Hood

CHAPTER
16

Count Falkes de Braose anticipated the arrival of his cousin with all the fret and ferment of a maid awaiting a suitor. He could not remain seated for more than a few moments at a time before he leapt to his feet and ran to inspect some detail he had already seen and approved twice over. Ill at ease in his own skin, he started at every stray sound, and each new apprehension caused his heart to sink: What if Earl Philip arrived late? What if he met trouble on the way? What if he did not arrive at all?

He fussed over the furnishings of his new stronghold: Were they adequate? Were they too spare? Would he be considered niggardlyor worse yet, a spendthrift? He worried about the preparation of the feast: Was the fare sumptuous enough? Was the wine palatable? Was the meat well seasoned? Was the bread too hard, the soup too thin, the ale too sweet or too sour? How many men would come with Philip? How long would they stay?

When these and all the other worries overwhelmed him, he grew resentful of the torment. What cause did Philip have to be angry with him? After all, he had taken Elfael with but a bare handful of casualties. Most of the footmen had not even used their weapons. His first campaign, and it was an absolute triumph! What more could anyone ask?

By the time Philip, Earl of Gloucester, arrived with his retinue late in the day, Falkes was limp with nervous exhaustion. "Cousin!" boomed Philip, striding across the pennon-festooned yard of Caer Cadarn. He was a tall, long-legged man, with dark hair and an expanding bald spot that he kept hidden beneath a cap trimmed in marten fur. His riding gauntlets were trimmed in the same fur, as were the tops of his boots. "It is good to see you, I do declare it! How long has it been? Three years? Four?"

"Welcome!" uttered Falkes in a strangled cry. He loped across the yard with unsteady strides. "I pray you had an uneventful journeypeaceful, that is."

"It was. God's grace, it was," answered Philip, pulling his kinsman into a rough embrace. "But you now-are you well?" He cast a quizzical eye over his younger cousin. "You seem pale and fevered."

"It is nothing-an ague born of anticipation-it will pass." Falkes turned and flapped a hand in the vague direction of the hall. "Valroix Palace it is not," he apologised, "but consider it yours for as long as you desire to stay."

Philip cast a dubious glance at the crude timber structure. "Well, so long as it keeps the rain off, I am satisfied."

"Then come, let us share the welcome cup, and you can tell me how things stand at court." Falkes started across the yard, then remembered himself and stopped. "How is Uncle? Is he well? It is a shame he could not accompany you. I should like to properly thank him for entrusting the settlement of his newest commot to me."

"Father is well, and he is pleased, never fear," replied Philip de Braose. Removing his gauntlets, he tucked them in his belt. "He would have liked nothing better than to accompany me, but the king has come to rely on him so that he will not abide the baron to remain out of sight for more than a day or two before calling him to attendance. Nevertheless, the baron has instructed me to bring him a full account of your deeds and acquisitions."

"Bien sur! You shall have it," said Falkes, nervousness making his voice a little too loud. Turning to the knights and men-at-arms in Philip's company, he called, "Messires, you are most welcome here. Quarters have been arranged, and a feast has been prepared for your arrival. But first, it would please me if you would join me in raising a cup of wine."

He then led his guests into the great hall, the walls of which had been newly washed until they gleamed as white as the Seven Maidens. Fresh green rushes had been strewn over the sand-scoured wooden floor, permeating the enormous room with a clean scent of mown hay. A great heap of logs was blazing on the hearth at one end of the room, where, on an iron spit, half an ox was slowly roasting, the juices sizzling in a pan snugged in the glowing coals.

Several board-and-trestle tables had been erected, draped in cloths, and decked with fir branches. As the men settled on the long benches, the steward and his serving boys filled an assortment of vessels with wine drawn from a tun brought from Aquitaine. When each of the guests was in possession of a cup, their host raised his chalice and called, "My friends, let us drink to King William and his continued good health! Long may he reign!"

"King William!" they all cried and downed the first of many such cups that night. With the men thus fortified, the celebration soon turned into a revel, and Count Falkes's anxiety slowly gave way to a pleasant, wine-induced contentment. Cousin Philip seemed happy with his efforts and would certainly return to his uncle with a good report. As the evening wore on, Falk-es became more and more the jovial host, urging his guests to eat and drink their fill; and when they had done so, he invited his own men, and some of their wives, to join the festivities. Those who knew how to play music brought their instruments, and there was singing and dancing, which filled the hall and lasted far into the night.

Accordingly, it was not until late the next day that Falkes and Philip found opportunity to sit down together. "You have done well, Cousin," Philip asserted. "Father always said that Elfael was a plum ripe for the plucking."

"How right he was," agreed Falkes readily. "I hope you will tell him how grateful I am for his confidence. I look forward to an early demonstration of my loyalty and thanks."

"Rest assured I will tell him. Know you, he has charged me to convey a secret-all being well."

"I hope you think it so," said Falkes.

"It could not be better," replied Philip. "Therefore, I am eager to inform you that the baron intends to make Elfael his staging ground for the conquest of the territories."

"Which territories?" wondered Falkes.

"Selyf, Maelienydd, and Buellt."

"Three commots!" Falkes exclaimed. "That is… ambitious."

Falkes had no idea his uncle entertained such far-reaching plans. But then, with the endorsement of the king, what was to prevent Baron de Braose from laying claim to the whole of Wales?

"Ambitious, to be sure," avowed Philip pleasantly. "My father is intent, and he is determined. Moreover, he has the fortune to make it possible."

"I would never doubt it."

"Good," replied Philip, as if a knotty issue had been decided. "To this end, the baron requires you to undertake a survey of the land to be completed before spring."

