Footsteps in Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 1)

Footsteps in Time (Chapter Eight)

David

There was something about sleeping on the road again, this time in a tent David shared with Math, that kept him in a constant state of anticipation. It was cold, it was snowy, and he loved it. Before noon on the third day out from Castell y Bere, the keep of Dolwyddelan appeared above them. It guarded the pass into the ConwyValley. In the old world, it was here that Dafydd ap Gruffydd, Llywelyn's brother, had retreated after Llywelyn died at Cilmeri. Uncle Dafydd had escaped before the English took it, but it only delayed the inevitable.

An hour later, they clattered through the gateway. Dolwyddelan was smaller than Castell y Bere, with only two towers (instead of Castell y Bere's three). Regardless, the courtyard seethed with men and horses, a fraction of the thousands of men camped in the valley just to the north of the castle. Llywelyn ap Gruffydd had an army.

"Come, son." Father stood at David's stirrup, his hand on Taranis' neck. "You must meet your uncle before he marches."

Father's fifty men wouldn't strain the provisions of the castle because at least two hundred cavalry and a third of the foot soldiers were preparing to move out at that moment, heading north and then east to the ClwydRiver. Father believed (and Anna concurred) that Edward would head west from Rhuddlan Castle along the north shore of Wales, before advancing south towards Dolwyddelan through the Vale of Conwy. He had thousands of foot soldiers and hundreds of knights and men-at-arms and the Welsh would meet him somewhere between Dolwyddelan and the coast.

"Yes, sir," David said. His heart beat a little faster at the thought. He and his traitorous uncle would be fighting together; fighting against the English. David decided that the latter fact alone was enough to make his heart pound, and that he shouldn't worry about meeting a man who'd proved false far too many times (he'd even once tried to assassinate Prince Llywelyn), even if he was on Father's side now.

They entered the great hall, with its massive fireplace set against one wall. Many men must have slept there the night before, but now it was nearly deserted, except for a small group of men gathered around a table at the far end.

They all looked up as David and Llywelyn entered and Father lifted his hand to greet them. One man, dark like Father, broader in the shoulders but not as tall, separated himself from the group.

"So, you've come," he said.

"Yes," Father said. "It's time to face what King Edward has in store for us."

"The King left Rhuddlan last night with seven thousand men." The man reached Father and they clasped forearms. Then they both turned to David. "Your son," the man said.

David held out his hand. "Uncle Dafydd," he said. "I'm glad to finally meet you, sir."

"You share my name, I believe," Uncle Dafydd said.

"Yes, sir," David said.

Uncle Dafydd nodded, pleased it seemed. He probably didn't know that David had been named for the other Prince Dafydd, David's great uncle, who'd ruled Wales from 1240 to 1246.

"The weather remains cold, even on the coast?" Father said.

"Yes, for now," Uncle Dafydd said. His expression was so fierce, David had to stop himself from taking a step back but then he realized that the emotion was not directed at Father, but at Edward.

"You have reason to believe a change is coming?" Father said.

Uncle Dafydd nodded. "Another week, maybe less, and we'll see a thaw. The fishermen assure me of it."