A Memory of Love

Chapter 13

Rhonwyn looked down upon Nilak. The older woman slept hard, snoring softly in her drugged slumber. Reaching out, Rhonwyn gently touched the woman's head in tender farewell. Nilak had been so good to her. "Don't put her to minding the children,'' she said softly to Baba Haroun. "She hated it."

"I shall place her in the household of Prince Mohammed's favorite. The girl is sweet natured but has no older woman to properly guide her. Nilak should do quite admirably," he concluded wryly. "Come now. We haven't much time, my lady Noor. The evidence of your demise has already been placed below your terrace. I am grieved you had to cut your hair, but it will grow back." He led her from her quarters through the dimly lit corridors of the palace.

To her surprise they passed no one, not even the guards. "I want Sir Fulk," Rhonwyn said suddenly.

"He will surely expose the life you have lived here," the chief eunuch said.

"Even so, I cannot in good conscience leave him behind," she replied. "Besides, I intend to tell my husband everything."

"He will either not believe you or spurn you, Noor, but as your heart is good, I anticipated your request. The knight awaits you with your brother and his two men."

"How are we to leave Cinnebar?" she asked.

"You are joining a caravan headed for the coast," Baba Haroun told her. "You will be at Carthage in a week. From there you are on your own, but you will manage quite well, I suspect." He stopped suddenly and began counting the tiles upon the wall. Then he pressed against one and a door sprang open in the wall. "The passage is straight," Baba Haroun said. "It is just a few feet. Come, I must light your way." He disappeared into the dark passage, and she followed, starting as the door closed behind her. Within a minute or two, however, another door opened ahead of her. She could see several dark figures. She hesitated, and then she heard Glynn's voice.

"Rhonwyn, hurry!"

She turned to face the chief eunuch. "Thank you," she said simply, and then moved past him to join the others.

"Go with Allah, she heard him say, and then the door closed again behind her.

"Come on!" Glynn said. He took her hand, and they hurried off.

"Where are we?" she demanded of him.

"A back alley outside the palace walls," he said low. "Now be silent, sister, else the guards on the heights hear us."

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

"To our lodging to complete your disguise," he told her, and then she was quiet.

They finally reached a small house, entering it quickly so as not to be seen by any in the street. Rhonwyn flung off her cloak and hugged her brother first, then Oth and Dewi. She turned to Sir Fulk, who appeared to be in remarkably good health.

"You were not mistreated?" she queried him.

"Nay, my lady. I was set to instructing the young prince in the arts of war. I am treated very well. I have even learned enough of their tongue-twisting language to get by quite nicely. I am grateful for your help, but I don't want to come with you."

"What?" Rhonwyn was very surprised. "Why on earth not, Fulk?"

"In Cinnebar, my lady, I hold a position of importance as the heir's military instructor. I am a younger son and can never hope to attain such worth or influence in England as I have here. The caliph's son likes me, and I like him. We are not so far apart in age. I am his senior by only six years. I believe I shall have greater chance for advancement here in Cinnebar than if I go home to England. My parents are both dead, and I have but two elder brothers. There is no lass who waits for me. I came with you tonight because Baba Haroun said you would not believe him if he told you these things. He did try to dissuade you from taking me, didn't he? But you, he said, would insist. He likes your sense of duty and loyalty."

"But how will you get back into the palace, Fulk? You are a slave as I was," Rhonwyn said in a worried tone.

"The young prince freed me months ago," Fulk explained. "He said a slave should not be teaching him the things he needed to know. I can come and go in and out of the palace with impunity, my lady."

"What am I to tell your brothers?" Rhonwyn asked him.

"That I died bravely defending you, my lady," Fulk said with a small smile. "The truth, we both know, would but bring them shame. That a brother who went so nobly off on crusade to free the Holy Land from the infidel, but then joined the infidel, would be more than they could bear or understand. But I must do what is best for me. Here in Cinnebar I can practice my own faith without fear of reprisal, which is more than any Jew or man of Islam can do in England. I wish you Godspeed, my lady." The young knight bowed to her as he kissed her hand. Then he turned and departed the chamber.

"At least my conscience is clear," said Rhonwyn slowly. She turned to her brother. "Where is Edward?"

"I saw him last in Acre," Glynn responded, "but there is something I must tell you, Rhonwyn. Edward truly believes you are dead. He is preparing to marry his cousin Katherine de Beaulieu when he returns to England."

"Then we must get to Acre quickly," she replied.

"Nay," Glynn said. "We must return to England so that you will be at Haven awaiting your husband when he returns. The lady Katherine is a sweet woman, but her brother, Rafe, is a hard man. They must be dispossessed and returned to their own manor. You are perfectly capable of husbanding Haven until Edward returns to England."

"And just how am I to force Rafe to give up his hold on Haven?" she demanded of her brother.

"Our tad will aid you if you ask him, sister. This is no time to be over-proud, Rhonwyn," Glynn said bluntly.

"Better we go to Acre so Edward sees me and does not believe it is a hoax played upon him," Rhonwyn said.

"Nay! For once, sister, do what is asked of you and do not be willful. This is what has gotten you into difficulties all along, doing what you wanted instead of what was right and expected of you. Edward is angry that you dashed into a battle. He is angry that you were captured and lost him one of his knights. He will believe nothing of you but the absolute truth, but I fear his angerwhen he learns you have known another man. It will take every bit of your strength and knowledge to convince him that he should not disown you," Glynn told her earnestly.

"I love him," Rhonwyn said as if her love could solve the problem. "I know he loves me." But having heard what her brother reported, she was now not so certain of her husband's love. How could he have given her up for lost so easily and made plans to marry Katherine de Beaulieu? She was confused as to what to do, and then Oth spoke up.

"Better you be at home awaiting him like the wife he wants you to be than suddenly appearing before him in Acre, lady."

"Are you certain it would not be better for us to go to Acre, Glynn?"

Glynn nodded his dark head. "We must go to England as quickly as we can, sister," he told her firmly. "Now, you need to get ready to travel. Our caravan leaves at first light. There on the shelf is a bowl, a rag, and two pitchers. The large pitcher contains a dye for your skin. You must cover your entire body with it. Our host's daughter will do your back for you, but you will dye your hair black with the contents of the smaller pitcher. Your clothing is laid out on the chair. Pantaloons, a shirt, a vest, and boots. You already have your cloak. Be careful with it, and do not lose it. Baba Haroun has sewn a cache of gold coins in a secret pocket for you."

"Why must I be totally dyed?" she demanded, sniffing at the pitcher. "The stuff smells foul."

"It won't once it's on. You are too fair, Rhonwyn. You have not the look of a young man used to the outdoors, and you must. If your pant leg rode up and your white skin were seen, or if you squatted to pee and your bare white bottom were visible, it would give the game away. I know it must be difficult taking orders from your little brother, but please, for all our sakes, do it! Dye your hair first so the girl who helps you afterward does not know your hair's true color. It is for her safety," Glynn concluded.

They left her. Rhonwyn sighed. She had cut her hair so that it now bobbed at the level of her chin. Hopefully it would grow quickly, and by the time Edward returned home it would be a respectable length once again. Rhonwyn stripped naked, and finding the pitcher of black dye behind the larger pitcher, she poured it into the basin, mixing it with a tiny bit of water, and then dipped her head, her fingers moving rapidly through her scalp to completely cover her tresses. She then rinsed her hair with clear water and hoped the transformation was complete, for she had no glass or metal mirror in which to check her efforts. She quickly began rubbing the brownish dye from the larger pitcher into her skin. When only her shoulders and back remained white, she called out, and almost immediately a young girl entered the chamber.

"Here, lady, let me finish the task you have begun so well." She took the rag and began smoothing the dye down Rhonwyn's back and across her shoulders.

It took a moment to sink in, but Rhonwyn suddenly realized that the girl was speaking in the Norman tongue. It had been many months since she had heard it, and she wondered if she could still speak it herself. She and Fulk had spoken together in Arabic, and her brother and Oth had spoken in the language of the Welsh. The words, however, came easily when she tried. "You speak the tongue of the Franks," she said.

"My father-this is his house in which you are now standing-is a merchant. I am his only child and help him in his business. Sometimes I even travel to Carthage. I speak several languages."

"You speak well," Rhonwyn noted, and then said nothing more.

When the dye covered her skin completely and had dried, she dressed. The merchant's daughter had departed the chamber with all the evidence of Rhonwyn's disguise. She was pulling on her boots when her brother entered and looked her over with a critical eye.

"You've bound up your breasts?" he asked.

She nodded and stood up for his final inspection.

"Have you found the secret pocket in your cape?" he asked her.

"There are actually two," she told him, "and both are well hidden and well filled. 1 will keep my cape with me at all times."

"Good! Now, here is our story. I am the minstrel and entertainer. You are my brother and one of my musicians, along with Oth and Dewi."

"What instrument do I play?" she teased him.

"The tambourine," he said seriously. "That way if we must perform, you cannot make any error. Any fool can play the tambourine."

"Thank you," Rhonwyn said dryly.

"We are ready to go," he told her.

"You have become so serious, Glynn," she said to him.

"We are not yet out of Cinnebar, sister. I will not rest until our feet are once again on good Christian soil, nor should you," he explained. "I am angry that Edward de Beaulieu gave you up so easily. He looked for you for only several days before following Prince Edward to Acre. I told him you were alive! I felt it! But none of them would listen to me, Rhonwyn. Now it is my duty to return you to Haven Castle and to your husband. I will do what that fine knight of yours could not. I will bring you home!"

Her eyes filled with tears. "You are a man," she said softly.

"Aye," he agreed. "Now, sister, let us go. Do you know what today is? It is the eve of Christ's Mass. With luck I shall have us home by Midsummer's Eve, possibly before. Come now!"

They traveled by caravan to the coast, taking a ship from Tunis to the port of Cagliari on the island of Sardinia. After several weeks in Sardinia they found a vessel that was sailing for Aigues-Mortes, in the kingdom of Languedoc. As it was winter the seas farther north were not safe, and so they decided to travel overland to Calais, crossing over into England from there. They purchased horses in Aigues-Mortes. The beasts were serviceable, but not so fine that they would be stolen by any except the most desperate. Glynn also purchased a sword for his sister and a dagger as well.

Their Arabic garb was bartered for the more conventional clothing of the region. Rhonwyn exchanged her pantaloons and vest for chausses and a tunic that came to her calf. She retained her sherte, her cloak, and her boots. The roads were never really safe, and so they traveled with various trains, paying their way with their songs. It took many weeks to reach the French coast.

In the month of May, however, they finally arrived at Calais. There was no difficulty in obtaining passage aboard a vessel crossing the channel. Selling their horses, they paid their passage, reaching Dover on the following day. There they once again purchased mounts for their journey north and west across England to Haven Castle, traveling still in their guise as musicians. In Worcester Rhonwyn sent her brother into the market to see if he could find a fine gown. Even he understood that she could not arrive at Haven with her skin brown and in chausses. The dye had long since worn off her hair, and her tresses were growing, having reached her shoulders once again.

The walnut juice that had stained her skin had faded during their weeks on the road, but Rhonwyn's skin still had a sallow look about it. The night before they reached Haven they stopped to camp by a stream, and Rhonwyn bathed for the first time in weeks, scrubbing her skin with a rag and a small piece of soap she had had Glynn purchase along with the gown. While she was aware hot water would have done a better job, Rhonwyn was satisfied with the results. Besides, tomorrow at Haven she would have her hot bath.

In the morning she dressed herself in her gown of deep blue velvet and the overgown of a lighter blue silk with open side lacing and a center split. There was a twisted blue silk rope girdle about her waist, and she wore a simple white veil with a small circlet that matched her girdle. Before they even came in sight of Haven, Glynn stopped their progress, saying, "I leave you here, sister. Oth and Dewi will escort you home."

"Why will you not come?" she asked him.

"Because Rafe de Beaulieu does not know my true identity, Rhonwyn. I told him I was going to France to contemplate the priesthood when I left the abbey school in Shrewsbury. I can hardly appear with you in tow and easily explain it away. Oth and Dewi will go with you. They will say your father sent them to see if they could find you, and they did. Where you have been is not anyone's business but Edward's. Answer no questions from any others."

"Where are you going?" Rhonwyn asked her brother.

"Nowhere. I will be here, and Oth and Dewi will keep me informed as to what is going on at Haven. There is a cave in the hillside in the woods that will shelter me. They know the way. Go now and reclaim Haven for yourself and your husband. If you need our tad's aid in ousting Rafe de Beaulieu, sister, I will ask him myself."

The guards at the portcullis gaped with surprise as Rhonwyn rode through and into the courtyard of the castle with her escort. She dismounted, and the first person she saw was Father John.

He paled and crossed himself. "Be you a ghost, lady?" he quavered.

"Nay, it is I, Rhonwyn, and I have at last come home," she answered him.

"God have mercy on us all," the priest said. "Lady, you must come with me, for I have much to tell you."

"In time, good father, in time," Rhonwyn said. "I want to go into the hall." She hurried into the castle, the priest running after her in despair. As she entered the hall she saw Enit and called to her. Looking up and seeing the mistress she believed dead, Enit screamed and fainted as the other servants familiar to Rhonwyn gasped with shock. "What is the matter with them?" Rhonwyn said, turning to the priest.

"Surely you know they all thought you dead. The lord sent a message to me and to his cousin when you disappeared. When he returned home from the Holy Land alone we believed it a truth, my lady."

"Edward is here? At Haven? When? Is he in our apartments?" Rhonwyn ran from the hall and up the winding staircase, the priest running after her once again.

"Lady, lady! Wait! There is something you must know!" His tone was so desperate that Rhonwyn stopped and turned to him.

"What must I know?" she said.

"Lord Edward is married," Father John told her.

"I know. He is my husband," Rhonwyn said.

"Nay, lady. He is Lady Katherine's husband," the priest replied.

"How can he be wed to Katherine when he is wed to me?" she demanded angrily. Her heart was hammering furiously.

"You were believed dead, my lady Rhonwyn." The priest led her back into the hall.

"He hardly mourned me, did he?" she said bitterly.

"You could not be found. There was no trace of you at all. What else could he think? Everyone said you were dead. He finally joined the prince at Acre, but he had never really recovered from his illness. Prince Edward sent the lord home last summer. At the lord's request both the church and the courts declared you dead, leaving Edward de Beaulieu free to remarry, which he did last September. He is not a boy, my lady. He needed a wife to give him an heir."

"Father, I am told we have a visitor." Katherine de Beaulieu came into the hall.

"Indeed, lady," Rhonwyn said, turning to face her rival. Then she gasped with complete shock. Katherine's belly was so distended that it was more than obvious she was with child. A child that would be shortly born. Rhonwyn's hand went to her mouth to stifle her cry of pain.

"Oh, God!" Katherine whispered, her own hand going protectively to her belly. "They said you were dead."

"Perhaps it were better that I was," Rhonwyn replied harshly.

At that moment both Edward and Rafe de Beaulieu ran into the hall. Edward rushed to Katherine's side, his arm going about her protectively. His eyes blazed angrily.

"You bastard!" Rhonwyn shouted at him.

"So, vixen, you have returned, have you? Well, you are not welcome here, lady. Get you gone!" he said coldly.

"Hospitality was gentler here in my day," Rhonwyn said dryly. "It touches me, Edward, to see how deeply and truly you mourned my alleged death. I)id yon ever love me at all, or was it simply the treaty between my lather and your king? I shall go to the king, Edward, for you have wronged me terribly by your actions. I disappeared, but there was no proof of my death."

"Was I to wait forever, lady? You were gone, and no trace of you or Fulk could be found. No ransom was asked. What could any of us think? Was I to mourn you for the rest of my days?" he demanded.

"You did not mourn me at all!" she cried. "You wrote to your cousin asking for Katherine's hand within a month of my disappearance. Then you hurried home afterward to undoubtedly have both church and state declare me dead. It is the only way you could take another wife. Oh, Edward, I loved you, and you betrayed me!"

"You do not know the meaning of love, you coldhearted bitch," he declared. "And now that you have magically reappeared in our midst, just where were you all these months?"

"In the harem of the caliph of Cinnebar," Rhonwyn said with devastating effect. "Rashid al Ahmet made me his second wife, and he loved me, but I could not love him, for I kept a memory of our love within my heart. How tragic that that love was nought but a deception on your part. In our months of separation I hoped, I dreamed, I prayed that I might be able to return to you. The very thought of you is what kept me alive. Then my brother came, and I was able to escape. I have ached to return to Haven and to you, Edward de Beaulieu. ‘Tis a fine homecoming you have given me."

"Whore!" he hissed furiously at her. "You shared another man's bed, and you dare to tell me?"

Rhonwyn shook her head sadly at him, but her sorrow was for him. She was not defeated by this turn of events. "Poor Edward," she said pityingly.

"Did this caliph find your cold heart and resistant body a pleasure, or did he actually wring a cry of passion from you?" Edward said rancorously.

"He taught me the true meaning of passion," she said quietly. "And, aye, he wrung many a cry of pleasure from me, Edward. He sought to learn the reason I felt such fear of being in a man's arms, and finding it, he freed me from my fears. I came home to share with you all he taught me. Now, instead, I find myself homeless and husbandless. I must decide what I am to do. How dare you, who have lain with others, criticize me. Your actions have shamed us both, but more important, when my father learns of this turn of events, he will be greatly offended, Edward. Your poor king will have to make amends to ap Gruffydd for what you have done. I have learned in my travels since I arrived in England that the king is not well at all. They say he will die before Christ's Mass. But I shall have my justice of you before then, I promise you." Then Rhonwyn turned to Katherine. "You may have him, lady. I think you perhaps better suited to Edward de Beaulieu than I ever was. I would not harm you or the child you carry. Both my brother and I are more than well aware of the stigma of bastardy. It is there even for a prince's children."

"Where will you go?" Katherine asked.

Rhonwyn thought a moment, and then said, "I do not know."

"Then you will remain here at Haven until you do know," Katherine said generously, and turning to her outraged husband, she told him, "The house is mine to direct as I will. Whatever anger you may feel toward the lady Rhonwyn, you cannot throw her out into the cold after her long journey. She must shelter here for the time being. That is my wish."

"As you please, dearling," he answered her. Then looking at Rhonwyn, he said, "Where is Glynn?"

"Where you cannot harm him, my lord."

"Did I ever contemplate such a thing?" he demanded, outraged.

"You were my husband then, and I trusted you. You are no longer my husband, and I do not trust you," she said icily. Then she said to Katherine in a more kindly tone, "Lady, I thank you for your generous offer, but I think it best I leave this place." She bowed to them all, and with Oth and Dewi in her wake, she left the great hall.

Rale de Beaulieu watched her go, his silvery blue eyes narrowed and contemplative. She had been a beautiful girl, but she was a far more beautiful woman, he thought. And clever to have realized that his sister was a better wile to Edward than she could have been. Her instincts intrigued him, as did her talk of passions unleashed. He wondered where she would go now and just what she meant when she said that she would have justice of his cousin. Strangely, he believed her when she said she meant Katherine and her unborn child no harm. But what was to happen to Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn?

She departed Haven Castle, her head high, but her sight was blurred by the tears that filled her eyes. He had not really loved her. The shock of that knowledge burned into her heart and soul. How could she have been so damned naive? She would have been better off with the caliph, but that door was tightly closed to her now. She could not go back to Cinnebar no more than she could come back to Haven.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked her companions.

"To your brother, lady. Then we will decide upon how to kill Edward de Beaulieu," Oth said grimly.

"You cannot kill him," she said quietly.

"Surely you do not still love him?" Oth said angrily.

"Nay, I do not love him, but you cannot kill him. They would blame me. I have had enough shocks today to last my lifetime, Oth. I mean to go to King Henry to complain of Edward's treatment of me. Certainly the king will compensate me for what has happened. Then, too, I must be declared alive once more in the courts."

Glynn, as she had suspected, was outraged by what had happened at Haven. He was ready to storm the castle himself and slay Edward de Beaulieu, but Rhonwyn dissuaded him as she had Oth and Dewi.

"He must be made to pay somehow," Glynn said irately.

"Yes, but how?" Rhonwyn asked.

"I am taking you to Mercy Abbey," Glynn said suddenly.

"I am not of a mind to join a religious order," his sister replied. "Do you assume my life is over because my husband has disowned me, little brother? It is not, I assure you!"

"I'm taking you to Mercy because our aunt will certainly know how you may proceed. Our upbringing at Cythraul did not prepare us for such deceit, sister. You surely have an honest grievance against Edward de Beaulieu and must be compensated by him. I am a poet and a dreamer. I do not know how to advance your cause, but she will."

"How can you be certain of that? You never met her," Rhonwyn said to him.

"The abbess Gwynllian is well known in religious circles for her intellect and cleverness, sister. Her fame extends even as far as Shrewsbury. It will take us several days to reach her house, so we must begin now, Rhonwyn. Where else can you go to lick your wounds in safety and consider what you are to do next? Certainly not to our tad."

"Let us ride," his sister replied tersely.

They rode hard, resting the horses between dusk and dawn, eating oatcakes and wild berries, drinking from the streams of water that dotted the countryside. They came to Mercy Abbey in late afternoon. The cluster of stone buildings did not, this time, seem quite so forbidding as they had when she first saw it. Again the church bell was pealing for the office of None. Entering through the abbey gates, they waited for their aunt to emerge from the church.

Gwynllian had never met Glynn, but she recognized him immediately. Seeing Rhonwyn by his side, she said, "Praise God, you're alive! What has happened? Why are you here unannounced?" Her eyes mirrored her deep concern. "Come into the chapter house, and we will talk." Her glance flicked to Oth and Dewi. "You know where to put the horses," she told them. "Then go to the kitchens, and they will feed you. Come," she said, turning back to her niece and her nephew. She led them into her privy chamber and poured them each a small cup of wine. She motioned them to seats as she took her own. "Now," she said, "why have you come to me? Does your father know you are here and alive? And will it cause an incident with the English?" she demanded of them.

"It is a long story," Rhonwyn began. Then she told her aunt of what had happened in the several years since they had last seen one another. "I did not know where else to go," she finished. "I am too fine a lady now to live at Cythraul, aunt."

"Aye, you are," the abbess agreed.

"What am I to do?" Rhonwyn said. "Edward de Beaulieu has treated our family with great disdain. Surely he can be made to pay for that insult, but I have no idea where to begin."

"Do you want him dead?" her aunt queried.

Rhownyn shook her head. "That would be too easy," she replied. "The lady Katherine I hold blameless in the matter. She is meek and was subject to her brother's will."

"Do you want him dead?" Gwynllian asked, half jesting.

Rhonwyn actually laughed aloud. "Nay. I do not like Rafe de Beaulieu particularly, for he is arrogant and obviously has a lofty opinion of himself. However, he loves his sister and did what he believed was best for her even as my own brother, Glynn, did when he sought me out in Cinnebar."

"Restoring you to life legally will not be difficult," the abbess said thoughtfully. "Your existence cannot be denied. It is plain fact." Her long elegant fingers drummed lightly upon the long table before her. "As to the rest I must speak to the bishop at Hereford. Edward de Beaulieu discarded you without any real proof of your demise and quite hastily contracted another marriage without a decent period of mourning. But your induction into an infidel's harem as his second wife will surely stand against you, Rhonwyn. You were a Christian knight's wife, and yet you yielded to the lustful blandishments of another man. There are many who will think you should have died rather than succumb."

"Then they are ignorant of the harem," Rhonwyn replied spiritedly. "I had not even a knife to cut my food. I was constantly watched. There was absolutely no way I might have ended my life even if I had wanted to do so. But all I wanted was to escape and return to my husband, not knowing that he had already betrayed me!"

"That attitude will assuredly gain you a certain amount of sympathy," the abbess noted, "but it will not completely exonerate you."

"I was faithful in my heart to Edward de Beaulieu. He was not so faithful to me," Rhonwyn replied stonily.

Her aunt smiled. "Stoke the fires of your outrage, my child, and we shall gain some justice for you. Are you sure you wish to pursue this path?"

