Rhiannon (10 page)

“I do not believe you.”

She shrugged. “Nor do I believe that you will love me long.
No, do not protest. How can you say what will be a year hence?”

“I do not know that I will be alive a year hence—or a month,
for that matter, but while I live I will love you.”

“Simon, I do not dare. You do not really know me or my kind.
I am a whole being. If I give you the heart out of my body and you lose it, I
will die.”

He began to say that no one died of a broken heart, but he
was looking into her strange, clear eyes. Quite suddenly Simon realized that
Rhiannon could, just as certain hawks could die when captured although most of
their kind were readily tamed, will herself to death. This put a new light on
Rhiannon’s resistance. Simon was in no doubt about his own feelings. This was
the first woman he had ever loved, and he was sure he would love her forever.
He
knew she was in no danger from a change in his heart, but how to convince
her—not to love him but to trust him—was different. Time could convince her,
but he had no time. She was very lovely, and it was very hard to wait.

If it had not been for the jagged rocks on that shore,
Rhiannon might have achieved her purpose. Since it was barely possible for
Simon to find two stones large enough and flat enough to sit on, he did not
long consider an immediate coupling. To remount and to look deliberately for a
place was a crudity Simon did not contemplate in connection with the woman he
loved. One sought the nearest hedge or ditch with a whore or a serf girl off
the land. With a lady, time and place must flow together with feeling—and more
especially with Rhiannon, who was so sensitive.

When they were seated, Simon opened his mouth to ask
Rhiannon how she thought their problem could be resolved, but she beat him with
a question about his errand from Pembroke to her father. Simon obliged with the
very shortest precis he could give of the situation and tried to switch the
talk back to private matters.

“No,” Rhiannon said. “I do not wish to talk about us, Simon,
I am too overwrought still. I must think while you are not near.”

“I do not trust such thoughts. You will make me into a
monster and break my heart. You are no coward, Rhiannon. Will you not dare a
little to have a life of joy?”

“If you mean I do not fear the death of the body, you are
right. But I will not give you my soul to play with, Simon.”

“Play with? I said you would make me into a monster.
Listen—”

“No. You are trying to trap me in a net of words. I do not
wish to talk of this now. Simon, do you not realize that it is important to me
whether or not my father goes to war?”

“But Rhiannon, he will not go himself,” Simon soothed.

His own father still did go to war, and Ian and Llewelyn
were about the same age. But the type of war usually waged by the Welsh was
much more of an individual effort, and Simon did not think it practical for an
older man to be involved. He did not believe Llewelyn was capable any longer of
flitting through the forests or climbing the precipitous mountains. It was
different for Ian, who rode to war surrounded by his vassals and, of recent
years, with Adam on his right and Geoffrey on his left. Between the iron
mountain that was Adam in battle and the swift, ravening flame that was
Geoffrey—not to mention his own efforts—Ian could come to little harm even if
he should become exhausted.

“I was not concerned for Llewelyn’s person,” Rhiannon
pointed out patiently, not understanding why Simon should raise such an idea.
“It is the homestead I must warn.”

“Angharad’s Hall—I never thought! But, Rhiannon, I do not
believe the king intends to attack North Wales. He will have troubles enough
with Pembroke. And the hall is—well, it is not easily accessible. Do you really
think there is danger?”

“Of the king’s army coming there? Very little. But if
Pembroke should fail and the king should turn on my father, our men will flee
into the hills. Llewelyn has come to us in the past—” She stopped abruptly and
looked at Simon.

“Do not insult me by wondering whether I will betray him,”
Simon said softly.

His voice made Rhiannon shudder. She had a glimpse of a
cold, hard core inside the man, something that would not bend or break and
could be destroyed only by Simon’s death. That was his honor. If only love
could be… Rhiannon thrust out that thought and bowed her head.

“Forgive me. I know your father is clan-brother to mine and
that you love him.”

“I have also given Prince Llewelyn my fealty,” Simon said in
the same soft voice, “and I have no divided oath of homage. No wonder you do
not trust me. You think me a Judas who would sell my lord for thirty pieces of
silver.”

“No! Simon, I did not think that at all. You must know it
was trust that caused me to say such a thing in the first place. I have never
told another person—never! I would not even tell Llewelyn’s vassals.”

Simon sighed and Rhiannon saw the tenseness go out of him.
Then he smiled at her. What she had said of Llewelyn’s vassals brought sharp
remembrance of how often Llewelyn had been betrayed by those he should have
been able to trust.

