Rhuddlan (60 page)

Dylan sighed as he finished relieving
himself. He opened his eyes. “I don’t know precisely. Goewyn said
she’s worrying about her future. Wants to know what’s going to
happen to her. I didn’t like to say anything, Rhirid; I don’t want
Goewyn to know too much of my business. I need every advantage over
her I can get, otherwise she’d be giving me endless
instructions—making all my decisions—”

“I’m quite aware of your wife’s efficient
qualities, Dylan,” Rhirid interrupted impatiently. “What else did
she say about Olwen?”

Dylan gave him a curious look. “That was all.
She wanted me to say something to the girl to ease her mind but I
claimed I had no information to give her.”

“Perhaps I should talk to her…” Rhirid
frowned. “Have Goewyn bring her to me just before the evening
meal.” He turned to leave.

“Rhirid!” Dylan hurried after him. “Do you
think that’s a good idea? I mean, Goewyn has a knack of finding out
what she wants to know even if I won’t tell her. I’m sure she’s up
to something and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dylan! Of course it’s
only natural that Olwen’s been wondering what’s going on!” An
amused expression suddenly crossed his face. “And even if Goewyn
has some ulterior motive, what does it matter? She’s hardly going
to rush off to the Normans and tell them, is she?” The thought made
him laugh out loud, and he was still laughing as he left Dylan, who
stared after him with the sinking feeling that Goewyn had been
right, after all.

When he saw her hesitate in his doorway, he
caught his breath. The sun was low in the west and the chief’s
house had no windows, only a circle in the high roof over the fire
pit, so the faint illumination in the main room beyond his quarters
came from the torches around the perimeter of the hearth. Olwen
stood framed by the soft yellow light; he couldn‘t see her face but
she looked utterly beautiful. The light glowed around her. She
shimmered and sparkled. If she hadn’t spoken, he would have stared
at her forever.

“Lord?”

He heard his voice greet her and invite her
in but all the while his mind was racing, awash with a strong
desire; he wanted to touch her, to kiss her, and wondered how that
could be arranged; he wondered how soft her lips were, lips which
looked so soft and red…he longed to put a hand on the back of her
head and feel the richness of her long, dark hair…

He heard his voice speak glibly of Dylan and
Goewyn and his understanding that she had expressed concern about
her future but he wasn’t really paying attention to his words. How
could he when all he saw was her still, graceful figure standing
quietly before him, her face and manner serious? When all he felt
was the aura of self-reliance that surrounded her and the wall of
distrust she’d put up between them?

He felt his mouth smile in an effort to thaw
her out; he heard himself ask her teasingly if being at Llanlleyn
were such a hardship, but it was the wrong thing to say; he knew it
immediately by the way her mouth creased tightly shut and her
glance dropped mutinously from his face to the floor, and he knew
he ought to shake himself out of his gaping stupor but he couldn’t,
he couldn’t…He was mesmerized by her presence…

He reassured her that no harm was intended to
her or her sons, that everyone at Llanlleyn held her in great
esteem but these words did not impress her. She looked impatient
and, having run out of platitudes which weren’t succeeding anyway,
he begged her to speak her mind. For the first time, he saw a
flicker of interest in her eyes; intelligent, dark eyes which fixed
on his with steady purpose. She spoke.

He answered, heedless of his words. All he
could think was how strong she appeared to be. He had never met a
woman so strong in mind, unless he counted Dylan’s wife but Goewyn
had always seemed to him to be something other than male or female,
some different being entirely…But Olwen was a woman and she was
strong. He’d never once heard that she’d complained about
Llanlleyn, unlike his other hostage, and she’d done much to
incorporate herself into everyday life within the confines of its
walls, unlike his other hostage. She watched him without fear, with
no expression more favorable than neutral, while he sputtered on
and on, having no idea if what he said pleased her or not.

When finally he had stopped, she thanked him
gravely and asked if she might leave, politely apologetic for
holding up his supper. She walked past him and it was only with
great effort that he refrained from catching her waist and swinging
her back towards himself. For an all-too-brief moment, she was so
close! He closed his eyes, retaining the last image he’d had of her
face…

“Lord?”

