Castle of the Heart (19 page)

“I thank you for that,” Gwenefer said, her
voice low.

“And now,” Emrys went on, “Baron Lionel’s
younger brother Guy rules at Afoncaer and tempts his Welsh subjects
with the safety of his walls, and Norman justice equal to that
dealt to the Saxons he has settled on his lands, and with more of
their own harvest than the Normans elsewhere think is due to
villeins. Oh, he is a monstrous kind and fair ruler, this Baron
Guy, and his is the same blood that spilled your parents’ blood.
Will you join with me to destroy Afoncaer?”

There was a third stool by the table, and
Gwenefer sat down on it, placing her strong, well-shaped hands flat
on the table’s surface. She faced Emrys with no diffidence but
rather with the straightforward gaze of one who meets an equal.

“Lord Guy has rebuilt Afoncaer until it is so
strong no mere raid will have any effect on it,” she said. “You
must know that. I think instead of direct attack, you have some
treacherous plan in mind. Tell it to me.”

“There is a man, Sir Geoffrey, who is Lord
Guy’s former squire, and now his liege man. This Geoffrey is the
Lord of Tynant Manor, half a day’s fast ride from Afoncaer, which
he holds in fief to Lord Guy.”

“And how will he help us bring down
Afoncaer?”

“Whenever Lord Guy leaves Afoncaer, taking
with him a goodly number of his armed men, he calls Sir Geoffrey to
that service he owes his liege, and puts Afoncaer into Geoffrey’s
charge.”

“This Geoffrey must bring his own men with
him to Afoncaer as reinforcements,” Gwenefer said.

“Not so many as you might think, for he must
leave most at Tynant to guard that place, which is not so well
fortified as Afoncaer. Our best chance to take the castle is to do
it while Lord Guy is absent.”

“I think you will never take it. But if you
should, Lord Guy will bring an army back to Afoncaer and seize it
from you, and kill us all. How will that give us the revenge we
want?”

“First, you will help us to get inside the
castle. More of that later. Once inside, we will kill everyone
there. My spies tell me there’s a new bride come to Afoncaer, and
she’s with child. If we wait long enough, we may have the chance to
kill two heirs to Lord Guy, young Sir Thomas, and Thomas’s child.”
Emrys grinned, enjoying the thought. “When Lord Guy returns, all
unsuspecting, we will have bowmen waiting along his route to pick
off as many of his troops as we can before they reach Afoncaer.
When they arrive at the castle we will open the gates and let them
inside and slaughter them there. All of them. Once Afoncaer is
ours, enough of our fellow-countrymen will join us there to hold
off the English king’s armies until we have destroyed it. When we
are done, not one stone of that castle will remain standing on
another, and all its people will be dead. Thus will our revenge be
complete.”

“And what is it you want me to do?” Gwenefer
asked.

“I warn you, you will need patience,” Emrys
said. “We must move slowly and cautiously. It may take a year or
more to do this. You are to become Geoffrey’s mistress. You are to
charm him so completely that wherever he goes, he will take you
with him. Sooner or later, he will take you to Afoncaer while Lord
Guy is away, and when that happens, you will open the postern gate
to us and let us inside the castle. In the meantime, you will send
us whatever information you can about those pestilential Normans
and their plans, so we can be well prepared for our day of
justice.”

“I am to be a spy,” Gwenefer said, and Emrys
nodded.

“Since you are a virgin,” Cynan spoke up,
“and Sir Geoffrey will be your first lover and have proof of that,
he will trust you the more. You might even give him a child.”

“No,” Gwenefer said firmly. “I will bear no
child to a Norman. I’ll go to an old woman I know of who will give
me some herbs to prevent that. I will give up my virginity to him,
for I see it’s the best way to do this thing and make him trust me.
It will be my sacrifice to my fellow-countrymen. That, and my life,
if I’m caught. Now, Emrys, tell me how I am to meet this Sir
Geoffrey and how to enter his service.”

“There is an elderly woman who manages his
household.”

“He’s not married?” When Emrys shook his
head, Gwenefer smiled and looked pleased. “Good. With no wife to be
jealous of me, my task will be easier. What of this old woman?”

“You will go to this Rohaise and ask for
employment. Tell her some sad story. Cynan has said you are capable
of taking her heavier duties off the woman’s shoulders.”

