A Moment in Time

to her long brown-gold hair as if to assure herself it was still there. It was her best attribute, for she was a bony girl with sharp features, whose bosom was only just beginning to soften her shape.

'You would not dare,' Caitlin hissed menacingly, clutching a bolt of silk she particularly fancied to her breasts and glaring defiantly at Wynne.

'Nothing, sister mine, would give me greater pleasure,' Wynne softy assured Caitlin, 'but remember that first impressions are important. If you hope to rule your husband, and I know that you do, Caitlin, then you must bind him to you in those first moments. Can you do that if I shear your head like Einion shears the sheep?'

The bolt of silk slid from Caitlin's grasp and she pushed it away irritably. 'The color did not suit me anyway,' she said sourly.

Wynne smiled. 'I would not know, but perhaps you are right. Your taste in these matters is always good.'

In the end Caitlin had had her first choice. Enid had chosen for herself a fine indigo-blue fabric that complemented her silvery-white hair and a rose-colored silk. Dewi had taken a yellow and black brocade, leaving a coppery-colored and black silk brocade for Caitlin, who found it unusual and elegant. Dilys had chosen her favorite, a pale blue silk that matched her eyes and was embroidered with tiny silver stars. Enid had insisted that the rest of the fabrics belonged to Wynne, and had several fine new tunic dresses and under tunics made for her eldest grandchild. Still, there had been enough fabric left over for her sisters to make additional gowns.

'I do not know why you insisted on having so many things made for me,' Wynne protested to Enid. 'I already have enough to wear. More than enough!'

'Child, you have never been away from Gwernach,' Enid counseled her. 'Although I have never been to Raven's Rock Castle, I know it to be a place such as you cannot imagine. Madoc has done you a great kindness in sending these fabrics that you might make a new wardrobe for yourself. You will need it and more once you are his wife. Wait and see! I am right, for I have lived away from Gwernach. I know.'

Her grandmother's words had touched a chord within Wynne, but she did not know why. How provincial would she seem to those who lived at Raven's Rock? What if they did not like her? She had always been liked by all who knew her, but all who knew her were of Gwernach, not strangers with strange ways in a strange place. The thought had nagged her ever since. Now tomorrow was upon her. Madoc and his sister would be here. In just a few days time she would be leaving the only home she had ever had. The only place she ever loved.

Wynne was angry at herself for what she deemed her own cowardice. Madoc, for what little she knew of him, was a kind man. Surely his people would be kind. If she was inexperienced in the ways of living in a fine castle, she would quickly learn new ways and correct any deficiencies in her knowledge. She would make friends. She had never had a friend. Only her sisters. No, that was not right. Einion was her friend, but he must remain behind to protect Dewi and Mair. And Madoc's sister would soon be leaving Raven's Rock for St. Bride's. Perhaps that singular similarity between them would make Nesta her friend, but would there be others? She felt uneasy in her heart, but as she was not a girl to dwell on what she considered foolishness, Wynne put these disturbing thoughts from her mind.

'There is nothing left to clean,' Enid said, her voice replete with self-satisfaction. 'There isn't a thing in this hall that hasn't been scrubbed twice over and polished within an inch of its life.' She looked about her, smiling as she saw the relief etched into the faces about her. They had worked hard, and they had worked the house slaves equally as hard.

'If the bridegrooms ask,' little Mair said mischievously, 'shall we swear this is all Caitlin and Dilys's doing?'

Her grandmother and elder sister chuckled aloud.

'Fortunately,' Wynne said, 'the bridegrooms are young, Mair, and their first interest will be in the beauty of their brides. As our sisters are pretty girls, I think we may safely say our new relations will not be disappointed.'

'Caitlin and Dilys have done nothing these past weeks but perfume themselves and rub their bodies with that wonderful cream you make from rendered lamb's fat and rose water,' Mair said.

'There is more to my cream than that,' Wynne laughed. 'I had better teach you how to make it before I go, else I not have the chance again.'