"Before spring-," repeated Falkes, struggling to keep up. "But we have only just begun to establish-"

"Zut!" said Philip, brushing aside his objection before it could be spoken aloud. "The baron will send his own men to perform the survey. You need only aid them with an appropriate guard to ensure their safety while they work."

"I see." The pale count nodded thoughtfully. "And what is this survey to determine?"

"The baron requires three castles to be built-one on the border to the north, one south, and one west-on sites best suited for controlling the territories beyond each of those borders. This the surveyors will determine."

"Three castles," mused Falkes, stroking his thin, silky beard. The cost of such an undertaking would be staggering. He hoped he would not be expected to help pay for the project.

Philip, seeing the shadow of apprehension flit across his cousin's face, quickly explained. "You will appreciate," he continued, "that the building will be funded out of the baron's own treasury."

Falkes breathed easier for the reassurance. "What about the people of Elfael?" he wondered.

"What about them?"

"I assume they will be required to supply ready labour."

"Of course-we must have workers in sufficient number."

"They may resist."

"I don't see how they can," declared Philip. "You said the king and his son have already been removed, along with their men-at-arms. If you were to encounter any meaningful resistance, you would certainly have done so by now. Whatever opposition we meet from here on will be easily overcome."

Despite his cousin's effortless assurance, Falkes remained sceptical. He had no clear idea how many of the original inhabitants remained in Elfael. Most seemed to have fled, but it was difficult to determine their numbers, for even in the best of times they rarely stayed in one place, preferring to wander here and there as the whim took them, much like the cattle they raised and which formed their chief livelihood. Be that as it may, those few who remained in the scattered farms and steadings were certain to have something to say about invaders taking their property, even if it was mostly grazing land.

"You can tell your father, my uncle, that he will find everything in good order by next spring, God willing. In the meantime, I will await the arrival of the surveyors-and what is more, I will accompany them personally to see that all is carried out according to the baron's wishes."

They talked of the work to be done, the materials to be obtained, the number of men who would be needed, and so on. In all that followed, Count Falkes paid most stringent attention-especially when it came to the labourers who would be required.

It was common practise amongst the Ffreinc to entice the local population of conquered lands to help with construction work; for a little pay, parcels of land, or promises of preferential dealings, an ample workforce could often be gathered from the immediate area. The custom had been applied to rousing effect amongst the Saxons. This is how the Conqueror and his barons had accomplished so much so quickly in the subjugation and domination of England. There was no reason why the same practise should not also work in Wales.

The prospect of ready silver went a long way toward slaking any lingering thirst for rebellion. Often those who shouted the loudest about rising up against the invaders were the same ones who profited most handily from the invasion. God knows, Baron de Braose's renowned treasury had won more battles than his soldiers and could be relied upon to do so again. And as everyone knew, the Welsh, for all their prideful bluster, were just as greedy for gain as the most grasping, lack-land Saxon.

It was with this in mind that the two kinsmen rode out the following day to view the commot. Philip wanted to get a better idea of the region and see firsthand the land that had so quickly fallen under their control.

The day began well, with a high, bright sky and a fresh breeze pushing low clouds out of the west. Autumn was advancing; everywhere the land was slumping down toward its winter rest. The leaves on the trees had turned and were flying from the branches like golden birds across a pale blue sky. Away in the distance, always in the distance, defining the boundary of the commot, towered the green-black wall of the forest, looming like a line of clouds, dark and turbulent, heralding the advance of a coming storm.

The two noblemen, each accompanied by a knight and three menat-arms, rode easily together through the valley and across the rolling hills. They passed by the little monastery at Llanelli and paused to examine the setting of the place and the construction of the various buildings before riding on. They also visited one of Elfael's few far-flung settlements, cradled amongst the branching valleys. This one, huddled in the wind shadow of the area's highest hill, consisted of a house and barn, a granary, and a coop for chickens. It, like so many others, was abandoned. The people had gone-where, Falkes had no idea.

After visiting a few of the dwellings, they returned to their horses. "A piss-poor place," observed Earl Philip, climbing back into the saddle. "I would not allow one of my dogs to live here." He shook his head. "Are they all like this?"

"More or less," replied Falkes. "They are mostly herdsmen, from what I can tell. They follow their cattle, and these holdings are often abandoned for months at a time,"

"What about the farms, the crops?" wondered Philip, taking up the reins.

"There are few enough of those," answered Falkes, turning his horse back onto the trackway. "Most of the open land is used for grazing."

"That will change," decided Philip. "This soil is rich-look at the grass, lush and thick as it is! You could grow an abundance of grain here-enough to feed an army."

"Which is precisely what will be needed," replied Falkes, urging his mount forward. He thought about the baron's plans to subdue the next commots. "Two or three armies."

They rode to the top of the hill above the settlement and looked out over the empty valley with its narrow stream snaking through the deep green grass, rippling in the wind. In his mind's eye, Earl Philip could see farms and villages springing up throughout the territory. There would be mills-for wood and wool and grain-and storehouses, barns, and granaries. There would be dwellings for the farmers, the workers, the craftsmen: tanners, chandlers, wainwrights, ironsmiths, weavers, bakers, dyers, carpenters, butchers, fullers, leatherers, and all the rest.

There would be churches, too, one for each village and town, and perhaps a monastery or two as well. Maybe, in time, an abbey.

"A good place," mused Falkes.

"Yes." His cousin smiled and nodded. "And it is a good thing we have come." He let his gaze sweep over the hilltops and up to the blue vault of heaven and felt the warm sun on his face. "Elfael is a rough gem, but with work it will polish well."

"To be sure," agreed Falkes. "God willing."

"Oh, God has already willed it," Philip assured him. "As sure as William is king, there is no doubt about that." He paused, then added, "None whatsoever."