Chapter 46
June, 1177
Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd
Teleri walked into her rooms at Rhuddlan and was startled to realize that everything was the same, just as she had left it, complete with fussing servants. For some reason, she’d expected something different—perhaps the expectation merely came from the odd feeling that she’d been away for much longer than she actually had been. At first she submitted to the women who wept over her because they believed she’d been ill-treated, so pale was her face, so thin was her body and they did everything they’d always done for her: they scented her bath, adorned her in fine clothing, combed and dressed her hair, propped cushions behind her back, brought her mead—but even after three days it was to no avail. Everything was the same but she was not. Instead of providing her a measure of comfort, the familiar ministrations irritated her to the point at which she wanted to scream from frustration.
She wasn’t the only one. The whole mood of the castle was tense and tentative. Rhuddlan felt like a stoppered wineskin lying in the sun. Pressure was building up inside. There was very little activity in the ward. The gates remained shut; stoppered.
She hadn’t expected Longsword’s cold reaction to meeting her again. Anger and a lot of loud words, yes, but not the hateful, stony eyes boring into her. After the embarrassment of his public rejection had died away, outrage had replaced it. By what right did he humiliate her in such a callous manner? She was the one with the grievance, after all; it had always been her grievance, not his. He couldn’t, after three years, steal it from her—why had he? She hadn’t learned the answer on the long ride back to Rhuddlan; the stiff wind had blown directly into their faces and had made the travel tiring, and no one had dared speak to her unless it involved personal necessities. Whether the men feared Longsword’s reaction or had elected her the scapegoat of the failed plan to destroy the earl, she didn’t know.
The situation did not improve upon arrival at Rhuddlan. Longsword barely thanked his men for their efforts before disappearing. It was whispered he was unhappy with the lack of ransoms even though the main purpose of retrieving Olwen had been achieved. But Teleri, her mind unconsciously sifting through the numbing chatter of her servants, suddenly realized the truth had to do with her and nothing else, and she understood why he had spurned her at Hawarden.
She sat down to await his angry summons, certain that he would not be able to contain himself for long. She was nervous; for the first time in their married life, she felt she had wronged him.
One day passed, and then another. The summons did not come. Nothing seemed to move or breathe in Rhuddlan until she heard that Richard Delamere had ridden off to inspect what little remained of his manor. The information unnerved her further. Delamere had invariably supported her and now he wouldn’t be able to come to her defense.
Another day passed without comment. She was growing fidgety. She’d kept to her rooms because she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to herself but she was starting to believe Longsword’s lack of communication was his way of punishing her for her crime. One more day and then she could no longer sleep. Now it was less punishment and more like torture. A bit of her former spirit returned to her. She may have been in the wrong, she thought grimly, but to force her to dangle uncertainly for almost a week was similarly reprehensible. She decided she didn’t need his summons; she would find him.
Delamere had told him once that if there were any one trait which proved beyond doubt that he was his father’s son, it was the repugnant habit of cultivating melancholy. Some men, having experienced misfortune (Delamere had told him), got drunk until they felt better; others picked fights in order to feel a physical pain as great as the emotional one; still others toiled ceaselessly in an effort to divert their minds. But (Delamere had told him) he and his father preferred to immerse themselves in a mourning so complete that it alienated anyone around them who might have been of some comfort. “It’s my opinion that you enjoy wallowing in self-pity, Will,” Delamere had told him. “You’ve always had a tendency to interpret trouble as a personal insult.”
But Longsword had no idea how else to interpret the troubles which had befallen him over the past three months. Every interest of his, every action, every relationship had ended in calamity. It was more than a mere streak of bad luck, right up to that horrific interview in the bailey at Hawarden.
The worst of it all had been the news about Gladys.
For a long time he’d cursed Teleri. No one knew how wrenched apart he’d been; the impotent fury he’d felt and the desire to smash everything he saw…But he’d said nothing to anyone, not even Delamere, mindful of the reaction he’d gotten when he’d dismissed Ralph de Vire from his service. And eventually the days had become easier, more benign. He’d found himself looking forward to another day out of the fortress, first hunting Rhirid and then plotting against the earl; he didn’t flounder as much when he had a purpose and he thanked God it took his mind off his personal problems…And now this—
Seeing Teleri again brought it all back in a sickening rush. Of course he’d known she was at Hawarden but he hadn’t really dwelled on the probability of meeting her face to face. He just hadn’t thought about it—and yet there she was, looking exactly as she had looked the last time he’d seen her at Rhuddlan—as if nothing at all had changed—as if his whole life hadn’t been turned on its head…
He heard, from somewhere far away, a voice commanding someone to “place it there,” followed by the thud of a chair hitting the wooden floor to his left and the hasty scurry of feet. There was a swish of clothing and a body dropped into the chair. The thought crossed his overburdened mind that Delamere, crushed by Olwen’s defection, had gone away. But then he smelled the faint scent of lavender and as abruptly as he realized that the entire hall had gone dead silent, he knew who was sitting next to him. He swiveled his head in shock.
