She allowed him to steer her into the chief’s
house. Henry’s cries, nearly lost in the hubbub outside, filled the
hall and she bent over him, trying to soothe him but knowing that
as long as she remained distressed it was a vain endeavor. In her
current state, his wailing had the effect of making her want to
howl along—as well she might after hearing Rhirid’s story.
“I can’t quiet him,” she said. “You will have
to speak loudly.”
He nodded. His face still bore the bruise,
now considerably faded, from his horse’s hoof, and there were
fresher cuts and swells caused by Richard Delamere’s fists. He
looked to her like a boy who’d done something wrong and knew he was
about to get into trouble for it. But she didn’t feel sorry for
him.
He took a deep breath. “When I came back here
and discovered that Roger of Haworth had abducted you, I nearly
lost my mind. Surely you know by now I care for you, Olwen. Much as
I wanted you back for myself, I was afraid of what the earl might
do to you. I just wanted you safe. At first, I thought I’d simply
go and humble myself before him but I wasn’t certain that would be
enough for him—or that such a move would be palatable to my
warriors. So I approached Lord William instead.”
When he paused, she said sharply, “With my
son as a hostage!”
“Not a hostage, Olwen! More like proof. I
suspected the Norman would never imagine that you’d voluntarily
allow your son to be used for my purposes. He’d immediately know I
was telling the truth about your abduction…I thought also that the
earl would be persuaded not to harm you if fellow Normans came
against him.” He shook his head. “That’s all I can tell you, Olwen.
Except that I apologize…”
His expression was so earnest that her anger
lessened, or perhaps she’d gone completely numb inside. How would
she ever be able to persuade Richard to give up little William?
Especially after that horrible fight at Hawarden…
“Are you listening, Olwen? I said I’ll send a
council group to Rhuddlan to negotiate—”
Her head snapped up. “Negotiate!”
“The Norman might not be in the mood to be
generous or fair. He might take some persuading. If we have to give
up Roger of Haworth’s ransom, so be it.”
“No, no…” she shook her head
impatiently. “
I
will go. I’m not negotiating. William is my son and belongs
with me! If you send your men, lord, Richard will dismiss them out
of hand. But he’ll talk to me.”
She thought he looked suddenly insecure, like
the young boy of a moment earlier, now nervous. “All right. I’ll
escort you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, lord,” she
said quietly.
He opened his mouth to protest but closed it
before speaking. Then he nodded.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment,
looking at each other. Olwen knew he wanted her to say something
that would ease the guilt he was feeling because he’d caused her
anguish, but she couldn’t; she was angry.
“Well…” he said at last, in a subdued voice.
“I must bathe before the feast. Will I see you there?”
“Yes, lord.”
He brightened a little at
her reply. “I
am
sorry, Olwen,” he said earnestly. “At the time, I wasn’t quite
rational. I would have done anything to get you back. And I
thought, the boy would be with his father; there’s no harm in that.
I just never thought about what might happen when it was all
over…”
She stared down into the face of the baby,
now blessedly sleeping. She didn’t know what might happen, either;
everything depended upon Richard.
Dylan ab Owain sighed contentedly as Goewyn
put all her might into her hands and rubbed his back. Since his
return, she had been the epitome of a dutiful wife, catering to his
every need—sometimes even before he was aware he had one. He hadn’t
felt this looked-after since those heady weeks following their
marriage three years earlier. He knew the reason, of course—she was
trying to expiate her guilt over the plot to send Lady Teleri to
the prince—and he also knew the special treatment wouldn’t last.
Once Llanlleyn settled into its usual routine, Goewyn would revert
to her former opinionated and busy self which would leave little
time for him. He was determined to get as much of her attention as
possible until that happened.
It was a large relief to see Olwen back
within the walls of the fortress. When Rhirid had first announced
his decision to ride to Rhuddlan to enlist the help of the Normans
to get her back from the earl of Chester, Dylan had concluded that
the chief’s head wound was much more serious than the physician had
told them. He’d tried to argue instead for an appeal directly to
the earl but Rhirid wouldn’t listen. Rhirid believed he had no
leverage with the earl; that Chester had kidnapped Olwen from under
his nose to prove his might and collect the debt he’d been supposed
to pay, and was now an enemy greater than Longsword.
