Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (30 page)

Gwen’s heart warmed.  “That was very honorable of you, to take care of your mother and sister.”  Then she frowned and gazed at him startled.  “Eight years ago...But that would make you...eighteen now?”

“My size and strength merely give the illusion of age.  I will turn eighteen next month.”

Mutterings of surprise sounded around them.  Indeed, Brynmor appeared as a man fully grown.  Mary have mercy, when he did reach a score of years, he would be even more impressive.

“But you don’t understand my point, lady,” he said, his blue-green eyes locking her in place.  “I am a son of a freeman, not of noble blood.  We were nothing more than a poor peasant family.  And, as you know, the harvest of 1257 was a disaster.  By the time of the next summer, we were in the midst of famine.” 

Brynmor rubbed his eyes, his gaze taking a distant stare.  “Although I was big and strong for my age,” he whispered softly.  “I could not plow a full field yet.  But that did not stop me.  I plowed until my hands were torn and bloody, despite my work, the earth did not bear fruit.”

Impulsively, Gwen gripped his hand and turned it over.  Clearly she saw the scars and calluses on his palm.  She shivered, remembering the terrible starvation that year.  Many had died.

“It was the devil’s choice.  If I ate, my family went without, but if I did not eat, I grew too weak to work.  I gave all the food I could to my mother but hunger caused me to drop in the fields.  While I recovered, my mother’s milk dried up, I watched helplessly as my baby sister fell ill and eventually died.”

“Oh, Brynmor, I’m so sorry.”

“God took my sister from me...but when I discovered I had a sister through Powys, and he was trying to kill her, I could not abide it.  You may not be my sister by blood, but you are my sister by law and I refuse to question the gifts the Almighty has granted me.”

Gwen’s fingers tightened on his.  She noticed the hall had fallen silent, the people of Montgomery completely entranced with his tale.

“I was furious when I learned the truth.  Powys was already pushing his luck by treating my mother disrespectfully.  Plus, when I became his son, he had started my knightly training.  I...had an advantage.”

“Advantage?”

“Freemen can learn to bear arms if they have the money to pay for the teacher.  I was fortunate that a man in my father’s village once squired to be a knight.  He never became one, unable to afford the knighting expenses or get a sponsor.  But he learned and was one of the best swordsmen this land has ever seen.  He taught me so perhaps I could earn my way through battle and buy my knighthood.”  Brynmor paused and shrugged.  “I don’t know if it would have
worked, but I was determined to do something to get my family out of poverty.  So, I learned.  Between farming and training, I grew strong.”  He glanced down at his fist.

Gwen gazed at him in surprise.  But it made sense.  Farming was backbreaking labor.  Add to that training with a sword.  No wonder the young man was so strong.

“Powys never imagined the advantage he gave me.  I got the truth from him about you and was so enraged, I killed him.  Now, I cast myself on your mercy.”

Gwen rolled her eyes at him.  “Mercy?  I can only thank you for what you have done.”

A grin escaped him although he fought to cover it.  “I had a feeling you were made of sterner stuff.”

“But how did you learn of Rose?  Aside from me, that is.”

Brynmor’s humor vanished.  “Your father begged and groveled for his life.  Within his blather I learned about you, and he mentioned he had hired the same mercenary who stole young Rose from Montgomery.  Before I killed him, I demanded what he knew of this abduction through his association.  When I learned Montgomery’s young daughter was being used against him...I could not bear it.  My sister would have been close to her same age.  Powys told me where to find the mercenaries.  I found you and learned of the earl’s desperate search.”  He glanced at Lucais and smiled.  “After I left Gwen with you, I even worked with the Templars a bit.”

Lucais spluttered, his eyes wide.  “You what?”

Brynmor chuckled.  “I managed to find Rose then stole her away a sennight ago.”

“A sennight?” Gwen asked in shock.

“Aye.  My knightly skills were sorely tested.”