His eyes opened eagerly. She had paused in
the doorway, in a posture exactly like that she’d assumed just
before entering his room, with the torchlight making her hair
glow.

“Would I be allowed to visit Lady Teleri?”
she asked, and when he immediately assented—of course; she must go
anywhere she chose; she could see whomever she pleased—she merely
nodded, but as she turned away to leave, the light hit her face and
he could see that she was smiling.

He stood rooted to the ground, stunned by the
obvious pleasure such a small gift had given her, with a
determination welling up in him that was greater than even his
desire for war against the Normans: if there were one purpose in
his life, it was to make her fall in love with him.

She was still smiling when she met Goewyn in
the women’s house. Without a word, she took little Henry from the
other woman, sat down next to her and began to nurse him, humming
underbreath. After a moment, her eyes crept up to meet Goewyn’s
puzzled expression, and she burst out laughing.

“Olwen! What happened? Why are you
laughing?”

“You were right, you know,” she said. “About
Rhirid wanting to make a good impression. It’s gratifying to know
there’s someone more interested in me than in a wall.”

“Olwen, that doesn’t make any sense—”

But Olwen had no desire to explain. Her
demeanor sobered. “You were right about other things, as well,” she
said in a low voice. Most of the women had left for the feast house
and the evening meal but there were always several stragglers and
these had looked over when they’d heard her laughter. And there was
Teleri, hidden behind her screens only a dozen paces or so
away…“About Rhirid and Rhuddlan. He means to use Lady Teleri as
bait to entice Lord William into a trap. He means to kill Lord
William.”

Goewyn paled. “Where? Where is he planning to
do this?”

“Not here. I’m not sure, but he did say it
wouldn’t happen at Llanlleyn.”

“Oh, what does it matter where—the king’s
wrath will fall on Rhirid anyway, and so on Llanlleyn!” Goewyn
jumped up in agitation and began pacing. “We must do something! I
will not be put out of my home twice! What else did he say?”

“Nothing more about Rhuddlan.” Olwen bent her
face to Henry’s warm head to hide the smile which had begun to
creep across it at the remembrance of Rhirid’s other words. “Only
about me. He told me not to worry, he won’t allow any harm to come
to me.” She glanced up at the other woman. “Do you remember you
told me that my abduction and Lady Teleri’s were part of a bargain
Rhirid struck with the earl of Chester? Well, Rhirid was supposed
to send me to the earl…”

“What?” Goewyn sat down with an astonished
thud. “Why?”

Olwen shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t ask. I
didn’t have much of a chance to speak, as Rhirid rambled on and
on.” But she suspected the answer had quite a bit to do with
Bronwen.

“You said,
supposed
…”

“He told me he won’t do it.” She wondered if
he would remember even half of what he told her. He had spoken so
earnestly and rampantly, almost as if he’d been afraid she would
find him tiresome and turn around and leave him, that it had been
impossible to feel anything but flattered. She could think of
nothing she had done to inspire such adulation, but she was ashamed
to admit she had enjoyed it…She shook herself. “Goewyn, you’re
right. We have to do something. Richard told me a great enmity
exists between the earl of Chester and Lord William. If the earl is
deeply involved with Rhirid, then it’s not just a petty feud
between Llanlleyn and Rhuddlan anymore—all of Gwynedd may be
concerned.”

Goewyn nodded. “We must ruin Rhirid’s plan.
But how?”

“By getting rid of the key element in
it.”

“Lady Teleri?” Goewyn cast a skeptical look
in the direction of Teleri’s screens. She whispered, “But according
to Dylan she wanted to get out of Rhuddlan so badly, she begged
Rhirid to burn it down. And she hates her husband; why would she
want to help him avoid war with Rhirid?”

“Mostly, I think, for her uncle’s sake. We
must make her see that if the king comes to Gwynedd to settle this
dispute, it might mean the prince will be forced from the throne
because he can’t control his people. Teleri wouldn’t want that to
happen.” She lowered a sleepy Henry onto her lap and fixed her
clothing. “She’s unhappy here; Llanlleyn doesn’t meet her
expectations. I think she’ll go back. The only question is how will
we get her there?”