Teleri, in the process of placing her meat knife on the table, stared coolly back at him.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“I came down to speak with you,” she said, “but when I saw you were eating supper, I decided not to disturb you until you were through. And then I thought, why make someone carry a tray all the way up to my chamber tonight when I’m already here?”
He couldn’t stop looking at her, his shock quickly replaced by a growing anger. How dare she sit there so calmly, as if nothing were wrong, and speak to him so flippantly? It was an insult! He got to his feet so violently that his chair tumbled backwards. Teleri also stood up, albeit less noisily.
“You want to speak with me?” he demanded.
She nodded.
He reached out suddenly and grabbed her arm, making her gasp. “Let’s talk now!”
He pulled her away from the table and towards the council chamber. He could feel her stumbling along behind him, barely able to match his pace and stride. It was hardly dignified and there was a hall full of men and servants to witness her humiliation but he didn’t care. In fact, he was grimly pleased.
The door was open as he’d left it, and he swung her around and into the room, stepped across the threshold himself and kicked the door shut. He stood with his hands on his hips and his back against the door, wanting her to see there was no escape, that she’d thrown herself into the lion’s den uninvited and wasn’t about to be let out until he’d finished with her.
She stood in the very middle of the room. He stared at her without blinking, thinking how much he loathed her, that she had never even pretended to like him, had never hidden her disgust for him—and he was certain it was only him, not Delamere or fitz Maurice or the rest of them, only him—had conspired against him by getting rid of Gladys and flirting with Chester, had probably gone with Rhirid ap Maelgwn quite cheerfully, despite her servants’ protestations; he stared at her, unmoving, seeing in her the sum of his experiences in Wales, which was failure: failure to best Rhirid, to keep Gwalaes, to find happiness in his situation at Rhuddlan because she had gone out
of her way to deny it to him…she’d never done anything for him, as a wife must do, only against him.
He stared at her. She watched him, quiet and still. He heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing inside his ears. She was dressed very simply, in a dark blue gown belted at the waist. Her head was uncovered and her hair was gathered into one long braid which reached halfway down her back. Her shoes were plain leather slippers. She wore no jewelry or other adornment. It looked to him as if she were in mourning and he was startled to discover that the effect was vaguely comforting. What nonsense! He shook himself, crossed his arms over his chest and demanded abruptly, “Well? You have something to say?”
She did not look as confident in the small room alone with him as she had in the hall with dozens of potential interlopers but her voice was firm. “Yes, my lord; it concerns Gladys—”
He dropped his arms. “I don’t want to hear this!”
“But I—”
“No!” he interrupted. “Don’t say it!” Agitated, he pushed himself away from the door and took a few steps forward but he didn’t know what he wanted to do or where he was going and he stopped and glanced back at the door. Now he felt like a person trapped. He glared at her. “I swear to God I don’t know how you have the nerve to stand before me like this!” he said angrily. “Are you insane? I know it isn’t stupidity…Did you imagine I would be rational in my response? Be able to control myself?” He started walking towards her, slowly and deliberately. “From the moment you arrived, you set yourself against me, Teleri! The only good days I’ve had at Rhuddlan are the ones I’ve managed to escape seeing your disapproving, arrogant face. And now this! Am I supposed to just take it?”
At first she hadn’t budged, standing rigid under the weight of his tirade and against his predatory creep in her direction, but now he was crowding her and she was forced to back up or be run over. There was an expression of apprehension on her face which satisfied him and made him feel more in control.
“Did you think you could simply walk up to me and apologize and I would forgive you?” he demanded, still advancing. “I will never forgive you, Teleri! I don’t even have to think about that one!”
She bumped up against the far wall of the chamber. She looked nervous but met his eyes without blinking. “I didn’t come here to apologize,” she said.
He caught his breath. Her audacity, her temerity were outrageous! And she refused to drop her eyes; she stared at him steadily and he knew he was beaten. There was nothing he could ever say to which she wouldn’t have some insolent or stubborn retort. He felt his heart throb hard and fast, and he shut his eyes. “Teleri,” he said hoarsely, “you’d better get out of here before I strangle you.”