"I must, else my honor and the honor of our family be compromised," she said, "ap Gruffydd is a proud man, and this reflects upon him badly unless we can obtain some compensation for the slight upon our escutcheon, aunt."

"I am forced to agree with you, my child," the abbess said. She turned to Glynn. "Have you nothing to say in this matter, ap Gruf-fydd's son? By the rood, how much you look like your father in his youth!"

"At first," Glynn said, "I thought to slay de Beaulieu, but my sister dissuaded me. She does not wish me to have a stain such as that upon my conscience, especially as I intend to return to the abbey at Shrewsbury and eventually take holy orders."

"So you would become a monk, Glynn ap Llywelyn?" the abbess said quietly. How interesting that her brother's son leaned toward the church and not toward a kingdom of his own.

"I have seen the world, aunt, and while I find it interesting, I am not meant for such a life. Soon my music and my poetry shall be in praise of God alone. The peace of the contemplative life is what I seek. I prefer its discipline and order to the hurly-burly of the world at large."

"Does your lather know of your decision, nephew?" Her fine brown eyes scanned his face.

"He will, although I know he considered this would be my path long ago when he came to fetch Rhonwyn. Tomorrow I will send Oth and Dewi to find him so he may be made aware of what has happened to my poor sister."

Rhonwyn hit him a blow upon the arm that staggered Glynn.

"Ouch!" he yelped.

"I am not to be pitied, brat!" she snapped at him. "It is my honor that has been besmirched. But make no mistake, Glynn, I need no man to make my life complete. I never did and I certainly don't need your pity!"

"There are but two paths for a respectable woman," Glynn said. "Either she enters into marriage or she enters a convent."

"I am no longer respectable, it would seem," Rhonwyn mocked him, laughing. "Therefore I may do what I please and plot my own course through life, brother. I am considering becoming a merchant and using the gold Baba Haroun so generously sewed into my cloak to set up a shop in Shrewsbury. I shall import silks and spices from the east and grow richer with each passing year. I shall take young men for lovers, and when I send them away because they have begun to bore me, they shall go grieving but wiser for their time with me."

The abbess burst out laughing, although her nephew looked shocked. "Thank God and His blessed Mother, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, that you have not been broken by this experience," she said.

"My heart is broken, aunt, but only a little, and it will heal, I suspect. I returned because I believed in my heart that Edward loved me and would forgive my small sins. I wanted to share all that the caliph taught me about passion and make up to my husband for the early months of our marriage when passion frightened me so greatly I could scarcely bear for him to touch me. The loss is his, I fear, and he will never know the woman I truly am," Rhonwyn said softly. "I am very sorry for that."

The abbess nodded. "It would appear, my child, that you have more honor than Edward de Beaulieu. For that you may be proud."

ap Gruffydd appeared at Mercy Abbey five days later, prepared to berate his daughter for leaving her marriage. When, however, he heard the truth, he erupted into a fit of rage. Rhonwyn, to her own surprise, calmed him at long last.

"I am no longer unhappy over this, but our family's honor must be assuaged, my lord," she told him.

"Are we back to my lord then?" he demanded.

"Tad," she said with a small smile, mollifying him.

"I'll have another husband for you from King Henry else our treaty be broken for good and all," ap Gruffydd said.

"And have you kept so assiduously to that treaty, Tad?" she gently taunted him.

He laughed aloud. "I've had little part in your life, Rhonwyn, and yet you know me better than some of my closest associates. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Because I am like you, Tad. I am proud and have always followed my own path, and devil take the hindmost. It seems to have gotten me into almost as much trouble as it has gotten you." She smiled sweetly at him. "I think, however, that I may have learned my lesson."

Both Llywelyn ap Gruffydd and his sister, Gwynllian, burst into laughter. Rhonwyn's assessment of the situation was absolutely correct.

Finally the prince said, "There is much of your aunt in you, too, lass."

"Praise God and His blessed Mother!" the abbess responded fervently, and she crossed herself.

The prince grew serious once again. "King Henry has not been well these past few years. He will certainly be at his palace of Westminster in London. I will send him a letter, Rhonwyn, explaining that you are alive and returned home to discover yourself declared dead and your husband with a new wife. I will tell the English king that you do not desire to have Edward de Beaulieu back, as his new wife is with child. Besides, the betrayal and insult to you and your family make such a reunion impossible. I will ask for justice for my daughter, and tell him that you will come to Westminster by Lammastide to seek redress from the de Beaulieus. There is no viciousness in Henry Plantagenet, but beware his queen, Eleanor of Provence, who is called behind her back the noble termagant. She is and always has been ambitious for her family, and she will destroy without hesitation anyone that she believes a threat to them.

"Your dower portion, of course, must be returned to you. I cannot be expected to redower you for a new husband."

"I don't want a husband," Rhonwyn said.

"Nonetheless you must have one," her father said firmly. "We will not argue this point now, lass." He looked hard at her. "How is it possible that you have become more beautiful despite your adventures?"

Rhonwyn laughed. "You will not turn the subject that easily, Tad. I want no husband."

"Then it is the convent, daughter. How old are you now?"

"Nineteen, this April first past," she reminded him.

"We'll be lucky to find you a husband at your age. A widow with children is at least a proven breeder," the prince noted. "Do you want to enter your aunt's house, lass?"

"Nay," Rhonwyn said.

"Then another marriage is your only path," ap Gruffydd said.

Rhonwyn did not argue with him any further. She was a realist. The church would not accept her, for she would be considered a woman of ill repute-a disobedient wife who had run off to interfere in men's business and had been punished for it. And what man of good family would have for his wife such a woman? A woman who had given her body to an infidel? She wanted her dower back, and perhaps a bit of Haven's land for herself. That she would consider recompense for Edward de Beaulieu's behavior. Why argue with her father over something that would never be? There would be no more husbands for Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn.

Chapter 14

Eleanor of Provence, queen of England, had lived five and a half decades. She was still a beautiful woman, with silver-streaked auburn hair and amber eyes that missed little. In her youth she, and her equally comely sisters, had been considered the most beautilul women in Europe. Her eldest sister, Margaret, had married King Louis IX of France. Her younger sister, Sanchia, was married to her brother-in-law, Richard of Cornwall, king of the Romans. Her youngest sister, Beatrice, was the wife of Charles of Anjou, the king of Naples and Sicily. Eleanor's mother, Beatrice of Savoy, and her father, Raymond Berenger V, count of Provence, had reigned over a brilliant court renowned for its patronage of the troubadours. The count himself was one of the last of the great Provençal poets.

At the age of nineteen Eleanor had traveled to her sister's court in France, and from there across a winter sea to marry King Henry III of England. From the moment the couple laid eyes upon one another, it had been a love match. The queen had borne her husband six sons and three daughters. Two sons and two daughters had reached adulthood. While there were some who resented her Savoyard kinsmen-who, along with the king's French half brothers, had come to England to seek their fortunes-the queen's chief care was for her family. Now her husband was slowly dying. She nursed him devotedly. Their kingdom was prosperous and secure. England was not involved in any wars. Their life was peaceful. And then there came from that rebellious Welsh prince a letter that the queen knew was going to cause difficulties.

She sat with the king in their dayroom. About them her ladies sat tending to various small tasks, their sewing and mending, the repair of a small tapestry. The queen's eyes scanned the letter, and she swore ever so softly beneath her breath. This caught the attention of her husband who lay upon his daybed, resting from the exertions of his morning bowel movement.

"What is it?" the king asked his wife weakly.

"Do you remember last year when Edward de Beaulieu returned home from Acre? His wife was alleged to have died, and he requested that she be declared dead so he might remarry?"

The king nodded.

"Well, she isn't dead. The prince of the Welsh's daughter appeared home this spring to find her husband no longer her husband, and his new wife full with a child, ap Gruffydd is outraged that his daughter has been so insulted. The prince requests justice for his child, but says she will not have de Beaulieu back now, for she would not put the stain of bastardy upon his newborn son. Now isn't this a nice kettle of fish, Henry? Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn will come to Westminster at Lammastide for your justice. What are we to do?"

"What does ap Gruffydd want?" the king asked cannily.

"His daughter's dower back from de Beaulieu. A new husband for the girl. And a penalty levied upon de Beaulieu for the affront. The Welsh prince suggests that some of Haven Castle's lands be given to his daughter to recompense her for the insult," the queen replied.

"It seems fair," the king said slowly.

"There is more to this than meets the eye, Henry," the queen told him astutely. "For one thing, what happened to the lady Rhonwyn that she became separated from her husband and our son's forces? We must send to Haven. Edward de Beaulieu should be allowed to speak for himself in this matter. Even if he believed his wife dead, he did remarry again in a rather hasty manner."

"Agreed," the king said.

"According to the Welsh prince, his daughter was declared dead. That oversight can be rectified immediately, but the rest will have to wait until we can hear a fuller story from both sides in this dispute."

Again the king nodded his agreement. His wife took a cool cloth and wiped his forehead, which was beaded with perspiration. Henry grew weaker each day, and every small task he must perform was difficult for him now. She had recently heard from their son Edward. He had only narrowly escaped an assassination attempt in Acre, and he was discouraged. The crusade had literally fallen into disarray. Mounting an expedition to retake Jerusalem was proving impossible. He was, Edward wrote, planning to return home with his wife shortly, after Eleanor recovered from the rigors of her recent childbirth. The baby, a little girl who had already been baptized Joan, was strong and healthy, unlike the infant who had been born and died the year before. They would come via Sicily and Provence, visiting relatives along the way. The queen was relieved, for while she knew she could hold England for her son, once Henry died her life would have little meaning. She was of a mind to retire to the Benedictine convent in Amesbury for the remainder of her life.

"I will send off messages to both Edward de Beaulieu at Haven Castle and to the lady Rhonwyn, who is with her aunt, the abbess of Mercy Abbey, in Wales," the queen told her husband, and again he nodded his assent.

Edward de Beaulieu was outraged to receive the royal summons to Westminster. "How dare the vixen complain to the king!" he said angrily.

"What did you expect?" his brother-in-law Rafe said. "While I am delighted that Katherine is your wife and the mother of your heir, you did marry her in some haste, cousin."

"I do not recall hearing you complain about my haste at the time," Edward replied dryly. "You could hardly wait for your sister to become the lady of Haven Castle."

"Our families have always hoped for the union," Rafe responded. "I was pleased that it was to be a reality at long last. You did not say how the lady Rhonwyn died, Edward. I did not press the issue because I believed her loss pained you or that possibly you had killed her yourself for her high spiritedness. Only the fact that the lady is generous has prevented my sister from being burdened with a terrible shame. What if Lady Rhonwyn demanded from the church that your marriage to Kate be declared null and void under the circumstances? Your son would then have been declared a bastard. A vindictive woman would have taken great delight in revenging herself on you for what you did."

"She cannot appeal to the church under the circumstances of her adventures," Edward said in assured tones. "Do you think the church would restore her to my side when she so merrily whored for another man? An infidel? When I expose her perfidy, she will be lucky they do not burn her at the stake for her adultery."

Rafe de Beaulieu looked closely at his cousin. "Do you love her then so much that you would destroy her, cousin?"

"I do not love her," Edward said honestly.

"Do you love my sister?" Rafe probed.

"Aye, I do. Kate is the perfect wife for me. I want no other," he said. "She is sweet natured and obedient to my will, as well as a good breeder. Look at our wee Neddie. What a fine lad he is."

"If you are happy with Kate," her brother replied, "then why does your anger burn so hot toward the lady Rhonwyn?"

"Because she betrayed me!" he said coldly. "Because she would destroy the happiness I now have."

"She believes you betrayed her," Rafe countered. " Tis an interesting conundrum, Edward. I will go with you to Westminster in order that you do not cost my sister and her child too much by your ire."

" I will tell the king the truth," de Beaulieu said stonily.

“You must tell the king the entire truth," the abbess counseled her niece. "It will not be easy, but it will save you from Edward's outrage. In the end it will all boil down to the fact that while you struggled to overcome great odds and return home to your husband, your husband hurried home and contracted another marriage."

"You cannot believe that my judges will overlook the fact I spent over a year in the harem of the caliph of Cinnebar," Rhonwyn replied in practical tones.

"Nay, they will not. They will declare great shock and indignation that a good Christian noblewoman, a prince's daughter, could have found herself in such a position and not ended it all in the name of our dear Lord Jesus," the abbess said dryly. "But you did not have to return home, yet you did. That will be what confounds them, my child, and that will be what gains you redress from Edward de Beaulieu. I will be by your side, speaking in your defense if necessary, Rhonwyn. Unless the archbishop of Canterbury himself speaks for de Beaulieu, and as there is no profit in it, Boniface will not, we will win."

"You are so damned worldly for an abbess," Rhonwyn noted, and then she laughed. "Aunt, 1 should rather have you on my side than all of God's good angels!"

"The angels are in heaven, my child," the abbess answered her. "I am here."

They departed for Westminster on a warm and hazy summer's day. The prince of the Welsh had sent a fully mounted and armed troop to escort his sister and his daughter into England. Oth and Dewi were by Rhonwyn's side, as was Glynn ap Llywelyn, who would testify to his part in the affair. The trip had been carefully planned, and each night they sheltered at either a convent or a monastery. Their progress was slow but steady, and on the thirty-first of July they arrived in London, where the two women were welcomed at the convent of St. Mary's-in-the-Fields, near the palace of Westminster. The men were invited to make their encampment in a meadow outside the convent walls.

Rhonwyn and her aunt had, in the weeks they were together at Mercy Abbey, worked to sew a gown worthy of a prince's daughter. The gown, or cotte, fell gracefully to the floor. It had long tight sleeves. It was made of fine silk and was a spring green in color. Her over-robe, which was sleeveless, was fashioned from cloth-of-gold on darker green silk brocade. The gilt girdle, which sat just below Rhonwyn's narrow waist, was made of small rounds, decorated with a swirl of Celtic design.

Rhonwyn's hair had been parted in the center, two delicate plaits braided with cloth-of-gold ribbons and strands of tiny pearls and falling on either side of her face, with the main mass of her hair flowing behind her, amid strands of pearls. Atop her head a delicate filigreed circle held her sheer cloth-of-gold gauze veil. Her only jewelry was a brooch of emeralds set in Irish red gold. Her shoes did not show, but they followed the shape of her foot and were of gilded leather.

"You are magnificent," her aunt said quietly as she looked over their handiwork. "You are every inch the prince of the Welsh's daughter, my child."

"I have never had anything quite this fine," Rhonwyn admitted.

"You are regal, but have not the look of a worldly woman," said the abbess. "That is the effect we have been striving for, Rhonwyn. Some ladies of the court paint their faces and dye their hair. You are fresh looking. Even though you will admit to your indiscretions, your appearance is one of innocence. The church will condemn you, but they will find it impossible to believe you willingly betrayed your husband." Gwynllian smiled, well pleased. "You must remember not to lose your temper with de Beaulieu. Let him rant and rave. You will weep, and that will cause the hardest heart to soften toward you."

"Is that not dishonest, aunt?" Rhonwyn said mischievously.

"This, child, is war. The object of a battle is to win it," the abbess advised with a twinkle in her brown eyes. "That is what your father would do. Will you allow yourself to be beaten by these English? Do not let it ever be said that ap Gruffydd's daughter was not as brave as he."

"I should far rather challenge Edward to trial by combat," Rhonwyn answered. "There I could absolutely beat him."

"I am certain of it," the abbess responded, "but it would certainly shock the king and give credence to de Beaulieu's charges. Come, it is time for us to go now. Mother Superior Margaret Joseph and a half a dozen of her sisters will escort us to the palace. It is but a short walk."

"I am to be surrounded by a bevy of nuns?" Rhonwyn laughed. "Oh, aunt, you are shameless."

The abbess chuckled, but did not reply.

The king's hall in Westminster Palace was very beautiful. The floor was set with wide square tiles. The walls were painted in red, blue, and gold. The windows soared high, allowing in the light. Henry III had made the effort to personally appear at the hearing. He was a shell of the man he once was, but his white hair and beard were neat. His blue eyes looked interested, though he slumped pale upon his throne, his queen at his side. On his right, silling on a row of benches, were the clergy. The de Beaulieus and Rhonwyn's party sat on the left, carefully separated by several men-at-arms. The hearing, set for the hour immediately following the office of Tierce, began most promptly.

"Tell us your side of this dispute, Edward de Beaulieu, lord of Haven Castle," the king said in a stronger voice than his appearance would have represented.

"The woman given to me as a wife, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, was never a true wife to me," Edward began.

The abbess squeezed her niece's hand hard.

"She denied me my husbandly rights except on rare occasions. She preferred the company of soldiers and playing with arms to being a good chatelaine. At her insistence I allowed her to accompany me on crusade. At Carthage, where we were encamped, many, including myself, grew ill with fever and dysentery. It was during my illness that my wife raced off into battle, deserting me. Of course she was taken prisoner. I sought for her for some days, but found no trace at all of either her or my knight who had followed after her in a brave attempt at rescue. I finally traveled to Acre, but the illness that had lain me low in Carthage returned, never having really been cured. Prince Edward sent me home.

"I am not a young man, sire. I had no legitimate heirs of my body. When you chose me to husband the prince of the Welsh's daughter, I had no previous commitments, although my family had always hoped I would wed my cousin Katherine. Now believing myself widowed, 1 wed her. Within ten months of our marriage, Katherine, who is dutiful, gave me a son. Just before he was born, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn appeared at Haven as if nothing was amiss. She claimed to have been imprisoned within a harem and boasted of how another man had unleashed her passions as I never had. When she saw how it was, she threatened me and left Haven. I am outraged that she should demand redress from me. For what? ‘Tis she who should make amends to me for her desertion and her bold adultery." Edward de Beaulieu bowed to the royal couple and then the clergy before sitting back down again.

There was a silence, and then the king said, "Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, come forward and tell us your side of this controversy."

Rhonwyn arose slowly and stood before the king. She bowed, then turned to the clergy and bowed again. Thereupon she spoke in a voice so soft they all had to lean forward to hear. "Sire, my lords, I come before you today to beg for justice in this unfortunate matter. Edward de Beaulieu claims I was a bad wife to him, and in part, that is true. When my mother died my father took me and my brother, Glynn, to a fortress in the Welshry where we were raised. There were no women there to guide me. When my father returned ten years later to announce I was to be wed, he was horrified, though why it was a surprise to him I do not know, to discover his daughter was more a lad than a lass."

The king and the clergymen chuckled at her astute observation.

Rhonwyn continued. "I was then taken to my aunt's abbey, where for the next six months I learned all I could about being a female. My aunt, of course, had me baptized immediately, and I was enlightened in our faith. When I finally arrived at Haven Castle to be married, I was enough of a lass to be presentable, but I still had much to learn, and I endeavored to do so. I see that the castle priest, Father John, is here at this assembly. Good Father, did I become an acceptable chatelaine for Haven?"

"You did, lady," the priest answered honestly.

Rhonwyn sighed deeply. "My lords, where I failed my husband was in the bedchamber. On our wedding night he cruelly forced me to his will, claiming that you, sire, had said he must. I did not believe such a thing then, and I certainly do not now. It was his lust that drove him to rape. After that I was always afraid of his advances. 1 knew 1 should not have been, but I was. There was no lady of my own station with whom I might speak in order to calm my fears. Then Prince Edward came to Haven with his talk of a crusade. I was enthusiastic! His princess wife was going. I saw no reason why I could not go. Perhaps if I fought for our good Lord, he would help me to overcome my fears.

"In Carthage, I nursed my husband devotedly during his illness. He is wrong to say I neglected him. It is not true! It was he, himself, who invited me to go off with his knight Sir Fulk to practice with my sword on that terrible day. He even insisted I garb myself in protective gear, and helped me to dress. Then the daily skirmish with the infidels began while we practiced. Foolishly- oh, how I regret it!-I ran off to join the fray. Sir Fulk came after me. My lords! The battle was grand! We won it in our Lord Christ's name! I, however, foolishly allowed myself to be cut off. I am not, after all, really a soldier, just a woman. While I may have a talent for the sword, I would, it seems, have none for tactics."

Rafe de Beaulieu, seated by his cousin's side, almost laughed aloud. She had more flare for tactics than any of them realized. All present sat spellbound by Rhonwyn's tale. The Celtic witch had them in the palm of her hand, and it was surely going to cost his cousin.

"Sir Fulk," Rhonwyn continued, "God assoil his loyal soul-" She crossed herself. "-rode after me. He kept my captors from discovering that I was a female until we reached Cinnebar. In the battle I had killed the caliph of that place's brother. They brought me before this ruler for punishment. When he discovered I was a woman he had me placed within his harem. Fair women are much prized among the Arabs. Sir Fulk was executed in my place." She crossed herself again.

"The caliph, his name is Rashid al Ahmet, took me as his second wife. He taught me not to fear passion, and he loved me, my lords, but all the while he held me in captivity I desired only one thing. To return to my husband, Edward de Beaulieu. I hoped, and I prayed, and finally God answered my prayers. My little brother, Glynn, came to Cinnebar, seeking me. His fame as a poet and a minstrel attracted the attention of the caliph's head eunuch, a man called Baba Haroun.

"My brother was invited to the palace to entertain. The first song he sang was in the Welsh tongue, inquiring if I were in this place. He had sung this tune many times over the months as he sought me out. This night, however, his search was ended." She sighed deeply.

Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed them back bravely, then continued. "At that point in time, my lords, the caliph decided he wanted a child of my body. Harem women are kept sterile by means of herbs unless children are desired of them. Baba Haroun believed that any child of mine could compromise the position of the first wife's son, Prince Mohammed. He said so quite bluntly. It was then I took the chance that he might help me to escape. He did, my lords. We feigned my death, and with Baba Haroun's aid I left Cinnebar.

"Over the next few months my brother and our two faithful men-at-arms, Oth and Dewi, traveled back to England. It was a difficult journey, as you well may imagine. When I arrived at Haven, Father John told me that my husband had had me declared dead and remarried. Then the lady Katherine appeared. I saw how far gone she was with child. It was then I realized, my lords, that I had lost Edward de Beaulieu." A line of tears ran down her pale cheeks.

"My brother had told him in Acre that he was certain I lived, but Edward, alas, had no faith. He abandoned me, and now I beg you, sire, to give me justice. I seek the return of my dower and a forfeit from this man for the stain he has placed upon my father, upon me, and upon our family." She bowed her head.

"My lady," the archbishop of Canterbury said, "why is it you did not escape your shameful captivity in death?"

"My lord, 1 was taught it was wrong to take one's life, but even if I had been of a mind to do so, there was no way in which I might accomplish it. The women of the harem are watched constantly by a band of eunuchs. We are never alone. Our food is cut for us. We were required to eat with our fingers as no implements were allowed. Our garments are few, and there are no sashes or other loose girdles.''

The bishop of Winchester spoke. "Did you tell your husband, my lady, that this caliph person had taught you passion?"

"I did, my lord," Rhonwyn answered. "Edward had been so unhappy with my coldness that I wanted him to know I had been freed of my irrational fears. That I could love him at last and was eager to give him children. I was too late. Another had taken my place. I accept that. It is my punishment for not being the proper kind of wife. I have always liked the lady Katherine, and I wish her no harm. I am glad that Edward has a son and an heir. But, my lords, what is to happen to me now? I fought with all my might to come home. I might have remained where I was in Cinnebar, beloved of another man. A powerful man, and a great ruler. In my heart, however, was a memory of the love I had for Edward de Beaulieu. I had to come back to England.

"I expected his anger, my lords, and I expected his scorn, to be sure. I did not expect that he should have held me in so little esteem that he had replaced me within a year of my alleged demise. I had hoped that I should be able to win back his love and his trust. I obviously never had it, and that, my lords, is my mistake. But again I ask you for justice. I was a faithful wife, if not with my body, in my heart and my soul. Edward de Beaulieu was not a faithful husband."

