Castle of Dreams (38 page)

“But that was two years ago, when I was
Isabel’s maid. The promise ended when I left Afoncaer. It doesn’t
count now,” she said. Even as she spoke, she marveled that he
included her in the decision as an equal partner. He was master
here at Afoncaer, he could simply command her, but he had not done
that. It was more proof of his real affection for her, and she
cherished it.

“We will agree on this, my … Meredith.” He
was so serious, his blue eyes so full of concern, that she bowed
her head.

“Could we just stay together tonight?” she
asked. Seeing he was about to refuse, she added hastily, “The night
is half spent already, and everyone will notice should I stumble or
bump into something while creeping into the women’s quarters in the
dark. I’m sure I would. I can be awfully clumsy at times.”

“Meredith, sweet.” He sighed, between
laughter and anger, and relented, pulling her back into his
embrace. “Only tonight. That is all. I insist.”

“I agree, my lord. My dear lord. My
dearest.”

“Joan tells me,” Branwen said when her niece
hurried into the great hall just as the morning meal was beginning,
“That you were not on your pallet in the women’s quarters last
night.”

“No.” Meredith could feel herself blushing.
There was no excuse to be made. Joan must also have told Branwen of
the errand on which Meredith had been sent and from which she had
not returned. Branwen knew that she had spent the night with Guy,
and was probably going to scold her for it. Meredith was not the
least bit ashamed. She was about to tell Branwen just that when a
thought struck her. “What do you mean, Joan told you? Where were
you last night that you could not see for yourself?”

Branwen did not answer, but her dark eyes
were dancing with laughter and the scolding never came. At that
moment Brian came in the door and looked around the hall until his
gaze lighted on Branwen. He started toward them.

Branwen moved to one of the tables and began
to slice brown bread for Brian, who came to stand so close beside
her that they were nearly touching. There was an aura about the
two, a softness that enclosed them in a private world, even in the
center of Afoncaer’s busy great hall. No one, seeing them, could
possibly doubt their feelings for each other.

The tender and humorous mood of that morning
did not last long. The infrequent letters coming from Reynaud over
the next few days all said the same thing: the negotiations with
Walter were proceeding slowly. They must be patient.

“I suspect Father Herbert is reading
Reynaud’s letters before they leave Tynant, and Reynaud knows it,”
Brian said one night. “Why else would he give us no more
information? He hasn’t even mentioned Thomas.”

“We can only trust to Reynaud’s good sense,”
Guy replied. “He will do all he can.”

The days of waiting passed with tortuous
slowness. Guy kept carefully away from Meredith, scrupulously
observing their agreement not to be alone together. He looked
haggard, and she saw that he ate almost nothing. The waiting was
telling on him, on them all. Just when everyone’s nerves were
stretched nearly to breaking, Reynaud returned.

“Walter will not negotiate,” he announced,
dropping onto a bench near the fire. He was pale and his eyes were
ringed with dark circles. Meredith, taking pity on him, ran to find
food. She set ale, cold sliced meat, cheese, and some bread before
him, receiving his distracted, startled thanks in return.

“I am sorry my letters gave the impression we
were talking seriously, my lord, but it seemed best to send you
noncommittal notes and wait until I could see you in person to tell
you the truth.

“I have tried every means of persuasion I
know,” Reynaud went on. “Walter played with me, promising to
consider my propositions, telling me to remain at Tÿnant while he
did so, then days later saying no. I think the tactic was meant to
torment you, by making you wait so long, and thus assure that you
will grow impatient and accede to his demands in order to end the
uncertainty. He refuses to change his original terms. He offers
Thomas’s life in exchange for Afoncaer. He will consider nothing
else.”

“Surely,” Meredith broke in, “Lady Isabel
will use her influence with Sir Walter to protect her son.”

Reynaud gave her a long, hard look, then took
in Branwen’s presence as well.

“I thought you would return to Afoncaer,
Meredith,” he said.

“I could not stay away with Thomas in such
danger,” she replied, blushing a little. “Won’t Lady Isabel protect
Thomas?” she asked then, returning to her original question. She
felt a chill along her spine as Reynaud laughed.