A moment passed before he realized he hadn’t heard her move. Had he been so deep in misery he’d missed her leaving? But when he opened his eyes, she was still there, still watching him.
“I haven’t come to apologize because I realize that mere words would be inadequate,” she said in a voice low and rapid, her body poised for escape. “You probably wouldn’t believe the sincerity of my apology, anyway. And although I’m very sorry for what happened—deeply sorry—I’m not asking your forgiveness because I understand that you can’t forgive me…” She paused. “But I am sorry. I know it meant everything to you…”
She stopped, but he said nothing; he was stunned. His mind churned. He wanted to believe her. She had spoken words he’d waited for someone else—anyone in his entourage—to say to him but in vain. Even Delamere, his closest friend, had avoided the subject…
He wanted to believe her but three years of enmity cautioned him against a zealous outrush of emotion. After a moment, he stepped back. “You’ve changed your tune,” he said slowly and not without suspicion.
“Please believe me, my lord, not for a moment did I imagine she would lose the baby—”
“No? Isn’t that what you wanted from the moment you informed me she was pregnant and I should send her away?”
She looked bewildered. “I know it might appear that way to you…I never thought…”
“I don’t believe you,” he answered tersely and walked away to a sidetable. There was a pitcher on the table but when he picked it up, he found it was empty. He had finished the wine before the meal, he remembered and cursed underbreath. He turned back. “What do you want, Teleri?”
“I want to be your wife.”
He frowned. “You are my wife.”
Her voice was steady. “In all things, my lord.” And then, in the silence which followed because he was staring at her in speechless disbelief, she rapidly added, “I’m not the same person who left with Rhirid ap Maelgwn, my lord. I realized it all at once, when I was trapped at Hawarden. Years ago, before we set off for the wedding feast at Rhuddlan, my uncle warned me to try to be agreeable—for my own benefit, he said, but I was so angry at being forced to marry against my will that I didn’t listen.” She paused to take a breath. “My life has been like quicksand these past three years, my lord; I’ve been struggling to free myself but now I see I’ve only succeeded in sinking deeper. I would like another chance. I want to start our marriage over—”
But he was shaking his head. “It’s too late for that, Teleri.”
“It might seem so, but if you give me a second chance I’ll do everything I can to make you change your mind.”
“I don’t think that’s possible…”
She approached him then, pale and as fine-boned as a bird; he wondered that he hadn’t broken her arm when he’d dragged her through the hall. Her expression was earnest and her eyes never blinked. He stepped back nervously. “Your answer implies uncertainty, my lord,” she said softly. “Can we make a deal? Give me a year to give you what I caused Gladys to lose…”
He didn’t know what to say. He was confused. Only a moment before she had been an enemy more vehement than even Rhirid ap Maelgwn and now she was proposing a truce and continuation of their disastrous marriage. What was he supposed to say?
He took refuge in bluster. “I suppose,” he said, with the barest hint of resentment in his voice, “Rhirid wasn’t quite the man you thought he was.”
He had intended to provoke a flush of embarrassment but was disappointed. Teleri’s head came up and the familiar, disdainful expression showed plainly in the curl of her lips. “Rhirid,” she sniffed, “is a petty chief. You are the son of a king…”
Her second entrance into Llanlleyn was much happier than her first. Then, she had been forced in against her will, kidnapped and frightened, with two young children in tow. Now, it was as if she were coming home. All the faces she saw were known to her and even the small buildings looked reassuringly familiar. Most comforting, however, was the friendliness of her reception. People smiled at her as she and Rhirid rode in through the gate on his horse; they shouted out greetings to her. It was enough excitement to fluster her. She felt like a queen.
The crowd increased and grew more loud and boisterous as Rhirid’s warriors filed in, one after the other. In a blink of an eye, it seemed the area before the gate was jammed with every last person who dwelled in the fortress. Dogs trotted around the people, barking at the disruption in the day’s quiet routine.
Rhirid leaned his head back and caught her eye. She smiled at him. “How do you like this?” he asked, grinning. “It’s all for you, you know. We went after the earl because he dared to trespass and seize you.”
She knew he was exaggerating but her smile slipped a bit anyway. “In that case, it’s a relief to me, lord, that no one was killed and only a handful wounded.”
He laughed heartily. “It’s a relief to me as well, Olwen! I wouldn’t have made it back here alive, otherwise. My decision to go to Lord William wasn’t popular—”
“Olwen!”
She looked down. Goewyn was approaching as quickly as she could manage it, carrying a squirming, squealing load and maneuvering in and out of the gathering crowd. With an excited gasp, Olwen slipped down from the chief’s horse
and hurried forward.