Her testimony concluded, Rhonwyn bowed once more to her judges and stepped back. Glynn ap Llywelyn was then called before the court. He described how he had learned of his sister's disappearance and his shock to discover Edward had written a letter to Rafe de Beaulieu less than two months after Rhonwyn had gone missing. How he had left his studies and traveled with as much haste as possible to Acre to plead with his brother-in-law to wait before remarrying. How Edward had summarily dismissed him…

"Following the example of King Richard's minstrel, Blondell, my lords, I traveled the region singing my songs until, as my sister has told you, I found her." He bowed to them and then stepped back to his place by Rhonwyn's side.

"The lady Rhonwyn, her party and the de Beaulieus will leave the chamber," the king said. "We must discuss this matter in private."

Accompanied by her brother and the nuns, Rhonwyn glided from the hall. Behind her she could hear the de Beaulieus stamping along. The king's steward came and led them to a small waiting chamber where wine and biscuits had been set out. The men quaffed the wine thirstily. Rhonwyn sat silently, a rosary in her hands.

"How meek and forlorn you appear," Rafe de Beaulieu said softly as he came to stand by her side.

She ignored him.

He chuckled. "You say you are no tactician, lady, but I think you would be a dangerous foe in battle. Despite your own behavior your splendid performance will cost poor Edward dearly, I am quite certain."

Unable to help herself, Rhonwyn looked up. "You are despicable."

"Lady, 'tis a compliment I offer you, not a rebuke," he replied. "I admire a clever woman, and you are very clever, although perhaps not very wise. You should have remained in Cinnebar. Did you not realize that it would be impossible for Edward to take you back even if he had had no new wife by his side?"

"If he had loved me, nothing would have been impossible!" Rhonwyn burst out angrily. She still found it difficult to accept the haste with which Edward had acted.

"Love? Love is for children, lady. Marriages should be made for more practical reasons. Your marriage to Edward was part of a treaty between Wales and England. How could you have believed there was any love involved in it?"

"Perhaps because I am not very wise,'' Rhonwyn replied mockingly. "You are wrong, Rafe de Beaulieu. Love can exist between a married couple. I thought it had begun to bloom with Edward. He had, after all, said he loved me. Was I to think he lied?"

"A man will say many things when he is between a woman's legs" was the harsh response.

Rhonwyn's head snapped up, and she glared at him. "You really are despicable. Go away! Why do you find it necessary to torment me?"

He smiled down at her, and she was startled by the sudden realization that he was very handsome. The silver blue eyes mocked her. "I don't want to torment you, Rhonwyn," he said in a voice so low that only she could have heard him. “ I want to make love to you."

She grew pale. She could have sworn that her heart had stopped beating in her chest. She could not speak for a long moment. Finally she said, "If you ever approach me again, I will find a way to kill you, I promise." Then she lowered her head again and began counting her rosary beads.

"You are very bold," the abbess said to Rafe, and she laughed when he flushed. "Aye, I heard you, sir. My hearing is acute. It has to be if I am to keep strict order within my abbey's walls."

"She will be like you when she is old," he said.

"Probably," the abbess answered dryly. "Now go back with your cousin, Rafe de Beaulieu, and leave my niece be."

They waited. Finally the door to the room opened, and the royal chamberlain stood, beckoning them. Returning to the hall, they saw that the king was gone. The queen and the clergy remained.

"The king," Queen Eleanor said, "was exhausted by this morning's events. He has left me to render his judgment. You acted in haste, Edward de Beaulieu, when you remarried without truly knowing if your first wife was dead. However, by having her declared officially dead, your marriage to Lady Katherine is declared legal by the church, and your son, legitimate. It is not believed that you acted with any malice, but rather from the honest conviction that Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn was really dead. When you learned she was not, though, you acted with total disregard for her honor and her family's honor. For this you shall pay a forfeit, and you shall return her dower portion to her. Is that understood, my lord?"

Edward de Beaulieu bowed and said grudgingly, "Aye, my lady."

"As for you, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, you have condemned yourself by your own words. However, you would appear truly repentant of your sins. The church has taken into consideration the absence of God in your life during most of your life. Your future, though, presents us with a difficult problem. Your lascivious behavior makes you, even penitent, unfit for the church. It will also make it difficult to find a husband for you, and you must have a husband, my dear. You are a lady of noble family who is obviously in need of strong husbandly guidance. But under the circumstances of your recent adventures, who will have you?" the queen said, troubled.

" I will have her."

Rhonwyn turned to stare, surprised, at Rafe de Beaulieu, and then she lost her temper. "Never!" she shouted at him. "Never!" She held out her hands in appeal to the queen. "Madame, surely you will not take this man seriously? Besides, there must be some consanguinity between us because of my marriage to Edward de Beaulieu."

Queen Eleanor looked to the assembled clergymen. "My lords?"

The archbishop and bishops put their heads together, and the hum of their voices could be heard murmuring in debate over the question. Finally the archbishop of Canterbury spoke.

"There is no blood tie between Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn and Rafe de Beaulieu," he said. "If the lady had given Edward de Beaulieu a child, then the tie would be there, but it is not. He is free to take her as his wife. It is our opinion that this is the best solution to the matter at hand, my lady."

"I will not have him!" Rhonwyn said firmly.

"The choice, my dear," the queen replied, "is not yours. You must have a husband, and he is willing to have you despite all your faults."

"No!" Unable to help herself and in utter frustration, Rhonwyn stamped her foot at Eleanor of Provence.

The queen ignored Rhonwyn's protest and turned to her aunt. "My lady abbess, are you delegated by the prince of the Welsh to act in the matter of your niece?"

"I am," the abbess replied.

"What say you?" the queen queried.

"I would know first what kind of a home and hearth this man has to offer my niece. Tis not a castle, I am certain, and my niece is of noble blood. Even her mother, God assoil her, was lawfully born into a noble house. We are anxious that Rhonwyn be re-wed, but we will not act in haste and place our child in a difficult situation or one not suited to her station."

"Of course," the queen agreed, smoothing a wrinkle from her royal purple gown. She looked at Rafe de Beaulieu. "Sir, what have you to say to the abbess's query?"

"Through my maternal grandfather who had no other heirs, I hold the title of Baron Bradburn of Ardley," Rafe said. "My manor is small in land, but I have a fine house, servants, and ten serfs to work my fields. My cousin, Edward, has a piece of land, separate from his other holdings, that matches with my land. If you will give me the lady Rhonwyn for a wife, this land could serve as my cousin's forfeit to the lady, and my holdings would thereby be measurably increased. I have cattle and I have sheep among my possessions as well. I am not a very wealthy man but I am comfortable and my wife will not lack. I am not a powerful man, but my blood is as noble as hers. I will not hold the past against her. I will take her to wife despite her adventures and her bad temper."

Rhonwyn threw her rosary beads at his head, shouting, "You will have me in exchange for Edward's land, you bastard? Never! 1 would sooner spend the rest of my days in a windowless dungeon than have you for a husband!"

"The choice is not yours, my child," the abbess repeated quietly.

"Aunt…"

"Listen to me, Rhonwyn," the abbess spoke in the Welsh, "they will marry you off whether you will or no. At least you know this man. You may not like him, but you know him. What other will have you? Perhaps some lecherous old lordling who will use you and beat you and squander your dower portion? Rafe de Beaulieu is young. He will give you children. And, I suspect, in time you will come to an arrangement that pleases you both. I have the power to make this match, and I intend to do so. I would prefer, however, that you agree to it also. Not willingly, I know, but I beg you to agree, Rhonwyn."

"I feel like an animal caught in a trap," Rhonwyn said in her childhood tongue. "I hate it!"

"I know," the abbess sympathized, "and I do understand, my child."

"Why must I wed again?" Rhonwyn demanded angrily, but even as she asked the question she knew she was beaten. How in hell could she hope to prevail against the queen and the church? She couldn't. No one was going to come to her aid. Her brother stood silently, his gaze averted. She could see Oth and Dewi at the end of the hall, but she knew as much as they loved her, they would not act against what they knew her father and her aunt would want for her.

"Rhonwyn?" Her aunt's voice gently pressed her.

"I will marry him, but not willingly," she said, once more using the Norman tongue.

"Excellent," Queen Eleanor replied, well pleased.

"I shall marry them myself, here and now," the archbishop of Canterbury announced beneficently, a broad smile upon his face.

"You honor our family, my lord archbishop," the abbess said smoothly, "but I know I should feel more comfortable if all the legalities were tended to first."

"An excellent suggestion," the queen agreed. "They shall be wed late this afternoon, and if the king is better, he will come and give our beautiful bride away. My dear, I did not mention it before, but green becomes you well."

"I shall take my niece back to the convent, gracious queen, until the documents are ready for signature," the abbess replied.

The queen nodded." I shall send my own page to fetch you."

The abbess and her escort turned to shepherd their charge from the hall. Rhonwyn was seething with anger. Edward de Beaulieu would not look at her, but Rafe stepped forward, taking her hand up and kissing it. His eyes met hers mockingly.

"You will regret your impetuosity, my lord," she snarled at him.

"I think not, Rhonwyn mine," he answered her.

"I will never be yours!" she cried heatedly, and the abbess took her niece's arm and hustled her off before the now affianced pair came to blows.

"Do not cause a scene!" the abbess snapped.

"I hate him! I hate him!" Rhonwyn said heatedly. Her pale skin was flushed with her ire, and the color made her features even more attractive than they usually were.

"You are fortunate," her brother said, coming to her side.

"What? Are you on his side, too?" Rhonwyn complained.

"You had to have another husband," Glynn said.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" she demanded.

"Look on the brighter side of the situation," Glynn said. "Ardley is far nearer to Shrewsbury than Haven. We shall see each other often."

"I don't know why he wants to wed me," Rhonwyn replied, ignoring her brother's comforting words.

"He lusts after you," Glynn said with a chuckle.

"A man who is devoting his life to God should not say such things," she scolded him roundly.

"Had I not had as full a life as I have and known my share of women, sister, I should not be able to give up my life to God so easily," her brother told her with a smile. "Chasing after you and my time in Acre proved quite enlightening."

The abbess chuckled. "You are much your father's son, Glynn. I find it amazing that you can speak of giving up the world so cheerfully. The religious life is a hard life, nephew."

"I know," he said. "In my time in the abbey school I saw how difficult it could be sometimes, but it is also joyous and meaningful as well, my lady abbess. I will be happy at Shrewsbury."

"Then God bless you, Glynn ap Llywelyn," she said. The abbess turned to her niece. "You must rest, Rhonwyn, for you are certainly exhausted in body and spirit after these last few weeks."

Rhonwyn didn't argue with the older woman as they reentered the convent, allowing her aunt to help her from her beautiful gown so she might lay down in her chemise.

"Now listen to me, my child," the abbess said. "After the marriage ceremony I shall announce that we are all leaving immediately. That your father's men-at-arms will want to escort you to your new home, and as we yet have several hours of daylight, we shall leave right away. No one, not even your new husband, will gainsay me, I promise you. We can travel at least five miles tonight before darkness sets in. There is a small religious house just that distance away. It is there we shall shelter tonight. As you know, there will be no accommodations for a newly wed couple. You and your husband will be forced to sleep in separate quarters. Tomorrow we can retrace our route exactly, sheltering at the various convents and monasteries that we sheltered in on our way to Westminster. Until we reach your new home I can protect you from Rafe de Beaulieu's eagerness. Use that time, Rhonwyn, to know him better. You are not the frightened girl who married his cousin. You are a woman, and you know what is expected of you. I have never known a man, but I have heard it said the experience is pleasanter if the couple at least likes each other. There must be something you can learn to like in him."

Rhonwyn shook her head, but she was smiling slightly. "Aunt, I wish I had a predilection for the religious life, for I should enjoy being with you for the rest of my days. I do not think I shall enjoy that same pleasure with Rafe de Beaulieu. I am certainly being punished for my foolish ways."

"Tell me something," the abbess said, turning the subject. "How exactly did Sir Fulk die? You have never been particularly forthcoming in that matter. Do you feel such guilt for his death?"

"He did not die," Rhonwyn said. "I wanted him to return home with me, but he would not. He had been put in charge of Prince Mohammed's military training. The prince is but two years younger than Glynn and just a few years younger than Sir Fulk. They liked one another, and Fulk felt his opportunities would be greater in Cinnebar. He did not believe, however, that his family would understand his remaining with the infidels."

"Could he give up his faith so easily?" The abbess looked disturbed.

"Nay, he did not give up his faith, aunt. In Cinnebar all faiths are permitted to worship freely," Rhonwyn told her.

"Indeed," the abbess said. "It must have been a very odd place."

When her aunt had left the tiny cell where she was housed, Rhonwyn slept. When she was awakened in the early part of the late afternoon, a bowl of lavender-scented water and a cloth were brought to her. She washed herself and dressed again in her lovely green gown. Her hair was unbraided and then replaited as it had been earlier, the mass in the rear of her head being brushed until it shone. A cup of wine and some biscuits were offered, and she ate with a good appetite, for she had had nothing since early morning.

“Are the documents ready for signature?" she asked the abbess when the older woman came to escort her.

"Aye. We are to go back to the palace now. Glynn and the others are awaiting us outside the convent walls. I have made our goodbyes to the mother superior and given her one of your gold marks, niece, in thanksgiving for your marriage."

"A waste of a good coin, although I do not begrudge this convent my gold. The chapel roof, I noted, leaks."

Escorted by the queen's page, they walked the brief distance from St. Mary's to Westminster Palace. The king's chamberlain led them to a small room where Rafe de Beaulieu and Edward awaited them. The documents were laid out upon a large oak table.

"The de Beaulieus have already signed, my ladies," the chamberlain said. "Will you now sign, my lady abbess, here, and here, and here again."

The abbess scanned the parchments before her, and then she said, "My niece is quite capable of signing herself, my lords. Rhonwyn?"

"Traitor!" Rhonwyn whispered.

"You will thank me one day, my child," the abbess said calmly.

"I think not, aunt," Rhonwyn countered, but she took up the quill and signed her name in the places designated.

"You can write," Rafe observed.

She glared at him, and he could not help but laugh. Her look was so deliciously outraged. Her beauty had overwhelmed all other considerations when he had so boldly proclaimed he would have her to wife. If she had been outraged by his offer, his cousin Edward had been equally so. He had calmed Edward by telling him it was better to keep the Welsh girl in the family where they could control her than to let her marry another man who might be cajoled by her beauty into an act of revenge against the de Beaulieus. Edward had reluctantly acquiesced.

The chamberlain stamped the royal seal into the wax that his assistant had dripped onto each document. Then rolling them up, he handed them to Rafe de Beaulieu. "The archbishop is waiting," he said.

For a brief moment Rhonwyn looked as if she were going to bolt from the chamber.

Then Rafe de Beaulieu took her arm, murmuring low, "Certainly ap Gruffydd's daughter is no coward, lady."

Fury blazed in Rhonwyn's emerald green eyes. "You shall soon learn just what ap Gruffydd's daughter is capable of, my lord!"

"Lady, have mercy. My appetite for you is already well honed," he said.

"I should like to hone my sword against your head," she replied angrily.

"I should far rather lodge my sword within your sheath," he teased her.

Her cheeks flamed pink at the randy reference.

"What? No sharp retort?" he taunted her.

She raised her hand to hit him. He caught the hand and, turning it, kissed her palm. Their eyes met, and she was almost staggered physically by the lightning she felt shoot between them. Rhonwyn snatched her hand back, her heart hammering with shock.

"How long has it been?" he murmured softly. His fingers brushed over her lips.

"Go to hell!" she hissed as softly as they entered the royal chapel where the king and queen awaited them.

The king was wan, his left eyelid drooping, but his look was a kind one. He smiled at Rhonwyn, coming slowly to her side as she and Rafe reached the altar where Archbishop Boniface awaited them. Rhonwyn noted the queen's worried expression as the king stood on shaky legs beside the reluctant bride. Poor man, she thought, and gave him a dazzling smile.

"You truly honor me, sire, and I thank you for it," she told the monarch, taking his arm to steady him.

"You will be happy, I promise," the king said to her, and he patted her hand. "A woman is happiest when she is well wed."

"I will remember your words, my lord," she promised him.

Then in his elegant Latin, Archbishop Boniface began the ancient words to the marriage sacrament.

Chapter 15

Rafe de Beaulieu was more amused than angry when he realized he would not be able to consummate his marriage until they reached his estates. While he enjoyed female flesh, he had never been a man to casually bed a woman. The abbess made certain her niece rode by his side each day of their journey. He knew that she was attempting to foster some sort of a rapport between bride and bridegroom, but Rhonwyn was not feeling particularly cooperative. Each day he would attempt to engage her in conversation. She answered him in monosyllables. He gained far more out of her when he taunted her. She would erupt and excoriate him angrily until she realized just what it was he was doing. Then she would grow grimly silent, her lips pressed together tightly in a narrow line.

Finally one day he asked her bluntly, "Why is it that you are angry with me, Rhonwyn? I am not the one who betrayed you."

"You are a de Beaulieu," she answered him.

"So are you," he replied.

A strange look passed over her features, and then she laughed bitterly. "So I am. Twice, by marriage, I vow." Then she asked him, "Why did you wed me, Rafe?"

"For the land, of course, lady," he answered.

"And?"

"Because anyone else who might have you would have mistreated you" was the surprising reply.

"You felt sorry for me?" Her tone bordered on outrage.

"Aye," he readily agreed, "but I also lusted after you. You know how very beautiful you are. I think one reason Edward was angry at me for offering for you is that he, too, sees how lush and ripe you have become. You are no longer the avid little lass who so eagerly sought to go on crusade, Rhonwyn. You are a very desirable woman, and now you are mine."

"Edward thinks I am desirable?" she said, a small smile on her lips. Her green eyes were thoughtful.

"Could you not see the hunger for you in his eyes?" Rafe replied. "He loves my sister, make no mistake, Rhonwyn, but desire you, even briefly, he did. And the secret knowledge of it rendered him full of guilty rage. He directed that anger at you, you will recall."

"I did not see it," she said. "I was too busy defending myself from his cruel charges and half truths, my lord."

"And what do you feel for him?" Rafe asked, attempting to keep the jealousy in his voice from her.

"What should I feel for him?" she countered.

He closed his eyes a moment, and then opening them, said, "You will drive me to murder one day, lady."

"But I suspect not, my lord, before you have plundered my body and gained the pleasures that I can give you," she taunted him.

"What of the pleasures I can give you?" he returned.

"Can you?" she replied coolly. "We shall see, my lord. It is to be hoped you are more skilled in the amatory arts than Edward was. There was very little he aroused in me but a desire to have it over and done with as quickly as possible." That, Rhonwyn knew even as she spoke the words, was not entirely true, but her heart still hurt from the brutal rejection.

"You will find I am an entirely different man than my cousin," Rafe promised her. "You will long for more in my arms, and not less."

" 'Tis to be hoped your actions match or even exceed your boasting, my lord," Rhonwyn mocked him gently.

"As your aunt has so skillfully arranged our daily accommodations, lady, it will be a while longer before I may make good my gasconade," he said with an amused chuckle.

Rhonwyn was forced to laugh. "Passion is the better for the waiting," she advised him, her emerald eyes twinkling. Perhaps this marriage would not be as bad as she thought. To her surprise Rafe de Beaulieu was a humorous man, and she certainly admired his loyalty and devotion to his sister, Katherine.

"Shall I tell you how 1 intend to make love to you the first time I bed your¹" he said, his silvery blue eyes making contact with hers.

Rhonwyn felt her cheeks grow warm. "You are indelicate, my lord." Was her voice shaking? Her knees suddenly felt weak as she bestrode her horse. She gripped her reins more tightly and hoped he didn't notice.

His laughter was low and insinuating. "I shall have you naked," he began sollly. "I want to see the candlelight and the firelight flickering over your body, Rhonwyn. 1 will kiss you. Not just upon the lips, but each tiny bit of your flesh will feel the touch of my mouth. You will be warm and yielding in my arms, Rhonwyn."

"How certain you are," she laughed.

"Aye, I am certain!" he said with a smile.

"What will you do when you have finished kissing me?" she demanded.

Now he laughed. He liked her boldness as long as it was reserved only for him. "I shall fondle those sweet breasts of yours and suckle upon their nipples until the flesh is swollen and aching with desire. I shall caress you until you are weak with longing."

Rhonwyn felt a small tingling beginning in her nether regions. She shifted nervously in her saddle.

He saw the motion and grinned wickedly at her. "I shall find your sweet jewel and torture it until you are creamy with your own sweet essence. Then I shall cover you with my body and enter you slowly, slowly, slowly. You shall feel me hard and throbbing my desire inside your sweet sheath, Rhonwyn. You will melt with pleasure within my arms, my beautiful bride, because, Rhonwyn, you are a woman who was meant to be loved, and there is no man on this earth who will love you as I do. And I will not be satisfied until you love me. Not make love, but love. Do you understand what it is I am saying to you?"

Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow. His words aroused her in a way no man ever had. The tingle mushroomed until it shattered itself, and she sighed deeply. Then hearing his words, her eyes flew open, her look startled, her cheeks blushing guiltily.

"By the rood!" he swore softly, realizing what had happened to her. "Lady, it is all I can do not to stop this caravan and take you into the woods. My God, how you whet my appetites! Others might call you shameless. I will not, provided you keep your passion for me in the future. Praise God we shall reach Ardley tomorrow!"

"So soon?" she whispered. She was both astounded and distressed by the effect he had had on her with his wicked words.

"Not soon enough, lady," he told her frankly.

She kicked her horse into a loping canter and rode ahead of their train, the cool wind soothing the heat in her face. What had just happened was truly disturbing, and such a thing had certainly never happened to her before. I do not understand, she thought, confused. Why should this man have such an effect upon me? How can my body desire him when I do not? She shook her head, suddenly irritated. I am tired, Rhonwyn thought, of being controlled by men. First my father. Then Edward. Then the caliph, and now Rafe de Beaulieu. Why can a woman not live her own life without the interference of men?

She had surely asked the question over and over again, but had never received a proper answer to it. Glynn had said respectable women didn't run their own lives, but he had not explained why that had to be.

Only women like her aunt had a certain measure of autonomy, it seemed, but then even Gwynllian was answerable to her bishop, a man, of course. A queen could rule in her husband's absence or in her own right in certain cases, but her counselors were always men. Why not women? Why just men? Suddenly she laughed aloud at herself. She was asking questions to which there were obviously no answers. Men ruled the world, and that was all there was to it. She was married to Rafe de Beaulieu, and for better or for worse, she was going to have to make the best of it, but she didn't intend to be a docile and gentle creature like her sister-in-law, Katherine. As Rafe was now stuck with her, he would have to accept that Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn was who she was, and there would be no changing her!

Early the following afternoon they reached Ardley. Rhonwyn had to admit she was impressed by the house. Rafe always referred to his branch of the family as poor relations, but his house was hardly a humble dwelling. It was constructed of stone with a slate root and, to her surprise, fortified with a small moat that encircled the main building.

"They got royal permission for that somewhere along the line," the abbess Gwynllian noted. "Undoubtedly it is because we are so close to Wales here. The land looks prosperous, niece. You should be happy here, and it is more manageable than Haven."

"You will remain the night?" Rafe de Beaulieu asked politely.

The abbess chuckled. "Alas, sir, we cannot. I will, of course, want to satisfy my curiosity and see the inside. Afterward, however, we must be on our way. They are expecting us at St. Hilda's tonight."

There was a small wooden bridge that led across the narrow watercourse to a gravel path. They entered the house by means of a stone porch. Carved wooden screens were set on either side of the opening into the hall, which was to their left.

"The kitchen, the buttery, the pantry are on the right," Rafe said. "I have a library behind the hall where I do the estate business."

At the far end of the hall the abbess noted two oriels, one on either side of the room, that allowed much light into the room. There was. a fine large fireplace on the right. The high board was set on a low but elevated dais. The table was of well-polished oak. There were herbs sprinkled upon the floor. The house had a well-kept look about it.

