It was a most remarkable tale.
‘We had buried Adelaide, as she had wanted,’ Edmond began, ‘in the cathedral at Hereford. We thought to tarry there a week, then return toward London, or however close the plague allowed us to come to that city.
‘One night there came a clamour at the gates of the priory where we stayed. There was a knight outside, riding a most remarkable white horse, and he demanded to speak with me. One of my valets woke me, and I stumbled outside, cursing whoever it was.
‘Maeb … I know I spoke with this knight, but I cannot remember any of the conversation. All I can recall was that somehow the knight convinced me that there was a terrible battle to be fought and that I must rouse my court, my knights, my soldiers, and ride with him as fast as I might.
‘I did not doubt him, not for a moment.’
Edmond paused, his face introspective. ‘How can that be possible, Maeb? A strange knight arrives, he convinces me within moments to command all the knights and soldiers of my company forth, and I do just that.’
‘I have met this knight, too,’ I said. ‘I can understand. Go on, if you please, my lord.’
‘We rode out as soon as we could. No one complained. Everyone, as I had, simply rose, arrayed themselves in fighting manner, and mounted their horses.
‘We followed the knight. We rode through territory I had not seen before and our horses never wearied. At times packs of silver and black wolves rode with us, beside us, among us, weaving in and out of the trees. It was always night, and always full moonlight even though the moon is dark now. Daylight never came.
‘We rode on. Suddenly we came on a place were there had been a battle. Bodies littered the ground, the track was churned as if something large had laid across it, and had then been dragged away. We stopped and buried the bodies, thinking we would come back and retrieve them for Christian burial later. While we were there, three women came from out of the trees.
‘They told us an extraordinary tale. They were Isouda, Ella and Gytha, your attending women. They told us of the attack on your company. They told us how you had been stolen away. They told us how twelve or more of the attackers had dragged them into the forest, there to defile them and later kill them.
‘But no sooner were they deep in the woods, and the men, laughing and jesting, had turned to the women, than great wolves burst out of the trees and devoured the men.
‘Yet the wolves did not touch the women, nor threaten them in any way. The wolves sat with the women until our company happened along, and then they melted back into the forest as strangely as they had arrived.
‘Your women’s horses were discovered, and, thus mounted, we once more followed after the knight, who brought us through Bergeveny. We travelled through that town, again at night, and what a strange silent ride that was, through streets whose inhabitants seemed so deeply asleep they never noticed our passing — and then into these hills and mountains.
‘Here the knight said he would leave us, for he was tired, but that another would lead us the final distance.’
Edmond again paused, studying me thoughtfully. ‘Maeb, this final knight was Gilbert Ghent. I would have known him in an instant: it was his horse, his blue surcoat, his devices, his voice. I know him well, damn it, and this was Ghent.’
I had tears in my eyes. No wonder Edmond had not believed me when I’d said it was Ghent who died at that stake.
‘I do not doubt it, my lord. And I will tell you why shortly, but finish now, please.’
He sighed. ‘Ghent kept urging us forward, saying that you were in danger. We burst into that clearing on all sides, Maeb. I know not how, for we had approached it in a single column, but so we did, and I found myself unhorsed and standing behind Madog as he made to cut your throat.’
Now my tears flowed freely. ‘For the rest of my life,’ I said, ‘however much God grants to me, I shall never forget that moment when you dropped to your knees before me, having smote Madog’s head from his shoulders. My lord … nothing I can ever say can thank you enough, or communicate to you my gratitude. I was dead and you resurrected me.’
I think emotion overcame Edmond for a moment, for he took some time to reply, only grasping my hand as I lifted it to him.
‘Maeb,’ he said, finally, ‘we burst into that clearing in time to save your life, yet not my son’s. Ghent did not lead us there in time to save Henry.’
‘My lord, I grieve with you that you have lost a son, and that your first-born.’
‘What was Henry doing there, Maeb? Was he also a captive of Madog?’
‘No.’ I briefly told Edmond of Henry’s part in the days leading up to his death and of the final argument with Madog.
‘They were in an alliance, my lord,’ I finished, ‘and it dissolved about them.’
‘Who did this to your face, Maeb?’ Edmond said, touching my face gently with his hand.
I did not answer.
‘Ah,’ Edmond murmured. Again he sighed. ‘He was a foolish boy, Maeb, and greatly unsuited, perhaps, to the role in which fate placed him. I am glad Adelaide did not live to know of his death, for it would have grieved her terribly.’
‘I am sorry, my lord,’ I said, and Edmond nodded.
‘Tell me about Ghent, and this knight,’ he said, and so I did. I spoke of the meeting between the knight and Ghent and how, so now I believed, the knight had told Ghent of his forthcoming death and, possibly, of what would come after.
‘Ghent told me there was blood ahead, and that I must not grieve,’ I said. I hesitated. ‘But this was not the first time I have seen this knight.’
I told Edmond of the time the knight had led me through the forest on the day of the hunt, but not of the knight’s role in my ordeal.
‘I think you travelled the same path the knight led me onto,’ I said, ‘one of the ancient falloways of the Old People. What else can explain how swiftly you and your company made the journey from Hereford to this point?’
‘Who is this knight, do you think, Maeb?’
‘I do not know.’ But here I lied, for by now I was almost certain of his identity.
Chapter Seven
The next day we travelled to Pengraic Castle. It was a long day’s journey, but Edmond was anxious to reach there both for my sake and for the sake of his hungry company. He had the foresight to send riders ahead to forewarn d’Avranches, who, by the time of our arrival in the evening, had the gates open and hot food ready from both keep and garrison kitchens.
Owain was waiting at the gate and was at the side of my litter immediately I came through.
‘My lady!’ he said, his face a wreath of worry lines.
‘Oh, Owain,’ I said, so glad to see him I could not express it.
I reached out a hand to him and he pressed it.
‘I will come see you in the morning, eh?’ he said, and I was stunned to see tears in his eyes. ‘Give you time to rest.’
I gripped his hand, then let it go.
I was home, and safe.
Owain came to see me the next day as soon as he thought it polite. I was ensconced back in the privy chamber off the solar, although I had offered it to Edmond. He’d refused, saying he would find a mattress in the men’s dormitory.
‘My lady,’ Owain said as he sat on the bed, taking my hand and patting it.
‘Maeb.’
He smiled, and I embarrassed myself by beginning to weep.
‘This is why I joined the church,’ he said. ‘I do nothing for the ladies but make them weep.’
I tried to laugh and ended up only weeping the harder. I waved my women out of the chamber, gesturing them to leave the door open, and then just lay there, tears falling down my cheeks, holding Owain’s hand in both mine.
Once I managed to dry my eyes, we talked. I told Owain about how I’d been seized and how Edmond had saved me. How he’d sat there as I grasped his hand and watched as I gave birth to my son. This tale led to the falloways, and from there to the strange knight and what had become of Gilbert Ghent.
As with Edmond, I did not tell Owain about how the knight had aided me in the ordeal.