She reached out for the baby and took him in both arms, laughing as she hugged and kissed him all over his face, reveling in his familiar scent. She realized she’d missed him even more than she had imagined and to see him again was beyond wonderful. He cried and wriggled in protest against her heartfelt embrace, but at length permitted himself to be calmed, and watched her with solemn eyes.
“Oh, Goewyn, thank you, thank you for caring for him!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy to be back!”
Goewyn looked pleased. “Are you? That’s good to hear, Olwen.”
“Where’s William? Is he among the crowd or hiding in the women’s house because all the noise frightened him?”
“William?” Goewyn frowned. “I thought he’d be with you.”
“With me? Why would I have him?”
“Well…he was at Rhuddlan, wasn’t he?”
“Rhuddlan?” She shifted Henry to her hip. Goewyn’s expression was troubled and it made her apprehensive. “We didn’t go to Rhuddlan. Why would you say he’s there?”
Goewyn looked intently at her. “Rhirid didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? What’s going on, Goewyn?”
“Perhaps Rhirid—”
“Goewyn!”
“All right! He ought to have told you himself before now.” She put her hand on Olwen’s arm. “He took William with him to Rhuddlan when he sought Lord William’s aid. To show the Normans there was no trickery in his visit. A gesture of good faith…”
“No…” She suddenly couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Her chest heaved rapidly but she still felt as if she were suffocating. Little Henry, sensing his mother’s discomfort, began fussing in her arms. Absently, she clutched him more tightly, which only succeeded in agitating him further.
“Olwen, let me take the baby.”
Goewyn’s voice sounded far away. She was dizzy. There was a haze of noise surrounding her and she couldn’t concentrate. She looked at the other woman uncomprehendingly but Goewyn’s attention was no longer on her; she was staring at a point over Olwen’s shoulder. Olwen turned around. Rhirid was approaching, grinning broadly, his eyes on hers—
“No…” she said again and turned back. She began to walk. She heard the chief call her name but ignored him and continued walking, increasing her pace. Henry wailed loudly in protest. She was dimly aware of rapid, even trotting, footfalls behind her and then felt a firm grip on her arm, which had the effect of stopping her.
Rhirid released her and stepped in front of her. “Why are you running away from me?”
She was too upset to be polite. “Don’t you know?”
His face was a mixture of genuine confusion and concern. “Olwen, please…Is something wrong?”
“Why didn’t you tell me at Hawarden what you’d done with my son, lord?” she demanded, furious that he obviously thought so little of his action that he didn’t even remember it—or imagine how important it might be to her.
“I—” He broke off and his expression cleared. “Your other son. William.”
She felt on the verge of tears. “Goewyn told me you took him to Rhuddlan.”
“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced to his right and left. He reached out a tentative arm. “Olwen, come inside. Please.”
She allowed him to steer her into the chief’s house. Henry’s cries, nearly lost in the hubbub outside, filled the hall and she bent over him, trying to soothe him but knowing that as long as she remained distressed it was a vain endeavor. In her current state, his wailing had the effect of making her want to howl along—as well she might after hearing Rhirid’s story.
“I can’t quiet him,” she said. “You will have to speak loudly.”
He nodded. His face still bore the bruise, now considerably faded, from his horse’s hoof, and there were fresher cuts and swells caused by Richard Delamere’s fists. He looked to her like a boy who’d done something wrong and knew he was about to get into trouble for it. But she didn’t feel sorry for him.
He took a deep breath. “When I came back here and discovered that Roger of Haworth had abducted you, I nearly lost my mind. Surely you know by now I care for you, Olwen. Much as I wanted you back for myself, I was afraid of what the earl might do to you. I just wanted you safe. At first, I thought I’d simply go and humble myself before him but I wasn’t certain that would be enough for him—or that such a move would be palatable to my warriors. So I approached Lord William instead.”
When he paused, she said sharply, “With my son as a hostage!”
“Not a hostage, Olwen! More like proof. I suspected the Norman would never imagine that you’d voluntarily allow your son to be used for my purposes. He’d immediately know I was telling the truth about your abduction…I thought also that the earl would be persuaded not to harm you if fellow Normans came against him.” He shook his head. “That’s all I can tell you, Olwen. Except that I apologize…”
His expression was so earnest that her anger lessened, or perhaps she’d gone completely numb inside. How would she ever be able to persuade Richard to give up little William? Especially after that horrible fight at Hawarden…
“Are you listening, Olwen? I said I’ll send a council group to Rhuddlan to negotiate—”
Her head snapped up. “Negotiate!”
