The Heirs of Owain Glyndwr (6 page)

‘Will it? I'm not sure. I see a new desire to recreate the world in their own image, a new willingness to embrace political protest, and even political violence, as a means to an end. America certainly won't be able to escape it, but neither will Europe and neither will Britain. Ireland has unfinished business, and so does Wales. Wales will come under the same pressure, which means that eventually we will all have to decide where we stand. Just like Owain Glyndŵr.'

As Trevor stood to leave, he heard the dying notes, sweet and confident, of the piece which marked the end of Arianwen's practice. She left the music room and came into the hall just as he was putting on his coat. She saw him to the door, pressing an umbrella into his hand against the pouring rain. As he left, she kissed him on the cheek.

10

November 1962

‘There is a Welsh
custom,' she said, without raising her head from his chest, ‘according to which women are just as entitled to propose marriage to men as men are to women.'

‘Really?' he replied, also without moving. ‘I never knew that.'

‘Oh, yes. It goes back to the laws of Hywel Dda, so it's many centuries old. Under Hywel Dda men and women were equal, or at least, women had many more rights than they do now.'

‘No wonder Welsh women are so forward,' he smiled.

They had first made love at the house on a cold night earlier in the year, in March, when Caradog and Dai Bach were away, attending a meeting of Plaid Cymru supporters in Carmarthen. The meeting was expected to end late, and they had arranged to stay away overnight. By that time, Trevor had become a friend of the family and a regular visitor to Pretoria Terrace. Often he came for dinner, but sometimes he would drop in just to listen when she played her cello in the evening. Sitting in an armchair, closing his eyes, and allowing the smooth tones of her music to wash over him, he could go far away in his mind to a place where the stresses of the day no longer bothered him. Sometimes, he was so far away that he did not even realise she had finished playing; she would come and touch him on the shoulder, laughingly accusing him of falling asleep during her recital, although to Trevor, it did not feel like sleep.

He started to take her out, at first for a meal or a drink, or to see a film locally, but then to other events, classical concerts in Bangor and further afield. But that night in March was a simple supper on a work night, and by that evening, the friendly kisses at the end of their times together had taken effect, and there was no doubt in either of their minds that they would make love. It was simply that there was no reason to delay it any longer. Yet he still felt nervous as they kissed at the bottom of the stairs.

‘What if Caradog comes back tonight instead of staying over in Carmarthen?' he asked, to give voice to the nervousness.

‘What if he does?' she countered. ‘Caradog is my brother, not my guardian.'

They went upstairs together, hand in hand.

After that night they were open with everyone. Often, she came to stay with him in the flat above the
Tywysog
, and if Caradog had any reservations about their relationship, he did not express them.

‘Have you thought about what marriage will mean?' he asked.

‘Marriage generally, or marriage to you?'

‘Both.'

She considered.

‘I've often thought about marriage in the abstract,' she replied, ‘as an idea. But you can't think about it the way it really is until you meet someone you want to marry.'

‘So, you've thought about marriage to me?'

‘Of course.'

‘What have you thought?'

She smiled. ‘I have thought that when two people feel about each other as we do, they are already married. The ceremony and the festivities are for the benefit of others, so that they know about it, and can celebrate it too. I don't think it changes anything between the people who are getting married.'

He sat up in bed.

‘Arianwen, what if we get married and you find you don't really know me, that I am really someone else?'

‘We are all someone else,' she replied.

They were married in April 1963 and, after enduring the cramped conditions of the flat above the
Tywysog
for some time, they went to live in an old house in
Penrallt Isaf
. Their son, Harri, was born in May 1965.

11

January 1969

Once the New Year
festivities had subsided, Trevor re-opened the
Tywysog
to begin another year of its life. He had enough experience by now to know that business would not be particularly brisk until people had convinced themselves that the holiday period was finally over, and had resigned themselves to resuming their daily routines. He was a part of the daily life of Caernarfon now. People still remembered Madog, but Trevor's presence as the owner of the
Tywysog
was now accepted without rancour. It had required a lengthy diplomatic struggle, but the struggle had paid off. The time for curiosity was over, and his English past had merged into his new Caernarfon identity. It was noted that he was not above attending rallies in support of Welsh causes, and that he had expressed a cautious support for Plaid Cymru, and these things had gone down well. As had his marriage. Arianwen and Caradog were liked and respected in Caernarfon, for their own sake and for the sake of their parents, who had had many friends in the town.

