’t negotiate to stop the threats when he didn’t even know who to negotiate with. Until the enemy revealed himself, Teague was a warrior in a ghostly war. His sword and training were useless because he could not see or strike his enemy. A lord with no power to protect was no lord at all.
‘How?’ Teague hit the rampart. There was not the usual talking amongst the soldiers as would be expected this time of night. All the men had been notified that there would be a great reward for any information or capture of the enemy. ‘How is he coming in? How is he getting to the livestock or my falcons?’
‘He’s not getting in; he’s already here.’ Rhain gestured in front of him. ‘Look at this place. There are torches lit at night, when we expect no visitors; extra soldiers at the entrances, when the gates and portcullises are closed.’
Teague shook his head. ‘The threat is too recent. The people here are loyal and this is their home.’
‘I think we need to stop asking how it is happening, but why.’
Teague hid his impatience. ‘I thought the messages made it clear.’
‘Yes, someone doesn’t like you, but why now? Why these threats, but no action?’
‘The enemy waits for fear to seep in before they strike. It’s just as we did in Dolwyddelan. Fear, ultimately, is the conqueror.’
‘And is there fear here?’
‘By God or Gwyn, no,’ Teague growled. ‘Never.’
‘Exactly.’
He turned to Rhain. ‘Exactly what? The enemy doesn’t want me afraid?’
‘No, it means it’s something else.’
‘Or it could mean the enemy miscalculated,’ Teague said. ‘We’ll know who is right when the next message comes.’
‘Are we so sure it is but one person?’ Rhain asked. ‘It would seem, given the wide dispersal of the messages, that it could be at least two.’
‘No, it has to be one. I’ll not question Gwalchdu’s defences that much. They’re too tight for two or more people to go unnoticed.’ Teague paused, before his tone turned lethal. ‘But one man or twenty, I will end this ghostly battle.’
‘When you are like this, I do not wonder why you are known as the Devil of Gwalchdu. No wonder the King trusts you so well with such a strategic castle.’
‘Gwalchdu belonged to our family long before Edward’s Welsh Wars or his campaign against Scotland. He would need to be a hundred kings before he could wrest its governing to someone else.’
‘Have you told Edward about the threats?’ Rhain asked. ‘I am sure he would not appreciate games here.’
Teague shook his head. ‘He is spread too thin with the Scots. He barely responds to correspondence regarding our positioning in Wales; I could not bother him with private matters.’
‘Perhaps he’s distracted by his worry of Eleanor, who has been sickly.’
Teague could never understand Edward’s obsession over his wife. The time he spent with her could be used to solve the problems in Scotland, to tighten his reign in Wales. Instead, the King was almost...devoted to her.
He remembered his parents’ relationship. They, too, had seemed devoted to each other. But it had been all a lie. His father had abandoned his family, his pregnant wife, for another woman. And with grief racking her body, his mother had begun an early, bloody and heartbroken labour.
‘The King’s affection for Eleanor seeps the strength from him,’ Teague said. ‘She bore him enough sons for a dozen monarchies. He wastes his time on petty worries.’
Rhain slapped Teague on the back. ‘It’s love, Teague, not simply affection, and some would disagree with you and say their love strengthens Edward for all his trials.’
Teague knew better. Love had sapped the strength from his mother just when she needed it most to bring Rhain into this world and it had killed her.
‘Love? What use is love?’
‘I trust you are well today?’ Ffion entered Anwen’s room without knocking.
Anwen didn’t turn from her seat in the window. The courtyard was full of market wagons, kitchen maids with arms of laundry and soldiers training.
‘Your situation will not end simply because you ignore it,’ Ffion continued.
‘I did not know prisoners were allowed any benefits.’
‘You are hardly a prisoner,’ Ffion admonished as she went to the table to make her poultice.
‘I have been well for three days. Well enough to return to my home, yet a guard is at my door and he will not let me leave this room.’ Anwen unwound the bandages from her head. Ffion had taken the stitches out a few days before, but the poultice and the wrapping of her head continued.
‘As you know, the guards have explicit instructions you are to remain here for a sennight. Need I remind you that if it were not for me and the hospitality of Gwalchdu, you would be dead?’
Ffion never failed to remind Anwen who tended her.
Anwen tilted her head so the older woman could apply the paste. ‘If you’d let me have a mirror, which must exist here, I could put this on myself.’
‘Of course we have a mirror, we have several, but I believe you need these visits.’ Ffion pressed her hand to secure the bandages so she could wrap them. ‘There is much sin in this keep and many lecherous thoughts. We need God and prayer to purge us. Have you been practising your lessons of chastity, obedience, poverty?’
‘I am a Christian, Sister,’ Anwen said, ‘and do my prayers as often as time will allow.’
‘At Gwalchdu I expect prayers to be six times per day. Now you are better, perhaps it will be time for you to join us.’ Ffion raised her finger in the air. ‘Remember: community—’
‘Prayer, study and service,’ she interrupted. ‘But I am not staying at Gwalchdu and you cannot keep me here.’
Ffion opened the door, and stepped across the threshold. ‘It seems we will both have to await God’s answer to your fate. In the meantime, I will expect you to pray with us. The bells will tell you when.’
Anwen turned her attention to outside her window. She had no intention of following Ffion’s directives and she had no intention of staying here.
From what she could see, she was in an inner tower that was surrounded by a low wall. Directly underneath her, there were no gardens with flowers and benches. Without any ornamentation, the grey stone walls jutted out forcefully from the hard-packed ground. It was as if the castle stood in defiance of nature. Very much like the lord who governed it.
She had not spoken to Teague since the day he had asked for her name. Then she had still been