within me.'
'My child,' Enid scolded her, 'you might have told me! When is your baby due?'
'In the month of June,' Caitlin answered her grandmother. 'I conceived my son when we returned to Coed, immediately after our marriage. Arthwr is a lusty lover.'
'I conceived my son on my wedding night.' Dilys spoke up quite suddenly. 'Howel is most pleased with me. He says I have all the earmarks of being a good breeder,' she finished proudly.
Enid shook her head in wonder. 'And when is your child due to enter the world, Dilys?' she asked dryly.
'Certainly before Caitlin's,' was the self-satisfied reply. 'It is I, dear grandmother, who will give you your very first great-grandson.'
Wynne looked to Nesta, who was as near to laughter as she herself was. Distance had made the pettiness engendered by her sisters seem quite funny. Like her brother, Wynne could not like her next two siblings, try as she might. The entire time they were at Raven's Rock they were never still. They prowled about inspecting every intimate detail of the castle, its possessions, its workings. They were openly envious of their elder sister, jealous of Wynne's good fortune, which each assured all who would listen really belonged to her.
Wynne was too busy, however, to pay a great deal of attention to her sisters, as the burden of Nesta's wedding had fallen upon her. The wedding feast would be one that was worthy of the sister of a prince of Powys. There would be over three hundred people, retainers included, to be fed, but Wynne was now confident in her ability to provide enough food. There were to be twelve tubs of oysters that had been brought from the coast set in tubs of cracked ice and snow off the nearby mountains. Four sides of beef packed in rock salt were to be roasted in the great spits in the kitchens. There would be a whole ox and two roe deer, as well as hams, geese, ducks; rabbit stew flavored with onions, parsley, and carrots; partridge pies; platters of quail roasted to a golden turn; and a peacock stuffed with dried fruit, which would be presented with all of its beautiful feathers intact upon a silver salver. There was trout that had been caught in the local streams, to be broiled in butter and lemon; salmon upon cress; and cod prepared in cream and sweet wine. There would be tiny green peas, little boiled beets, and new lettuce steamed in white wine with leeks and capers.
The bakers had worked overtime to produce all the fine white bread that Wynne demanded of them, to be eaten by those served above the salt. For those below there would be cottage loaves and good brown bread. There was butter and honey in abundance, as well as several different cheeses, among them six wheels of Gwernach Gold brought by Dewi ap Owain. There were sugar wafers, and both candied angelica and violets as well as several large apple tarts that would be served with heavy cream. A bridal cake of spun sugar and marzipan was to be the final delight to be enjoyed by all the guests; and all the tables would contain bowls of apples and pears.
To drink, there would be beer and October ale and several varieties of wine. Madoc's cellars were deep, and Wynne made certain that no one would go thirsty. As a special treat she had arranged for those at the high board to have mead, a festive and most deceptively potent drink made from honey. Mead was known to make the blood flow hotly and was said to be a great stimulus to an eager bridegroom.
On that account Rhys of St. Bride's certainly qualified, for his three months' absence from Nesta of Powys had only served to increase his ardor for her. It was a passion that Nesta fully reciprocated. To see them together was to understand the meaning of the word
Madoc had calculated the very moment of the Winter Solstice, and it was at exactly that moment that the bridal couple were formally united in marriage. Nesta, as radiant as the winter sun itself, was garbed in gold, a fitting background for her dark red hair and her creamy skin. Her tunic dress was made of gold silk, sewn all over with pearls and gold thread. Both the hem and the wide sleeves were edged in rich brown marten. Her under tunic was of cream-colored silk, the material having been woven with narrow bands of pure beaten gold. The tunic dress was belted with a loose-fitting rope of twisted gold with pearl tassels. A gold torque enameled in green and blue was fastened about Nesta's slender neck and sat upon her neckbones above her rounded neckline. She wore pearls in her ears, and a gold and pearl band encircled her head, holding her long, flowing hair in place. Upon her feet were dainty gold kid slippers.