"The staircase to the bedchambers and the solar come down by the left oriel window," he explained. "Would you like to see the upstairs, my lady abbess?"

"Aye, I will admit to being curious." She smiled at him.

At that moment, however, Katherine de Beaulieu came down the stairs and entered into the hall. "Rafe!" she called, her voice sweet and welcoming.

"Edward came home several days ago and told me you had taken the lady Rhonwyn for your wife. I hope you will both be very happy." She hugged her brother, and the abbess saw her look was loving. She turned to Rhonwyn. "Welcome to Ardley, Rhonwyn. May you be content within these walls. My mother was, and the women who came before her." She embraced her somewhat startled sister-in-law, behaving as if the marriage between her brother and Rhonwyn was a wonderful thing. "I have brought you a gift, Rhonwyn. She is waiting upstairs for you."

For a moment Rhonwyn looked puzzled, and then suddenly she said, "Enit?", and when Katherine nodded with a smile, Rhonwyn could not keep herself from hugging Edward's wife. "Oh, thank you, Katherine!"

"Her loyalty is to you alone. Once she knew you were alive, I knew I could not keep her from you," Katherine said. "Would you like me to give you a tour of the house? I know it far better than my brother, who only knows where to go to sleep, to eat, and to pee," Katherine laughed.

"Please," Rhonwyn said. Then she and the abbess followed after Katherine as she led them upstairs. Rafe watched them go, and when he knew he would not be observed, he smiled. When he had first seen his sister he feared that Rhonwyn would be unkind, but before she could even get her bearings, Kate had won her over with her natural sweetness. The abbess, he had noted, was equally relieved. He took the cup of wine offered by an attentive servant and sat down by his fire.

Upstairs Katherine showed her new sister-in-law the master chamber with its sunny solar and garderobe. There were also two smaller chambers. Each of the rooms, Katherine proudly pointed out, had its own fireplace. "The house is very tight," she said, "and the windows face south and west. Even in our awful Shropshire winters these rooms arc toasty warm. My mother far preferred her solar on a winter's day to the hall below."

At the sound of the voices Enit hurried from the master chamber. "Oh, my lady, my lady!" Then she burst into tears.

Touched, Rhonwyn embraced her serving woman. "It's all right now, Enit. I'm here, and we have a fine new home, don't we?"

"Yes, my lady," the young woman sniffed.

"My lady abbess," Katherine said, "will you allow me to travel with you as far as Haven? At this hour I cannot hope to reach home by sunset, but I should be grateful to be somewhat nearer there by evening."

"Will your husband worry, my dear?" the abbess inquired.

"Nay. I told him I should travel with you and he would probably not see me until the morrow sometime. I have half a dozen men-at-arms with me, and your road is but a mile away from Haven."

"Of course, child, you are welcome to travel with me," the abbess said.

Suddenly there was the sound of a child crying, and Rhonwyn realized that there was a cradle by the solar fireplace. Walking over, she saw a swaddled infant lying in it. The baby looked up at her, and Rhonwyn jumped back. The child had Edward de Beau-lieu's eyes and looked at Rhonwyn in the same way.

"Oh," Katherine said. "Neddie has startled you. I am so sorry. He is just two months old, and I certainly couldn't leave him behind at Haven."

"Why not?" Rhonwyn demanded. Had Katherine brought the child to torture her?

"He would have starved," Katherine said softly. "I do not believe in wet nurses. There was no danger in bringing him to my brother's house. Come and meet your nephew now. He will grow up with the children that you and Rafe have. Is that not wonderful?" She picked up the infant and handed him to Rhonwyn before her sister-in-law might demur.

The abbess almost laughed aloud at the look of terror on her niece's face. "Cuddle him, child," she said in her Welsh tongue. "He will not bite you. You do not smell of milk as his mother does."

Rhonwyn nestled the baby boy in her arms, her terror replaced by a feeling of amazement and wonder. "He really looks just like Edward," she finally said.

"Doesn't he?" Katherine crowed proudly. "I hope your first son is his father's mirror image. Men are so vain over these things, and Rafe in particular."

"Perhaps my first child will be a daughter," Rhonwyn ventured.

"Then I hope she looks like you, sister!" was the sweet reply. "You are truly the most beautiful woman I ever saw. My brother is a fortunate man. I hope you will eventually learn to love him as I love Edward. Do not think me insensitive, Rhonwyn, for I am not. I suspect you cared deeply for Edward. He is a difficult man, but I have known him my whole life long, and I know I am the better wife for him. You are impulsive and slightly reckless, like Rafe. You do not realize it yet, but you are strangely well matched, though you, I think, are the stronger. Be kind to my brother." She took her son from Rhonwyn. "You will want to refresh yourself, my lady abbess, before we are on the road again. I will leave you and go down to visit with my brother for a few minutes. I am ready when you are." Her son in her arms, Katherine de Beaulieu hurried from the solar.

Rhonwyn sat down heavily.

Joining her, her aunt said, "I have never known you to be this quiet, my child. What is it?"

Rhonwyn was silent for a long moment, and then she said, "I really am remarried, aunt. I have a new husband. A new house. A sister-in-law whom I should hate, but cannot. And I am expected to have babies!"

"You are no longer a child, Rhonwyn," the abbess said gently. "You are a grown and experienced woman of noble birth. It is indeed past time you had children. This is the life you will live now. Make your peace with it, my child. You are very fortunate to have been rescued by Rafe de Beaulieu. He is, I believe, a far better man than his cousin."

Rhonwyn nodded. "1 know," she agreed, "but he is just so annoying, aunt! Part of me wants to accept my new life. Another part of me wants to fight with Rafe for daring to marry me! What am I to do?"

"My dear niece, in the never-ending battle between men and women, I have absolutely no experience, but I very much believe that you and that handsome husband of yours will eventually come to an understanding before one of you kills the other." She arose. "Now, call Enit and show me to the garderobe before I must be on my way. I will join you downstairs, my child."

In the hall Rhonwyn found her brother had joined Rafe and Katherine. They were laughing as they shared wine and biscuits. "What is your cause for such humor?" she asked as she came to Glynn's side.

"Rafe and I are comparing stories of growing up with a sister," Glynn said with a chuckle.

"And what have you discovered?" she asked him with a smile.

"That girls are all alike," he laughed.

"You will miss me when you are in your cold cell, subsisting on salt fish, bread, and bad wine," Rhonwyn predicted.

"Aye," Glynn agreed. "I will miss you, Rhonwyn."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Damn you, little brother," she said softly. "You are the only person I know who can make me cry."

He embraced her tenderly. "Be content, sister, and be happy with this new life, this other chance you have been given. I know that I am glad to be returning to Shrewsbury Abbey where my life awaits me."

"And what will poor Oth and Dewi do without you, brother?" she asked him.

"They want to remain with you, Rhonwyn. I have already gained Rafe's permission in the matter. He is glad to have them. He knows it will make you happy." Glynn lowered his voice. "He is a good man, sister. Do not take him lightly."

"I won't," she promised.

The abbess came downstairs, accompanied by Enit. "Give me a sip of wine, nephew Rafe, and then I shall be on my way," she said.

When the wine had been consumed, the abbess, Katherine de Beaulieu, her infant, and Glynn ap Llywelyn took their leave of Rafe and Rhonwyn. Rhonwyn watched them go. Even though her brother had promised to visit when the abbott permitted him to come, she was already lonely, and only God knew if she would ever see her aunt again. When Rafe's arm went about her shoulder, she did not shrug it off.

"Come," he said when their guests had at last disappeared from sight. "You have not met your servants, wife. Do you like the house?"

She nodded. "It is a fine house," she told him.

"But not a castle," he remarked.

"I was not raised in a castle, my lord."

"Nor is it a caliph's luxurious palace," he noted.

"I was not raised in a palace, either," she replied. "Why do you seek to quarrel with me, my lord?"

"What, Rhonwyn, will you not fight with me?" he teased her. "Pray God you do not turn into a meek and mild creature like my sweet sister, Kate. Such decorum in a sister is fine, but 'tis deadly dull in a wife, I fear."

"How would you know, sir? Have you ever had a wife before?" she snapped back at him.

He chortled. "That is better, and in answer to your question, nay, I have never had a wife before, but I think I may enjoy one." The silver blue eyes danced wickedly at her.

"You are impossible," she fumed.

" 'Tis true, lady, but are you yet sad over the departure of your aunt and your brother now?" he queried.

Suddenly Rhonwyn laughed. "You are clever, my lord, perhaps too clever, I fear, for a simple lass raised in a fortress in the Welshry," she murmured. Now her eyes were dancing wickedly.

"Simple lass?" he scoffed disbelieving. "Your simplicity has gained me over three hundred acres, Rhonwyn. My father tried his whole life to get that land from his brother, Edward's father, but to no avail. Now, at last, thanks to you, we have it!" He gave her a hug as they entered the house again.

"Did it belong to Ardley originally?" she asked him.

"My grandfather, and Edward's, purchased Ardley for my father so he would have his own lands, but our grandsire retained the acreage in question because he felt it added to Haven's prestige to have more land. When Edward's father inherited it, my father attempted to purchase it from him, but my uncle would not sell it. It always galled my lather that his own brother would not give him back the land that rightfully belonged to Ardley. When the queen's counselors asked what forfeit I would have for you, I chose this land. It was not so great a parcel that would make us appear greedy, and it matched my lands. It was to all the obvious choice. Edward dared not refuse me, although I know he was angered," Rafe chuckled. "It truly pained him to release those acres to me. Fortunately he had no other option."

"So you really did marry me for the land," she said almost irritably.

"Of course," he replied. "You are the first woman that I ever considered who had a respectable dower portion."

"Beast!" She hit him on the arm, and he laughed.

"Surely you are not a romantic, Rhonwyn? You know as well as I do that marriage is an arrangement between families, mutually acceptable to them both. You were married to Edward to seal a treaty between England and Wales. You have been married to me because I saw an opportunity to regain what was mine. You have profited as well, wife. Shameless hussy that you are, you have made a second respectable marriage and saved both your honor and your father's good name." Rafe surveyed her, curious as to how she would react to his speech.

Rhonwyn's look, however, was carefully masked. She had not forgotten the words he had spoken to her the day before. And I will not be satisfied until you love me. Then she smiled a wicked smile. "You have done quite well for yourself, Rafe. Not only have you gained back the land your family lost, but you have wed above your station by marrying the prince of the Welsh's daughter."

He chuckled. "You will not be easy to live with, I can see it even now. Come, wife, the servants await. Kate was so busy being house proud that she did not introduce you as she should have." He took her hand, leading her back into the house where she met Browne, the steward; Albert and his wife, Albertina, who divided the cooking and baking chores between them; and the three maidservants, Dilys, Mavis, and Annie. There was a kitchen boy, Tarn, who scrubbed pots, turned the spit, and edged the knives. Lizzie and her sister, Rosie, were in charge of the laundry. There was Peterman, the bailiff, several grooms for the stables, and a hayward who kept the hedges trimmed. Rafe, Rhonwyn learned, kept his own accounts and ordered what supplies the estate could not grow or manufacture.

The servants were friendly but polite. They seemed to be pleased to have a new mistress. She thanked them for their greeting, and then said, "You have met my Enit and will welcome her as warmly, I hope." Then Rhonwyn smiled at them.

"Aye, my lady," Browne replied. "A good worker your Enit is, we already know. She has prepared your chamber for you and earlier unpacked your possessions that she and Lady Katherine brought from Haven."

For a moment Rhonwyn was tempted to say she wanted nothing from Haven, but she swallowed back the urge. She wasn't a wealthy woman, nor was her husband a rich man. She needed everything she had, and her pride would have to accept that fact.

"Come," Rafe said softly to her. "I will take you to our chamber, wife." His fingers closed about her arm.

"Our chamber?"

" ‘Tis a small house," he murmured low. "The custom here is that the master and the mistress share a bed. Tis not like my cousin's fine castle where the lady has her own apartments and the lord his." He half dragged her up the narrow staircase and into the solar. "Go down to the hall, girl," he told Enit, who scurried out at his command. "Now, wife, we will talk," Rafe de Beaulieu said.

Rhonwyn sat herself in a high-backed oak chair by the fire. "What shall we talk about, my lord?" she asked him sweetly.

"You realize that I positively lust after you, Rhonwyn, don't you? I have said it before," he remarked frankly as he stood before her.

"Aye," she managed to respond, looking directly up at him. Why did he have to be so damned handsome, she thought, admitting to herself that she could feel her own lust being engaged. It had been almost a year since she had lain in a man's arms, felt a man's weight on her, sighed with pleasure at a lover's eager entrance into her body.

He smiled, and she flushed, knowing he somehow read her randy thoughts. "Do you want me as much as I want you?" he asked her.

"I do not want you at all," she snapped, knowing it was a lie and knowing that he knew it was a lie.

"I have never forced a woman, Rhonwyn," he told her seriously. "I will not force you. You are my wife. Between us there will be respect and consideration until that time you wish us to enter into a true spousal state. We will, of course, share the bed in our chamber, for I am certain you do not wish the servants to know of our agreement. It would distress them to learn we were not doing all we could to make an heir for Ardley."

"You don't want me?" She was astounded.

"Nay, wife, as I have already said, I want you very much, but I will have no woman who does not want me," Rafe replied.

"That is ridiculous!"

"Do you enjoy being forced, then?" he demanded, his look leering. He tipped her face up to his.

Pulling away, Rhonwyn cried, "Nay! But you are my husband, and you have certain rights whether I will or no. Edward certainly never hesitated to claim his prerogatives."

"Edward was a fool who might have discovered the real reason for your fears had he not been so busy with his claims," Rafe said bluntly. "Your caliph obviously took the time to learn what it was that frightened you, Rhonwyn. Will you tell me?"

"Rashid al Ahmet said that the mind was a dangerous thing," Rhonwyn began. "He was patient and clever. Together we discovered that I hid a secret within the darkest recesses of my soul. Once, when I was a small girl and my brother barely out of infancy, a richly clad stranger came to our cottage and violated my mam. She never told ap Gruffydd and warned me not to, either. Glynn was too young to remember the incident. My mam told me I should never let a man do to me what the stranger had done to her. It somehow left the impression on my child's mind that I should not couple with a man. Once I was able to remember what had happened, my fears dissolved."

"Ah," Rafe said, and then he grinned at her. "And being fearless, wife, you went on to taste and experience all the pleasures of the flesh, did you not? I hope the caliph taught you well, for I am a man with a prodigious appetite for carnal delights."

"But you will not force me," Rhonwyn taunted him. "You have said it yourself, my lord, that until I desire you, you will not have me." Her fingers reached up and caressed his cheek, sliding down the curve of his visage and trailing across his lips.

He caught her hand and shoved her fingers into his mouth, sucking upon them vigorously, his eyes meeting hers in a silent challenge.

"You said you would not force me," she quickly reminded him.

He licked her fingers dry and kissed the tips of the digits before releasing them. "I said, lady, that I should not force you. I did not say I should not tease you, fondle you, caress you, or kiss you. I said I would not force you."

"Is what you have said not coercion?" she demanded. Her fingers were tingling.

"You are proud, Rhonwyn, and you are a poor liar. You lust for me every bit as much as I lust after you, but you refuse to admit to it." Yanking her up, his arms closed about her. Their lips were dangerously close. "Tell me now that you do not want me!"

"I do not want you!" she cried.

"Liar!" he mocked her, and then he kissed her lips. They trembled beneath his, soft and yielding despite her protest. "Tell me you do not want me," he said once more.

"Bastard!" she hissed at him fiercely.

"Say the words, Rhonwyn," he pressed her.

"But you don't believe me," she half sobbed. Her heart was pounding wildly. Her legs felt like straw.

"Nay, wife, 1 don't. Edward was foisted upon you, as was your caliph. I am the first, the only man, whom you have ever truly desired with ever fiber of your being, Rhonwyn. Why do you deny so desperately what is so plain to me?" His mouth brushed hers again. "So proud. So fierce. So damnably sweet," he crooned low to her. "Do not fight it, lovely, I beg of you!"

She struggled against his grip. "You claim I am proud," she cried. "Your pride is far worse than mine, Rafe de Beaulieu. Let me be! You have promised not to force me, and I will not have you! Can you not understand me?"

He kissed her brow. "You will come to me sooner than later, wife," he told her as his grip loosened suddenly, and she almost fell.

Recovering, she stood facing him, her cheeks pink, her green eyes wide. "What makes you think I want you?" she demanded.

"I see it in your emerald eyes," he told her. "You trembled in my arms, and I felt the little nipples of your breasts hardening against my chest. Your mouth was sweet and did not deny me, Rhonwyn."

"I cannot remain here," she said desperately. "You are a devil, Rafe de Beaulieu! You confuse me with your wicked tongue!"

"Oh, my darling," he said, laughing, "you haven't begun to know the impact of my wicked tongue upon you, but you soon will."

She turned away from him. He was right, damn him! For the first time in her life she actually desired a man. She had almost desired Edward, and the caliph's passion had opened her eyes to the pleasures that could exist between a man and a woman, but she had never truly wanted a man as she wanted this one. But it was wrong! To give in to his wicked cajolery before they knew more about one another was not right. This was the man she would be married to until death. She wanted his respect, and if she was to have it, she must not yield to his taunts like some common whore of the streets. Drawing a deep breath, Rhonwyn turned herself about and looked directly at her husband.

"Aye, I do desire you," she admitted, "but I am not being coy when I ask you for a bit of time so we may know one another better. Because I have lived in a harem does not make me a loose woman, Rafe. Do you understand how I feel?"

He sighed. "Aye," he told her, "I do, but waiting will not make me want you any less, lovey."

Rhonwyn laughed. "1 don't want you to desire me less, husband," she said. "I just want to know the man I am wed to better than I knew the last one. Perhaps we can learn to love one another in the romantic sense, but I seek your respect as well. Neither of us are children, Rafe, and we have both known passion. There is little that can surprise us, my lord, so let us be patient for now."

"You surprise me, Rhonwyn," he told her.

"Sometimes I surprise myself," she returned.

"If you had been Eve, and I, Adam," he said, "I believe we should still be within the Garden of Eden, wife."

Rhonwyn was unable to restrain her chuckle. "Perhaps," she said.

They stood awkwardly for a long moment, staring at one another, and then he said, "It is almost time for the meal, wife. Let us go down into the hall together. Tomorrow you must begin to learn the ways of this household. Browne will help you, I promise. He is a good man. It is he who trained Kate properly after our parents died."

The meal was simple. There was a broiled trout and a venison stew along with bread and cheese. They both ate with good appetites. Afterward they sat together by the fire in high-backed wooden chairs with tapestried cushions. A huge gray wolfhound with a rough coat came and put his large head in Rhonwyn's lap. Delighted, she stroked the beast until his dark eyes closed in obvious pleasure.

"His name is Flint," Rafe said. "I have never before seen him take to anyone. He has always been very aloof."

"He was but waiting for me," Rhonwyn told her husband, and as if to agree, Flint's eyes opened, and he barked.

They both laughed.

"So you like dogs, do you?" Rale said.

"Cythraul had a small pack of them," she replied, "and there were animals at Haven, although none ever attached itself to me as this charming fellow has." Flint was now lying at her feet.

"Having done so, he'll guard you with his own life," Rafe told her seriously. "That is the way wolfhounds are if they attach themselves to any one person."

Flint ambled upstairs after them, and Rafe allowed him to sleep before the fire in the solar.

"Not our bedchamber?" Rhonwyn teased him.

"First he'd be on the floor, and then he'd push me right out of our bed," Rafe said. "Don't think I don't understand his tactics, wife."

Enit helped her mistress to wash and disrobe, then sought her bedspace in the solar. Rhonwyn climbed into the big bed with the dark green hangings. Turning on her side, she waited nervously for Rafe to join her, wondering if he would keep his promise. She found herself a little disappointed when he did, and when she awoke in the morning he had already gone.

Browne began guiding her through the business of being Ardley's new mistress.

The household was small and practically ran itself, but there were certain things done in season that were Rhonwyn's responsibility as mistress of the household.

"Most have been done for the year," Browne told his mistress, "for even though Lady Katherine is now at Haven, she would not allow her brother's household to falter. It will soon be time for the making of the October ale. The apples and pears are being harvested now and must be made into conserves or dried for winter use, and of course the pigs will need to be slaughtered for winter."

"I've never done such work," Rhonwyn admitted. "When I lived at Haven, these things were done by others."

"And so they will be here, my lady" Browne said in kindly tones, "but Ardley being a small manor, it will be up to its lady to oversee all these tasks. Do you know how to make salves and other medicines?"

"Aye, I was taught at the convent," Rhonwyn replied.

"It is a good time to seek out the berries, roots, and leaves you will need for that endeavor," Browne remarked. "Shall I call Enit and fetch a basket for you, my lady?"

"Yes," she told him. By the rood! She had missed what it was like to be a lady of the manor. Her time at Haven had been short, and in the harem she had done nothing more strenuous than gossip in the baths with Alia and the other women while beautifying herself for the caliph's visits. She had almost forgotten that a good English chatelaine's days were scheduled to match the march of the seasons. If they were to survive the winter, there was a great deal that would have to be done. Having lived at Haven, Rhonwyn remembered that Shropshire had the worst winters in all of England.

September and October flew by. The ale was made and sealed in barrels. The fruit was preserved by either drying or enclosing in jugs of honey and wine. Rhonwyn was delighted when her husband invited her to go hunting. Over the next few weeks they brought back several deer and a number of water fowl, which were hung in the larder. Rhonwyn purchased a barrel of cod and directed her servants to salt the fish in order to preserve it over the coming winter months.

At Martinmas they had goose, and Edward came in his wife's company to Ardley for the family feast. He could hardly wait to tell his brother-in-law and his former wife that Katherine was once again with child. It would be born next summer.

"You must not allow him to wear you out with childbearing," Rhonwyn scolded Kate. "This child will be born only thirteen months after its sibling. Go to Enit's mother afterward. She will help you to avoid conceiving again too soon."

"Such a thing is forbidden," Katherine said piously. "Edward would be very angry should he ever learn of such a thing."

"He will be angrier if you die too soon. Do you want your babes raised by an uncaring stepmother? He sensible, Kate. Rafe would certainly agree with me, I know," Rhonwyn told her sister-in-law.

"I do not need Rafe telling me what to do as he always did before I wed with Edward," Kate said heatedly.

"Doesn't Edward tell you what to do?" Rhonwyn asked.

"Edward is my husband," Kate answered with what she consid-erd perfect logic.

"What were you and my sister discussing so hotly?" Rafe asked her afterward when their guests had departed.

"Kate is sweet, but she is a dolt," Rhonwyn said bluntly, and told him of their conversation.

Rafe's visage grew concerned. "I will talk to her," he said firmly.

"Don't," Rhonwyn warned. "She will not listen. I will have Enit's mother conspire with her other daughter, who is Kate's maidservant. They will see Kate is protected from her foolishness."

"You are a good wife," Rafe said.

"Not yet, my lord, but soon, 1 promise," Rhonwyn told him. "Soon I will be the best wife you could ever have, Rafe."

Chapter 16

The hall was practically silent. The fire crackled, and Flint snored contentedly, his massive head on his paws. The servants had disappeared, the meal having been cleared away an hour ago. Outside the windows a winter storm howled unrelentingly, the snow and ice beating against the windows as the shutters rattled with each windy blast. Rhonwyn and Rafe sat before the blazing fire, a chess table between them. They were well matched in skill, and the nightly battle between them was indicative of the other silent battle they fought.

Her fingers toyed with the carved ash-wood chess piece as she contemplated her next move. "Do you think the storm will be over by morning?" she wondered aloud, not even looking up as she finally moved her queen.

Rafe studied the outline of the chessboard now. "Nay, wife, this is a bad storm even for Shropshire. It may end by tomorrow's nightfall, but certainly not before." He checked her queen.

"By the rood!" Rhonwyn swore, surprised. She had not considered his clever move and felt a slight tingle of irritation as he removed her piece from the board.

He laughed. "Are you ready to concede this match, wife?"

