A Memory of Love

inevitable confrontation that was sure to ensue between his daughter and his sister. Then it dawned upon him how much alike the two were. He laughed aloud.

'What amuses you, my lord?' Rhonwyn inquired of him.

'Nothing, lass, really nothing,' he told her. 'That-' He pointed with a gloved finger.'-is your destination. That is Mercy Abbey.'

'Will I like it there?' she wondered.

'Probably not,' he replied honestly. 'You have a great deal to learn, Rhonwyn, in a very short time. It is important that you learn else I be made to appear a liar. I have enemies.'

'I am not surprised,' she said dryly.

He laughed again. There was an honesty about his daughter that he very much liked. 'You have a duty to me, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn. What you have to do will not be easy, but I know you can do it for you are not, I have been told, someone who shirks a duty, and you are loyal.'

'My kinsman, Morgan ap Owen, speaks kindly of me,' Rhonwyn said with a small smile, 'but he does not lie. I will do what I must to meet my obligations to you, prince of Wales, and I do not lie.'

Chapter 3

Gwynllian, the lady abbess of Mercy Abbey, looked down her long thin nose at her brother. They could have been twins, so similar were they in face and form. 'And what, O prince of Wales, brings you to my house this day?' she demanded of him. She was a tall, thin woman whose long black robes and startling white wimple made her appear even taller and more spare. An ebony crucifix, banded in silver and adorned with a silver lily in its center, lay on her almost flat bosom.

'Can I not come to visit my only sister without reason?' he replied jovially. Jesu! He hated having to beg.

'You came six, or was it seven, years ago, Llywelyn. You were seeking funding for your never-ending disputes with the English or your fellow Cymri. 1 cannot remember which. We gave you what we could, and you were as quickly gone. Now what do you want, brother, and do not waste my time in prevarications and half-truths,' she said sternly.

Ap Gruffydd reached behind him and drew Rhonwyn forward. 'This is my daughter,' he said to his sister.

Her mouth fell open, and then closed with an audible snap. 'Well, Llywelyn, you have surprised me for the first time in years. You are certain, of course?' The abbess peered at her niece and immediately recognized her as kin.

'Her mother was my mistress,' he began. 'She gave me two children, first a daughter, then a son. She died attempting to birth a third child. I came by chance and found my children yet alive. I brought them to Cythraul. The lad, his name is Glynn, is still there.'

Gwynllian's brown eyes swept over the girl at her brother's side. She hardly looked like an orphan of the storm. She looked hard and quite capable of taking care of herself. 'How long ago did you leave your children at Cythraul?' she asked her brother, fearing the answer.

He flushed guiltily. 'Ten years ago,' he said.

'Ten years and seven moon cycles,' the girl spoke up for the first time. The look she gave the prince was scathing.

'Why bring her to me now, Llywelyn?' the abbess said.

'I spent the summer in Shrewsbury, hammering out an agreement with the English king, Henry. My ally, de Montfort, is dead, and Henry's cub, Edward, is a fierce man. I thought to make a treaty with Henry so that his heir will leave us in peace. The pact was signed at Montgomery at the end of October. You know the customs, Gwyn. I offered the English my daughter in marriage with one of their lordlings.'

'But when you went to fetch her she wasn't quite what you had expected, was she, Llywelyn?' The abbess chuckled. Then she looked to her niece. 'What is your name, child, and what have you done to your hair? And do you know your age?'

'My name is Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, and I like my hair kept short.'

'She was fifteen April first last,' ap Gruffydd said.

'Who raised her?' the abbess inquired.

'Morgan ap Owen, my captain at Cythraul' was the reply.

'Were there no women at this fortress?' the abbess exclaimed, shocked.

' 'Tis a fort in the Welshry. Women don't belong there,' ap Gruffydd told his sister.

'No, they don't, yet you left your daughter there! Llywelyn, you are truly the most thoughtless and foolish man I have ever known, for all you have managed to become prince of Wales,' the abbess said angrily. 'Why did you not bring Rhonwyn to me in the first place? What do you expect me to do with her now?'

'Cythraul was nearer to her mother's cottage, less than a day's ride. To bring my children to you would have taken me almost three days of traveling. I had not the time.'

'Could you not have instructed Morgan ap Owen to bring them to me, you dolt?' She swatted at him indignantly.

'She isn't lit to be wed,' he said, his voice desperate.

'Has she become a whore then?' the abbess demanded.

'I am no man's whore!' Rhonwyn said angrily.

'Nay, nay, that is not it, sister!' ap Gruffydd replied. 'She is ignorant, totally ignorant. Morgan and his men loved my children and protected them, but they could teach them only what they knew. My daughter has a knack for war and weapons. She is, it seems, a worthy successor to me. My son prefers to compose songs and poetry, and has no talent for a warrior's pursuits at all. He's only fit to be a bard or a priest. You must teach Rhonwyn how to be what she is meant to be. A lass, not a lad. How can I give her in marriage when she doesn't even know what marriage is? She must be taught the Norman tongue, for as you see she speaks only our language. She needs to learn how to wear skirts, not chausses and braies. She must be a Christian, sister, yet she has no idea of religion or faith. She says moon cycles, not months. I don't even know if she has her woman's flow yet. You must gentle her, Gwynllian, so that in a month's time I may take her to Edward de Beaulieu, at Haven's Castle, to be wed.'

The abbess laughed aloud. 'A month's time? You are mad, Llywelyn! It will take more than a month to tame this bedraggled, fierce-eyed wildcat you have brought me. If indeed I can do it at all. If she does not cooperate, then you are out of luck, brother. How could you promise a daughter you had not seen in ten years to an English treaty marriage? What in the name of all that is holy were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?'

'Then what the hell am I to do, Gwyn?' he asked her, running a big hand through his dark hair.

The abbess turned to Rhonwyn. 'Do you understand any of this, my child?'

'Aye, I do,' Rhonwyn said. 'My lord has explained to me that a marriage is a formal and respectable union between a man and a woman. It is honorable. It is my obligation to my lord to take part in this marriage. I know how to do my duty.'

'Well,' the abbess remarked to her brother, 'she may have little learning, but she is, I believe, intelligent.' She turned to her niece. 'You are willing to be married to Edward de Beaulieu?'

'Is there a choice in the matter?' Rhonwyn said.

'Nay, there is not,' the abbess told her.

'Then I am willing, and will do my duty' came the cool reply..

'You have much to learn, my child,' the abbess said.

'Then teach me,' Rhonwyn answered.

The abbess turned to her brother. 'Tell Edward de Beaulieu that his bride is finishing her education at Mercy Abbey and will leave here in early April for Haven Castle. A messenger will arrive before her to announce her