Rose gazed up at him with adoring eyes.  “Bryn saved my life.”

He winked at her.  “She is a courageous girl.”   

“So what are your plans now, Brynmor?”

“Give you your inheritance and take my mother home to the farm.”

Gwen spluttered, instantly angry.  “You shall do no such thing.”

Brynmor blinked at her, stunned.  “What mean you, lady?”

She sighed, trying to control her rioting emotions.  “Brynmor, you don’t understand.  I don’t want Powys.  I have never wanted it.”

He stared at her as if she had grown a second head before his eyes.  Gwen ruefully noted Marcus and Lucais also gazed at her with shocked expressions.

Gwen sighed, wishing she could explain her reasons.  “I hated my life there, Brynmor, I do not want Powys.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.  “But lady, surely you need a dowry if you are to marry,” he inclined his head, acknowledging her state.  “’Tis one thing for a free-woman to have a babe out of wedlock, far different for one of noble blood.”

Fear stabbed through her.  Brynmor was right, only with her dowry could she have a chance to equal Talon in rank in hopes of a marriage.  But she shook her head stubbornly.  “The earl already knows I am worthless.”  She nearly choked on the word.  “I do not understand...why would you just give me back my inheritance?  You need it as much as I.”

“I am happy as a freeman, lady.  And you are my sister.  I will not steal from family.”

She gazed at him a long moment, her mind working furiously.  He was honest, his pride and honor ran deeply within him. 
Family
.
  She had a brother again.  A bitter pang swept through her.  She missed her older brother terribly.  Unlike their father, he had been kind to her, especially after their mother died when she was six.

“Wait,” she whispered, an idea sparking.  “I miss having a brother too.  Did you know how close I was with Bran?”

“The servants told me.”

Bran had raven hair too, but cut shorter, curling over his collar.  His eyes had been a combination of green and blue that had made the ladies fair swoon over him.  Both she and her brother had followed the dark beauty of their mother.  Pain stabbed her heart.  Why did he have to die?  Her fingers tightened and she abruptly realized she was still holding Brynmor’s hand, his fingers squeezing hers in return.

“You are right, Brynmor, you are my brother now.  I have no want or need of Powys.”

“But you do need it, lady.  And with your father gone, you are no longer in danger there.”

She shook her head harshly.  “The danger remains, Brynmor.  My father has many men very loyal to him, who would remain so even in death.  If I returned, I would surely find poison in my cup and the men parceling out the land after my demise.  But you...do they know you slew my father?”

“Nay.  I made certain he was alone.  They may suspect because I disappeared right after to find Rose.”

“As far as they know, you are still their lord then.”

“Aye,” he scowled, watching her closely.

“I dare not go back.  But you...these men would not be likely to challenge you, fearing your wrath.”

“What mean you lady?”

“Manage the lands in my stead, Brynmor.”

He stared at her, his jaw slack.  “Lady?”

Marcus and Lucais both chuckled, looking at each other knowingly.  “I told you she had a plan,” Marcus said to Lucais.  “I have learned to recognize that spark in her eyes.”

Brynmor turned his head and blinked owlishly.  “I do not understand.”

“She doesn’t want the land, son,” Marcus said.  “Can’t say that I blame her.  It would be dangerous for her to return.  But she needs an ally to protect her interests, and that would be you.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“What you have done thus far speaks greatly of your heart, Brynmor.  I have decided.  My brother will govern the land in my stead.”

Rose clapped her hands in delight.  “That’s wonderful, Bryn, you will be a constable just like Marcus.”

“Aye, son,” Marcus said nodding.  “It is an important duty.”

“But I know nothing about being a constable or steward.”

“You have received training when you were to be heir, it is no different, Brynmor,” Gwen said.

He scowled, staring at his cup again.

“And as my brother, you deserve to have some land parceled out for yourself.”  Gwen nodded, enjoying her idea more and more.  “You and your mother will want for nothing and I will have someone I trust managing the lands.”