Rhonwyn searched the chessboard for a way out, but finding none, she said, "I surmise I must. What forfeit will you have, my lord?"

"A kiss," he told her. "On the lips, wife."

Now it was Rhonwyn who laughed. "I did not expect you to kiss my hand, my lord," she told him and, standing, said, "Come, and receive your prize then."

Rising, he moved around the table and took her into his arms. His silver blue eyes searched her face, and to her chagrin, Rhonwyn blushed. His eyes asked her the one question that until now she was not ready to answer. She initiated the kiss, quickly pulling down his head to give him the answer he had been waiting for for the past five months, as their lips met tenderly in a sweet, but brief kiss.

"You are certain, wife?" His look challenged her.

Rhonwyn nodded. "There is only one way I may come to know you better, Rafe," she said softly. "We have waited long enough."

"Aye!" he agreed, and then he swept her up into his arms and carried her from the hall, up the narrow staircase, through the solar past a startled Enit, and into their bedchamber. He shut the door firmly behind them, and set her on her feet, taking both her hands in his. He turned them over and placed a hot kiss in the center of each palm. Not a word was spoken between them.

Retrieving her hands from his light grasp, she undid her girdle and lay it aside. Her eyes locked onto his as she drew her gown off and placed it with the cincture. Sitting upon the single chair in the chamber, she held out a leg to him. Kneeling, Rafe drew the soft house shoe from her foot, and slipped the garter holding her stocking up off her. Slowly, slowly he rolled the stocking down her slender leg, tossing it aside as his dark head bent to kiss first her slim foot, and then to run a succession of kisses up her leg, stopping at the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

"Ummmmm," Rhonwyn murmured as a shiver ran down her back. "That is nice, husband." She offered him her other leg.

His fingers brushed the inside of her thigh teasingly and then he repeated his previous actions with her second leg. This time, however, when he had finished his reverence he pushed her chemise up as far as it would go and parted her legs. He stared for a long moment at her plump, pink Venus mons. The shadowed slash between her nether lips beckoned him, and unable to contain himself, he ran a finger lightly down it, smiling as he felt her shiver Opening her lips to his deeper view, he gazed upon the badge of her womanhood. It seemed to shimmer to his sight. "Jesu," he murmured low, "you are so beautiful there." Leaning forward, he kissed the moist flesh lightly.

"Oh, God!" Rhonwyn whispered, her voice ragged, and she shuddered at the touch of his tongue as it swept over her sensitive jewel.

Straightening, he closed her legs to his view. Taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her lips, his tongue plunging into the deep recess of her mouth to make contact with hers. She could taste her own salty muskiness as he teased at her. She almost swooned in his arms to her great surprise, for his desire was the most deeply sensual thing she had ever known. Hungrily she kissed him back, realizing very clearly how much she wanted to be loved by this man who was her husband. Not simply made love to, but loved.

Surprised by the intensity of her kiss, he released his grip on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "By the rood, wife!" he exlaimed, seeing the truth.

"If you gloat, Rafe, I swear I will slice your ears off!" she threatened him.

"I should be an odd sight then," he teased back gently, taking her hand in his and kissing the palm softly. "You are so damned proud, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, and so I shall say it first. I love you, wife."

"For how long?" she demanded, but her heart was hammering with the incredible joy overtaking her entire being. He loved her!

"From the first moment I saw you, and you were my cousin's wife and he did not really appreciate the magnificent creature he had in you. Edward didn't deserve you. I could plainly see that you were not the woman for him. You were mine!"

"Oh, Rafe," she said, her heart overflowing with her happiness.

"When they said you were dead I did what I had to do for my sister, but in the darkness of the night I cursed the fates that I had lost you. And then by some miracle you were restored to me, my darling! I can still remember all those pompous clerics sitting about with their pursed lips and disapproving looks, wondering who would have this fallen woman-this Magdalen who had lain in an infidel's arms and then had the temerity to return to England and admit it. I can still hear the angry sound my cousin made when I said that I should have you. It was a cross between a gasp and a curse, for while Edward knows Katherine is a better wife for him, he yet lusts after you."

"You delight in that knowledge," she accused him.

"Aye, I do," he freely admitted. "My cousin is a fool, but his wit-lessness has allowed me to have my heart's desire." His fingers began to unlace her chemise, pulling it down off her shoulders so that it finally puddled about her hips. He stared entranced at her breasts, shaking his head and murmuring, "So beautiful."

Rhonwyn took his face between her hands and looked into it. "I love you, Rale," she told him. " I love you!" She kissed his mouth hard. "I said those words only once to Edward when he was ill, but never did I say them to Rashid al Ahmet. You hear this declaration from me because it is the truth. I love you!"

"I shall not be the fool that Edward was," he promised her.

"I know," she told him. "Now take your clothes off, Rafe, because I am hot to couple with you, my husband!" She pushed him from her and stood up from the chair, allowing the chemise to fall to her ankles. She stepped from the material and began undoing his sherte, her nimble fingers pulling the laces free as if by magic. She yanked the garment from him and then bent to cover his torso in kisses.

With a groan he pulled her up, drawing her against his bare chest with one hand while the other hand fumbled with his chausses. Both of them were breathing quickly in their eagerness. He cursed his awkwardness, and laughing softly, Rhonwyn aided him with sure hands until he was as naked as she. Stepping back, she viewed him as God had made him and smacked her lips in open approval.

He laughed aloud. "Shameless wench," he said, but his own eyes were sweeping over her admiringly.

Taking his hand, she led him to their bed and drew him down atop her. "Make love to me, husband," she said softly. "Have we both not waited long enough for this night?" Then Rhonwyn kissed him eagerly.

The warmth of her lips sent his senses reeling. He was already hard for her, but he had wanted more than a quick coupling the first time. Now he realized how desperate they both were for this first encounter. There would be more than enough time-years- for the tender passion that he believed should precede the event. Slowly, carefully, he entered her body, knowing how long it had been since she had last had a man. She was wet and hot, and she sighed deeply at his ingress. He groaned with the delight he felt at just possessing her. Leaning back slightly, he caressed her breasts.

Rhonwyn put her arms about his neck and drew him back down against her. "I am ashamed to be so eager," she confessed, "but, please!"

He smiled into her eyes, his lips gently kissing her face, and began to move upon her. Her eyes closed as she wrapped her slender limbs about him, her lithe body moving with his rhythm, encouraging him onward. His breath began to come in hot pants as his tempo quickened.

She half sobbed as she felt his great, thick length fill her. Neither of her previous lovers had been quite as well endowed as was Rafe. The beast throbbed within her love sheath, then it began to thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw, until she was mindless and wild with her passion. She clung hungrily to him, her nails digging into the muscles of his back and raking down the smooth flesh as her lust swelled. Finally they exploded in a starburst of satisfaction that they shared together before collapsing, replete with their shared pleasure.

"Oh, husband," Rhonwyn breathed gustily.

"Wife, you should unman a satyr," he groaned happily.

"What is a satyr?" she demanded to know.

He laughed. "A creature that is half man, half goat, and incredibly lustful."

She smiled as she lay contented upon his smooth, damp chest. "Next time I shall make you feel like the randiest of satyrs," she promised.

"Will you?" he half taunted her.

"I will!" Rhonwyn raised her head and began to lick his nipples suggestively.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, very much enjoying her attentions, then he gently bid her cease. "While I should like you to believe I can be aroused almost immediately, wife, it is not possible, as we both realize."

"I bow to your husbandly wisdom," she said sweetly, arising from their bed and walking across the floor to the fireplace. There she took a pitcher of water from the coals and poured some into the small earthenware ewer that was set on the hearth along with a soft cloth. Returning to the bed, she set the ewer on the side table and began to bathe his masculine parts. He was very surprised, but she explained. "They do this in Cinnebar so that no pleasure has to be foregone the second, or third, or fourth time."

"Third or fourth time?" he queried her, swallowing hard.

"Aye," she replied, bathing her own female parts carefully before his eager eyes. "When this night is over, my lord husband, you will have even more reason to feel sorry for your cousin, Edward." And so saying she went to the window, opened the shutter, and threw out the water in the basin, laughing as the wind and snow blew into their chamber, and the fire blazed higher for a minute. Closing the shutter, she replaced the ewer and its cloth on the hearth and returned to the comfort of his arms.

"I know something Edward never knew about you," he told her. "You are a sorceress, my Welsh wife, and I am under your spell." Then he kissed her, softly at first, his lips tracing a path over her eyelids, cheeks, and nose. Then more fiercely their mouths fused together, their tongues playful and teasing. He was caught by surprise when she pushed him upon his back and bestrode him, her thighs holding him firmly.

Reaching up, she undid her hair, which was already half undone by their earlier love play. Tossing the pins carelessly aside, she let her tresses fall like a rich golden mantle about her. Then her hands reached out for him, and she began to smooth her palms in circles over his chest. "We must have scented oils in a basket by our bed," she told him. "I will rub them into your skin, husband, and it will give you great pleasure." Her center fingers began rubbing themselves over his sensitive nipples. Leaning forward briefly, she kissed him even as she pinched his nipples hard, catching his cry of surprise within her mouth. Then leaning back again, she nibbled thoughtfully upon a finger for a moment. Suddenly a wicked smile suffused her features, and Rhonwyn turned her body about upon his torso. Her fingers reached out for his manhood, which was showing definite signs of awakening.

"1 learned this in the harem," she told him as she reached beneath him to press a finger against a sensitive spot that he had never even known existed.

"Jesu! Mary!" he groaned as fire began to pour through his veins and her hand tortured his twin jewels with teasing caresses.

Rhonwyn inclined her body forward, her fingers running up and down his stiffening manhood. Her pointed little tongue encircled the fiery head of his weapon several times, and then she took him into her mouth, suckling upon as much of his length as she could, rousing him into such a frenzy that he began to groan. When she determined that he had had as much as he could stand without spilling his seed, she ceased the sweet torment and turned her body back to face him.

His big hands fastened themselves about her narrow waist, and lifting her up, he lowered her again, delving deep into her hot softness. His hands fastened themselves about her round breasts, and he began to fondle them. Their eyes met suddenly, and she smiled at him, her hands bracing themselves as she began to ride him, slowly at first, and then with increasing vigor. His eyes closed, and he almost wept with the pleasure she was giving him.

Seeing him lost in his passion, Rhownyn's green eyes closed, too, and she gave herself to the moment. He was hard and strong. He filled her so completely that she sensed he was touching her womb. She tightened the muscles of her love sheath about him, and he cried out with his delight. Then without warning he released her breasts, took her by the shoulders, and rolled her beneath him. His hard thighs imprisoned her as he pushed himself deeper and deeper within her body. Her legs wrapped themselves about him, and she whimpered with the pleasure they were sharing. There seemed to be no real beginning or end to their heated encounter. She felt herself soaring higher and higher and higher; she knew he was with her and clung hard to him.

"I can't stop," he whispered desperately in her ear.

"I don't want you to," she responded. "Oh, Rafe! I have never known a lover like you, my darling!"

"Nor I," he answered. He wanted to go on and on forever with her, but then his body betrayed them, and his love juices gushed forth. He cried out in his anguish, but then the sound of her own pleasure reached his ears. She had released her own passion with his. His arms enfolded her tightly, half in comfort, half with his deep love for her.

They fell asleep, their bodies still locked together and intertwined. When they woke an hour or more later his manhood was hard once again as it rested within her lush body.

"You are amazing," she said softly, moving with him in the cadence of passionate lust.

"Only for you," he declared. "Only for you, my wife." His hard body pinioned her beneath him as he once again brought them to a sweet fulfillment, demanding to know afterward, "Was your caliph as passionate, wife?"

"Aye, and sometimes more so, but he did not really love me, Rafe. He only desired me. I was told passion is better shared by two people who love one another. Until now I did not know the wonder of it all. Only with you, husband. Only with you!"

From that moment on they were as one. During the snowiest winter in memory they spent a great deal of time making love to one another. There was, after all, little else to do until the spring. Rhonwyn realized she was happier than she had ever been in all of her life. Rafe found a peace unlike any he had ever known since he had found himself responsible for Ardley and his sister Katherine. It was so different with Rhonwyn, his beautiful wife with her exciting erotic erudition and her independent spirit.

She had taken up her weapons again, practicing with her two grizzled Welsh retainers, Oth and Dewi, in the snowy stableyards. He remembered Edward's complaints about such activities, but Rafe found his wife's skills fascinating. He didn't bother to ask where the alborium she used with such proficiency had come from, for he knew the answer would have really been no answer at all. He had absolutely no fear for her as she wielded her sword and a main gauche. She was to his eyes one hell of a fighter and certainly far better than he had ever been with weapons. Fortunately this knowledge did not disturb him at all. Edward, of course, had been less certain of himself, and Rhonwyn's nontraditional skills had been a great source of irritation to him despite his fondness for her. I am the better husband for Rhonwyn, Rafe thought.

The winter slowly disappeared, and there was a great deal of new life at Ardley. The ewe sheep had lambed well, and there were a goodly number of his cows who had calved. The offspring dotted the green hillsides. As the spring progressed the fields were plowed and the seed distributed for planting. Rhonwyn actually found herself busy with housewifely duties such as airing the featherbeds and picking violets to candy. They rode together and hunted rabbits. One day Glynn appeared in the brown robes of a Benedictine to tell them he had indeed joined the order at Shrewsbury Abbey, and while it would be a year or more before he took his final vows, he was happy.

"And your music, little brother? What of your music?" Rhonwyn asked him. "Are you allowed to sing and play?"

"Aye," he replied with a smile. "And the music I make now is to God's glory. It is the very best I have ever done!" Reaching out, he took his sister's hand in his. "You are happy, Rhonwyn. Really happy, and I am glad to see it."

"I love him," she said simply.

"He loves you," Glynn responded, "and that is another cause for my happiness. Now, I expect nephews and nieces in good order, sister."

She laughed. "If you do not get them it shall not be from want of trying on our part." Then she grew more serious. "You have not just come for the reasons you gave, brother. What is the truth?"

"Our kith and kin in Wales are causing difficulties once again, sister. We hear things more often in the abbey than outsiders would. Tad, it is said, attempts to wriggle out of his oaths to King Edward. Tad's enemies seek to unseat him, but this time they may have English aid in their endeavors. There are many who seek the king's favor and will do whatever they must to gain it. You are Llywelyn ap Gruffydd's daughter, and therefore you are vulnerable. Once the king has solidified his position he will turn an eye to Wales and the problems our father is causing. If I am recalled, I will be considered little threat in my abbey, but you, sister, may find yourself a pawn in this matter."

"How so, Glynn?" Rafe de Beaulieu asked his brother-in-law.

"It is not the English you need fear," Glynn answered. "Rhonwyn is your wife, and they will expect you to keep her in order." He smiled at them both, and there was a twinkle in his eye. "Not knowing my sister, of course. It is our Welsh brethren who could prove dangerous. Pray God you have no children right now. Tad's enemies will do whatever they must to harm him. Be vigilant."

Rafe nodded. "What of Oth and Dewi?" he asked Glynn.

"They are loyal to my sister and therefore to you as well."

"Even against their Welsh brothers?" Rafe said.

"We are their family first," Glynn responded. "They would not betray us to Tad's enemies."

"We will be watchful," Rafe assured Glynn, "and I thank you for your warning."

"When will I see you again?" Rhonwyn asked her brother.

"When you come to Shrewsbury, sister," he told her. "The abbot allowed me to come to Ardley only because he knows the truth of my identity and understood the seriousness of the situation."

"Now you see what marrying ap Gruffydd's daughter has gained you," Rhonwyn teased her husband later that night as they lay abed.

He took up a lock of her golden hair and kissed it. "Aye," he drawled softly. "You are a dangerous woman, wife."

"Our connection makes your position potentially hazardous, Rafe," she said seriously. "The Welsh are fierce fighters, and you know what is said of them. That they pray on their knees and their neighbors. I would not want to see Ardley destroyed because of me or my father."

"You worry too much," he told her, and let his fingers caress the nape of her neck. "Do not fret, dearling. I will protect you."

"Hah! I may very well have to protect you," she laughed, and he chuckled at her sly observation, not in the least offended.

"If it comes to that, I will welcome your fighting skills, wife, but for now it is your other skills I prefer." His hand tightened on her neck, and tilting her head back, he kissed her hungrily. His mouth was hard. His lips scorched her lips, wet and hot and eager.

"Devil," she murmured when he finally took his mouth from hers. She twisted her body subtly, rubbing against him teasingly.

"Witch!" he returned, attempting to hold her still. But she was quicker than he was and squirmed from his grip, turning her body and steadying herself as she straddled his torso, her tempting little bottom facing him, revealing her sex to him with its little jewel that peeped from beneath the coral flesh. He groaned with pleasure as she leaned forward and took his manhood into her mouth. Bending, he offered her the same service, his tongue finding her sensitivity and working her fiercely until she cried out, releasing his aching member that now longed to bury itself within her.

"Oh, Rafe!" she sighed as she rolled herself onto her back and held out her arms to him.

Sliding between her legs, he entered her hot wet love channel, filling her completely, and then he lay still for a moment atop her. Her breasts were soft beneath his chest. Her torso was silken. He could feel her fingers tangling in his dark hair, kneading at his scalp with her anticipation. Raising himself slightly on one hand, he pushed a finger into her mouth, and she sucked at it so hard he thought she would swallow it. He withdrew slightly, and then thrust hard into her again, and she whimpered with her desire. How often in the months since she had given herself to him had she controlled their passion with her wonderful and varied sexual games? Tonight, however, he wanted to be in charge. Pushing himself up, he sat upon her thighs, his throbbing member deep within her body.

"Please!" she whispered.

"I am not ready," he said softly, his hands reaching out to fondle her sweet round breasts.

"You are as hard as rock within me!" she half sobbed.

"Aye, and I would remain that way for now. Was your master, the caliph, always in such a hurry, wife?" He moved subtly on her. "Old men are frequently in haste lest they lose their ardor." He gently squeezed the soft twin mounds.

"He… c-complained as do y-you. Oh, God, I want it!" she cried desperately.

He reached out and took her little jewel between his thumb and his forefinger, pinching the sensitive flesh until she was half mad with the pleasure he was arousing within her. "There, wife, you see what delights can be attained when you are not so damnably eager?" He covered her body again with his and began to piston her in earnest, his torso meeting hers with a fierce force until they were both mindless with their shared lust and moaning with their fulfillment. When his love juices had filled her, however, he remained within her body. His lips met hers with gentle passion, and they kissed and kissed until he was once again hard with his desire for her.

She had always held a little bit of herself back, but this night Rhonwyn could not restrain her own passions and yielded every bit of her love to him without question. She felt both weak and strong at the same time. He overwhelmed her with his hunger for her, and yet she felt freer than she had ever felt in all of her life, and she was not afraid. Wrapping her legs about him, she encouraged his ardor until they were both weak again and replete with pleasure. Then she wept in his arms with her happiness, and Rafe de Beaulieu understood what it was that Rhonwyn had finally given him.

His arms tightened about her, and his big hand smoothed the tangle of her golden hair as he made unintelligible soothing noises to comfort her. Finally he whispered to her, "Wife, do you not know how much I love you? I have told you often enough."

"There has never been a love as sweet as ours!" she sobbed. "I wish I had been a virgin for you, my darling! Oh, I do!"

Rafe laughed. "Thank God you were not, Rhonwyn mine. I far prefer your skills and expertise in the arts of love to artless innocence."

"Truly?" She looked into his face anxiously, and her lashes were spikey wet clumps.

"Truly!" He nodded. "Edward, I suspect, did little for you, but your caliph was obviously a man of sophistication. He overcame your fears and taught you well how to please a husband. I am grateful to him, my love, but I am also very jealous. Should you ever turn a lustful eye on any man but me, I will kill you with my bare hands!"

"Truly?" she teased, her look wide-eyed and ingenuous.

He swiftly turned her over and spanked her bottom a loving smack. "Truly, you provocative witch!" he told her as she squealed with her surprise. Then he gave her another spank for emphasis.

Rhonwyn rolled over. "Oh, I think I like that," she said wickedly. "Would you like to spank me again, husband? I can be very naughty, you know."

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. "Woman, you are quite wicked enough as it is. Now, let us get some rest. If I am to be alert to your wild Welsh kin, then I must sleep." He yanked the coverlet over them, wrapping his arms about her and falling asleep almost immediately.

Rhonwyn snuggled against him, breathing in the male scent of him. A small smile touched her lips. I wonder, she thought, if it is right to be so damned happy? Then she closed her eyes and slept.

The summer came, and with it a messenger from Haven Castle telling them that the lady Katherine had been safely delivered of a second son. Rafe and Rhonwyn were asked to come to Haven to stand as Henry de Beaulieu's godparents.

"Bless your sister," Rhonwyn chuckled. "She will have peace within the de Beaulieu family in spite of Edward. For all his bluster she rules him with a firm hand. I wonder that we were chosen wee Henry's godparents. It was certainly not Edward's choice."

"But we will go and please Kate," Rafe said, "and you and Edward will not snipe at one another."

"Do not be jealous, husband," she replied, stroking his cheek with her hand. "How could I feel anything for Edward when I am so madly in love with you?" Then standing on tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss.

"Do not think to cajole me so easily, wife," he said. "I am wise to your clever ways, Rhonwyn." He shook a warning finger at her.

"And you love them all as you do me," she taunted him. "Do you not, Rafe?" She gave him another quick kiss.

He laughed. "You are impossible, wife," he told her.

"Would you have me any other way, husband?"

"Nay, I would not," he admitted.

Haven Castle was a two days' ride from Ardley. How odd it was to be returning there, Rhonwyn thought as they approached it. She remembered the first time she had seen Haven as she came with her father to marry Edward de Beaulieu. How impressed she had been by the beauty of the castle. How frightened, and yet how hopeful her innocent heart had been when she met Edward. She had never been like other girls by the very nature of her upbringing. When he had demanded his marital rights, and she had bargained with him to gain custody of Glynn, Edward had been angry. She suspected he had never forgiven her.

How shocked he had been by her skill with weapons. Why could he not, like Rafe, have appreciated her expertise with the alborium and the sword? Perhaps that was why he had been so ready to declare her dead when she had been captured by the infidels. Rhonwyn smiled wryly to herself. Poor Edward. Kate was the better wife for him, and Rhonwyn was certainly the best wife for Rafe. This would be the second time since her marriage to Rafe that they had come together as a family. It had not been a successful meeting last Martinmas.

Kate greeted them joyously, coming slowly across the hall to meet them. "You have come! Mab, bring the baby so his godparents may view him. Come and sit with me, brother, Rhonwyn. Where is the wine for our guests?"

"You are pale," her brother said, a note of concern in his voice. He took her little hand in his and kissed it.

The baby was brought, and he looked exactly as his older brother had looked the previous year.

"He is your spit," Rhonwyn remarked cheerfully to the castle's lord.

"Aye!" Edward replied proudly. "Two fine sons in two years, and more to come, I promise you."

"Perhaps you will wait a bit before you make another," Rhonwyn said quietly. "Kate looks tired and should have a rest."

"Are you jealous then, lady, that I can get sons on Katherine so easily when I could not get them on you?" he said belligerently.

Rhonwyn swallowed hard. "I think of Kate, and so should you, Edward. It is not easy, I am told, to conceive and bear new life. If you love your wife, you will give her time to recover from this birth. Two sons in two years is hard on a woman. If, on the other hand, your pride in your randy cock and Kate's fertile womb are greater than your love for her, you will kill your wife sooner than later. But then you would take another wife as quickly as you could find one, would you not? That, it would seem, is your custom." She smiled sweetly.

Rafe held back his laughter, instead saying, "Rhonwyn," in a warning tone. Secretly he agreed with his fiery wife.

"Outspoken as ever," Edward said meanly. "Rafe should beat you."

"He finds loving me works better," Rhonwyn snapped.

"What? You actually allow him between your legs, lady?"

"As often as he desires me, and that is quite often," she snarled.