“It was at Lady Isabel’s instigation that Sir
Walter devised this infamous plan of his,” Reynaud told her. “She
is determined that Walter shall be Baron of Afoncaer, and herself
its lady.”

“Even at the cost of her son’s life.” This
was Guy, his face set in stone. Meredith could imagine the pain he
was feeling, and her heart went out to him in love and pity. “So
now we know for a fact that this was Isabel’s doing,” Guy
added.

“The Lady Isabel believes you will save
Thomas,” Reynaud said to Guy. “She is delighted to have this sharp
needle of an unhappy decision to prick you with, and she is
completely certain that after suffering much pain over your choice,
you will give up Afoncaer for Thomas’s sake.”

“I cannot. God help me, I cannot.” Guy’s
voice broke. With obvious great effort he controlled himself. He
moved to the door, speaking over his shoulder as he did so, in a
way that kept his face hidden, “I am going to the chapel.”

“Shall I come with you, my lord?” asked
Reynaud, making as if to rise.

“No, my friend. You are weary from your ride
and from that hopeless embassy I sent you on. Rest there.”
Gesturing for Reynaud to remain seated, Guy went out the door.

Meredith, filled with anguish for both Guy
and Thomas, would have followed him to offer what comfort he would
allow from her, but Branwen’s hand on her arm stopped her. Branwen
pulled Meredith back toward the fire, where Reynaud still sat with
Brian nearby.

“It seems to me,” Branwen said to Reynaud,
“That the only sensible thing to do, the only way to help Thomas,
is to secretly remove him from his mother’s care.”

“Lady, if you can find a way to do that I’ll
not hesitate to call it a miracle,” Reynaud responded. Then he
looked more closely at Branwen. “I think by your face that you have
an idea. Tell it to me at once.”

Branwen glanced around the hall before
replying, to assure herself that her words would not be overheard.
All of the men had gone back to their various chores and duties
after the midday meal, and Joan had shooed the female servants into
the kitchen or the women’s quarters, then had disappeared herself.
Reynaud, Brian, Branwen, and Meredith were the only ones remaining
in the great hall. Branwen sat on a bench facing Reynaud and pulled
Meredith down beside her.

“I have not so much an idea as information,”
she said. “I will tell you a story, on condition that you do not
repeat my tale to anyone. I know I can trust Meredith and Brian to
keep silence. Have I your promise, Reynaud?”

“You have,” he said without hesitation. “Tell
me your story.”

“My grandfather ruled the old Welsh fortress
that stood on this spot before the first Normans came. I have
always hated the Normans,” Branwen said. “They killed my family,
and because of them I had to flee Afoncaer and hide in England,
living like a villein, in fear of my life.

“Meredith is the child of a Norman baron’s
lust, more reason for me to despise such people. Her father cared
nothing for her or he would not have left her unacknowledged, to be
raised for twelve years by villeins. But lately I have learned not
all Normans are murderers or rapists. Thomas was the first. He was
kind-hearted and he loved Rhys and treated Meredith and me with
respect. Lord Guy deals fairly with the people he rules. I have
heard kind words spoken of you, Master Reynaud, that you have tried
to learn of our old ways without judging us, and have even learned
to speak a few words of Welsh. And there is Brian – Sir Brian, I
mean.” Branwen stopped, blushing.

“And what,” asked Reynaud softly, “has all of
this to do with saving Thomas?”

“Walter fitz Alan,” Branwen nearly spat out
the name, “That same Walter who is responsible for the death of my
friend and cousin Rhys ap Daffydd, holds Thomas in his manor house
at Tynant, a half-day’s journey from here.”

“And?” Reynaud waited patiently to hear what
Branwen would say next.

“I know that place well. When I was a child,
before the Normans came to Afoncaer, Tynant belonged to my father’s
younger sister. I lived there for more than a year and with my
cousins played there and ran wild through the hills and forests
surrounding it.”

“It must be much changed now, from the house
you knew,” Reynaud said. “There is a Norman structure recently
added to the old dwelling. Being a builder myself, I noticed how
secure and easily defended the entire manor is, and how well
manned. Sir Walter will take no chances with his hostage. If you
are thinking of entering in some disguise to find Thomas, I am
certain it would be impossible. The gates are too well
guarded.”