Dylan had been doubtful that Rhirid could
convince his adversary at Rhuddlan to fight against his own
countryman but he’d gone with him anyway, after giving Goewyn a
sincere farewell, certain he wouldn’t see her again, certain the
Normans would either attack them once they were within sight of the
castle or invite them in and then close the gate behind them and
slaughter every last man. All of Rhirid’s warriors had believed the
same but they’d followed him without remark because they were loyal
and because they didn’t mind finally meeting the Normans in
combat.
Dylan sighed again. “I thought you’d fallen
asleep,” Goewyn said to him.
“Just a little more around the neck, please,”
he mumbled into his pillow.
“How long will Olwen be at Rhuddlan?” she
asked, kneading the muscles on the sides of his neck.
He mumbled that he didn’t know.
There was a short silence. Then Goewyn said,
“I don’t understand why the Norman can’t come here to meet Olwen.
What if he grabs her when she’s inside and kills her escort?”
“Then I’ll go there and
kill
him
.” He
rolled slowly onto his back and looked at her with half-closed
eyes. “The Norman never mentioned to Olwen that their son was at
Rhuddlan. Don’t you see? He’s forcing her to go to him. What does
that tell you? He’s afraid. He thinks she doesn’t want him but he
knows she wants her son. He thinks if he’d allowed us to retrieve
the boy and bring him back to Llanlleyn, he’d never see Olwen
again.” He made a face. “What good Welshwoman wants to live in some
foreigner’s castle, listening to that foreign gibberish all
day?”
“Lady Teleri does it…”
He laughed. “Oh, that explains why she was so
eager to leave when I burst into her chamber.”
“Yes, but then she went back again. I’m
worried, Dylan. What if Olwen wants to stay?”
He shrugged. It didn’t matter to him if the
woman decided to stay. Rhirid would have to get over it; it would
be a good dose of reality. Dylan had learned over the years that
women had their own schemes and expectations regarding marriage and
husbands figured rather weakly in the formula. He had learned that
marriage for women had less to do with the men involved than with
the tangibles those men could provide, from possessions to status
to children. He had learned to take advantage of the days when he
was in favor and to disappear on those he was not. Perhaps it was
best that Rhirid get the disappointment over with before it
actually came to marriage itself.
Still, Dylan knew better than to tell Goewyn
to leave the matter alone. He looked innocently into her face and
answered quite solemnly, “In that case, my dear, you’d better start
casting about for another candidate.”
Chapter 47
June, 1177
Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd
Richard Delamere shook out the cloak he’d
used for a blanket and secured it to the back of his saddle. There
was half a bucket of water left from last afternoon and he splashed
some over his face and dumped the rest onto the smoldering coals of
his fire. He stared for a moment at the bucket in his hand; it had
looked eerie when he’d first seen it, standing upright on the
ground near the charred remains of his barn. Near the burned
remains of the house. Near the scorched earth that had been his
fields. It had looked strange, perfectly untouched and positioned
as if someone had just set it down, in the midst of the blackened
ruins of his manor.
He was alone. The first time he’d seen this
horror, the day he’d gone to fetch Olwen and the boys back to
Rhuddlan only to find Rhirid had gotten to them first, one of the
laborers and two of Olwen’s serving women had been there to tell
him what had happened. Now he and his horse were the only living
creatures in the area and the bucket the only whole and undamaged
object within sight.
In the solemn afternoon peace and the waning
light of the evening which followed, the anger he’d experienced
upon arrival had been replaced with deepening melancholy. There was
so much to do, but was there anyone to do it for? The site looked
unfamiliar, not because of the ruins but because Olwen wasn’t
there. For almost three months, his hatred of Rhirid had been a
violent one; now it was desperate. The Welshman had destroyed his
land and seized his family; he had everything and Delamere had been
left with nothing. It was all the more obvious as he surveyed his
former home…
But the clean, clear light
of the morning had brought hope with it. Delamere had poked a
little more among the devastation and decided he could
rebuild.