Trevor was by no means as religious as Madog about staying open until 6 o'clock when business was slow, and at just after five on this evening, as he watched the wind and rain pound the windows and the street outside, he had decided to call it a day. But as he was reaching for his jacket and keys, he looked up to see two men approaching the door of the shop. They were tightly bundled up against the weather, but he knew them at once by their size and gait. He opened the door and beckoned them inside.

‘You look like a couple of drowned rats,' Trevor said. ‘Take your coats off. Hang them up by the door.'

‘It's the flood, man,' Dai Bach said, struggling to extricate himself from his sodden raincoat. ‘It's the bloody biblical flood, I tell you. It's a judgment on us, aye. It's going to rain for forty days and forty nights, and we will all be swept away. God, I'm soaked.'

They shook hands warmly.

‘How's Harri?'

‘Doing very well, Dai, thank you.'

‘He's a good boy. I can't get over how well he speaks in Welsh for his age. I enjoy just listening to him talk and, as a teacher, that's not something I say about children every day. A bard he will be by the time he's ten, aye.'

Trevor smiled.

‘He gets that from Arianwen. But it helps that we are keeping him on the one language for now. We both feel he should have a solid start with Welsh at home. He will have plenty of time to learn English once he starts school.'

He took Caradog's heavy coat and draped it over the top of the tree-like coat rack which stood in the corner behind the door.

‘What are you two doing out in this weather? Do you want a cup of tea?'

‘Aye, that would go down a treat,' Dai replied.

‘Yes, please,' Caradog added.

Trevor walked to the tea area and put the kettle on to boil.

‘We have come out because we need to talk to you,' Caradog said. ‘And it's not a conversation we can have at home. But we can wait until you've closed the shop.'

‘That sounds intriguing. Actually, I was just about to close up anyway. Five minutes and you would have missed me. No one is going to come out to buy books in this weather.'

He walked to the door and locked it, turning the sign from ‘Open' to ‘Closed'.

As the kettle approached boiling, he warmed the teapot and added three good size scoops of tea.

‘Do your own milk and sugar.'

‘If you don't mind, I'd prefer to talk in the basement.' Caradog said. ‘You could turn the lights off in here, so that we won't be disturbed.'

Trevor looked at Caradog for some seconds.

‘Yes. All right. Are we going to be some time? If so, I'll phone Arianwen to tell her I've fallen in with bad company and I may be home a bit late.'

‘Yes, that would be a good idea.' Caradog said.

12

‘What happened to all
those materials Madog had locked away in the cabinet when you took over?' Caradog asked. ‘Are they still here?'

There were only two old, unstable chairs in the basement, so they were leaning against the bookcases in the dim light provided by four naked yellow bulbs hanging down from fixtures in the corners of the room. Trevor did not reply immediately.

‘They are still in the cabinet,' he said eventually.

Caradog was also taking his time.

‘It's just that you did say, at one time, that you might destroy anything you didn't want to put on display in the shop. You weren't even sure it would be legal to possess some of the materials.'

‘That's right. But I never got round to doing anything about it.'

‘I warned you that certain people – nationalists – might come in and ask for them.'

‘Yes. I remember.'

‘And did they?'

Trevor shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the floor.

‘Do you mind my asking why you want to know?'

‘It's because of the Investiture, man,' Dai Bach jumped in.

‘
What
is because of the Investiture?'

‘The harassment. And it's only going to get worse.'

Trevor shook his head. ‘I'm sorry. You've lost me. What are you driving at?'

‘I don't like to use the word “Investiture”,' Caradog said, ‘but whatever we call it, on the 1
st
of July the Queen is going to foist her son, another member of their Saxon Royalty, on us as our Prince.'

‘I know that, Caradog,' Trevor replied. ‘It's hardly news. They announced it over a year ago.'

‘Yes, but now it's getting close, and they are worried because they have suddenly woken up and realised that they don't have the whole-hearted support of the people of Wales. In fact, they think that some of us may have something to say about it, or even something to do about it.'

‘
Do
about it?'

‘Protests, demonstrations,' Dai Bach interjected, ‘or even some direct action to prevent it from going ahead.'

‘Well, of course there will be protests,' Trevor agreed. ‘But the police are used to dealing with things like that. What is there to get excited about?'

Caradog paused again.

‘The word is,' he said, ‘that they have already placed people from MI5, people from Special Branch, here in Caernarfon.'

Trevor laughed.

‘Oh, for God's sake.'

‘What? You don't think they would do that?'