“The Norman might not be in the mood to be generous or fair. He might take some persuading. If we have to give up Roger of Haworth’s ransom, so be it.”
“No, no…” she shook her head impatiently. “I will go. I’m not negotiating. William is my son and belongs with me! If you send your men, lord, Richard will dismiss them out of hand. But he’ll talk to me.”
She thought he looked suddenly insecure, like the young boy of a moment earlier, now nervous. “All right. I’ll escort you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, lord,” she said quietly.
He opened his mouth to protest but closed it before speaking. Then he nodded.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, looking at each other. Olwen knew he wanted her to say something that would ease the guilt he was feeling because he’d caused her anguish, but she couldn’t; she was angry.
“Well…” he said at last, in a subdued voice. “I must bathe before the feast. Will I see you there?”
“Yes, lord.”
He brightened a little at her reply. “I am sorry, Olwen,” he said earnestly. “At the time, I wasn’t quite rational. I would have done anything to get you back. And I thought, the boy would be with his father; there’s no harm in that. I just never thought about what might happen when it was all over…”
She stared down into the face of the baby, now blessedly sleeping. She didn’t know what might happen, either; everything depended upon Richard.
Dylan ab Owain sighed contentedly as Goewyn put all her might into her hands and rubbed his back. Since his return, she had been the epitome of a dutiful wife, catering to his every need—sometimes even before he was aware he had one. He hadn’t felt this looked-after since those heady weeks following their marriage three years earlier. He knew the reason, of course—she was trying to expiate her guilt over the plot to send Lady Teleri to the prince—and he also knew the special treatment wouldn’t last. Once Llanlleyn settled into its usual routine, Goewyn would revert to her former opinionated and busy self which would leave little time for him. He was determined to get as much of her attention as possible until that happened.
It was a large relief to see Olwen back within the walls of the fortress. When Rhirid had first announced his decision to ride to Rhuddlan to enlist the help of the Normans to get her back from the earl of Chester, Dylan had concluded that the chief’s head wound was much more serious than the physician had told them. He’d tried to argue instead for an appeal directly to the earl but Rhirid wouldn’t listen. Rhirid believed he had no leverage with the earl; that Chester had kidnapped Olwen from under his nose to prove his might and collect the debt he’d been supposed to pa
y, and was now an enemy greater than Longsword.
Dylan had been doubtful that Rhirid could convince his adversary at Rhuddlan to fight against his own countryman but he’d gone with him anyway, after giving Goewyn a sincere farewell, certain he wouldn’t see her again, certain the Normans would either attack them once they were within sight of the castle or invite them in and then close the gate behind them and slaughter every last man. All of Rhirid’s warriors had believed the same but they’d followed him without remark because they were loyal and because they didn’t mind finally meeting the Normans in combat.
Dylan sighed again. “I thought you’d fallen asleep,” Goewyn said to him.
“Just a little more around the neck, please,” he mumbled into his pillow.
“How long will Olwen be at Rhuddlan?” she asked, kneading the muscles on the sides of his neck.
He mumbled that he didn’t know.
There was a short silence. Then Goewyn said, “I don’t understand why the Norman can’t come here to meet Olwen. What if he grabs her when she’s inside and kills her escort?”
“Then I’ll go there and kill him.” He rolled slowly onto his back and looked at her with half-closed eyes. “The Norman never mentioned to Olwen that their son was at Rhuddlan. Don’t you see? He’s forcing her to go to him. What does that tell you? He’s afraid. He thinks she doesn’t want him but he knows she wants her son. He thinks if he’d allowed us to retrieve the boy and bring him back to Llanlleyn, he’d never see Olwen again.” He made a face. “What good Welshwoman wants to live in some foreigner’s castle, listening to that foreign gibberish all day?”
“Lady Teleri does it…”
He laughed. “Oh, that explains why she was so eager to leave when I burst into her chamber.”
“Yes, but then she went back again. I’m worried, Dylan. What if Olwen wants to stay?”
He shrugged. It didn’t matter to him if the woman decided to stay. Rhirid would have to get over it; it would be a good dose of reality. Dylan had learned over the years that women had their own schemes and expectations regarding marriage and husbands figured rather weakly in the formula. He had learned that marriage for women had less to do with the men involved than with the tangibles those men could provide, from possessions to status to children. He had learned to take advantage of the days when he was in favor and to disappear on those he was not. Perhaps it was best that Rhirid get the disappointment over with before it actually came to marriage itself.
Still, Dylan knew better than to tell Goewyn to leave the matter alone. He looked innocently into her face and answered quite solemnly, “In that case, my dear, you’d better start casting about for another candidate.”