Rhys was as resplendent as his beautiful bride. He was garbed in a full-skirted kirtle of red and gold brocade, the open neck of which was decorated with garnets and pearls. The tunic was belted with links of gold. As his kirtle was long, only his boots showed, but they were boots such as the guests had never seen. Of red leather! The bridegroom carried no sword. To come armed into his own wedding would have been considered an insult of the highest order.
They were a handsome couple, and when the priest had pronounced them man and wife, Rhys kissed Nesta heartily to the cheers of all the guests. The music began almost immediately. There would be dancing after the feasting was over. An ancient minstrel entertained them, singing in a voice that was incredibly sure and sweet for one so old. Once the minstrel had roamed the world singing his songs, but now he lived out his years in comfortable retirement at Raven's Rock. The knowledge of the minstrel's history had endeared Madoc to Wynne a small bit. She appreciated this new evidence of Madoc's kindness to others.
'You have done well,' Madoc complimented her as the evening progressed. 'I can find nothing that has been overlooked. You have more than honored my sister and her husband. I am grateful, dearling.'
Wynne flushed with pleasure at his words. Never before had she overseen so large a gathering, and toward the end, as her wedding day approached, Nesta, attacked by bridal nerves, had been virtually useless. 'It is good, my lord,' she agreed. 'All our guests seem to be enjoying themselves. The mark of my great success is that not once has my sister Caitlin complained this evening. She seems satisfied with her place at the high board, the food, the music, everything! Do you think that impending motherhood is mellowing her?'
'More likely she is at a loss for words,' Madoc replied, and then he murmured low so that only she could hear, 'how beautiful you look tonight, Wynne. Green and gold are surely your colors. How I wish that this were our wedding feast, but alas, we must wait until Beltaine.'
His words set her heart to racing. Madoc of Powys was a very romantic man, as she was beginning to learn. She found that she was anxious to be alone with him. She would be very glad when all her guests had departed to their own homes. He had been correct when he said that they needed time together. They did. She wanted to know him better. Wanted to learn what it was that bound them together, yet made her fearful of linking her life with his once again. She suddenly knew that she wanted to overcome whatever barrier it was that lay between them.
Wynne looked up at her betrothed husband and saw that he was smiling. 'Villain!' she accused, rapping his hand lightly. 'You have been intruding upon my thoughts again.' She sighed deeply. 'Madoc, you are incorrigible!'
'I love you,' he said simply, as if that should excuse him.
Wynne laughed. 'What am I to do with you, Madoc of Powys?'
'Love me, dearling,' he told her. ' 'Tis all I desire of you.'
'No,' she answered him, suddenly serious. 'There is more, but it will come, I know. I feel myself changing here at Raven's Rock.'
The bride and groom were put to bed with much good-natured teasing and ribaldry. The guests all found their own assigned sleeping spaces. In the morning, from the window of Nesta's chamber, a crimson-stained sheet was hung, bloodied proof of her virgin state and of Rhys of St. Bride's masculine prowess. The guests, well-breakfasted, began to depart. Wynne, returning to her bedchamber to change her shoes, for the ones she wore chafed her, was surprised to hear Nesta's voice coming from Madoc's chamber. Curious, she moved across the room, not really meaning to eavesdrop, but unable to help herself.
'You are happy?' she heard Madoc say.
'Aye,' Nesta replied, 'I am very happy, but I fear for you, my brother. Brys came yesterday, I know it. Did you think you could keep it from me?'
'He got only as far as the bridge that spans the river before I sent him away. He will not bother you again, Nesta.'
'Oh, Madoc, 'tis not me he seeks to hurt, but you! He feels for you the same hate our father felt for your father, Gwalchmal. The same bitterness. The same envy. It seems to breed deep within him. It a terrible curse, my brother. Black and evil.'
'He cannot hurt me, Nesta,' Madoc reassured his sister. 'He knows the extent of my powers.'
