A Moment in Time

and will now suffer for it.'

'Brys! I count at least five stripes upon the girl's back. Have mercy on her in the name of God! What can she possibly have done to merit such cruelty on your part?' Wynne pleaded with him.

Brys of Cai turned slowly and pierced Wynne with an intent look. His eyes, she noted, once again had a glazed, almost mad look to them. There was something familiar in the look, and yet she could not place it.

'Do you think I am cruel?' he asked her softly.

'I think you can be,' she answered him honestly.

'Aye,' he replied slowly. 'I can be very cruel.' He smiled at her, and she was once more struck by how handsome he was. As Nesta had said, he had the face of an angel. Nesta had also said his heart was black, and, as much as Wynne hated to admit that she was wrong, she was now beginning to believe Nesta had been correct in her evaluation.

'Let the girl go, my lord,' Wynne said quietly. 'If she truly displeased you, I will take her with me now and you will never have to lay eyes on her again. Serf or slave, I will pay her price.'

Brys burst out laughing. 'Wynne the Sweet, the Virtuous, the Good! You sicken me with your kindness! Barris! Where are you?'

'Here, my lord.' A man-at-arms appeared from the shadows by the high board.

'Restrain the princess of Raven's Rock while I finish what I began earlier. If the bitch attempts to cry out, stifle her!'

Wynne leapt up. 'Brys, how dare you!'

'Lady,' Barris was by her side, 'sit down. I will obey orders, but it would distress me to harm a woman.'

Wynne reluctantly returned to her seat. She could see from the firm resolve in Barris's eyes that he would indeed obey his master's orders. She could but pray that her interference did not bode the worse for the poor girl who, seeing Brys approach once more, began to whimper fearfully. He added to his victim's terror by bending slowly and retrieving his whip, a nasty-looking instrument composed of half-a-dozen thin leather ribbons, each one of which was neatly knotted with tightly knit barbs intended to give additional pain.

With a slow smile of pleasure, Brys swished the whip in the air several times and then, with a grin, lashed out viciously at his helpless victim. Her shriek of agony echoed about the little hall, to be followed by cry after cry after cry as blow after blow after blow fell upon the girl's tender flesh until her back was bleeding, a raw mass of oozing welts. Still Brys's arm rose and fell unremittingly. He began to laugh as the girl tried desperately to turn, begging him to cease his torture.

Unable to stand a moment longer, and heedless of her own safety, Wynne leapt up. Eluding Barris's clumsy efforts to stop her, she ran around the high board, across the hall, and put a restraining hand upon Brys of Cai's arm. 'In the name of God, stop!' she begged him. 'The girl is near dead!'

His whip arm fell a moment, and he stared unseeing at her. Then a look of pure hatred poured into his gaze and, raising his arm, he hit Wynne a blow that sent her crumbling to the floor. As the darkness reached up to claim her, one thought leapt into her mind. Bronwyn! Then unconsciousness overcame her, and for a time she remembered no more.

When she finally came to herself again, she found she was in a dank and dark place. Wynne lay quietly, allowing her thoughts to carefully reassemble themselves. She was in a dungeon cell, placed rather carefully upon a pile of moldering straw. Although there was no light in the cell itself, the flickering of a torch was visible beyond the barred grate in the door. It allowed her a dim but distinct view of her surroundings. Her hands flew to her belly, and instinctively she knew the child was safe. A faint moan caught her ear. Scrambling to her feet, she reeled dizzily for a moment. Then as her head cleared she sought for the source of the sound.

She found the poor wench that Brys had beaten so brutally, face down upon another clump of straw. There was absolutely no doubt that the girl was dying. To increase her agony, salt had been rubbed into her many wounds. Wynne knew there was nothing she could do but render what small comfort her presence would offer. Kneeling, she took the girl's icy hand in her own and began to pray softly.

With great effort the dying woman turned her head that she might face Wynne. Her grey eyes were mirrors of her intense pain. 'Thank ye,' she managed to whisper. Then with supreme effort she grated out, 'Yer in… more… danger… than me… lady!' and shuddering once, she died.

Wynne could feel the tears slipping down her cheeks. Poor creature, she thought, as the import of the woman's words hit her. What was she doing in this place? How did Brys dare to treat her in such a terrible manner? Then her memory began to stir. He had hit her! Without any care for her rank or her condition, he had hit her! Outraged, she rose to her feet and stamped across the cell to the door.

'Ho! The watch!' she shouted angrily, and she kept on shouting until Barris hurried around the corner into her line of vision.

'Lady, be silent,' he begged her.

'Let me out of here this instant!' Wynne said furiously.

'I cannot,' he said nervously, looking over his shoulder as if he expected to see something unpleasant.

'Why not?' demanded Wynne.

'His grace's orders, lady,' came the reply.

'Do you know who I am?' Wynne asked the man. 'I am Prince Madoc's wife.'

'Lady, I cannot help you,' said Barris desperately. Then he lowered his voice and stepped closer that she might hear him better. 'I would if I could, but I cannot. Why did you come here in the first place? 'Twas a mad thing to do!'

Wynne laughed ruefully. 'I came to try to make peace between my husband and his brother,' she answered Barris.

The man-at-arms shook his head. 'You should not have come, lady. Only God and His blessed Mother Mary can help you now; but God does not frequent Castle Cai.' He turned to leave her.

'Wait!' Wynne cried after him. 'The girl in here with me is dead, poor soul.'

Barris stopped in his tracks and then turned back to her. 'Are you certain, lady?' he asked, unable to hold back the tears that ran down his weathered face.

'Aye,' she said softly. 'I held her hand and prayed with her as she died.'

'Poor Gwladys,' Barris said sadly. 'She were only fifteen.'

'You knew her,' Wynne said quietly. 'Who was she and why did Brys beat her to death?'

'She was my youngest sister, lady,' Barris answered. 'She caught his grace's eye. He ordered her brought to him, and he forced her. Gwladys fought him, foolish lass, for she was to be married soon. It made no difference. His grace had his way with her. She told me he made her do terrible, unnatural things, and finally she couldn't stand it no more. She tried to run away, but she was caught. His grace said he was going to make an example of her so no one else would think they could disobey him. God assoil her sweet soul.' He turned away again, saying almost to himself, 'I must get permission to bury her, but not right away. His grace is still angry. He'd hang her from the battlements for the crows to pick at.' Barris disappeared around the corner and was gone from her sight.

Wynne stood by the door grate for several long minutes and then she sank back down upon her pile of straw. She looked about, but other than Gwladys's body, there was nothing else in the cell. Not a bucket for a necessary, not a pitcher of water. She was below ground and so there was not even a scrap of window. She had absolutely no idea how long she had lain unconscious or what time it was. It certainly could not have been long. What was she going to do? Brys was obviously mad to believe he could keep her a prisoner. Aye. Brys was indeed mad.

Bronwyn. Once again the name burst into her consciousness. Wynne began to think. The look in Brys's eyes at one point had been familiar, but she had been unable to place it. Now she could. It was the same look Bronwyn of the White Breast had angrily cast upon Rhiannon of the Fair Folk on any number of occasions. It couldn't be! Yet why could it not be? If the soul inhabiting her body now had once belonged to