There must be a greater … Merlin’s chosen.

Looking back it seemed there had been too much fighting among themselves. No country could make progress when brother fought against brother. But that was how it was now and had been in the days of Llewellyn the Great.

Men of Wales sang of Llewellyn the Great, son of Iorwerth who in his turn was the only son of Orwain Gwynedd who could call himself legitimate. They were a wild and roving lot those rulers of Wales – loving to sing and make love wherever they went. And as a consequence, boys learned of the exploits of their ancestors through the songs which were sung at their mothers’ knees and those mothers were rarely the wives of their fathers.

Llewellyn’s own father, Gruffydd, was the result of a liaison between Llewellyn the Great and one of his many mistresses. Llewellyn had had a wife though and she was a daughter of King John of England. Her name was Joan and though illegitimate the King accepted her as his daughter and she, being a woman of character, had tried to bring about peace between Wales and England. After the death of King John she had continued to work for friendly relations between her husband and her half-brother Henry III; in the meantime she produced a son Davydd who naturally thought he had a greater claim to succeed his father than Gruffydd had.

Wales more than most countries had need of a strong man and old Llewellyn was certainly that. He it was who laid the foundations of a great power and showed the English that Wales was a country to be reckoned with. He was also a man who could act forcibly in his domestic relations as he had shown over his wife Joan’s love affair with William de Broase. This was still sung of in ballads.

William de Broase had been captured by Llewellyn and held as his prisoner. To obtain his release he offered to pay a ransom and to give his daughter Isabella as wife to Llewellyn’s son. This offer had tempted Llewellyn greatly for he saw in de Broase a rich and powerful ally. However, while de Broase was in captivity it had been the habit of Llewellyn’s wife Joan to visit him in his prison chamber and they found a great mutual interest in songs and stories of England, for Joan could not forget that although she was the wife of a Welsh ruler she was the daughter of an English king. Broase and Joan fell in love and when these visits of his wife to his prisoner’s chamber were brought to Llewellyn’s ears he decided to lay a trap for the lovers. This he did and they were caught. Llewellyn’s indignation was great but he did not punish his wife, nor did he stop the arranged marriage. He merely brought William de Broase from the prison chamber, announced his crime and hanged him publicly at the town of Crokeen in the presence of many witnesses.

This act was applauded. He had punished the adulterer and at the same time lost none of the advantages which his heir’s marriage to de Broase’s daughter would bring.

That was the present Llewellyn’s grandfather, Llewellyn the Great. Gruffyd, his father, was a man of great girth and equally strong ambition. As the eldest son of Llewellyn he had always believed he had the greatest claim to his father’s dominions even though Joan had had that legitimate son, Davydd. On the death of their father the trouble between them started, and Davydd, who had the greater power on account of his legitimacy, had very soon seized Gruffyd and put him under lock and key.

But Gruffyd had the support of many Welshmen, and the Bishop of Bangor after excommunicating Davydd went to England to see the King and attempt to interest him in Gruffydd’s cause. If the King would help to reinstate him, said the Bishop, Gruffydd’s friends would be prepared to pay a tribute to the King. Henry could never resist the offer of money; he invaded Wales and forced Davydd to hand over Gruffydd who was brought to the Tower of London and kept there while the King made a show of judging his case.

Although Gruffydd was not ill-treated still he was a prisoner. He realised that Henry would attempt to extract all sorts of conditions from him before giving him his freedom and one night he made a rope from his linen and attempted to escape through a window. He made a fatal mistake; the rope was too long and he was a very heavy man. He was discovered lying on the ground with his neck broken. And that was the end of Gruffydd.

The death of their father meant that Llewellyn and his brother were heirs to Wales which was now ruled by their Uncle Davydd, their grandfather’s legitimate son; but two years after Gruffydd’s death, their uncle died. The Welsh, who had suspected that Davydd had become too friendly with the English, welcomed the brothers, Owain and Llewellyn, and they divided certain lands between them. It seemed an amicable solution and the people looked forward to peace. Moreover King Henry invited them to Woodstock where he publicly pardoned their rebellion of the past and made an agreement with them to keep the peace; but this involved signing away much of the Welsh lands so that only Snowdon and Anglesey were in the hands of the brothers.