“There is a secret entrance into the storage
cellar,” Branwen said.

“What?” Reynaud sat forward on the bench,
staring at her.

“Is this true?” Brian exclaimed. “Branwen,
why haven’t you said anything before this?”

“Because I hoped Reynaud would convince Sir
Walter to let Thomas go,” Branwen said. “But after what Reynaud has
told us today, I believe Sir Walter will never free Thomas. I will
do anything I can to help rescue that boy and bring Sir Walter to
justice.”

“This is wonderful.” Brian stood up, striding
about the hall in barely contained excitement. “We can lead a group
of armed men through this secret entrance into the manor house,
overpower the guards, and bring Thomas out of there. And we will
also bring Walter and his bitch of a wife back to Afoncaer in
chains. I’ll go to the chapel and tell Guy right now.” He started
for the door.

“No, wait a bit, Brian,” Reynaud cautioned.
“You are too much the soldier. If you and your men were discovered
in his house, the first thing Walter would do would be kill Thomas.
We must think of a more subtle way.”

Brian, his hand already on the door handle,
stopped, thinking.

“You are right,” he said, coming back to the
fire. “I am not a man of great wits, Reynaud, but you are. How
could we best use this information of Branwen’s?”

Meredith had sat silently while her aunt
spoke, holding Branwen’s hand tightly and doubting not one word.
Everything Branwen said fit with the little Meredith already knew
of her aunt’s history. Now an idea was forming in her mind. She and
Branwen had always worked well together. She knew Branwen would
agree. All she had to do was convince Brian and Reynaud and Guy,
when he heard of it.

“Men-at-arms may be suspect,” Meredith said,
“but serving women are not, not even in a storage cellar. The Lady
Isabel has surely added many new servants to that household since
her marriage. Two more will not cause suspicion.”

Branwen squeezed her hand more tightly than
before, and Meredith knew her aunt had understood her intent.

“Yes,” Branwen said. “I will go with you
gladly.”

“Oh, no,” Brian’s wits were sharper than he
believed, for he had understood, too. “It’s much too dangerous for
a woman. I won’t allow either of you to risk your lives, and
neither will Guy.”

“We won’t tell Sir Guy,” Reynaud said. “In
fact, it is essential that he not know. Only the four of us will
know what is really happening. If I perceive your plan correctly,
Meredith, you and your aunt will enter Walter’s manor house by the
secret way. Posing as servants, you will find Thomas and release
him. Then the three of you will leave the way you came.”

“And Walter will discover them and kill all
three,” Brian exclaimed.

“Not if you are distracting him, Sir Brian.”
Reynaud smiled, apparently enjoying the devising of this plot. “I
have failed at negotiations with Sir Walter, but you are an old
friend to both him and our own baron. What more natural than that
Sir Guy should send you to Walter to make one more attempt to
convince him to release Thomas?”

“So I, and the men I take with me, will be
inside the manor house when the rescue attempt is made?” Brian
nodded, more enthusiastic now. “That is a good idea, Reynaud. That
way we could help Branwen and Meredith if they should be
recognized. You are a clever man, Master Fox.”

“You will be disarmed before you are admitted
to the house. My men were,” Reynaud warned.

“That won’t stop me from picking up and using
another man’s sword if necessary.” Brian grinned in anticipation.
“I’d like to meet Walter with a sword in my hand.”

Meredith felt Branwen shudder beside her.

“Brian, you could be killed,” Branwen
said.

“So could you, my love. Will that stop you
from trying to help Thomas?”

“No.”

“Nor me. And after Thomas is free and Walter
is punished as he deserves,” Brian grinned again, “I can ask Guy
for a reward of land. Then I shall have to find your nearest male
kin, my brave lady, and ask him an important question.”

“I have no kin left, Brian. Rhys was the last
of my family, save Meredith.”

“Then I’ll ask you directly, and pray you say
yes. But first we’ll carry out our little plan.”

“Your chief problem,” Reynaud said to
Branwen, “will be to find Thomas. I was permitted to see him only
once while I was at Tÿnant. It was in the great hall and we did not
have time to exchange more than a word or two. I could not discover
where he is being kept. All the servants are afraid of Sir Walter
and would not talk to me.”