'Aye,' Mair agreed, 'you had better, sister, for Caitlin and Dilys have secreted all the jars of cream that you stored up in their chests and there is none left!'

Enid shook her head. 'What will they do when it is no more, I wonder, since they were not interested in learning how to make it,' she said.

'They will send to me at Raven's Rock,' laughed Wynne, 'demanding a supply instantaneously.' Then she looked down at her little sister. 'I have some of my cream hidden away where neither Caitlin or Dilys knows, and tomorrow we will make more!'

'But not for Caitlin and Dilys!' Mair said firmly.

'No,' Wynne responded. 'Not for Caitlin or Dilys.'

And the following day when she was looking, she was certain, her absolute worst, Madoc and his sister arrived early. Wynne was in her pharmacea with Mair in her oldest tunic dress, a garment well-faded, not quite long enough, and with stains beneath the armpits, when Dewi came to get her. There was no way to the solar but through the hall. No way, therefore, of escaping the scrutiny of the prince and his sister, a dainty fairy of a girl whose eyes widened at her first sight of the barefooted Wynne of Gwernach.

'Could you not have sent a messenger ahead with a warning of your coming?' Wynne said irritably in greeting.

'But you knew we were expected today,' Madoc replied, confused.

'But not when!' Wynne answered spiritedly. 'I was in my pharmacea teaching Mair how to make my special body and face cream, for Caitlin and Dilys have depleted my stock entirely. What must your sister think of me to greet you both so and looking as I do?!'

Nesta of Powys burst out laughing. 'Ohh,' she said, gasping with her mirth. 'I am so pleased you are not in awe of Madoc! I was so fearful of leaving him with some meek and mindless little thing who would jump with his every breath. If that cream of yours is responsible for your marvelous complexion, then I want to know how to make it too! Can we go back to your pharmacea now, sister? My brother is quite capable of fending for himself.'

Sister. Nesta of Powys had called her sister as easily as if they had known each other their whole lives. Wynne felt a prickle of tears behind her eyes and swallowed hard, a smile creasing her lovely face as Madoc's sister slipped her arm through hers. They were going to be friends.

'You need not fear that my sister is docile and retiring,' teased Dewi. 'She is afraid of no man… or so she assures me. I have not, however, gained my full growth yet.'

'Scamp!' Wynne chuckled, swatting affectionately at the lad.

She then led Nesta to her pharmacea, where Mair was carefully adding rose water to the creamy mixture. Introducing Madoc's sister to her own, Wynne set about to instruct both girls in the fine art of making her beauty cream. With three pairs of hands, her little stone crocks were soon filled, sealed carefully with beeswax covered with linen, and set upon a high back shelf where neither Caitlin nor Dilys would be apt to find them. Mair then ran off while Wynne and Nesta remained to restore order to the pharmacea.

'Tell me about Rhys of St. Bride's,' Nesta said. 'He was your suitor, wasn't he?' She washed the mortar and pestle Wynne had been using.

'An unwanted one,' Wynne replied as she slowly dried the utensils.

'Why?' Nesta's light gold eyes were curious. 'Do you find him physically repugnant?'

'An unwanted suitor only because I do not desire to wed at this time,' Wynne explained to Nesta. 'As for his features, I believe you could call them attractive. Rhys is of medium height and every inch of him is a warrior. I sense that his physique is a hard one. There seems to be no softness about him. His neck is bull-like. He exudes fierceness.' Wynne wiped the stone counters clean.

'Yet you were not fearful of him,' Nesta noted.

'I did not show my fear, but aye, I was fearful. Perhaps not so much of him as that he might take me away from Gwernach, that he might be a danger to Dewi. His motives in seeking me out for a wife were not of a romantic nature. My brother is young and not yet grown to manhood. If he dies, then I am next in line to inherit this land. I think my attraction for Rhys was Gwernach. He is an ambitious man.'