* * * * *
We were nearly into April before a man shouted from the top of the battlements that the Hereford delegation was coming, the elder Humphrey de Bohun at its head, as evidenced by his personal shield-six red lions en passant on a gold background.
Humphrey de Bohun was a lion of a man himself, with a mane of white hair and beard, in the fashion commonly worn among the English.
"My lord Prince," Bohun came to a halt in front of me, back straight, jaw firm, and tipped forward in a slight bow, an exact replica of Gruffydd's posture a week earlier. Except in his case, the Bohuns had owned Brecon. Clare had taken it from him early in the Baron's War, and then I took it from Clare. The Bohuns and I had been allies then, though our alliance hadn't gone so far as to inspire me to give the castle back to them.
"Lord Bohun," I said.
I seated him on my right hand and had Goronwy on my left. Meg sat demurely with Anna at the head of the closest side table. I was sure her ears were as wide-open as they could be. Humphrey entered the room a moment later and made a bee-line for his grandfather, who didn't stand to greet him.
"Find yourself a seat, boy," Bohun said. "I'll speak with you later." His words pulled Humphrey up short, though he was becoming quite good at the stone-faced look.
"Yes, sir." He turned to seat himself across from Meg. I didn't say anything. Among the English, a man could be twenty-one before he came into his inheritance. It was ridiculous to leave it so late, with half a man's life gone already. Perhaps that was this younger Humphrey's problem: his grandfather still treated him as a child when he had the mind to be a man. He resented that treatment and his anger was manifested in foolish behavior.
"You'll release him to me, then," Bohun said between bites of chicken. He tossed an empty bone into the dish set in front of us and speared an onion with his belt knife.
"Yes," I said. "I told you I would."
"And no hard feelings, eh?"
"I wouldn't say that," I said. "I lost good men because three noble boys-and I don't care that Owain and Dafydd are nearly thirty-had men-at-arms to command and thought to end my life for a lark."
"Huh." Bohun grunted. "If a Bohun seeks your death from now on, it will be on a field of battle, not an ambush."
"Before we captured your grandson, I would have thought that the case anyway," I said.
Bohun rumbled deep in his chest and his eyes narrowed at Humphrey who didn't notice as he was conversing with Meg. "I hear you have a new woman."
I paused, a wine goblet half-way to my lips. "Yes. I would hardly have thought such news would invite comment."
"Everything you do invites comment, especially when it's out of the ordinary. I hear she warned you of the ambush too, though I confess, rumors that she is a witch are surely grossly exaggerated, if that is the woman there with the child on her lap."
"That is she. What of Lacey?" Meg and Anna were none of Bohun's business.
"No word," Bohun said. "I sent out riders, but he has disappeared."
"And Edward?"
"Ah." Bohun looked squarely at me for the first time. "We come to the meat of it. You know he intends a Crusade?"
"Yes."
"He cannot go until he accumulates funds he does not yet have," Bohun said.
"Always the plight of princes."
"And earls." Bohun snorted. "Be that as it may, he seeks the security of his father's kingdom while he is away; I believe he sees you as a threat to that."
"His father still lives," I said.
"A figurehead," Bohun said. "You know that. We all face the ambitions of the younger generation, and I am one generation older than you. Any man who has seen his son die for an ideal has faced his own mortality. My grandson must grow stronger before I die. It is now, with Edward on the verge of leaving for the Holy Land, that I must take those steps that will secure my lands for him."
"Surely Edward wouldn't deny your grandson his inheritance?" I said. "He forgave you for fighting on the losing side."
"It was my son at Evesham, not me," Bohun said. "I paid the fines. On top of which, I am Edward's godfather and he knows me well. He'd prefer that every one of the barons of the Marche were at each other's throats, as that will mean they won't be at his or his father's while he's away. For him to refuse me my lands would only bring instability to the region in his absence. He knows that. Edward is a calculating bastard if there ever was one."
"You speak frankly," I said. "I'm surprised."
"You expected me to pay you for my grandson in gold?"
"No," I said. "You are correct in thinking it was information I wanted. Do you have more to tell me?"
"I can speak to you of Clare," Bohun said, "and Mortimer."
Christ! "The both of them chafe at me like pebbles in my shoe," I said. "News of Clare's building plans is what brought me south in the first place, but it is Roger Mortimer who's been much in my thoughts of late."
"You don't have to worry about Clare as yet." Bohun waved his hand dismissively. "He's not done more than dropped a few stones on the ground so far. No, his plans are to bring you south and bring you down."
"How?"
"That I don't know. Gilbert de Clare was my ward four years ago when he inherited his lands, and fought alongside my son until he betrayed us for Edward. Does Edward trust him? I don't think he trusts anyone. Does Mortimer? I only know that you have done something to garner Mortimer's ire and rumor has it that he hates you with an inspired passion."
I put down my cup to study Bohun who chewed avidly on a piece of parsley. "I supported Montfort against the King," I said. "Mortimer was the king's staunchest ally through loss and triumph. He carries a grudge against me three years on, but not against you?"
"You're the easier target," Bohun said. "And you have no heir to your lands."
"Do you suppose they think to use Clare as their weapon?"
"That is exactly what I think," Bohun said. "And Clare is young enough still to seek to please them as proof of his allegiance."
"And despite your allegiance to the English crown, you can't abide Clare."
"The whoreson burned Montfort's boats and the bridge across the Severn at Gloucester! I'm surrounded by men whose honor is a thin sheen through which they manipulate the world, easily swept aside at the first hint that it might serve them better to be without it!"
"I have always been constant," I said. "I've only bowed to necessity."
"Well, there is that. I can only say the same."
We both lifted our glasses, thinking of all the times we'd had to bend our knees, our necks, and the honor we had left, despite Meg's staunch admiration, to an English king or to necessity in order to hold onto our lands, lands we only held at the king's pleasure. I, at least, had Wales and the Welsh people as a patrimony. Bohun's right to his lands was more ephemeral. His family had carved their estates out of lands that had once belonged to others and could again. He'd lost his son at Evesham. Even if Humphrey didn't realize it today, he was Bohun's most precious possession.