‘It seems a bit far-fetched, if you ask me. During the Investiture itself, during the week or two beforehand, yes, I'm sure security will be tight, but that's true whenever the Queen goes somewhere. So what?'

‘The word is,' Caradog replied, ‘that they have people in place already, to try to ferret out anyone who may be planning something more than your basic peaceful protest, and then infiltrate them, and neutralise them.'

‘If they do discover anyone planning anything,' Dai Bach added, ‘they will arrest them on some charge or other and even put them on trial, to keep them out of the way.'

Trevor laughed again. ‘Where are you getting this from?'

‘Contacts,' Caradog replied.

‘Contacts. And you don't think these contacts may be just a little bit paranoid?'

‘No, I don't,' Caradog said firmly.

‘They have already arrested a few people,' Dai Bach continued. ‘Public order charges, or some such nonsense. Some of them are supposed to go on trial in Swansea, and they say it could be a long trial. It could even last until after the Investiture. Now, there's a coincidence for you.'

‘All right,' Trevor said. ‘Let's assume for the sake of argument that you're right. Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do about it?'

‘We don't want you to be caught in possession of the stuff you've got in there,' Caradog replied, nodding in the direction of the cabinet.

Trevor looked up sharply. He did not reply immediately.

‘You think they might arrest
me
?' he asked, after some time.

‘No, probably not,' Caradog replied. ‘I think it is more likely they would see you as a source of information. They know that the
Tywysog
is a gathering place for Welsh-speaking intellectuals, and they know that the people likely to cause the most serious trouble are Welsh-speaking intellectuals. So I don't think they would want to close you down. But I would expect them to be very interested in who comes and goes here, and I would be very surprised if they don't stop by for a chat once every so often.'

‘I see,' Trevor replied thoughtfully.

‘Which is why we are interested in who may have been coming to ask about the materials in the basement. They may not have been who you thought they were.'

‘And we wouldn't want them to catch you with that stuff, would we?' Dai Bach said. ‘You might have a bit of explaining to do, like.'

Trevor ran his hands through his hair.

‘I've only had two or three approaches in all these years,' he said. ‘Two of them were definitely FWA, Free Wales Army.'

‘How do you know that?' Dai Bach asked.

Trevor smiled. ‘They might just as well have been wearing badges with FWA on them. They make no secret about it. They strut around as if they own the place, and you get the impression they have no sense of basic discretion, let alone security.'

Caradog laughed. ‘You're absolutely right. The police don't have to worry about the FWA. If they ever get organised enough to do anything, they will probably call a press conference, or put a notice in the
Western Mail
,
just to make sure
everybody knows where and when it will happen.'

‘The third time,' Trevor continued, ‘was two or three months ago, two far more serious gentlemen. I thought they were probably with the Movement, the
Mudiad
. They could have been
Cymdeithas
, the Language Society, but they have already announced plans for peaceful protests, haven't they?'

‘That's not necessarily the whole story, though,' Dai Bach said.

‘What did they ask you?' Caradog asked.

‘They asked whether I still had any materials which Madog might have stored in the basement. It was all very cryptic. They didn't say in so many words what they were interested in, but I knew what they were talking about, and they knew that I knew.'

‘What did you tell them?'

‘The same thing I told the FWA, that when I took over from Madog I cleared out the basement, and that any doubtful documents, which I might get in trouble for storing, were destroyed.'

‘Did that satisfy them?'

‘It had to. They weren't going to force their way into the basement in broad daylight.'

‘They might try at night,' Dai Bach suggested.

‘Possibly,' Caradog said. ‘But they would have to recruit a real professional for a job like that in the middle of town, when the premises are alarmed. That's on the assumption that they were
Mudiad
, not Special Branch or MI5.'

‘You're getting me worried now,' Trevor said.

‘You should be, boyo,' Dai Bach said. ‘Look, forget about the
Mudiad
. Just think about the Government. The way this is going, they are going to get extremely paranoid between now and the 1
st
of July. They are going to start imagining that there is a threat to the Royal Family on their big day. Believe me, there is no telling what they might get up to.'

‘Well, what do you think I ought to do? Perhaps it's time to do what I thought of originally, take the whole lot out and make a bonfire of them.'

‘That's one approach,' Caradog replied. ‘Another is that you let us take them to a place of safety.'

Trevor stared at him.

‘Why would you want them?' he asked.

‘Why would
you
want them? Caradog countered.

‘Who says I want them?'

‘Well, you haven't destroyed them,' Caradog replied. ‘Have you?'