“I am. My aunt trained me well. I could
manage Afoncaer itself if I had to.”

“So you shall, when the time comes, for as
long as the castle stands. You will endear yourself to Rohaise, and
make yourself valuable to her. Next, very slowly and reluctantly,
for you are, after all, a sensitive, pure virgin who would prefer
to save herself for her future husband, but slowly as I say, you
will let yourself be enticed into Geoffrey’s bed. Do not hurry this
part of our plan. The longer you delay your consent, the more he
will value your surrender when it finally comes. He must be
bursting with desire for you before you go to his bed. Tease him a
little. Make him suffer. You should enjoy that. A first, small
revenge.”

“And what,” Gwenefer asked coldly, “am I to
do when this brutal Norman lord simply rapes me before I am ready
to say yes to him?”

“From what I have been able to learn of Sir
Geoffrey, I do not think that will happen. He has a few serving
girls he enjoys, and he treats them well. They will satisfy his
physical urges while you entangle his heart and his thoughts. Make
him love you if you can.”

“Very well. What then?”

“You are cool, Gwenefer. I hope you will be
warmer in Sir Geoffrey’s bed.”

“I do not know what I will feel when that
time comes, but I promise you I will act my part well. What shall I
do once I am Geoffrey’s mistress?”

“You will go on as you did at first, being
kind to Rohaise, helping her in every aspect of managing Tynant,
and passing to us all the information you can about Tynant,
Afoncaer, and the Normans who inhabit both places. I want to know
all their weaknesses.”

“How shall I send this information to
you?”

“I will tell you,” Emrys said, “after you
have made your promise to us.”

The three of them, Emrys, Cynan, and
Gwenefer, clasped hands and swore an oath never to betray each
other or their goal. Gwenefer swore on the blood of her Norman-dead
parents. Then they sat through the night, planning.

Selene’s labor began on All Hallows’ Eve and
continued into the next day. Meredith and Arianna had prepared a
small room for the birth, cleaning it well and strewing cleansing
herbs about the floor. To it they brought Selene after it had
become clear that this was no false beginning, and there they made
her walk back and forth across the room until she could no longer
stand without help and her linen shift was damp and bedraggled.

Arianna’s heart was wrung with pity for her
friend. Over the last ten days Selene’s hands and feet and face had
all swollen so much that Arianna could barely recognize her.
Meredith’s medicines had not helped.

“It’s all water,” Meredith had told Arianna
several days before, “and I do not know why it won’t pass out of
her body. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I know this will
frighten you, Arianna, but you need to be told everything, so when
the time comes you can help me. I have seen this happen to only one
woman before, many years ago. When the hour for her hardest labor
came, she was seized with a great convulsion and she and the baby
both died. We must do everything we can to prevent that from
happening to Selene. When the labor is far enough along, I will
give her a medicine I am making from rotted rye seeds. It will make
her body expel the baby faster. It’s dangerous, but I think it is
the only chance she has of living through this.

“We will not,” Meredith added, “tell anyone
about my medicine, Arianna. The men would not understand, and
Thomas, out of fear for Selene, might forbid it.”

Arianna had agreed, promising her silence. So
here, in the tiny, candlelit room, Arianna steeled her heart
against Selene’s piteous moans, and held her upright, and made her
keep walking.

“Meredith says it is easier this way.”
Arianna tried to sound encouraging. “If you walk, the babe will
move downward naturally. If you lie down, it will take longer and
be more painful.”

“It’s painful enough now.” Selene paused in
her walking, her fingers gripping Arianna’s shoulders until the
present spasm passed. “How could Thomas do this to me? I’ll never
forgive him for this. Never.”

“Come along, Selene, keep walking,” Arianna
urged, telling herself Selene really was in pain, and would quickly
forget her anger at Thomas once she held her child in her arms.

“Drink this.” Meredith brought a wooden cup
to Selene.

“No.” Selene turned her face aside as another
pain caught at her. “I hate you, Thomas! You never loved me. Oh –
oh!” She let go of Arianna’s arm and bent over, clutching her
belly.

