Stumbling into the stables, she called out repeatedly until she was sure she was alone, and then sank down upon a bale of hay. She heard nickering and snorting as horses craned their necks over their stall doors, hoping she’d brought treats again, and once the cats discovered her, the kittens began to pounce on her ankles and climb up her skirts. She felt leaden with fatigue, not moving even when they dug their needlesharp little claws into her leg. She could not let this marriage come to pass. Blessed Lady Mary, hear your servant Rhiannon’s plea. It must not happen.
She would have to tell her father. She’d fought so hard to keep her secret. Mayhap Enid suspected, but no one else did. She’d made sure of that. All for naught now. And once she spoke up…what then? She’d break her father’s heart by thwarting this marriage. And what of Eleri? What if she truly wanted to marry Ranulf? Ranulf. He’d have to be told, too, and nothing would ever be the same between them after that. Their friendship-all she’d dared hope to have from him-would be spoiled, poisoned by his pity. And then he’d go away again, and this time he would not be back.
She shivered again, as much from the anticipated humiliation as from the cold. How could she bear to do this? Casting aside her pride would be worse than being stripped naked. But how could she keep silent? How could she live under the same roof with Ranulf and Eleri once they were wed? Bidding them goodnight at the door of their bedchamber. Hearing the new intimacy in their laughter. Lying awake at night, unwillingly imagining their lovemaking. Awaiting Eleri’s announcement that she was with child. How could she ever endure it? How could she not give herself away a hundred times a day?
What then, was she to do? Papa’s house was her only refuge. She had nowhere else to go. No other kin. Even if she’d wanted to pledge the rest of her life to God, no convent would accept a blind nun. She could feel the stirrings of an old enemy, one she’d thought she’d long ago vanquished. But panic could never truly be defeated; the best she could hope for was to keep it caged, under control. Now, though, she could hear it rattling the latch, seeking a way out.
She forced herself to draw several deep, bracing breaths, willing the cage bars to hold. Why had she been so quick to conclude that her father would prevail? Ranulf might well refuse. For an instant, hope flickered. But what man would not want to wed Eleri? She was pretty, lively, clever…whole.
In the years since her sight faded, many of Rhiannon’s visual images had faded, too. But she’d loved the sea, and she could still summon up vivid memories of foaming waves churning shoreward, breaking upon the beach and then retreating, leaving a trail of white spume across the wet sand. The jealousy that engulfed her now was like one of those powerful, surging waves, crashing down upon her without warning and receding just as quickly, leaving her shaken by the impact and horrified by the realization that she could feel such intense resentment toward Eleri, who’d done nothing to deserve it. It was not fair to blame Eleri for not being blind. But neither was it fair that she should be punished for a love that she’d have taken quietly to her grave. How could the Almighty ask so much more of her? Was it not enough that she must live out her days in darkness? Shocked that she could harbor such a blasphemous rage against God, she hastily crossed herself and then began to weep, muffling her sobs in her mantle so that no one passing by could hear.
“ Well?” Ranulf asked, leaning back in his seat with a curious smile. “What would you say to me, Uncle?”
“It is much too important to discuss sober, lad. Help yourself to some mead whilst I decide how best to begin.”
Ranulf obligingly took several swallows, although he’d not yet developed a taste for the Welsh beverage. “This gets to me faster than wine,” he warned. “Two flagons and I’m likely to start telling you secrets not even my confessor ought to hear!”
Rhodri laughed, then reached across the table and gripped his nephew’s arm. “I’ve never been one for tact or diplomacy, so I’m just going to blurt it out. Ere I do, though, there is something you need to know. Were you aware that under Welsh law, women cannot inherit land?”
Ranulf was startled. “No, I was not. That surprises me very much, for it was my understanding that Welsh law was uncommonly kind to women.”
“The restriction was not meant to punish our womenfolk. It is a matter of practicality. You see, lad, land is a sacred trust to us, passed down from father to son. A man cannot sell his son’s birthright; he but holds the land for his heirs. And because we know mankind is by nature as predatory as the wolf, no one can inherit who is not able to defend his lands from attack. Our laws exclude men crippled or deaf or blind or stricken with leprosy, as well as women.”