“I do not think you need worry about Pembroke failing your
father. He is a man of high honor. If he says he will not make peace without
Prince Llewelyn’s agreement, he will not.”

“That is no warranty of safety. In war many things can
happen. Pembroke could die—”

“That would not matter. His brother Gilbert will carry on.
Gilbert will abide by any oaths Richard swore.”

“Where is Gilbert?” Rhiannon asked pointedly.

“In Ireland,” Simon replied, then frowned, “Yes, I see what
you mean. Until the time Gilbert had word and came here, your father would bear
the whole weight of the conflict. But I still do not think the king’s forces
will drive him so far as Angharad’s Hall.”

“We must be ready, nonetheless. Food must be stocked. We
have enough for ourselves, but not much extra. What is not used may be returned
to those who gave if there is no need for it. But if we do not gather what we
need before danger comes, there will be no getting it later. It will be burnt
or scattered. Also, once the people are fled from the lower lands, they will
not return until the danger passes.”

Simon was silent for a moment. Then he asked slowly, “Will
you leave at once to warn Kicva?” He could not help wondering if this was only
an excuse to escape him.

“No,” she replied to his relief. “How can I go before I know
what my father decides? Do you know how he leans, Simon?”

“He leans toward Pembroke, but in the spring the Prince of
Powys and several others received substantial gifts from Henry to win their
friendship. Prince Llewelyn must be sure they are willing to forget those gifts
and will side with him or, at least, not attack his lands if he joins
Pembroke.”

“That will take time.”

“Yes, but he is willing that his young men go off on their
own and make what profit they can on Henry’s baggage trains. That was why I was
so loose-lipped last night. I do not doubt that today word is passing from
mouth to mouth that, although Prince Llewelyn has prohibited the raiding of
English lands and holdings, he will not frown on those who harass invaders of
Welsh territory.”

Rhiannon smiled impishly and Simon’s grin mirrored hers.
Both appreciated the subtlety. It would permit Llewelyn to bewail the wildness
of younger sons and promise punishment, which would never be meted out, in case
it was necessary to pacify the English instead of attacking them. However, in
the next moment Simon was shaking his head.

“It must come to war, Rhiannon. If Prince Llewelyn does not
stand with Pembroke now, he will need to stand alone later. The Bishop of
Winchester and his accursed spawn are not like other men. They do not value the
laws and customs of our people. They talk of one man ruling alone, holding all
power and right as a Divine gift, above and apart from all others. They will
not be content with subduing the English. Next they will be here, claiming
that, because your father has done fealty for one or two holdings to Henry, he
is no prince with a right to rule his people as he sees fit. He, too, will be
required to submit utterly without recourse to law or custom.”

“Others have tried to make the Welsh submit,” Rhiannon said.
“We often find their bones when we till the soil.”

“Yes, but… Rhiannon, your father is not a young man. Do you
see in either of your half brothers another Owain or Llewelyn?”

Rhiannon’s eyes fell, and she sighed. “They are more like to
fly at each other than to unify or overawe the other princes.”

“And do you think Prince Llewelyn does not know this? I
believe—”

Simon’s voice cut off abruptly as Ymlladd whinnied, stamped,
and pawed the earth. Simon rose to his feet, his hand dropping to the hilt of
his sword. Rhiannon rose also.

“Do not dare,” she cried loudly, fearing a flight of arrows
from so stealthy a watcher. “Or by Danu and Anu, I will curse you!”

Before her voice died away, the horse had dropped his head
to the grass again. Simon looked at her. “Did you know who that was?”

She shook her head. “I am not even sure anyone was there. It
might have been an animal that startled Ymlladd, but I think we had better go
back. I was a fool to leave so openly with you, Simon. I may have stirred up
envy among the young men for which you will suffer.” Her eyes were wide with
fright.

Simon knew that Ymlladd would not react that way to an
animal, but he was not going to say that to Rhiannon. He put an arm around her and
drew her close, smiling down at her. “Do not worry. Have you not already
covered me with a broad shield by cursing any who try to harm me?” he teased.

“I have no power to curse,” Rhiannon confessed anxiously. “I
only said the first thing that came into my head that might frighten anyone—if
anyone was there.”

“Likely not,” Simon soothed. “Who knows what Ymlladd thought
he saw or heard. These high-bred animals are half-mad.”

