A Place of Meadows and Tall Trees Read Free

last.’ Beneath the shadow of his hat Silas can just make out a pair of intense blue eyes moving slowly from face to face. ‘Welcome to America, and welcome to the start of a grand adventure…’
    â€˜Dadda, I’m cold.’ Myfanwy hugs his legs and he draws her to him. It won’t be long now. In a minute Edwyn will have to break it to them that they have come too far south. They need to go back, he’ll say, he’s very sorry but that’s how it is. They’ll have to follow him back up the coast, where it is more like Wales and the vegetation is more lush and the air is warmer. Silas reaches out and grabs Megan’s hand. She squeezes his in return. ‘We’re here!’ she whispers loudly. ‘Everything’s going to be better now.’ He opens his mouth to whisper back but Jacob hushes him.
    Edwyn is leaning forward now as if he is sharing a secret with the women immediately in front of him. ‘ Ffrindiau, ffrindiau . I know you have suffered. I know what you have endured: a hard voyage, and before that theft, ah, so much has been stolen from us – our land, our language, our culture! But soon we shall endure no more. Soon you will see our promised land. It is there waiting for us. The land we deserve, just a few miles south. Cattle! Trees. A splendid river. And grass – oh you should see it – mile upon mile of the most verdant pasture. The best grass you can imagine, ffrindiau. Y Wladfa . Like the old Wales but better.’ He smiles – a quick flame of light that is soon extinguished again – then raises himself upright and looks at the rest of them. ‘Pristine, it is. Unspoilt. No one to interfere…’ he throws back his head. ‘A land for the Welsh. Just think of that! A great nation with our own laws. No English landlords trying to cheat us with their taxes. No English clergy demanding that we pay their tithes. A prosperous place. A place where every Welshman helps his neighbour. No poverty. No cheating. No drunkenness or debauchery. A place where God’s law shows us the way!’
    â€˜Halleluyah!’
    â€˜Halleluyah, indeed, brodyr !’
    Suddenly he stops. His pale eyes – startling against the tanned darkness of his skin and the blackness of his beard – dart from one face to the next. Silas notes his hair: thick and dark and oiled, a contrast with the meagre covering of his own freckled scalp.
    â€˜Are you ready, brothers and sisters?’
    There is a mumble of assent.
    â€˜I didn’t hear you, brodyr . Are you ready?’
    This time the rumble is louder.
    â€˜Praise the Lord!’ someone says excitedly.
    â€˜And praise Edwyn Lloyd!’ Jacob adds.
    Edwyn shakes his head. ‘No, my friends, we should praise Gabriel Thomas. Without his vision and perserverance, there would be no Y Wladfa !’
    He waits for an echo of approval and nods at them all.
    Silas shifts on his feet, and lifts Myfanwy to him. The child is shivering. She rests her head against his shoulder and he feels her teeth rattling against him. The wind is rising with the sun and becoming bitter. He undoes his jacket and gasps slightly as her body makes closer contact with his own. Too many words. It is too cold to stand here and listen.
    â€˜But there are others to thank too – my wife and Selwyn Williams. They’ve been waiting for weeks to meet you.’
    â€˜And we want to meet them too!’
    He pauses. Acknowledges Jacob’s shout with a nod, and then looks around at them. ‘It has not been easy, friends. The Lord has tested us severely. You’ll see.’
    Silas tries to catch Megan’s eye. It is time they got out of this wind. But Megan doesn’t notice him. She is looking at Edwyn with the same expression as all the other women: something close to adulation. He tuts, and as Edwyn Lloyd begins to speak again, looks again towards the coast. No grass. No trees. Nothing. But