Chapter 39

May, 1177

Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd

The two soldiers galloped up to the small
party, pulling their reins back with only inches to spare and
causing their horses to prance fitfully. “It’s there, my lord; just
over that hill,” one of them said breathlessly. “The land slopes
down into a meadow. A single structure, undefended.”

“Anybody about?” Longsword asked, pushing his
helmet down tight over his coif.

The man hesitated, darting a quick glance at
Richard Delamere’s inscrutable expression. “Several children, my
lord,” he said.

“Right,” Longsword nodded. “Let’s go.”

Delamere needed no further urging. With a
sudden dig of his spurs, he leaped forward, ahead of Longsword and
his companions.

Rhirid had committed a fatal error, Longsword
thought as he followed his friend with slightly less speed. The
Welsh chief had been lucky three times before: wounding him without
reprisal, kidnapping Gwalaes’ (would he ever be able to say her
name without his stomach twisting painfully?) child without
reprisal and, most recently, abducting his wife without reprisal,
but he’d gone one step too far when he’d taken Olwen and her sons.
Longsword had been quite prepared to give up Teleri—he’d
practically wanted to give up living, anyway—but he’d been abruptly
and violently shaken out of his doldrums when Delamere had raced
into Rhuddlan with the heart-stopping news that his manor and its
surrounding fields had been burned to the ground, his animals
slaughtered, his laborers and servants forced to flee for their
lives and his family taken away.

He had snapped to action then because at that
moment Delamere meant more to him than anybody ever had, including
Gwalaes. His lethargy evaporated and his self-pity was forgotten.
He was outraged that Rhirid had dragged an innocent party into
their feud. Delamere was out of his mind and practically
unapproachable. He’d hurtled into the fortress, hollering for a
fresh horse to be brought to him and, seeing his obvious agitation,
fitz Maurice had gotten the story out of him. Longsword was called
down and together the two men had tried to persuade Delamere from
his intended action, which was to find Rhirid, but he would not
listen to reason. No one had any idea where Rhirid was, Longsword
argued, and the woods could be littered with Welshmen just waiting
to ambush passing Normans.

Delamere had turned on him with a savage
look. “If that’s true, then it’s your doing, William! Sitting on
your backside for a week, feeling sorry for yourself and drinking
yourself into a stupor—Rhirid could very well be up to our gate
with his men, for all you’re concerned about defense!” And then the
stinger: “This never would have happened if we hadn’t stopped
fighting Llanlleyn! If you hadn’t agreed to that ill-conceived
peace!”

Longsword hadn’t anything to say to that.
There’d been nothing to do but call for his own horse and equipment
and half a dozen men and go with Delamere.

They’d found nothing but shepherds’
homesteads and seen nothing but sheep.

“He’s disappeared and we’ll never find him,”
Longsword said. “We must make him come to us. An accidental death
and he showed up on our doorstep with a contingent of advisors;
let’s find out what the Welsh fine is for deliberate murder.”

Their objective stood in the lee of a gentle
hill, on a sweep of flat, green earth. The mild but wet winter had
been kind to the land and a profusion of tiny white and purple
blossoms decorated the hillside. Longsword and his men reined in
behind Delamere, who had paused at the crest of the hill to gaze
down at the low stone building with a door but no windows and a
stable for the livestock at one end. Smoke drifted in a slow spiral
upwards from the center of the roof, a small vegetable garden,
protected by a brush wall from rooting animals, looked freshly
planted and a pair of goats grazed lazily on a small patch of grass
near the stable. Three small children played together in the bright
sunlight, their laughs and squeals reaching to the men looking down
on them.

It all happened very quickly. The sun glinted
off one man’s shield and caught the attention of the children, who
gaped up at the knights and soldiers lining the hill and then ran
shouting towards the house. A cloud passed before the sun;
Longsword raised his sword to signal the attack and the horsemen
rushed down the hillside, trampling everything in their paths.

Two men appeared in the doorway, armed only
with heavy sticks, and were immediately cut down by flashing
blades. The goats were chased and slaughtered; knights thundered
out into the pastures, whooping and shouting, and hunted down the
panicked, bleating sheep.