"How did a little lass raised in a hill fort learn so much about the powerful?" he asked her.
"Men claim that women gossip, but they talk more. I listened," she replied with a smile. "No one paid attention to a small child by the fireside, Rafe. They chattered and bragged and boasted, and I harvested their words for the truth. I did not learn how to weave or cook or sew at Cythraul. I did not learn manners, or about God, or how to play a musical instrument. I learned how to wield my alborium and my sword. I learned how men rule and what drives them to rule. For a woman it was a mostly useless education. Now, however, I will dredge up all the knowledge I gained at Cythraul, and it will help me to win your sister's freedom."
"I think," he said slowly, "that I should be afraid of you, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn. Of your mother there is nought said, but much is spoken of your father, and you are obviously very much Llywelyn's daughter."
"I know," she answered him. "It is something I have fought against my whole life, Rafe, but the truth is I very much like who I am. There is, they say, no escaping blood." Then she took his hand up and began to lick the gravy from his fingers. "We will be on the road for several nights and then at Cythraul, where there is, I promise you, no privacy." She began to suck on his forefinger.
Their eyes met, and then he pulled his hand from her sensual embrace. Taking up his goblet, he drew the potent wine into his mouth while pulling her head to him. As their lips met, he transferred the liquid from his mouth into hers, his tongue sliding past her teeth to meet with her tongue among the heady, hot fumes of the wine. As he broke the long, sweet kiss, Rafe murmured to her, "You are far too conventional, wife. There are places other than a bed where a man and a woman may take their pleasure. Come." He stood and took her by the hand, leading her before the hall fire.
Rhonwyn's green eyes widened. "The servants!" she managed to gasp as he pulled her down to the sheepskin before the hearth.
"I see no servants," he murmured, his hand sliding beneath her skirts to caress her legs.
"Flint!" Her head motioned to the dog sleeping near them.
"Will understand perfectly," Rafe said softly, kissing her, his lean body pinioning her down.
"Thank God we have no priest here," she said. "Oh!" His fingers had found what they sought and began to tease at her sensitive flesh. "Rafe! We can't! Not here! Oh!" Holy Mary, this was so damnably exciting and dangerous. What if they were discovered?
" 'Tis our house, and we are the master and the mistress here," he said, divining her thoughts with accuracy. She was, he knew, despite her protests, enjoying every minute of their liaison, for she was already creamy with her love juices. He pushed her skirts above her waist and in a single smooth motion entered her body.
" Tis wicked!" she avowed, but faintly. Oh, God, he felt so good inside of her! With a deep sigh she let herself be carried away, her emerald eyes closing slowly in blissful anticipation of what was to come next. "Oh, Rafe!" Her arms tightened about him.
He grinned down at her. She was a wicked Welsh hussy, and he adored her with every fiber of his being. "Vixen," he said softly, his buttocks contracting and releasing as he pleasured them both.
"Devil," she murmured back, wrapping her legs about him so he might delve deeper into her eager flesh.
He could feel her body quivering as she reached the pinnacle of satisfaction, and as she shuddered over and over again with her release, he loosed his own passions with a gusty sigh. After several minutes he rolled away from her, drawing her skirts down as he pulled his tunic into a semblance of neatness.
"That was deliciously wicked and depraved," she said happily. Her eyes were still closed, savoring the remaining bits and pieces of their pleasure before it faded away entirely. "But we couldn't possibly do that at Cythraul, husband."
"Before we go," he promised her, "I shall showyou what we can do at Cythraul, or anywhere else, for that matter, wife." Then rising to his feet, he drew her up. "Come on, my love, and let us find our bed now. I've plenty of energy yet left for you, and you won't have to fret about the servants. I saw how your concern prevented you from fully enjoying our little interlude, Rhonwyn."
She laughed, unable to contain herself. "You are a devil, Rafe de Beaulieu."
The following morning Oth was dispatched to find Prince Llywelyn.
"Tell him what has happened and that I will meet him at Cythraul. This threat must be contained immediately, and the lady Katherine rescued. He will argue with you, of course, and say that having little love for Edward de Beaulieu, he does not care what happens to his wife. Then you will tell him that I am begging this boon of him, for the lady Katherine is my husband's sister, and I love her right well. Niggle at him until he yields, Oth. You know him as I do."
"He'll come," Oth said. Then he added, "Send Dewi into Cythraul first to make certain that it is still your tad's and has not been taken over by strangers or enemies, lady."
" 'Tis good advice. I will follow it," Rhonwyn told him. "I do not believe Tad would allow Cythraul out of his control, but if the worst has happened, we will wait for you by the ruin on the river near Cythraul, said to belong to the Fair Folk. I will be safe there for my mam's sake, I know. Now go, Oth, and God watch over you."
He kissed her hand and was gone from the hall.
Rhonwyn and Rafe spent the day as if nothing were amiss, each going about their duties. Browne, the steward, and Peterman, the bailiff, were both called into the hall so that Rafe might explain the situation to them.
"I will send word when we are to return," he assured his servants.