“Are...are you certain of this?” Brynmor asked, a spark of warmth coming to his eyes.  Gwen noticed with that spark, his eyes seemed to turn more of a bluish-green, just like Bran’s.  Her throat tightened.

“Aye, Brynmor, I am certain.”  She looked at Marcus.  “Will you help us draw up the writ?”

“Of course, lady, I should be most happy to do so.”

“Then it is settled.  My brother will manage Powys.”

“That’s wonderful,” Rose cried, hugging Brynmor’s arm.  “You will be close by and I’ll get to see you again.”

Brynmor’s lips tugged upward.  “Steward of Powys.  The proposition is attractive.”

“Actually, as my brother, you are still considered an Earl, Brynmor.”

His brows flew up his forehead.  “And you do not mind that I am not of noble blood?”

“Of course not.  You have already proven your nobility.  Now, let us prepare for dinner.  Marcus can help us with the writ tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Marcus said.

“Rose,” Gwen said thoughtfully.  “Would you like to get cleaned up?”

The little girl nodded vigorously.

Gwen rose and held out her hand.  “How about if I help you?”

She nodded again and surprised Brynmor with a kiss on the cheek then hurried to Gwen.  “Lady Gwen,” she whispered.  “We have much to talk about.”

Gwen laughed.  “That we do, Rose.”  They left the men in the hall and ascended the stairs.

Mince bounded toward Gwen and yapping happily.

In the months that had passed, Mince grew surprisingly fast, already his back equal to Gwen’s knee.  But his head and paws were still too large for his body.  Gwen sometimes wondered how he could keep his rear in counterbalance with his head.  His ears also started to stand up, well, at least one did.  Sticking straight into the air, a perfect triangle.  The other refused to stand properly, flopping over at the tip and when Mince panted, it gave him a ridiculous but absolutely adorable expression.  His coat grew thick with a heavy undercoat, deep enough for Gwen to sink her fingers into, not slick like a mastiff’s. 

Mince saw Rose and immediately sat before her, cocking his head, one ear upright, the other flopped over, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.  He lifted his paw and waved at her as he had done with Gwen so many times wanting to play.

“Whose puppy?” Rose asked immediately entranced.

“Mine.  His name is Mince, would you like to pet him?”

She stepped forward, offering her hand to smell.  Mince did so then wagged his tail, raising his paw again.  Rose petted his head then scratched behind his ears.  She laughed as Mince immediately leaned closer.

“You have a friend for life,” Gwen said.

“I’m surprised.  Papa never liked mongrels.  All of his dogs have to be purebreds.”

Gwen stifled a giggle.  “Mince and I made him see the error of his ways.”

Gwen called
for a servant to bring a bath to Rose’s room.  Cook joyously offered to make a meal with all of Rose’s favorite foods but Gwen shook her head.  “I’m sorry, but those rich foods might make her stomach cramp.  We need soup, milk and bread.”

Rose gazed up at her.  “May I please have fresh bread with honey at
least?”

“If your stomach does well with the soup and milk, you may have bread with honey.”

She flashed a smile that left Gwen blinking in shock.  That smile was the epitome of her father’s bright grin.  They went above-stairs, with Mince trotting behind.  In Rose’s room, they waited for the servants to finish drawing the bath.  Rose immediately approached her castle and sighed in relief when she saw it safe and sound.

“’Tis a beautiful castle, Rose.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes bright.  “My papa gave it to me.”

“So I’ve heard.”

The servants finished toting the bath.  “Rose,” Gwen said softly.  “Do you want me to leave while you bathe?” she was uncertain on how to handle the situation.  If the child had been abused in any way, they needed to know, but Gwen had no desire to make her feel trapped.

Rose thought for a long moment,
and then shook her head.  “I need help washing my hair.  Papa will be upset if I have to cut these tangles out.”

“I don’t think your papa will be upset about anything once he finds out you are home.”