“What happens if a man has no male heirs?”
“When he dies, his lands escheat to the king.”
Ranulf sipped his mead slowly, grappling with the implications of what he’d just been told. “Jesu, but you’re in the same plight as my father was after the White Ship sank! When you lost your last son, Cadell, you lost your lands, too, then?”
Rhodri nodded. “Or so I thought…until God sent you back to us, Ranulf.”
“Me? I’m only half Welsh!”
“Half is enough. Our law allows the sons of Welsh women to inherit, even if the father is an alltud, a foreigner.”
“But…but I am illegitimate! Surely you’ve not forgotten that?”
“A son need not be born in wedlock to claim his birthright, not in Wales. It is enough if he is recognized by his father…or in your case, by your closest male kin-me!”
Ranulf gaped at the older man, dumbfounded. “Are you saying that you want to name me as your heir?”
“I want to do more than that, Ranulf. I want you as my heir…and son-in-law. I know I’ve taken you by surprise,” he added hastily, “but just wait, lad, hear me out. Eleri will be sixteen next month, old enough to be wed. She’d make you a good wife, I’ve no doubt of it. She is pretty and spirited and I know you’re right fond of her-”
“Of course I am! But we are first cousins. We’d have to seek a dispensation from the Church ere we could wed, and it is not likely we’d get one.”
Rhodri grinned triumphantly. “You’d not need one, not in Wales. We wed our cousins all the time. ‘Marry in the kin,’ we say, and ‘fight the feud with the stranger.’”
“I…I do not know what to say, Uncle. In truth, I never thought of Eleri as a wife.”
“I know I’ve caught you off balance, lad. Suppose we back up, give you a chance to catch your breath. Let’s start with Wales. Could you be happy living here?”
Ranulf was silent for some moments. “Yes,” he said at last, sounding surprised, “I believe I could…”
Rhodri nodded emphatically. “Of course you could! It was meant to be, Ranulf. You think it was mere chance that brought you into Wales? Indeed not! I prayed to the Almighty for aid and He heard my plea. If only Angharad could have known that her son would be restored to us! And once you wed Eleri-”
Ranulf gave an abrupt, overwhelmed laugh. “Whoa! You’re going too fast for me, Uncle. You’re offering me so much-your lands and your daughter. It does not seem like a fair bargain. What do you get in return?”
“You’d be giving me a gift beyond price: peace of mind. This land was my father’s and his father’s before him. I do not want our family to lose it, and if you stay in Wales, we will not. And of equal importance to me, I know you’d do right by my daughters. I’d not want to count all the nights I’ve lain awake, fearing what might happen to Rhiannon after I died. She will be dependent upon the goodwill of Eleri’s husband once I am gone, so in choosing a husband for Eleri, I must choose for them both. With you, I could be sure that my Rhiannon would always have a home, that she would want for nothing.”
“Rhiannon,” Ranulf said thoughtfully. “Yes, I am beginning to see…”
Rhodri started to speak, but then stopped. He’d said enough. Now it was up to his nephew. He must not push. Ranulf had to want this for it to work. But forbearance did not come easily to him; he’d always been one for acting, even if it was ill advised, and he was soon squirming impatiently. “I do not mean to rush you, Ranulf. Take as much time as you need,” he offered, with an utter lack of conviction.
Ranulf reached for his mead cup, regarding his uncle with affectionate understanding. “You’d not be able to wait for your own salvation, Uncle! I was tempted to tell you I’d need a week to make up my mind, but you’d be sore crazed by midnight. Fortunately for your nerves, I can give you my answer now. I cannot marry Eleri. But I will marry Rhiannon…if she’ll have me.”
Ranulf got the reaction he’d expected; his uncle’s jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide. But he’d thought that surprise would give way to elation. Instead, Rhodri looked wary.