Still, he did not argue when Rhiannon again asked to return
to Aber. He caught his horse, swung up on it, and reached down to draw Rhiannon
up. She did not raise her hands to be lifted but backed away.

“Let me walk back alone, Simon,” she suggested.

“Do not be ridiculous!” Simon exclaimed. “I do not mind if a
few idiots are jealous, but I do not want your father furious with me. The
whole court will know that I seized you and rode off with you. I do not dare
come back without you.”

“My father will not care. He knows I go my own way. He will
think I made you angry—”

“And so I left you!” Simon did not know whether to fly into
a rage or laugh. “Even if I were so angry I murdered you—which will soon come
about if you do not mount at once—I would not leave you. I assure you I would
bring your corpse home for decent burial.”

Rhiannon had to laugh. Realizing it was useless to argue
because Simon would never agree, no matter what she said, she held up her
hands, put her foot on his, and was lifted. When he had her safely settled,
Simon turned and kissed her throat.

“If you would agree to marry me at once, there would be no
reason for any man to try to eliminate me,” he murmured slyly against her skin.

“Why not?” Rhiannon snapped, even while she arched her neck
to facilitate his kiss. “There is no betrothal to a corpse, nor wife to a dead
man. A widow is as good as a maid.”

“But at least I would be rewarded for my early demise,”
Simon said plaintively, kissing between words. “I would enjoy my last few days
of life.”

“You may enjoy them without betrothal or marriage,” Rhiannon
reminded him, “any time you wish.”

There was a silence. Simon withdrew his lips; Rhiannon
sighed regretfully. Ymlladd picked his way carefully up the steep slope of the
stream’s course. Simon might have been more troubled by Rhiannon’s seemingly
lighthearted refusal if half his mind had not been wondering whether his
unarmed back would be pierced by an arrow. However, nothing stirred in the wood
and Ymlladd reached level ground. Simon touched him with the spur and they went
through the wooded area at a speed that would leave any footman far behind. A
master archer might have succeeded in pinning Simon even at speed, but there
was no one in the wood when Simon passed.

Earlier, Madog had seen the direction Simon took and had
followed. It had taken him some time to find the correct cove, and he had
actually seen nothing more revealing than Simon and Rhiannon sitting decorously
side by side and talking. He could not hear what they were saying, but their
placid manner did not soothe him in the least. Disregarding the practical fact
that it would have been extremely painful to try to couple on that rocky beach,
Madog decided that they were finished and were planning their next assignation.

He had not stopped to think that he might as well have
accused them without trying to follow, but now he decided that if he could hear
what they planned, he could bring Gruffydd with him next time. But he was too
intent on his purpose, and did not stop to realize that the wind was blowing
from the shore toward the sea so that the horse sensed him. As soon as Simon
rose ready to draw his sword, Madog had begun to back away. He was not looking
for a fight; he had taken Antwn’s warnings to heart and realized they would
plan no further now that they had been disturbed.

Rhiannon’s threat thus offended and terrified Madog all the
more because it seemed prescient. She had not said
Do not shoot
or
Go
away
. She seemed to have read his heart, for it was a daring notion to
involve Gruffydd in removing the cursed Saeson. But Rhiannon had cursed him!
Only witches could curse. Then Rhiannon was a witch. Of course she was! She had
always been very strange, not like any other woman. That monstrous cat that
spat and hissed at him every time he sought to have a few private words with
her must be her familiar.

Sweating with fear, Madog had withdrawn and hurried directly
back to Aber. The distance was not great. Running as fast as he could, Madog
reached the gate while Ymlladd was still setting one foot cautiously after
another on the steep rise from the cove. Inside the gate he felt terribly weak
and sick, which added greatly to his terror. He sank into the shade at the side
of a building to rest. After a while, when he had caught his breath, he felt
better and began to wonder what he should do instead of expecting to be struck
dead any instant. He did not know whether forswearing his plans would
automatically lift the curse; he did not know how swiftly or by what mechanism
the curse would work. In fact, when he tried to think it out, he had no idea
exactly what limits the
Do not dare
had.

He was just about to find a crony with whom to discuss the
matter, when his throat tightened with a new terror. Surely the
Do not dare
forbade him to accuse the witch. Besides, to whom could he carry this tale?
Even Gruffydd was not likely to listen with sympathy. She was his half sister,
after all. And Prince Llewelyn fairly doted on her. And, now Madog remembered,
it was said her mother was also a witch and had ensorcelled Llewelyn so that he
coupled with her and bred a witch-daughter.