However, peace was maintained – although an uneasy one, for Llewellyn’s ambition was great. Owain was less aggressive and would have preferred to shrug aside what they had lost and settle for a quiet existence without perpetual war.

But Llewellyn was not one to remain passive for long and he was soon at loggerheads with Owain who sought the support of their younger brother Davydd. Their forces met in battle and as might have been predicted Llewellyn was victorious; he captured Owain and put him under lock and key; Davydd, unfortunately for Llewellyn, was able to make his escape to England.

Llewellyn was then bent on bringing back to Wales all that land which had been in the possession of his grandfather, Llewellyn the Great. He had seen his great opportunity when the barons, under Simon de Montfort, rose against the King. He declared for them and what great triumph there had been throughout Wales when it was learned that the King and his son Edward were prisoners of Simon de Montfort!

It was at Hereford that Llewellyn had met Eleanor – the Demoiselle, an enchantingly beautiful girl with a look of the Plantagenets inherited from her mother, the King’s sister – Eleanor, like herself.

The marriage of Simon de Montfort had been one of the romances of the times. But of course Simon de Montfort was the sort of man who would distinguish himself in whatever he undertook, even marriage. What a man to snatch the King’s sister from under his nose! Although in a moment of weakness Henry had agreed to the marriage however much he had tried to deny it afterwards.

The Demoiselle, they called her. He wanted her. No other would do for him. He could imagine his old grandfather looking down from Heaven and nodding his head in approval.

A wife who was the niece of the King of England! A prophecy from Merlin!

‘What are you waiting for?’ old Llewellyn would have said. ‘Go in and take what is offered to you.’

King of England! That was what the prophecy said. Llewellyn the First. A greater title than that of his grandfather. When they sang their ballads they would sing not of Llewellyn the Great who had hanged his wife’s lover. No, they would sing of Llewellyn the First of England and his beautiful bride the Demoiselle Eleanor.

But he had had bad luck. Edward the new King of England was not like his father. He was a man of action. There was no dallying with Edward. The Demoiselle was coming from France to marry Llewellyn and there was a prophecy given by Merlin that a Llewellyn should become King of England. Edward had determined to stop that as soon as he could. So he had captured Llewellyn’s bride and made her a prisoner, and the first move to bring about the prediction of Merlin had failed.

But that was but the beginning.

In the meantime the Demoiselle was somewhere in England and Llewellyn was in Wales. He had refused to attend the coronation of Edward and swear fealty to him. Was this Edward’s revenge?

Llewellyn had to rescue his bride. He had to show the people of Wales that he was that Llewellyn mentioned in Merlin’s prophecy.

But how?

The weeks passed and still the Demoiselle remained the prisoner of the English.


* * *

Edward was delighted with his Bristol seamen who had intercepted the ships bound for Wales.

He strode into the Queen’s chamber, his face shining with delight.

‘Merlin’s prophecy indeed!’ he cried. ‘Why wasn’t Merlin off the Scilly Isles when the ships passed by? Why didn’t he raise a storm and sink our craft?’

‘God forbid,’ cried the Queen. She was pregnant once more and was hoping for a boy as they all were – she, Edward and the Queen Mother. They had not mentioned it to each other, but they were all aware that two-year-old Alfonso was not as healthy as they would have liked. He was bright enough, but there was a certain delicacy about him. Thus it had been with John and Henry. The Queen thought: I could not go through that anxiety again.

Now Edward was not thinking of the boy but of this victory at sea which had brought him what was more desirable than a load of treasure.

‘They will bring our prisoners to land with all speed,’ he said.

‘Poor Demoiselle!’ said the Queen. ‘She will be most unhappy.’

‘Poor Demoiselle indeed! If she had reached Llewellyn we should have been hearing that Merlin had come back from wherever he is to help them. Now that, my dearest, is the last thing I want. This Merlin prophecy is nonsense. I have to prove that to the Welsh … and perhaps some of the English.’

The Queen shuddered. ‘How can it be true?’ she said. ‘But I am sure the Demoiselle is desolate and perhaps a little frightened.’