“Stop that nonsense and stand up and drink
this!” Arianna had never seen Meredith angry before. Silver-grey
fire shot from her eyes, and her face was hard as stone when she
spoke. “I will not hear another word against Thomas. This is your
duty to him, you silly child. Stop thinking of yourself all the
time. Swallow this drink, I say. It will hasten the pains, but end
them sooner.” She pushed the cup at Selene. “Drink now, before the
next pain comes.”

“Do as she says, Selene.” Arianna realized
that Meredith was badly frightened for Selene’s sake, and that her
fear was being expressed in anger. “Drink it all, my dear, it’s for
your benefit.”

Confronted by that combination of pale-eyed
fury and concerned friendship, Selene obeyed. The brew began to
work almost at once, the pains coming harder and faster, until
Selene’s shrieks rang through the tower keep, nearly deafening the
two women with her, and bringing Joan to the chamber door.

“Thomas has nearly lost his wits for worry,”
Joan said, surveying the scene before her. “What shall I tell him,
my lady?”

“Tell him I hate him!” Selene screamed.

Joan nodded understandingly.

“It will soon be over,” she observed calmly.
“D’you need my help?”

“Yes.” Meredith pushed a bright red strand of
hair off her forehead. She and Arianna had stripped down to their
long-sleeved linen shifts, and both were wet with perspiration. “Go
down and tell Thomas all is well, then bring us water to wash her
with. You can take care of the baby when it is born. Arianna and I
will be busy with Selene.”

By the time Joan reappeared with a bucket of
hot water, Selene was past walking, and Meredith had her kneeling
on a straw pallet on the floor.

“I’ll hold her,” Joan said. She knelt behind
Selene, supporting her while catching her around the waist with
strong arms and pressing down hard on her heavy belly. Meredith
knelt in front of Selene, holding her hands and encouraging
her.

Arianna crouched beside her frightened
friend, mopping her damp face with a cool cloth and urging her to
obey Meredith’s instructions so the child would be born quickly.
She thought Selene did not hear her, for her emerald eyes were wide
with terror and she was panting like some trapped animal. When the
next pain began Selene shrieked wildly, turning into a madwoman,
struggling against Joan and trying to break free from her
restraining arms, refusing to follow Meredith’s orders, pulling her
hands out of Meredith’s grasp. Arianna tried to recapture Selene’s
flailing arms and called to her over that rasping, screaming
voice.

Selene’s resistance did not last long. Nature
had its way, her body took over its natural function, and she could
not help pushing as she was supposed to do, until at last, in a
great gush of blood and water, the baby was born, crying almost as
loudly as its mother.

“Blood,” Selene gasped, her voice hoarse from
all the screaming. “I can’t stand blood.” Her eyes rolled back and
closed, and her head lolled against Joan’s shoulder as her body
went limp.

“No! Selene, come back,” Arianna cried,
chafing Selene’s cold hands. “She’s dying! Meredith, help her.”

“She’s not dying, only exhausted by foolish
resistance. Lay her down, Joan,” Meredith advised. “Arianna and I
will care for her. Here, you take the baby. She looks healthy
enough.”

Selene lay in a stupor, unable to move or
speak. Meredith and Arianna worked until they had her bathed and in
a fresh, dry shift. With Joan’s help they lifted Selene into the
narrow bed they had prepared for her at one side of the room, and
then Joan went to call Thomas.

“Arianna?” Selene’s eyes opened, but her
voice was no more than a whisper and her hand moved weakly on the
blanket. Arianna took the hand and held it tightly.

“You have a beautiful daughter, Selene.”

“No,” the weak voice said. “No, a son.”

“It’s a girl, Selene.” Meredith brought a
swaddled bundle to the bed. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Too tired.” Selene’s eyes closed.

There was a tap at the door and Thomas
appeared, followed closely by Guy. Thomas bent over his wife and
kissed her cheek tenderly.

“I failed,” Selene murmured huskily, her eyes
still closed.

“Never say that, my love. We can have sons
later.”

“No more,” Selene whispered weakly. “I’m
punished enough. No more children.”

Thomas looked at Meredith, a fearful question
in his eyes.

“She’s worn out,” Meredith said. “It was a
hard birth and you know how much she wanted a son. Take nothing she
says seriously until she’s stronger. She can have more children,
Thomas. She only needs time to recover.”