"Enough!" Rafe said in a harsh voice.

"Oh, yes, please," Kate said. "Let there be peace between you two. We are a family and must be united."

"I apologize, Kate," Rhonwyn said softly. "I shall try and behave for your sake. When is the baptism?"

"Tomorrow," her sister-in-law said.

"Then we shall be able to return to Ardley afterward."

"Oh, will you not remain longer?" Kate pleaded.

"We cannot," Rafe spoke up quickly. "Rhonwyn is in the midst of making soap and conserves, and I must supervise the building of a new granary we must have before the harvest next month."

"Do you not have a bailiff to do such work?" Edward asked.

"Why should I hire a bailiff to do what I am capable of?" Rafe replied. "I am not the master of a castle, Edward. I have but a small manor."

"Greatly enriched by additional lands since your marriage,'' his cousin said sourly.

"Which reminds me," Rafe continued, "you have not yet repaid Rhonwyn's dower, and we will be wed a year next month."

"You will have to wait until I sell some cattle," Edward replied.

"I will take the cattle in exchange for the coin," Rafe said. "This is not a debt you want outstanding, Edward."

"What an excellent solution," Katherine de Beaulieu quickly spoke up. "Is it not, my lord? Now you may avoid all that fuss of driving the cattle to market and the haggling that goes with it."

"Indeed, my love, you are correct," Edward said with a smile at his pretty wife.

Kate smiled back, secretly relieved to have avoided any further argument. She was very tired and had not the strength to mediate between her husband, her brother, and Rhonwyn, who was so damned prickly, although she was trying not to be. Kate had had to give her elder son to a wet nurse as she could not nurse both children; but even so the new child had a healthy appetite that exhausted her. He persisted in nursing every two hours.

Henry John de Beaulieu was baptized the following day at midmorning. Afterward his family drank a toast to him in the great hall of Haven Castle. The baby had howled loudly as Father John had poured the holy water upon his fuzzy head, and everyone in the church had smiled. The infant's cries were an assurance that the devil was leaving him. Rhonwyn held her godson, and when he turned and nuzzled at her breast, she felt an odd sensation surge through her body. She continued to cradle Henry in the hall until finally his nurse took him away, but not before she had kissed his little downy head. Then and there she realized with surprise that she wanted a child of her own.

"So," Rafe said, coming to stand by her side, "I see in your eyes that you have decided to stop drinking that brew of yours each morning."

"You knew?" She was amazed, and quick tears filled her eyes. He had known she was preventing conception, yet he had not forbid her, even though it went against him and the church.

"You have been forced your whole life. Why would I make you have a child until you were ready? I know I am capable of making babies, for I have two bastards at Ardley. Besides, I am a selfish man, wife, and have been enjoying our shared passion. If you now want a babe, then we shall work very hard at making one." He kissed her forehead and brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheek.

"I do love you," she said softly to him.

"I know," he replied.

"Devil!" She smiled at him.

"Witch!" he rejoined.

Seeing them, a shadow crossed Edward de Beaulieu's handsome features. Why had Rhonwyn not loved him the way she obviously loved his cousin Rafe? He would never understand it, but he had at least been fortunate in his Katherine. He had no doubts regarding his sweet wife, and he knew he never would. Still, he could not help but envy the fire that so obviously burned hotly between Rhonwyn and Rafe. Why had not such a fire burned between him and Rhonwyn?

Over Katherine's gentle protests her brother and his wife departed for their own home, but not before Rafe had taken Edward aside.

"Rhonwyn is right," he told his cousin. "Kate is fragile, and she is now well worn with giving you two sons in so short a time. If you cannot contain your lust, find a willing serf upon which to slake your desires. You do not want to kill my sister with your loving, cousin."

"I know you are right, though it galls me to be chided by you," Edward replied. "Still, I do love Katherine, and I would not harm her. I will do as you advise… if I cannot contain my lust."

Rafe grinned. "Good," he said. "Then I shall not have to kill you, cousin."

Edward laughed, and the tension was broken between them. "Tell me," he said, "do you truly love Rhonwyn?''

"Aye," Rafe said, not in the least offended.

"And she loves you?"

"Aye," his cousin drawled. "Do not fret yourself wondering about all that has happened between us, Edward. Kate is the perfect wife for you, and Rhonwyn is the perfect wife for me. What came before doesn't matter. Let us both be content with what we have, and thank God."

Chapter 17

They had been wed a year, and they celebrated the occasion on Lammastide as the early harvest began. It had been a good year, and the manor prospered as it never before had.

"You are good luck for Ardley," Rafe told his wife.

"The weather has been particularly favorable this summer," the more practical Rhonwyn said with a smile.

The grain was reaped and stored in the new stone granary. The apples and the pears were gathered. Cider was made from some of the fruit. The rest was stored in a cool stone cellar. Like the good chatelaine she was, Rhonwyn sat with the female serfs on the late summer days picking straw and other bits of dirt from the wool that had been sheared from the sheep earlier in the summer. It would have to be washed before it was carded, and then spun into cloth. It was a time-consuming labor, but it allowed her to get to know the women on the manor, and it permitted them to know her. It was soon decided that the master's wife was not just a pretty face, but a hard worker with no fancy pretentions. This decision having been made, the women were Rhonwyn's own from that moment on. No matter she played with weapons or was Welsh, she was a good lady.

The world about them seemed peaceful enough. They had had no visitors since Glynn had come earlier in summer to warn them of ap Gruffydd's disobedience and that his enemies were plotting with the English against him. King Henry had died the previous November, and King Edward, trusting in his mother's ability to maintain order in England, was slowly wending his way back there. He was not expected to return before next year, but when he came, he would exert his authority over Prince Llywelyn and the Welsh, Rhonwyn knew. But perhaps, she thought, her father just pressed the English while the the king was out of the country. Surely ap Gruffydd was wise enough to know that when Edward returned, he must give sway to the man to whom he had pledged his fealty. It was his duty and the honorable thing to do. Duty and honor were something that Rhonwyn knew her father understood.

September passed, and then October. Rhonwyn loved the autumn. It had always been her favorite time of year. Now she and Rafe spent the daylight hours each day out hunting with their men as they prepared for the long winter to come. The deer were wonderfully fat that year, and soon the winter's supply of meat was more than ample. Although Rafe would see his people were fed during the cold months, he still allowed them to glean in the fields, hunt for rabbits twice a month in his woods, and fish in his streams one day a week. He was a generous master, and his people were loyal to him because of it.

It was Enit who noticed that her mistress's link with the moon had not been broken now in seven weeks. She had also noticed that Rhonwyn's appetite was peckish. "Lady," she said one morning as the two women were in the garderobe going over Rhonwyn's gowns to see what needed mending, "I think you may be with child. You have had no show of blood in many weeks now, and your food does not seem to agree with you. These are all signs of a breeding woman; I know this from my mother."

"Is it possible?" Rhonwyn wondered aloud.

"There is a midwife on the manor, lady. She is Maybel, the miller's wife. Perhaps you should go and see her."

"We'll go today, and you will come with me," Rhonwyn said. "If I am seen going alone, there will be gossip."

"There will be gossip anyway," Enit replied dryly, "but no matter. If you are with child, all will be joyous for you and the master."

They went to visit the miller's wife. She took one look at her mistress and nodded, saying, "Aye, you are with child, lady. God be praised!" Then she beamed a sweet smile at them.

"How can you tell by just looking at me?" Rhonwyn demanded. Surely there was more to it than that.

"Why, I can see it in your eyes, my lady," the miller's wife said. "And in your face. It glows with an inner radiance that only a breeding woman has. Still, I will listen to your symptoms."

"She ain't had a show of blood in seven and a half weeks now, and her food don't agree, even her favorite blankmanger," Enit said before her mistress might even open her mouth.

"Breasts tender?" Maybel asked bluntly.

Rhonwyn nodded.

"Belly feels swollen, but don't look it?"

"Oh, yes!" Rhonwyn said.

"Last show of blood?"

"Last week in August," Enit spoke up again.

"The child will be born in the beginning of June," Maybel pronounced, "and I will be here to deliver it for you, my lady. You need have no fears, for you are a healthy lass, but no galloping about the countryside from now on. A nice gentle walk or the cart for you, my lady, and no more battling with your sword with those two Welshmen of yours until after the birth. What if you had an accident, my lady?"

"I am too skilled for accidents," Rhonwyn said proudly.

"I shall tell the master," Maybel replied calmly.

"Oh, very well," Rhonwyn muttered irritably.

Both Maybel and Enit hid a smile.

"Not a word of this until I have told Rafe," Rhonwyn told them both. "I don't want it all over the manor until he knows. He will want time to crow and swagger," she chuckled, and her two companions laughed heartily, for they fully understood that their lord would behave as if he were the first man to father a child on his wife.

Wrapping her cloak about her, Rhonwyn left Enit and Maybel and walked out across the meadow. The sun was shining today, but the air was cool, the trees bereft of their leaves. A baby. Within her a new life was growing at this very moment as she walked. Was it a son she carried or a daughter? A baby. They were going to have a baby, and it had happened so quickly. She had ceased taking her secret brew only a few months ago. A baby! A new life to nurture. But what did she know about being a mother? And would what happened to her mother happen to her? Would she die in childbirth? Nay! She shook the frightening thought off. Vala had birthed both her daughter and her son easily. It had only been with that last child she had suffered, but then she had been so frightened that it was the child of her rape and not ap Gruffydd's. And in retrospect, Rhonwyn was never certain that her mother hadn't, in a moment of pure madness, tried to force that last child from her womb before its time and in doing so, caused her own demise.

f will pray, she thought. And I will ask my aunt to pray along with her entire abbey. Their prayers will surely keep me safe. A baby. Rafe and I are having a baby! Rafe! She had to find her husband and tell him this marvelous news before he heard it elsewhere, for Rhonwyn had no doubt that the entire manor would know before long. Turning, she ran back across the meadow, the sheep scattering before her, her cloak flying in the breeze. "Rafe! Rafe! Rafe!"

He heard his name being called. Called with great urgency. It was Rhonwyn's voice! My God! Was it the Welsh? He dashed from the stables where he had been discussing several matters with the leathersmith and saw her racing toward him. He caught her in his arms, looking anxiously into her face. "What is it, Rhonwyn?"

"I am with child!" she cried, and then burst into tears.

His arms tightened about her. A huge, delighted grin split his handsome face. "A baby? We are having a baby, wife?"

She nodded, sniffling happily. "Aye, husband, we are."

"Since I took you for my wife," he said, "I did not think I could be any happier, but you have proved me wrong, Rhonwyn. My heart is so full that it is in danger of bursting with the joy your news has given me. How I love you, Rhonwyn, my wife. How I love you!" He kissed her hard upon the lips, and then kissed away the tears on her cheeks.

"But what if it is a girl and not a son?" she fretted.

"We shall call her Anghard, and she will look just like her beautiful mother," he replied gallantly "I don't care if it's a girl, wife. My two bastards are daughters. When they are grown, they shall serve their half sister, eh?"

"You would give a daughter a Welsh name?" She was surprised.

"Her mother is a Welsh princess," he replied.

"Her mother was raised up in a fortress of men and treated no differently than any young lad. Princess indeed!" Rhonwyn laughed. Her palms rested flat against his chest. "I am nought but a simple lass," she told him teasingly.

He smiled down at her, his silver blue eyes warm with his love. "Nay, dearling, you are no simple lass, and well you know it, but I love you nonetheless. Now, when is this child of ours due?"

"Maybel says the beginning of June," Rhonwyn told him.

"No more swordplay with Oth and Dewi, wife," he said sternly.

"Yes, my lord," she replied.

"And no more hunting until after the child is born," he continued.

"Yes, my lord."

"I'm glad to see that being with child has at last rendered you a sensible woman," he mocked her, then ducked as she pulled away from him and hit his shoulder with her fist.

"I have always been sensible," she said indignantly.

Rafe de Beaulieu laughed heartily and happily, taking the little hand that assaulted him and kissing it. He was going to have a legitimate heir at last! "You, Rhonwyn my wife, are wonderful!" he told her with another smile, and then picked her up and carried her to the house while she laughed.

He had never lived with a breeding woman, and the experience was certainly unique, to say the least. Rhonwyn at first raced between great euphoria, when everything was simply perfect, and deep sorrow, when she would, for no visible reason, weep great sobs and tears. The tiniest thing could set her off, and it was usually when they made love, for Maybel had explained how they might without injuring the child. But most times she would shed tears as he entered her ripening body-tears of happiness, she always assured him, but it was extremely unnerving.

Finally in January she became peaceful and serene. Her breasts and her belly swelled with the evidence of the new life she was carrying and would nurture come the summer. She loved to have him stroke her expanding belly with his hands, for it seemed to soothe her greatly. He rubbed her back and elicited purrs of contentment. Her breasts, however, were so sensitive that she could not bear to have them touched for too long a time. It frustrated him, for he loved those sweet orbs, but he respected her wishes. A breeding woman must be catered to, his sister assured him, and to his surprise, his brother-in-law agreed.

There had been no deep snow at Candlemas, and so Kate and Edward had come for a visit. Almost at once the two women seated themselves by the fire, talking and laughing together.

Edward smiled a superior smile. "They get like that when they are with child," he said. "Congratulations. I did not think you would get a child on her, Rafe."

"She is not the woman you were wed to, cousin," Rafe replied. "Her caliph taught her to revel in and appreciate passion."

"How can you bear that another man knew her?" Edward demanded in a tight voice.

"It is as if she were a widow," Rafe responded. "Why are you so angry with her, Edward? She was faithful to you, and she is faithful to me. What more can a man want?"

"She was not faithful to me," Edward de Beaulieu said angrily. "She lay with this infidel and was shameless in admitting it."

"She was a captive, Edward. Would you have had her die rather than yield herself to this other man? You gave her up without even knowing if she were really dead. Within two months of her disappearance you wrote and asked to have Kate for your wife. At least Rhonwyn was faithful in her heart to you, Edward. You were certainly not faithful in your heart to her. You hurried home, wed my sister, and got her with child as quickly as you could. Rhonwyn plotted to avoid giving the caliph a child and planned her escape so she might return to you. Do not be angry because you lost the opportunity to know what she is really like. I shall tell you, cousin. She is warm and passionate and loving to me… as my sister is to you."

The spring finally came, and with it Rhonwyn's moods turned again. This time she was waspish and shrewish as her body swelled, and it became difficult to both sit and walk.

"I am no better than an old sow," she grumbled.

"You are beautiful," he assured her.

"A beautiful fat sow about to litter," she groused.

"It will be all right, wife," he tried to soothe her.

She glared at him pityingly. "What on earth can a man know about having a baby inside of him, squirming and kicking? I can barely stand. 1 want to pee constantly. My navel has turned itself inside out, and you think it's going to be all right, Rafe? That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard any man say!"

He didn't know whether to laugh or scold her. Either one, he realized, would meet with the sharp edge of her tongue. He wisely remained silent.

And then on the first of June Rhonwyn went into labor, Maybel and Enit by her side. "If you ever do this to me again," his wife shrieked at him, "I will kill you! Ahhhh! Ohhhh! God, I hate you!"

Rafe de Beaulieu fled the solar and wisely retreated outside, away from what was very obviously woman's work. From the open windows he could hear Rhonwyn cursing with her efforts. Finally as the sun was near to setting, and the day was prepared to melt into a long summer's twilight, Rafe de Beaulieu heard the cry of a child. The sound was strong and angry. He raced into the house and up the staircase, bursting into the solar to find Rhonwyn smiling and cradling an infant.

"You have a son, my lord," she told him cheerfully. She held out the baby, still bloody with the birth, and his father took him into his hands. "Welcome, Justin de Beaulieu," Rafe said softly, and then looking at Rhonwyn, he said, "Thank you, wife."

"Give him to Enit," she commanded, a maternal tone in her voice. "Why Justin?"

"Today 'tis St. Justin's feast day, wife," he told her.

"I like it," Rhonwyn told him." 'Tis a strong name, and he will not be like every Edward or Henry or John. I suppose we shall have to name the others with those names."

"You said you didn't want any others," he said, surprised.

"What? When did I ever say such a thing?" Rhonwyn said indignantly. "Ot course we are going to have more children, Rafe. We must have at least two more sons, and a daughter or two for me. I promised a daughter to my aunt. The other must make a fine marriage. What foolishness! Who ever heard of just one child?" She laughed.

"Just take her at her word, my lord," Maybel murmured softly. "Women are strange in the last weeks of childbirth, but all is well once they have given birth to their babe."

Katherine and Edward were called from Haven to stand as Justin's godparents. Father John came with them. Kate cooed over the baby and said he was quite the handsomest little fellow she had ever seen, excluding her own two boys.

"Have you sent word to your father?" she asked Rhonwyn.

"Aye," Rhonwyn said shortly.

"And Brother Glynn?"

Rhonwyn smiled broadly. "I know he is excited for us, Kate. I only wish he might have been here, but he is not allowed to travel until next year, even to see us. When the next child comes he shall be its godparent. Perhaps we shall go to Shrewsbury before next winter and visit him at the abbey. I know that will be permitted."

"They say King Edward has come home. Soon we will have a coronation, although Edward and I shall not be invited. Only the great lords and those attempting to curry favor will go."

"Let them," Rhonwyn said. "I prefer my simple life here at Ardley, as you prefer your life at Haven. We are through with the powerful. At least until it comes time to marry off our children."

"I was hoping you would have a daughter for our little Ned," Kate said. "But he is only two, and there is plenty of time for you to have a little girl."

"I would like a daughter," Rhonwyn admitted.

"I am so glad you finally had a child," Kate told her sister-in-law. "I was so afraid that you were barren. Edward said you probably were because of your boyish activities. And you will be wed two years this Lammastide."

"I prayed to Saint Anne," Rhonwyn said piously, silently furious that her former husband, that betrayer, should have spoken of her so. If he weren't married to Rafe's sister, she thought, I would slice his ears off for that insult. Barren indeed!

In early September they took Justin to meet his uncle in Shrewsbury. Glynn was delighted by their visit, and the abbot freed him from his duties to spend time with his sister and her family. Justin was a fat and good-natured infant with his father's gray blue eyes and a fuzz of gold upon his mostly bald pate. He cooed, smiled, and drooled for his uncle, who was mightily impressed and said so as Justin grabbed Glynn's finger and attempted to put it in his mouth-except he could not quite find his mouth to match the finger with it.

They returned to Ardley, prepared to finish the harvest and ready the manor for the coming winter. In Shrewsbury they had learned that the king had been crowned at Westminster on August nineteenth. They planned to share their gossip with Edward and Kate and were surprised to find Edward awaiting them.

"Where the hell have you been?" the lord of Haven demanded of his cousin, ignoring Rhonwyn completely. "I have been here for several hours. Your servants said you were due back today, but they did not know when you would come."

"We have been in Shrewsbury to see Glynn and show him his nephew," Rafe replied. "What is the matter with you, Edward?"

"Katherine has been kidnapped!"

"What?" Both Rafe and Rhonwyn spoke at once.

"My wife has been kidnapped!" He turned his gaze upon Rhonwyn. "And it is all your fault, damn you!"

"My fault?" Rhonwyn was astounded. "Why should it be my fault, Edward? I bear you and Kate no ill will."

"The Welsh have taken her," he half shouted. "They thought she was you!"

"Me? Why would the Welsh want to kidnap me?"

"Not you. Ap Gruffydd's daughter!" he roared.

"Jesu!" Rafe exploded.

"Of course!" Rhonwyn exclaimed.

"What is it?" both men asked her at once.

"It could be any of several reasons," Rhonwyn explained. "It is possible someone wishes to curry favor with King Edward and thinks to hold me hostage in exchange for my father's good behavior. Or it could be that someone simply wants to topple Prince Llywelyn and means to do it by threatening him with his daughter's life. I would not expect my father to bargain for my life, and he knows that I comprehend him well enough to understand that. Had I been kidnapped, I should have attempted escape, but failing that I would fling myself from a battlement before I would allow my father's fate to be directed by such a dishonorable act. Either way they have the wrong woman, and we must find out where poor Kate is and mount a rescue."

"What a pity you did not think this same way when you were captured by the infidels," Edward said bitterly. Then he staggered back as Rhonwyn slapped him as hard as she might.

"How dare you preach to me, you pompous bastard!" she shouted. "This is an entirely different situation that Kate finds herself in than the one in which I found myself. I stayed alive to come home to you, Edward, but you did not care enough for me to wait. This, however, is not about you or about me. It is Kate we have to think of now."

"Agreed," Rafe said quietly, putting an arm about his wife. "Swallow your bruised pride, Edward, and finally accept that by acting in haste you lost Rhonwyn, but a merciful God allowed you to gain a good wife in my sister. Put her first, and let us decide how we are to proceed."

"Wine!" Rhonwyn called to her servants, and then she led them to the fireplace and motioned the two men to sit down even as she took the tapestried chair. "We must find out who has taken Kate and where they are. To this end I will send a messenger to my father telling him what has happened to her so he may be on his guard against any other betrayal. Where was Kate when she was taken, Edward, and where were you when it happened?"

"Word had come from my village of Ainslea that fever had broken out among the children. Katherine, good chatelaine she is, packed up her medicines and herbs and rode off with her serving woman to minister to the sick. When she did not return by late the next day nor had sent any message, I went with a half dozen men-at-arms to learn why. I found the village burnt and looted. The women and children had been taken off as slaves and the men slain, but for one elderly man they left alive to tell me of what had happened. He said they told him to tell the lord of Haven Castle that the Welsh had stolen his wife, and that they wanted no ransom. They merely wanted possession of ap Gruffydd's daughter for a bit. She would be returned alive eventually if I made no effort to follow them."

Edward swallowed down the entire contents of his goblet, then flung the cup aside, his head in his hands. "Jesu! Jesu! What am I to do? My sweet Kate is not used to a rough life as you are, Rhonwyn. She will die for certain. I should have been able to protect her!"

"Kate is strong," Rafe said. "They believe she is ap Gruffydd's daughter, and so she will be safe, for they only want her person for leverage against the prince for one reason or another."

"But what if they learn she is not ap Gruffydd's daughter?"

"They are unlikely to," Rhonwyn said. "None but the men at Cythraul and the nuns at my aunt's abbey knew who I was nor what I looked like. Few of you English do either. Daughters of great men, particularly bastard daughters, are of no importance but for the marriages they make. These men who stole Kate away did not know that our marriage had been dissolved, Edward, and that you had remarried another. They thought Kate was me, and Kate is clever enough to keep them believing it. In this part of the world the English, if they cannot speak our tongue, at least under-sand enough of it to get by." She looked to her husband. "Did Kate?"

"Aye. Actually she used to converse fairly well in your tongue-twisting language, wife," Rafe said with a small smile. "We had a Welsh nurse as children."

"Then having understood them from the first, Kate will continue to make them believe she is ap Gruffydd's daughter and be safe," Rhonwyn said. "Now we must learn just who has stolen her, and for that I will go into Wales and meet with my father. The messenger who finds him will tell him to come to Cythraul. It is the obvious place."

"Why should you go?" Edward demanded angrily. "I should go."

"Hah," Rhonwyn said mockingly. "Do you think my father will speak with you, Edward de Beaulieu, or give you his full cooperation? After what you did to me? Llywelyn ap Gruffydd is just as apt to kill you as speak with you. You mean nought to him. You have no blood tie with him. Go home and find a wet nurse for my godson, who will die without his mother if you do not. Rafe and I will go into Wales and retrieve Kate for you. There is no shame in your remaining with your sons, my lord."

"What of your son?"

"My milk was not rich enough for Justin, and he already has a wet nurse," Rhonwyn said sadly. "Go home, Edward, and wait for us to send word." She patted his hand in a kindly fashion, for the first time realizing that her bitterness toward him was now entirely gone. Then she said, "And, Edward, please, I beg of you, do not attempt to follow us or join us at Cythraul. It is likely that Kate's captors know you by sight. They will not know who Rafe and I are, however. Trust us."

