'The child, Mair, is too young to marry, but I have another cousin, the lord of Llyn, who will do for the lady Dilys. Both these men are young with rich estates. Would that please you, my lady Caitlin? My lady Dilys?'
'Aye!' Caitlin said. ' 'Twould please me mightily, my lord! We will plead your cause with our sister, I assure you.'
Dilys giggled vacuously.
The house slaves now began to bring the table service to the high board, laying well-polished pewter plates before each diner, and matching goblets. Trenchers of bread were placed on the plates. Frosty pitchers of ale and crocks of sweet butter; a small round of Gwernach's Gold upon its own board were set forth upon the table.
Wynne joined them, saying, 'I apologize, my lord, for the simplicity of our meal. Alas, we did not have enough notice of your coming.'
She signaled the servants, who began to place upon the table serving dishes of all sizes. There was a platter of broiled rabbit, and others containing trout, capons, and venison. There were two pies filled with game birds cut into chunks and swimming in a rich gravy of red wine. There were bowls of carrots, braised lettuce, and one of spring peas, as well as loaves of bread fresh from the ovens and warm enough yet that the butter melted upon it.
'You have directed your cook well in the seasoning,' Rhys of St. Bride's noted. 'Are you capable of instructing your kitchen churls in more intricate fare, my lady Wynne?'
'Indeed she is,' Enid said quickly. 'Wynne is skilled in all manner of household arts including the making of medicines, poultices, and potions. Caitlin makes fine fragrances and soaps. The best I have ever known.'
'And the lady Dilys?' he asked.
'Her nature is sweet, my lord, but we have yet to find a skill at which she excels,' Enid admitted honestly.
When the last course, a cake soaked in sweet wine, covered with clotted cream and dotted with small wild strawberries, was served and eaten, Rhys of St. Bride's sat back, a smile of contentment upon his face. 'Lady,' he said, looking at Wynne. 'I will enjoy your
'My lord,' she reproved him gently. 'I have not yet said that I would accept your suit.'
'You are a woman who understands the meaning of the word
'We are to be promised to the lords of Coed and Llyn,' Caitlin told Wynne. 'They are young and rich!'
Rhys's laughter rumbled through the hall. 'Surely, lady, you will not disappoint this greedy wench who is your sister,' he teased her gently.
Wynne fixed him with her green gaze. 'You do not play fair, my lord of St. Bride's,' she said disapprovingly.
He grinned at her mockingly. 'Love, lady, is as much a battle to be won as is war.'
'I was not aware, sir, that
'It can,' he said, suddenly serious, 'if you will but allow it, lady.'
'Love, my lord, is an illusion, I fear, ofttimes confused with passion or lust. Once they have fled a marriage, love goes as well,' Wynne told him.
'My sister does not believe in love,' Dewi told Rhys of St. Bride's.
'But I do,' he answered quietly.
'You surprise me, my lord, for I would not have thought so fierce a man capable of such foolishness,' and Wynne arose from the high board. 'My grandmother will show you to your sleeping place, my lord. You must excuse me, however, for I am weary. I will be up in time to bid you farewell come the morrow.' Curtsying to him, Wynne walked from the hall.
'She is far wiser than a maiden should be,' Rhys of St. Bride's noted suspiciously, suddenly wondering what man had soured the girl's outlook on love; wondering if she were indeed a virgin. His wife must be a virgin. He wanted no man to have traveled the path before him. He wanted no doubts about his son's paternity.
Before Enid might defend Wynne's good name, however, the heretofore silent Dilys spoke up brightly. 'Wynne has always been like that, my lord. When we were children and our mother would tell us fairy stories, Wynne would not believe. She said our father and mother were unique in their love for one another.'
'Did she?' Dilys was obviously so innocent that Rhys could not help but believe her.
'Aye,' Dilys answered him simply.
'And what of you, my lady Caitlin?' Rhys asked. 'Do you believe in love, or like your elder sister, do you think it an illusion?'
'Will your cousin, the lord of Coed, be good to me?' Caitlin countered his query with her own.
Rhys looked at the pretty girl before him with her silky, dark brown hair and her bright blue eyes. 'Aye,' he told her. 'He'll no doubt make a fool of himself over you, lady.'
'Then I, shall love him well and long,' she answered.
Rhys laughed again. 'You are honest, lady, though I have not a doubt it surprises you as much as it surprises me.' He stood and said to Enid, 'Show me where I may rest, my lady Enid. I must leave for St. Bride's at first light.'
She led him to a large, deep bed space set within the stone walls of the hall that was nearest to the largest fire pit. A straw mattress covered by a featherbed, which was in its turn piled with furs, was offered him.
'You should be quite comfortable here, my lord,' Enid said politely. 'Shall I send a woman to you?'
'My thanks, lady, but nay. Methinks I will forgo my own pleasure tonight that I not offend your granddaughter,' he told her.
'As you will, my lord,' Enid said. 'I will bid you a good night then. Einion will help you with your lorica.' She hurried away, and Rhys noticed the giant of a man he had previously seen with Wynne and young Dewi standing by his side.
'You wear no slave collar,' Rhys said. 'Are you a serf, or are you a freed man?'
'I am a slave, my lord, but Owain ap Llywelyn removed my collar from me the day I came to Gwernach. My chief duty over the years has been to guard the children. It is a task yet unfinished, but allow me, my lord, to help you.' Einion's supple fingers moved to undo the straps holding Rhys's lorica, a cuirasslike garment of leather and gilded scales of bronze, together. 'There, my lord,'' Einion said, removing the lorica. He then pulled Rhys's boots from his feet, placing them with the lorica by the bed space. 'Good night, my lord,' he said, and departed.
Rhys watched the large slave go, and then shrugging, removed his full-skirted outer tunic. He would be warm enough in his under tunic and sherte beneath the furs of the bed space. Climbing into it, he found himself most comfortable. There seemed to be no lice or fleas in the bed space. Wynne was obviously a good housekeeper.
The hall had grown quiet. He dozed, coming alert as he heard a footfall within the hall. Turning his head, he saw Wynne. He smiled to himself. Like the good chatelaine she was, she was checking to be certain that everything was as it should be for the night; that fires were banked. He watched through slitted eyes as Einion joined her. They spoke in voices too low to hear. Then the big slave bowed, and both he and Wynne departed the hall.
Rhys of St. Bride's felt his body beginning to relax, a state he rarely allowed himself to enter. There was peace and comfort to be had here at Gwernach. These things were Wynne's doing. He looked forward to the day when she would bring the same peace and comfort to his great castle at St. Bride's, and she would. She really had no choice in the matter. A smile of pleasure upon his face, Rhys began to snore most contentedly.
Chapter 2
Wynne of Gwernach watched with palpable relief as Rhys of St. Bride's departed her home. Although she did not sense cruelty in the man, he had a personality that could best be described as forceful, and it irritated her. He was determined that she would be his wife, but Wynne, for all her delicate appearance, was equally determined she would not. She did not choose to marry. At least not at this moment in time. Yet how was she to refuse Rhys without offending him? And what if he did go to the king? The great Llywelyn would hardly object to such a match