Would
rebuild. After all, what had been standing on that piece of
land before his arrival? Just some cottar’s dwelling which he’d had
to tear down anyway in order to raise his manor house. As he
saddled his horse, he devised a timetable for the work to be done;
he figured how many men he’d need to ask Longsword to lend him. As
he stowed his cloak, he considered larger dimensions, a separate
room for the children, a solar for Olwen…As he rode back to
Rhuddlan, he glanced back once to fix the exact position of the
wall in his head…
By the time he reached the fortress, he was
in a fine mood. His mind was full of ways to make the manor a place
of which Olwen would be proud to be mistress. Warmed by the sun and
buoyed by his plans, he started to believe he would win her again.
After all, his recommendations were numerous. Rhirid was an
insignificant chief while he was the right-hand man to Prince
Dafydd’s nephew-in-law. His property probably rivalled Rhirid’s
entire holding in size, yet supported far fewer people which made
him the wealthier man. And he was a Norman; his king was, for all
intents and purposes, the overlord of Wales, despite Welsh opinion.
To Delamere’s way of thinking, Olwen would have to be a fool not to
admit to the advantages of being his wife.
He had decided he would marry her.
The gate was open; he called up a greeting
and lifted a hand in salute as he trotted through. His stomach
rumbled and he hoped he wasn’t too late for the midday meal. Sweat
dribbled down the side of his head—
He saw her immediately and pulled up on the
reins. She was standing in the very center of the ward with several
Welshmen around her. Teleri was at her side. Beyond them were
Longsword, fitz Maurice and perhaps a dozen others; he wasn’t
certain, he didn’t count them. He was vaguely surprised that he
noticed anyone else at all.
Cynan, the stablemaster’s son, raced up with
the energetic enthusiasm of a ten-year-old to take his horse and he
tossed him the reins and dismounted without even looking at him. He
didn’t dare take his eyes from Olwen in case she disappeared as
unexpectedly as she had appeared. He walked towards her, pulling
off his gloves and tucking them into his sword belt, running a hand
through his sweat-dampened hair and absently wishing he had shaved,
all the while watching her. And she watched him as well.
When there was less than two arms’ length
between them, he stopped. He couldn’t read her expression and that
made him uneasy. They’d always known what each other was thinking
just from his or her face; it had practically been their only form
of communication in the first months of their relationship.
Perhaps her face seemed shuttered because one
of her eyes was black and blue. It had merely been swollen by the
time she’d revived and been swept off by Rhirid and his men and he
was ashamed to see how horrible it had become…because of him.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked abruptly, in a
soft voice.
She frowned as if puzzled, winced and
realized what he meant. “Only when I do that,” she said. “I can’t
be too angry, at least for a few more days.” The absurdity of her
statement made her smile.
He smiled as well. “I’m sorry, Olwen—”
Her cheerfulness vanished instantly. “Please,
Richard; I’m not here for apologies or regrets.” There was a slight
tremble in her voice although her gaze was steady. “I’m here for
William.”
“William…”
“Yes.” She added, “You might have told me he
was here when we were at Hawarden.”
He thought her tone accusing
and was offended. “
I
might have? What about Rhirid ap Maelgwn? After all, he was
the one who brought William to me.”
“I’ve already spoken with Lord Rhirid,
Richard. Can we please leave him out of this?”
“I wanted to leave him out of it back at
Hawarden but you refused to speak with me then and he put his nose
where it didn’t belong!” he snapped. He looked at the men around
them. “Where is he, anyway? Where’s his big bodyguard?”
“He isn’t here,” she said. “I thought it best
to see you alone—”
“Why is that? Because now I’ve got something
you want? You had no time for me at Hawarden because he made you
believe both our sons were waiting for you at Llanlleyn. Am I not
correct? But now that you know the truth, you’re more agreeable. I
don’t think you’re being fair, Olwen!”