"I always trusted you, Rhonwyn," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "Nay, you did not, but that is water beneath the bridge long past, Edward. My anger is gone, and I only wish to bring Kate home safely to you. Go now and watch over your sons. Kate would want that."

He nodded and then took up her gloved hand, kissing it. "Thank you," he said.

She nodded. "Not yet, my friend."

When Edward de Beaulieu had gone and they sat at their high board eating venison stew, Rafe said, "We'll need a good night's sleep if we are to start off tomorrow." He tore a chunk of bread from the cottage loaf and sopped up some of the stew's winey gravy before popping it into his mouth.

"Nay, we'll go the day after tomorrow," Rhonwyn answered him. "I want to send Oth off in the morning to find my father. He'll need a day's start. Then you, Dewi, and I will go to Cythraul."

"Just the three of us?" He was surprised.

"I have a fortress of men-at-arms who are loyal to my father. We will only attract attention if we ride out to Wales with a large party, Rafe. This is a battle that will be won with subtlety, not blunt force."

"I did not think your father was a man of subtlety," he said.

"He can be when necessary. You have never met ap Gruffydd. Do not prejudge him by the gossip you have heard. He is a great man for all our differences. He has welded together a country of petty princelings and lords, and held firm. Aye, he has enemies. Do not all powerful men, husband? Will you tell me that our own King Edward has no enemies among his subjects? That there are not those eager to do him a mischief, given the opportunity?"

"How did a little lass raised in a hill fort learn so much about the powerful?" he asked her.

"Men claim that women gossip, but they talk more. I listened," she replied with a smile. "No one paid attention to a small child by the fireside, Rafe. They chattered and bragged and boasted, and I harvested their words for the truth. I did not learn how to weave or cook or sew at Cythraul. I did not learn manners, or about God, or how to play a musical instrument. I learned how to wield my alborium and my sword. I learned how men rule and what drives them to rule. For a woman it was a mostly useless education. Now, however, I will dredge up all the knowledge I gained at Cythraul, and it will help me to win your sister's freedom."

"I think," he said slowly, "that I should be afraid of you, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn. Of your mother there is nought said, but much is spoken of your father, and you are obviously very much Llywelyn's daughter."

"I know," she answered him. "It is something I have fought against my whole life, Rafe, but the truth is I very much like who I am. There is, they say, no escaping blood." Then she took his hand up and began to lick the gravy from his fingers. "We will be on the road for several nights and then at Cythraul, where there is, I promise you, no privacy." She began to suck on his forefinger.

Their eyes met, and then he pulled his hand from her sensual embrace. Taking up his goblet, he drew the potent wine into his mouth while pulling her head to him. As their lips met, he transferred the liquid from his mouth into hers, his tongue sliding past her teeth to meet with her tongue among the heady, hot fumes of the wine. As he broke the long, sweet kiss, Rafe murmured to her, "You are far too conventional, wife. There are places other than a bed where a man and a woman may take their pleasure. Come." He stood and took her by the hand, leading her before the hall fire.

Rhonwyn's green eyes widened. "The servants!" she managed to gasp as he pulled her down to the sheepskin before the hearth.

"I see no servants," he murmured, his hand sliding beneath her skirts to caress her legs.

"Flint!" Her head motioned to the dog sleeping near them.

"Will understand perfectly," Rafe said softly, kissing her, his lean body pinioning her down.

"Thank God we have no priest here," she said. "Oh!" His fingers had found what they sought and began to tease at her sensitive flesh. "Rafe! We can't! Not here! Oh!" Holy Mary, this was so damnably exciting and dangerous. What if they were discovered?

" 'Tis our house, and we are the master and the mistress here," he said, divining her thoughts with accuracy. She was, he knew, despite her protests, enjoying every minute of their liaison, for she was already creamy with her love juices. He pushed her skirts above her waist and in a single smooth motion entered her body.

" Tis wicked!" she avowed, but faintly. Oh, God, he felt so good inside of her! With a deep sigh she let herself be carried away, her emerald eyes closing slowly in blissful anticipation of what was to come next. "Oh, Rafe!" Her arms tightened about him.

He grinned down at her. She was a wicked Welsh hussy, and he adored her with every fiber of his being. "Vixen," he said softly, his buttocks contracting and releasing as he pleasured them both.

"Devil," she murmured back, wrapping her legs about him so he might delve deeper into her eager flesh.

He could feel her body quivering as she reached the pinnacle of satisfaction, and as she shuddered over and over again with her release, he loosed his own passions with a gusty sigh. After several minutes he rolled away from her, drawing her skirts down as he pulled his tunic into a semblance of neatness.

"That was deliciously wicked and depraved," she said happily. Her eyes were still closed, savoring the remaining bits and pieces of their pleasure before it faded away entirely. "But we couldn't possibly do that at Cythraul, husband."

"Before we go," he promised her, "I shall showyou what we can do at Cythraul, or anywhere else, for that matter, wife." Then rising to his feet, he drew her up. "Come on, my love, and let us find our bed now. I've plenty of energy yet left for you, and you won't have to fret about the servants. I saw how your concern prevented you from fully enjoying our little interlude, Rhonwyn."

She laughed, unable to contain herself. "You are a devil, Rafe de Beaulieu."

The following morning Oth was dispatched to find Prince Llywelyn.

"Tell him what has happened and that I will meet him at Cythraul. This threat must be contained immediately, and the lady Katherine rescued. He will argue with you, of course, and say that having little love for Edward de Beaulieu, he does not care what happens to his wife. Then you will tell him that I am begging this boon of him, for the lady Katherine is my husband's sister, and I love her right well. Niggle at him until he yields, Oth. You know him as I do."

"He'll come," Oth said. Then he added, "Send Dewi into Cythraul first to make certain that it is still your tad's and has not been taken over by strangers or enemies, lady."

" 'Tis good advice. I will follow it," Rhonwyn told him. "I do not believe Tad would allow Cythraul out of his control, but if the worst has happened, we will wait for you by the ruin on the river near Cythraul, said to belong to the Fair Folk. I will be safe there for my mam's sake, I know. Now go, Oth, and God watch over you."

He kissed her hand and was gone from the hall.

Rhonwyn and Rafe spent the day as if nothing were amiss, each going about their duties. Browne, the steward, and Peterman, the bailiff, were both called into the hall so that Rafe might explain the situation to them.

"I will send word when we are to return," he assured his servants.

Rhonwyn told Enit of the venture. "You cannot come with me," she said. "I need you here to be certain Justin is well cared for in my absence. Bess is a good nurse to him, but sometimes she is ab-sentminded. Watch her carefully, and see my son is safe. Do not allow the child or his nurse from the house except into the gardens with men-at-arms guarding them," she instructed both Enit and Browne. "If those holding Lady Katherine should learn of their mistake while I am gone, Justin could be in danger. Allow no stranger into the house, even a religious."

They nodded.

"With luck and Prince Llywelyn's aid, we shall not be gone for too long a time and will return in triumph with Kate," Rafe said.

"Amen, my lord!" Browne said fervently.

Rafe and Rhonwyn would take little but the clothing they wore and their weapons. They ate their evening meal early, and as they wanted to start just before dawn, they departed the hall almost immediately after eating. As they reached the landing of the second floor, Rafe pulled his wife aside and pushed her against the stone wall of the corridor.

"Fondle me," he growled in her ear, licking it and the side of her face. "I promised you I would show you that a man can take and give pleasure in almost any setting." Then he groaned as her hands pushed through the fabric of his garments and began to stroke and play amid the badges of his sex. "Ah, witch!" he groaned as her skillful toying had the desired result. His hands were beneath her skirts in a trice, cupping her buttocks and raising her up to impale her upon his manhood. "Ah!" he sighed as he entered her wet, hot sheath. "You are always ready for me, wife, and how I love you for it!"

She gave herself over to the passion of the moment, and when they were both most thoroughly sated they stumbled to their bedchamber, where Enit was awaiting them in the solar with a large bath ready and steaming.

"Wonderful!" Rhonwyn enthused. "We shall not see such luxury for many a day, my lord. We must take advantage of it while we may." She began to pull her garments off, as did he.

Enit, not in the least disturbed, picked up the clothing as it was tossed, clucking and scolding them both at their haste.

"We'll wash each other, Enit," Rhonwyn said, and taking up the boar's-bristle brush, she began to scrub her husband's back vigorously.

"Then I'll take these wretched garments you have both worn to death to the laundress," Enit said.

"Take your time," Rafe called to her as the door shut.

They heard Enit laugh as she hurried down the stairs.

"How long do you think we have?" he asked Rhonwyn.

"At least half an hour," she chuckled.

"Good!" He turned and cupped her full breasts in his two big hands. "Ah, I love these sweet fruits," he purred in her ear as he fondled them gently. He pressed his body against her suggestively. "I'm as randy as a billy goat tonight, wife," he warned.

She wiggled her bottom into his groin. "Then we shall be randy together, Rafe, my husband. The tiny interlude in the hallway was but a taste of what I want from you tonight. Oh, yes!"

"So you like that," he whispered in her ear as he rubbed his stiffening lance between the twin moons of her bottom.

"Ummmm," she answered him. "You are so quickly roused, husband."

"Because you are so damnably tempting, wife," he responded.

She turned about and kissed him slowly. "What a nice compliment, husband," she purred. Then she began licking his face and throat with broad, hot sweeps of her little tongue. "You are salty," she said.

"You are sweet," he countered, his tongue licking at her face, her chest, and, after he lifted her slightly, her full breasts.

They coupled once again, the water sloshing about them as their passion rose. When they had pleasured each other, they washed and exited the tub, Rhonwyn shaking her head at the puddles.

"Thank heavens the floor is stone," she remarked as she first dried him with a rough cloth, and then herself. "What will Enit think?"

"That her master and her mistress were as randy as two billy goats tonight," he chuckled, and took her hand. "Come, wife, to bed with you lest we both catch a chill. We are off on serious business come the morrow. Pray God my sister is yet safe."

"She will be safe, Rafe," Rhonwyn assured him. "Even if they learned she was not ap Gruffydd's child, they will ransom her to Edward. The Welsh have been called many things by you English, but never have we been called foolish. We know how to make a groat. Kate will be safe."

They climbed naked into their bed, and he cradled her in his arms. "I trust you, wife," he told her.

"I know," Rhonwyn said with a small smile. "That is one of the reasons I love you, Rafe de Beaulieu. You really do trust me."

"I love you," he said simply. "Now sleep, wife."

Rhonwyn smiled again to herself and closed her eyes.

Chapter 18

It had been many years since Lady Katherine de Beaulieu had heard the Welsh tongue spoken. Now, however, she silently thanked God for her old Welsh nurse and her own linguistic abilities. At first it was all garble, but then gradually her mind focused, and she understood. The men who held her captive believed she was Rhonwyn. Her first instinct was to tell them they were wrong, but then she thought that they might kill her as they had so many in Ainslea village. Reaching out, she gently tugged the skirt of her servant Mab. The woman turned a frightened face to her mistress, and Kate put a finger to her lips, warning Mab to silence.

"They believe," she whispered softly, "that I am Rhonwyn. Address me as such else they kill us for their own error."

"What is it you say in that barbaric tongue, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn?" one of her captors asked roughly.

"I am calming my servant," Kate replied. "She is frightened by you and by what she has seen this day. These English are not strong."

"Strong enough when they choose," the man laughed.

"Who are you, and why have you done this?" Kate asked him.

"In time, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn" was the answer.

Almost all the male inhabitants of Ainslea had been slaughtered, but for those who had managed to flee. The women and the children, however, were herded together to be driven into Wales where they would be sold as slaves. One old man was left to tell the tale to any who came seeking the lady of Haven Castle. The village was then fired, and the Welsh rode off with their captives and their loot-for they had sacked whatever had value including several milk cows, the poultry, a team of oxen, and a small herd of sheep.

Late in the afternoon Kate and her servant were taken in a separate direction by four of their captors. Mab began to whimper again with fright, moaning that they were going to be ravaged and killed for certain.

"Be silent!" Kate said sharply. "If they intended such villainy they would not have brought us this distance. It is something else, and I am interested to learn what."

"They will kill us when they learn the truth," Mab sobbed. "You should have told them back in Ainslea, and surely they would have released us, lady."

"Nay," Kate said. "They would have killed us then for they could not allow me to alert my sister-in-law to their perfidy, whatever it may be. I must maintain this masquerade for the time being until I can learn what is afoot. Then perhaps I may speak the truth. Or mayhap not, Mab. Now, pull yourself together, lass. We will not show these Welsh that we are afraid."

"Are you, lady?" Mab quavered.

"Aye, I am," Kate replied. "I should be a fool not to be fearful, Mab." Then she reached out and patted her servant's hand in a gesture of comfort, giving her a small smile.

"My name is Ifan ap Daffydd," the leader of her captors said. "We will overnight at a small convent, lady. If you attempt to escape or try to tell the nuns who you are or that you are captive, my men and I will kill the holy women. Do you understand me?"

"Aye," Kate said, "I do."

"Tell your servant what I have said, and tell her if she continues to whimper and whine as she has been, I will personally slit her throat. There are good Welsh women at my brother's castle who can serve you. You do not need this English cow."

"Nonetheless, Ifan ap Daffydd, I will have her," Kate answered him. "She has been loyal to me since I arrived at Haven. Perhaps you do not value such traits in a servant, but I do. She is not used to seeing such slaughter as she has viewed this day. You will leave her be, for she is my responsibility."

"Your Welsh is odd," he said to her.

"I have been living among the English for several years now and have not spoken my own tongue. I am surprised that I can recall it at all," Kate told him blithely. "Besides, each end of Wales speaks a different dialect, Ifan ap Daffydd, yet we all manage to understand each other."

"Aye, we do, especially when it comes to your tad, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn," he replied, and then he laughed.

When he had ridden ahead again Kate explained to Mab what had been said, couching the Welshman's threats in gentler language. "You must not carry on any longer, Mab, for you are irritating these men, and they could punish us both for your behavior."

"I will try," Mab said.

"You must succeed," Kate said firmly.

"Where are they taking us?"

"To the castle of Ifan ap Daffydd's brother, whoever he may be," Kate said. "From what this Ifan has said, I suspect it has something to do with the Welsh prince, but what, I do not yet know."

When they reached the small convent where they were to overnight, Ifan ap Daffydd explained to the porteress that he was escorting his sister to the castle of their brother, Rhys ap Daffydd, lord of Aberforth. They were welcomed and fed, and then offered pallets in the guest house. The nun apologized that they had but one space for guests and could not separate the sexes.

"I will sleep outside the guest-house door with my men so my sister may have her privacy," Ifan ap Daffydd said gallantly. "We are used to sleeping beneath the night sky, good sister." Having seen the interior of the place, Ifan ap Daffydd felt secure, for it had but one door and the two windows were too high for his captives to use for escape.

In the morning they attended Prime, and then they were given brown bread, a snip of cheese, and cider before they departed. Kate took a coin from her purse and pressed it into the hand of the porteress.

"Thank you, good sister," she said. "Will you pray for my sister-in-law, Katherine?"

"I will, my child," the nun said.

"What was that all about?" Ifan ap Daffydd demanded to know as they rode off.

"I gave the nun a coin from my purse. I doubt you thought to do it, Ifan ap Daffydd. Then I asked her to pray for my sister-in-law, Katherine. There was no harm in it. I spoke our tongue, and you were free to hear it. It is customary to pay for one's lodging if you can, and what with your boasting about taking your sister to your brother's castle, it would have been expected that you offer the nuns who sheltered us a small donation for our food and accommodation. You men have no sense of propriety."

He laughed." I had heard that you were a firebrand."

"Had you?" she remarked dryly.

They rode all day and sheltered the second night in a dry cave, for there were no religious houses or villages along their route. Their supper and their breakfast the following morning was roasted rabbit, hot in the evening and cold in the morning. They slept, wrapped in their cloaks, on the dirt floor of the cave, a fire at its entrance to discourage any wildlife from entering. They rode all of the third day, finally coming to Aberforth Castle shortly after the early sunset of that autumn day. The castle before them was small but dark and forbidding. Kate shivered nervously, but then pulled herself together as they passed beneath the portcullis into the courtyard.

When they had dismounted they were led into the castle's great hall. There were no fireplaces, but rather a large stone fire pit in the center of the hall that blazed, heating the entire room. To Kate's surprise the stone walls were hung with beautiful tapestries, and there were fragrant herbs scattered upon the stone floor that gave off a sweet odor when stepped upon. Upon the dais was a high board, and seated there eating was a richly dressed black-bearded man with piercing dark brown eyes and black hair.

Ifan ap Daffydd hurried forth, bringing his prisoners with him. He bowed low, and then straightening, he said, "I have brought Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn as you requested, my lord brother."

The lord of Aberforth looked up and perused Kate. "You do not look like your mother," he said in a rough voice. "Nor do you favor your tad particularly, lady. However, I see ap Gruffydd's mother in you. She had hair your color. Your mother had hair like gilt thistledown."

Kate was curious, and she realized she was expected to reply. "You knew my mother?" she said.

"Briefly, though intimately," he chuckled.

"Why, my lord, have you kidnapped me and had me brought here?" Kate demanded to know. "My husband will be most vexed. He is not a wealthy man and cannot be expected to pay you too exorbitant a ransom."

Rhys ap Daffydd laughed. "You have your father's overweening pride and your mother's spirit," he replied. "I want no ransom from your husband, lady. It is your father I have occasion to deal with, and as he will not listen to reason, I thought perhaps if I had custody of his daughter he might be more amenable to… ah, negotiation."

"You have a quarrel with Prince Llywelyn, and so you have kidnapped me?" Kate was both astounded and outraged. "You are a coward, my lord, if you cannot deal with ap Gruffydd without threatening a woman of his family! I will not help you."

"You do not understand, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn," Rhys said. "Your father has gained his title from the English, but nonetheless we have honored that title because it meant that Wales was left in peace by the English. Now your sire refuses to do fealty to King Edward, thus breaking his bond with England. Edward Long-shanks is not an easy man and will not bear this insult. When he comes into Wales to punish your father, we will all suffer for our prince's misbehavior. I have friends in England who have requested that I reason with your father, for all our sakes. Since he has refused to grant me an audience, I must gain his attention in the only way I can, by bringing you here to Aberforth. Your father will not allow you to be harmed."

Kate remembered what Rhonwyn had said the few rare times she had spoken of her father. It was very unlikely that ap Gruffydd would come to his daughter's aid if it did not serve some good purpose for him. Kate could see that Rhys ap Daffydd was no true patriot. What he did he was doing for his own gain. She suspected he meant to attempt an assassination of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd when he came to rescue his daughter. She saw her own country's hand in such a plot. It was absolutely disgraceful and dishonorable. "Well, my lord, you can but try to reason with my tad," she told him, "but he never really cared greatly for me as I was not a son."

"What happened to the lad?" Rhys demanded.

"What lad?" she countered.

"Your little brother" was the reply.

"Glynn? Oh, he died when he was twelve of the pox," Kate said easily. She knew that if she said Glynn was a religious in the abbey at Shrewsbury, Glynn might very well find himself in danger, too.

"So," Rhys crowed triumphantly, "you are Llywelyn ap Gruffydd's only living heir. He will come for you, female or not."

"If you say so, my lord," Kate told him. "Now, I am hungry and I am chilled to the bone, as is my servant. Have me shown to my chamber and have hot food brought to me. I should not want to tell my tad that you were a poor host, Rhys ap Daffydd."

The lord of Aberforth laughed heartily. "They say you were raised roughly in the Welshry, lady, but you speak as if you were truly a princess born."

"I am," Kate replied loftily. Then she followed a servant who led her to her chamber. When the door had closed behind them, she breathed a deep sigh of relief and said in her own English tongue, "It is obvious that none of these people have ever seen Rhonwyn, Mab. And I fooled them! I actually convinced them I was she."

"I couldn't understand a word you spoke, lady, but your manner was fearless and proud. What will happen to us now?"

"Our captor is Rhys ap Dafydd, and he is in league with some of our countrymen. I think he means to use the prince's daughter to lure ap Gruffydd here. Then, I believe, he will assassinate him if he can. This is to be done to curry favor with King Edward."

"And afterward?" Mab ventured.

"I don't know," Kate answered her servant honestly. "I don't think they will kill us. We are just the bait in the trap. And the prince's daughter is supposed to be wed to an English lord, and the marriage was part of a treaty between our two lands. I suspect they will return us back to England when they have accomplished their nefarious purposes."

"How do you know he means to kill the prince?" Mab asked.

"I do not, for certain," Kate replied, "but instinct tells me he lies, Mab."

"But when the prince comes and sees you are not his child," Mab fretted, "what will they do?"

"By then it will be too late," Kate said.

"Oh, mistress, I am so afraid!" Mab said.

Kate put comforting arms about her servant. "I know," she said, "and I am, too, but we cannot let these men see we are afraid. Edward and Rafe are already on our trail, I know it! They will find us and rescue us before long, Mab."

"How?" Mab now sobbed, totally unnerved. "How will they get into this fortress, and how will they get us out? It is hopeless, my lady. It is hopeless!" She began to weep.

"Nay, 'tis not hopeless," Kate reassured her, although she was not certain at all that Mab wasn't right. "Mab, think! What is the worst that can happen to us? We will be killed. But if our mortal bodies die, do we not live on in the spirit? To be with our blessed Mother would not be such a terrible fate, Mab."

"But I haven't ever lived, lady!" Mab hiccuped. "I am still a virgin. You at least know the joy of marriage and children."

"And so will you, Mab," Kate said firmly. The door to their chamber opened, and she continued, "Look! Here is a nice hot supper for us. Things will seem much brighter after you have eaten."

"If it ain't poisoned," Mab said darkly.

"I don't think they brought us all the way from Haven just for the pleasure of poisoning us," Kate remarked. Then she turned to the servant who had brought the meal. "Tell your master I will require a hot bath tonight. I was nursing an infant when I was taken, and my bodice is soaked through with my milk. I shall also require a clean chemise and a gown. Are there women of rank here?"

"Lord Rhys's leman," the servant answered.

"Then my requirements can be satisfied certainly," Kate said.

"Yes, lady," the servant replied, and hurried out.

"You would wear the clothes of that bandit's whore?" Mab demanded.

"Aye," Kate admitted. "They are surely cleaner than what I am now wearing. Both my chemise and gown are sticking to my breasts. The smell on my clothing is not particularly pleasant. Oh, I hope Edward was wise enough to get wee Henry a wet nurse, Mab."

"If he wasn't, the other women will see to it," Mab, her courage now restored, comforted her mistress. Her eye went to the tray of food as she realized that she was very hungry. "Let us eat, lady. You sit, and I shall serve you." She began to ladle rabbit stew onto the trencher of bread. "How long do you think it will take Lord Edward to find us, my lady?"

"He is probably on his way now," Kate said, spooning the hot stew into her mouth. "Ummm, this is good. At least the cook is competent here, Mab. We shall not be starved. Aye, Edward is more than likely very near us, and my brother with him. Listen! Do you hear rain? Well, at least we were spared riding in a downpour."

Outside, the rain fell heavily, and at the convent where Kate's captors had stopped that first night, Rhonwyn was in earnest conversation with the mother superior, having introduced herself as the niece of the Abbess Gwynllian of Mercy Abbey. The convent's porteress was with them, waiting to be given permission to speak.

"We do not have many guests, being in such a distant locale," the mother superior said, "but several nights ago four men and two women sheltered with us. Sister Margaret can tell you more." She nodded to the porteress, giving her permission to add what she could.

"Did they tell you who they were?" Rhonwyn asked.

"The one who appeared to be their leader said the lady was his sister and the other her servant. He was taking them to his brother's castle, but he did not give his name or that of his brother. The two women were quiet except the next morning when they were leaving. The lady asked me to pray for her sister-in-law, Katherine. She gave me a coin, which is more than the man did."

"Do you remember what she looked like?" Rhonwyn gently probed the elderly nun's memory.

"Young and pretty," Sister Margaret replied. "She had beautiful light blue eyes, and although she wore a head covering, I could see a bit of her hair. It was a nice nut brown. She was well spoken, although her Welsh sounded a bit strange to my ear, as if it were not her native tongue. Her servant was ordinary and appeared frightened."

"Did the lady perhaps favor this gentleman with me?" Rhonwyn asked. She drew Rafe forward.

"She did!" Sister Margaret cried. "Indeed she did. Why, my lord, you could be sister and brother."

"We are," Rafe replied. "My sister Katherine was being kidnapped, good sister. Are you certain you cannot recall hearing a place or a name? We must find her!"

"I am sorry, my lord," Sister Margaret said, but then she brightened. "I can tell you that when they departed the following morning they went north. Straight due north."

"What is in that direction?" he asked her, but she shrugged.

"There is only one place to the north," the mother superior told them. "It is a two days' ride, and there is nothing in between. Aberforth Castle would be the next inhabited place. There is nothing before it, and nothing in any other direction at all, my lord."

"Who is the lord of the castle?" Rhonwyn asked the nun.

"Rhys ap Daffydd, lady" was the response.

They sheltered the night in the convent guest house, and then the following morning they departed.

"We must go to Cythraul," Rhonwyn said as they turned west. "I want to speak to my father before we beard this Rhys ap Daffydd."

"How far are we?" Rafe asked her, and Dewi answered.

"We should be there by nightfall," he said.

"Do you know this Rhys?" Rhonwyn asked Dewi.

"Only by reputation, lady. He is an ambitious man, they say," Dewi replied, "and never your father's friend."

They rode that bright November day over the green hills of Wales, seeing no one. Finally, as the sun was setting, the ramparts of Cythraul appeared ahead of them.

"I will go ahead to be certain it is safe," Dewi said, and kicked his mount forward while Rhonwyn and Rafe drew their horses aside in a thicket to await Dewi's signal. When it came they rode quickly into the fortress. Looking about her, Rhonwyn wondered that she had been raised in such a rough place.

"Rhonwyn, welcome home!" Morgan ap Owen lifted her from her saddle. "Why have you come?"

"Is my father here yet?" she answered his question with a question. "Oth went for him some days ago."

"He hasn't come, but then neither has Oth. Come into the hall, lass. And who is this fellow who accompanies you?"

"This is my husband, Rafe de Beaulieu," she answered.

"I thought you wed Edward de Beaulieu," Morgan replied.

"I did, but then our marriage was dissolved, and I wed his cousin Rafe. Rafe's sister married Edward. That is why I am here, Morgan ap Owen. Several days ago some Welsh came over the border and kidnapped Lady Katherine, believing she was me. It obviously has something to do with my father. We have to find Kate before she is harmed, and she will be when they learn she isn't me. I needed to meet with ap Gruffydd in a location where we wouldn't be observed so I could learn from him just what is going on, old friend."

"I understand," her old mentor said. "Well, there is nothing for you to do but sit down with us in the hall until he comes."

The evening meal was served, and they sat at table with Morgan ap Owen as bread, venison, and trout were placed before them. At first the men who had raised her were shy of Rhonwyn, but gradually they realized that while her manner had softened and she was a grown woman, she was still their lass. The hall soon became noisy as they told Rafe tales of her childhood, and he joined in their uproarious laughter at her many adventures and misadventures.

"I suppose," said Lug ap Barris, "that you're no longer the fine soldier you once were. After all, you're a mam now."

"Would you like to go hand-to-hand with me, Lug?" she asked him in a deceptively innocent voice.

He saw the look in her eye and chuckled. "Nay, Rhonwyn. 'Tis obvious I am mistaken."

"And who do you think will teach my son how to use the alborium, Lug? Is there anyone in your memory who can shoot as well as I?"

"Nay, Rhonwyn," he replied.

"You taught me well," she said softly, and he flushed with pleasure that she would remember him now that she was a lady.

Brenin, the ancient wolfhound, came and lay by her side. "He is my first dog," she told Rafe as she leaned over to stroke the old animal's head.

"Tell me of the laddie," Gwilym the cook said.

"He has joined the Benedictines in Shrewsbury," Rhonwyn said, "and is at the abbey. You would have been proud of him. When he learned I had disappeared while on crusade, he came to Palestine and sought me out by doing what King Richard's minstrel, Blondell, once did. He went about entertaining with song, singing his first song always in our Welsh tongue, waiting for an answer, and when he finally received it, he helped rescue me." Then she told them of her adventures and the reason for the dissolution of her marriage to Edward.

When she had concluded her tale Morgan op Owen spoke up for them all. "The Englishman was wrong to remarry so hastily."

"He was fearful of dying without heirs," Rhonwyn said, shrugging, "and he could hardly expect I would return to him. It was a miracle, but the other miracle was that I have found real love with Rafe, my friends. I hold no bitterness any longer toward Edward, and I love his wife, Katherine. I must find her, Morgan. She is a gentle woman, and she has two sons at Haven. One is yet new and at the breast."

"We'll help you, Rhonwyn," Morgan said. "You know you can count on the men of Cythraul."

They slept that night in the hall, cuddling in her old bedspace. Rafe fondled his wife's breasts, but after a purr of pleasure, she warned him off. "We cannot," she told him.

"Why not?" he murmured in her ear, licking softly at it.

"Would you embarrass the men who raised me by letting them hear the sounds of our passion, Rafe?"

In response he took her hand and placed it on his manhood, which was now rock hard. "You will owe me greatly for this enforced abstinence, lady," he told her, and then kissed her mouth sweetly.

"I always meet my debts, my lord," she responded with a smile.

In the late afternoon of the following day Llywelyn ap Gruffydd appeared in the company of Oth. "How is my grandson?" he asked.

"Thriving, and with your chin, my lord," she told him.

The prince turned and looked at Rafe sharply. "Is this the one they married you to after Edward de Beaulieu betrayed you?"

"Aye, and I love him, so there is no harm done," Rhonwyn quickly replied. "Rafe, come and give your hand in friendship to my sire."

Rafe held out his hand to Llywelyn ap Gruffydd. "My lord."

The prince grasped the hand and said, "If she is happy, then I will accept you, Rafe de Beaulieu. You look a better man than Edward."

"I am," Rafe replied without a moment's hesitation.

Ap Gruffydd stared hard at him a moment, and then he burst out laughing. "By the rood, Rhonwyn, here indeed is your match, and I thank God for it, for certainly I have done little enough for you, daughter."

"You are a great man, Tad, and have great things to do," she answered him with a small smile.

"Your mam always said that to me," he said, a cloud briefly flitting over his features.

"I know," Rhonwyn responded.

"Wine, my lord?" Gwilym was at his side with a large goblet.

"Aye," the prince said, taking it and gulping down a swallow. "Come, daughter, and let us sit by the fire while you tell me what it is you desire of me. I will grant it if it is in my power."

They sat, and she explained the unfortunate situation to him as he drank his wine and listened closely. When she had finished, he spoke.

"It will be Rhys ap Daffydd without a doubt who holds the lady Katherine hostage. He is a weasel of a man and a coward to boot. Long ago I caught him in a treacherous plot with the English. Few would have anything to do with him after I exposed him. You were just a wee lass then, Rhonwyn. He always said he would have his revenge upon me for it. Now he seeks to take advantage of my dispute with King Edward."

"I think he means to kill you," Rhonwyn said quietly.

"Aye, that would be his way. Then he would gain more favor with his English masters, and Wales would fall to them. I will not have it! We cannot, of course, storm Aberforth, for he might kill the lady Katherine. Yet we still might make him believe I am coming to the aid of my daughter without endangering her."

"First we must be certain Kate is there," Rhonwyn said. "Let us send Oth into Aberforth as your messenger with a date for your meeting with Rhys. Oth will insist upon seeing the hostage so he may return to you and tell you your daughter is being well cared for at Aberforth. Then Rafe, Dewi, and I shall enter the stronghold disguised as wandering entertainers. Such people are always welcome, and I have had experience enough as I worked my way back from Palestine with Glynn. Once inside Aberforth we shall rescue Kate."

"How?" the prince demanded.

"I shall kill Rhys," Rhonwyn said quietly.

"How?" the prince asked as quietly.

"With my alborium, Tad. I can do it, never fear," Rhonwyn told him. "This man has taken Kate from her family and means you harm. I have no qualms about killing him."

"So, daughter, you would do this for me, would you?" the prince said, rather surprised by her words.

"I was raised here, my lord, and I was taught duty to family and to Wales. I have an English husband whom I love, and I am content to recognize the English king as my overlord. But this business has little to do with England. It is Welsh business, my lord, and it must be concluded by the Welsh. This Rhys ap Daffydd is a man of guile and dishonor. Both he and his vile actions shame our race."

"And you, Englishman, you are content to allow your wife to do this thing?" ap Gruffydd asked Rafe.

"Aye," Rafe said. Then he continued, "My wife is not some delicate flower in need of my protection. She is a strong woman, and frankly at times I have been glad for her protection. If she believes she can do this, then I am content to let her. But know that if she should fail, I will, myself, see to this man's death for the temerity he has shown in taking my sister as his hostage."

The prince of the Welsh smiled slowly. "This time, daughter," he said, "you have married a real man. I do like you, Rafe de Beaulieu." He clapped his son-in-law upon the back in a friendly gesture.

It was decided that the prince, along with a troop of men-at-arms from Cythraul, would travel several hours behind the others. They would not enter Aberforth until signaled. Rhonwyn, Rafe, and Dewi would come to Rhys ap Daffydd's castle in their guise as traveling entertainers. Rhonwyn had decided to dress herself as a female in boy's garb, the better to entice the castle's master. Oth would leave Cythraul in the morning, Rhonwyn and her party would come two hours behind him, and the prince and his men would be four hours behind them.

The evening meal was served, and afterward Gwilym sang several ballads of ancient times. "But," he told them as he so often did, "my laddie, Glynn, has sung and played them better."

"Now he sings and plays for God," Rhonwyn said.

"My only son, a priest," the prince muttered, disgusted.

"He's happy," Rhonwyn said quietly. "Besides, when you can celebrate your marriage to de Montfort's daughter, get yourself a son on her. That child will be your legitimate heir."

"I've been betrothed to the wench for long enough, but she is hidden in a convent in France, and the English will not give her permission to travel through their lands so we may marry," ap Gruffydd groused. "Edward Longshanks is in fear of de Montfort's daughter, the fool."

"King Edward is scarcely a fool, my lord," Rhonwyn told her father. "It is you, I'm thinking, who is foolish. Why will you not pledge your fealty to him? If you did, perhaps your bride could come to Wales, and you would have many sons. But nay, you will niggle and haggle to gain an advantage you will never obtain from this king. He is a hard man like his grandfather King John, although he can be quite charming. Nonetheless, Tad, he will have his own way, and you and your allies will eventually cost Wales her freedom, I have not a doubt."

The prince looked extremely disgruntled by her words. "You still speak your own mind, Rhonwyn, I see," he said. "The English shall not have Wales as long as I live. I swear it on the true cross!"

"Words come easy to you, my lord, but 'tis actions that count," Rhonwyn said scathingly.

Rafe was fascinated by the combative relationship between lather and daughter. He knew that ap Gruffydd had had next to nothing to do with her upbringing, but he had not realized before just how bitter Rhonwyn was toward the prince of the Welsh. Absently Rafe took her hand in his and, raising it to his lips, kissed each fingertip. "Let us retire, wife," he said low. "We will have a long day tomorrow."

Ap Gruffydd sipped on his wine thoughtfully, but when his daughter and her husband had crawled into their bedspace, he said to Morgan ap Owen, "He manages her well, and she does not even realize it. She must indeed love him, Morgan."

The captain of Cythraul smiled his reply.

Oth was gone before the dawn, and Rhonwyn and her party followed him two hours later. They had borrowed several of Gwilym's old instruments, for it was likely they would have to perform. Dewi and Rhonwyn were skilled in such arts, but Rafe was not. When they camped that night she taught him how to keep time with a tambourine and cymbalum, which were a type of bells. Dewi was adept on the pibau, or bagpipes, and the pibgorn, a reed instrument. Rhonwyn would play the Telyn-a Celtic harp-as well as the lute, and sing.

They traveled from dawn till dusk for two days. On the morning of the third day they reached Aberforth Castle, meeting Oth but an hour after they sighted the castle, and they drew their mounts into a wooded area off the road to await him. Seeing them, he stopped.

"She's there," he said, "and in the dirty, stained gown they took her in, for the leman of the master will not loan her a clean garment. These are wicked people, my lady. Be careful. I shall ride on to meet with your father and tell him what I have learned."

"Into the lion's den," Rhonwyn said, and kicked her mount forward.

They rode down the road, across the heavy wooden drawbridge beneath the portcullis, and into the castle courtyard, asking for the steward when they stopped.

"You must go into the hall," the stable boy said. "He will not come out here, for who are you but a ragtag and itinerant bunch?"

"Will you watch our horses, you handsome fellow?" Rhonwyn said, favoring the lad with a broad smile and chucking him beneath the chin. She bent, allowing him a generous view of her breasts. "We'll make it worth your while," she purred.

The boy swallowed hard, scarcely able to look away from her bosom. Without a word he took the reins and nodded, blushing beet red when Rhonwyn pinched his cheek and blew him a kiss.

"Must you be so damned bold?" Rafe muttered as they mounted the steps to the porch and went through the door of the castle.

"Men like bold women, for they always assume that bold women are bad women," Rhonwyn told him. "I may have to do things that I would certainly not do otherwise, Rafe, but you must trust me."

"Aye, my lord, follow her lead," Dewi said. "She's a clever lass and more than once got us out of a scrape as we made our way home through France."

In the great hall they asked for the steward and were directed to his chamber. Knocking, they entered, and Rhonwyn immediately spoke up.

"Greetings, my lord steward. I am Anghard, and these are my two companions, Dewi and Rafe. We are musicians and thought perhaps that you might have a need of a night's entertainment."

"It is not often we get travelers in this place," the steward said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Where are you from and where are you bound for, Anghard?"

"We have no real home, my lord steward, but we have at last been in Shrewsbury and now make our way to Prince Llywelyn's stronghold, for we hear he is a lover of music and generous to boot. We have spent the last two nights out-of-doors and would welcome a night beneath a strong roof with a fire and some hot food." She smiled at him.

"I can save you a long trip," the steward said, "for the prince will be here in a few days' time. He is coming to visit my master, Rhys ap Daffydd, lord of this castle. We will give you a week or more of shelter, Anghard, and you and your companions will entertain us, eh?"

"With pleasure, my lord steward, and I thank you for your generosity," Rhonwyn said.

"Go into the hall," the steward told them. "You may sleep there and eat at the lord's tables below the salt. If you play well, there may be a little something else for you as well."

"Thank you, my lord steward," Rhonwyn said, bowing as she backed from the room.

"You are a devious woman," Rafe said as they returned to the hall. "I should have believed you myself did I not know you."

"We must find the perfect place," Rhonwyn said to Dewi, "and then you must make certain my alborium is ready to be used. We'll watch for servants while you prepare it, for if it is learned we have brought weapons into this lord's hall, we may be killed for our daring."

They found a niche in a dark corner and, drawing a bench before it, shielded Dewi as he prepared Rhonwyn's bow for use when the proper time came. When all was in readiness they rested, waiting for the main meal of the day when they would certainly be asked to entertain. In midafternoon the servants began to come into the hall with platters and bowls. Rhys ap Daffydd, his leman, his captain, his brother, Ifan, and Katherine came into the great hall and took their places at the high board. The tables below the salt began to fill, and Rhonwyn and her companions found seats at the very last table.

At the high board a plethora of dishes was served, but below the salt there was bread, a pottage, and some hard cheese with only beer to drink. Rhonwyn looked toward the dais, seeing that Katherine, while pale, was hardly cowed by her captors. She has more courage and strength than I believed, Rhonwyn thought proudly. She found, though, that she was angered by the fact that Rhys ap Daffydd had not had the decency to find his captive clean clothing. Katherine wore, as Oth had told them, the milk-stained gown she had been taken in. You shall soon pay for all your wickedness and deceit, Rhonwyn silently thought.

When the meal was over, the steward came forward and said to his master, "My lord, three traveling musicians have asked leave to entertain you in exchange for shelter and food. Anghard and troupe, come forward at once!" He waved his hand in their direction.

Rhonwyn and her companions arose and came before the high board, playing and singing as they gamboled along. The men were dressed in spring green tunics that came to just above their knees and chausses striped in blue and green. Rhonwyn was garbed in a darker green tunic that was extraordinarily short, coming to just below the tops of her thighs. Her chausses were also striped, but in gold and green. She had loosed her hair, and it flowed down her back, hiding her alborium that was affixed there, the string of the bow hidden by the tunic's dark colors as it rode across her chest. In her hair were silk flowers of many hues. Her tunic had a bateau neckline, and she wore nothing beneath it. When she bobbed low her breasts were quite visible to all, and the length of the garment, or rather lack of it, offered a bold view of her tight, round buttocks. She was every bit the picture of an entertainer with an easy and loose virtue.

Rhys ap Daffydd leaned forward-much to his leman's annoyance-very interested in the beautiful musician who smiled most seductively at him, bowing low with her two companions and then standing once again.

"My lord, will you allow us to entertain you?" Rhonwyn purred in a smoky, seductive voice. "I am certain that we can please you if you will but let us." She smiled again at him, their eyes making contact, and Rhonwyn was appalled by the cruelty and the lust she saw in his gaze. This was indeed an evil man.

"You have my permission," Rhys said grandly. He had already decided to bed the wench later.

"Before we begin," Rhonwyn said, "may I know for whom we are performing? I enjoy making little personal songs for all if I but know their names, my lord."

"This is my brother, Ifan, my captain, Llwyd ap Nudd, my mistress, Iola; and my guest, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, whose father is the prince of all the Welsh, or so say the English."

"And many of the Welsh as well," Rhonwyn replied, "or so I am told, Rhys ap Daffydd."

At first he wasn't certain if she had insulted him, but then he laughed. "You are bold, my pretty one."

"And you, my lord, are a fool," she replied easily.

There was an audible gasp in the great hall.

"Boldness is only amusing for a brief time, wench," Rhys said threateningly. "If you offend me again, I shall have your tongue torn out, and then how will you earn your living but upon your back?"

Rhonwyn laughed loudly. "You say your guest is the daughter of Prince Llywelyn, my lord, but I tell you she is not. It you wish to use ap Gruffydd's daughter against him, you will have no chance with this woman. She is Lady Katherine de Beaulieu of Haven Castle, wife of Lord Edward. His first marriage to ap Gruffydd's daughter was dissolved several years ago. Did you not know?"

"And how, you audacious and brazen wench, do you know?" Rhys ap Daffydd demanded angrily.

"Because, my lord. I am Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn." Rhonwyn replied.

Rhys ap Daffydd stared hard at Rhonwyn, and then a cruel smile touched his mouth. "Yes," he said slowly. "Of course. Why did I not see it before when you first stood before me? You have her coloring, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn. While you are more ap Gruffydd's daughter in your features, you have Vala's coloring. Do you remember me, my pretty? Do you remember that night I visited your cottage and had my way with your mother? Ah, how she wept and pleaded with me; and you stood, wide-eyed, clutching your baby brother in your arms. How I enjoyed that night, and how I will enjoy this one. Will you give me as much pleasure as your mother gave me so long ago, Rhownyn uerch Llywelyn?" He grinned at her.

All in the silent hall heard the whining sound, but until the arrow buried itself deep into Rhys ap Daffydd's chest, they did not connect it with a weapon. As the lord of Aberforth fell face first into the remains of his meal, Rhonwyn loosed the two arrows that Rafe quickly handed her, one killing Ifan ap Daffydd and the other Rhys's captain, Llywd ap Nudd. Rhys's mistress began to scream in terror as the trio made their way to the high board. It was very necessary to gain control of the castle's inhabitants before they fully comprehended what had just happened.

"Do not be afraid," Dewi shouted to them all. "Prince Llywelyn is even now marching into Aberforth. Our quarrel was with your master and his ilk. It is not with you. Welcome the prince as loyal Welshmen, and you will be left in peace. Now go and open your gates for my master."

The hall virtually emptied at his words.

"I'll go and make certain they obey me," Dewi said.

"Be careful," Rhonwyn cautioned him. She turned to Rhys's mistress. "Stop howling, you silly woman! You are not hurt nor will you be unless, of course, you don't cease that unpleasant caterwauling."

"Oh, Rhonwyn, you are so brave!" Katherine said breathlessly, hugging her sister-in-law. "When I saw you all come before the high board, I could not believe my eyes. Gracious, brother, you do have a well-turned leg," she teased him as she released Rhonwyn.

"Thank God you are safe, Kate!" he said, hugging her hard.

"I didn't know what was going to happen," Kate admitted, "but thank heavens for our old nurse, Wynnifred. After a few minutes the language began to come back to me, and I quickly realized they thought I was you, Rhonwyn. I was afraid to say I wasn't for fear they would kill me, and I decided that since you had grown up in such an isolated location, it was unlikely they would know I wasn't you."

"It was cleverly done, Kate, and Edward will be proud when he learns how bravely you have conducted yourself." She turned in the woman Iola. "Selfish cow, you will regret your mean spirit. Lady Katherine's servant will pick a gown from among your possessions for her mistress, and come the morning you will go from Aberforth with only what you can carry. I am certain you will find another lordling to whore for soon enough. Leave us now!"

Iola scurried from the great hall.

When she had gone Rhonwyn turned to her husband and sister-in-law. "You heard Rhys ap Daffydd's words. Until he spoke I did not know him. Many years ago when I was a child he came in the dark of night to our cottage and raped my mother. She never told my father, and I do not want her memory fouled by the tale now. Dewi, I know, will say nothing."

"I understand," Katherine said. "You have my word that I will not repeat what I have heard this night."

Rafe put his arm about his wife, and as their eyes met he gave her his silent promise.

People were beginning to stream back into the great hall of Aberforth Castle. They could hear cheering. I he sound of booted feet came marching toward them and into the chamber, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd at the soldiers' head upon his stallion, which he rode up to the dais, looking dispassionately at the three bodies draped across the high board.

"Well done, daughter," he praised her. "Well done!"

"And now, my lord tad," she replied, "you will thank Morgan ap Owen for raising me as he did."

"I do indeed thank him," the prince said, a small smile upon his lips. "But you get your eye for marksmanship from me, daughter." His look went next to Katherine de Beaulieu. "Lady Katherine, I apologize that one of my subjects should have mistreated you so. You are free to return to Haven with your brother and Rhonwyn."

"I thank you, my lord prince, for your timely rescue,^-' Kate answered him graciously, and then she curtsied prettily.

"Remove the bodies and put them outside for the dogs," the prince said, dismounting his beast and ascending the dais to stand before the hall, which now erupted into cheers.

"How inconstant and capricious are men's loyalties," Rhonwyn murmured sardonically.

"Not mine for you," Rafe said softly.

"You are certain?" She was smiling at him.

"Very certain," he assured her.

She sighed happily, laying her head upon his shoulder. Whatever memories she had once had-of love or evil-had been replaced in her heart and her mind by the reality of this man and his love for her. There could surely be no more than that in life. Looking up at Rafe, she smiled once again, saying, "Let us go home, my lord," and he nodded in agreement as he took her hand and they walked from the hall together.

Ap Gruffydd watched them go, and then he said, "Oth, Dewi. You belong to her as you always have, but before you return to Ardley, will you bring Lady Katherine home to her husband?"

"Aye, my lord," the two chorused, grinning.

He acknowledged them absently, his eyes taking in a last glimpse of his daughter. Farewell, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, he said silently to himself. Farewell! And then to his surprise she turned, giving him a brilliant smile and raising her hand to him in salute.

"Farewell, Tad!" he heard her call, and then she was gone.

The prince of the Welsh felt his eyes moisten with tears. He blinked them back quickly lest anyone see his weakness. Now what the hell was he going to do with another castle? he thought.