Rhonwyn told Enit of the venture. "You cannot come with me," she said. "I need you here to be certain Justin is well cared for in my absence. Bess is a good nurse to him, but sometimes she is ab-sentminded. Watch her carefully, and see my son is safe. Do not allow the child or his nurse from the house except into the gardens with men-at-arms guarding them," she instructed both Enit and Browne. "If those holding Lady Katherine should learn of their mistake while I am gone, Justin could be in danger. Allow no stranger into the house, even a religious."
They nodded.
"With luck and Prince Llywelyn's aid, we shall not be gone for too long a time and will return in triumph with Kate," Rafe said.
"Amen, my lord!" Browne said fervently.
Rafe and Rhonwyn would take little but the clothing they wore and their weapons. They ate their evening meal early, and as they wanted to start just before dawn, they departed the hall almost immediately after eating. As they reached the landing of the second floor, Rafe pulled his wife aside and pushed her against the stone wall of the corridor.
"Fondle me," he growled in her ear, licking it and the side of her face. "I promised you I would show you that a man can take and give pleasure in almost any setting." Then he groaned as her hands pushed through the fabric of his garments and began to stroke and play amid the badges of his sex. "Ah, witch!" he groaned as her skillful toying had the desired result. His hands were beneath her skirts in a trice, cupping her buttocks and raising her up to impale her upon his manhood. "Ah!" he sighed as he entered her wet, hot sheath. "You are always ready for me, wife, and how I love you for it!"
She gave herself over to the passion of the moment, and when they were both most thoroughly sated they stumbled to their bedchamber, where Enit was awaiting them in the solar with a large bath ready and steaming.
"Wonderful!" Rhonwyn enthused. "We shall not see such luxury for many a day, my lord. We must take advantage of it while we may." She began to pull her garments off, as did he.
Enit, not in the least disturbed, picked up the clothing as it was tossed, clucking and scolding them both at their haste.
"We'll wash each other, Enit," Rhonwyn said, and taking up the boar's-bristle brush, she began to scrub her husband's back vigorously.
"Then I'll take these wretched garments you have both worn to death to the laundress," Enit said.
"Take your time," Rafe called to her as the door shut.
They
heard Enit laugh as she hurried down the stairs.
"How long do you think we have?" he asked Rhonwyn.
"At least half an hour," she chuckled.
"Good!" He turned and cupped her full breasts in his two big hands. "Ah, I love these sweet fruits," he purred in her ear as he fondled them gently. He pressed his body against her suggestively. "I'm as randy as a billy goat tonight, wife," he warned.
She wiggled her bottom into his groin. "Then we shall be randy together, Rafe, my husband. The tiny interlude in the hallway was but a taste of what I want from you tonight. Oh, yes!"
"So you like that," he whispered in her ear as he rubbed his stiffening lance between the twin moons of her bottom.
"Ummmm," she answered him. "You are so quickly roused, husband."
"Because you are so damnably tempting, wife," he responded.
She turned about and kissed him slowly. "What a nice compliment, husband," she purred. Then she began licking his face and throat with broad, hot sweeps of her little tongue. "You are salty," she said.
"You are sweet," he countered, his tongue licking at her face, her chest, and, after he lifted her slightly, her full breasts.
They coupled once again, the water sloshing about them as their passion rose. When they had pleasured each other, they washed and exited the tub, Rhonwyn shaking her head at the puddles.
"Thank heavens the floor is stone," she remarked as she first dried him with a rough cloth, and then herself. "What will Enit think?"
"That her master and her mistress were as randy as two billy goats tonight," he chuckled, and took her hand. "Come, wife, to bed with you lest we both catch a chill. We are off on serious business come the morrow. Pray God my sister is yet safe."
"She will be safe, Rafe," Rhonwyn assured him. "Even if they learned she was not ap Gruffydd's child, they will ransom her to Edward. The Welsh have been called many things by you English, but never have we been called foolish. We know how to make a groat. Kate will be safe."
They climbed naked into their bed, and he cradled her in his arms. "I trust you, wife," he told her.
"I know," Rhonwyn said with a small smile. "That is one of the reasons I love you, Rafe de Beaulieu. You really do trust me."
"I love you," he said simply. "Now sleep, wife."
Rhonwyn smiled again to herself and closed her eyes.
Chapter 18
It had been many years since Lady Katherine de Beaulieu had heard the Welsh tongue spoken. Now, however, she silently thanked God for her old Welsh nurse and her own linguistic abilities. At first it was all garble, but then gradually her mind focused, and she understood. The men who held her captive believed she was Rhonwyn. Her first instinct was to tell them they were wrong, but then she thought that they might kill her as they had so many in Ainslea village. Reaching out, she gently tugged the skirt of her servant Mab. The woman turned a frightened face to her mistress, and Kate put a finger to her lips, warning Mab to silence.
"They believe," she whispered softly, "that I am Rhonwyn. Address me as such else they kill us for their own error."
"What is it you say in that barbaric tongue, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn?" one of her captors asked roughly.
"I am calming my servant," Kate replied. "She is frightened by you and by what she has seen this day. These English are not strong."
"Strong enough when they choose," the man laughed.
"Who are you, and why have you done this?" Kate asked him.
"In time, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn" was the answer.
Almost all the male inhabitants of Ainslea had been slaughtered, but for those who had managed to flee. The women and the children, however, were herded together to be driven into Wales where they would be sold as slaves. One old man was left to tell the tale to any who came seeking the lady of Haven Castle. The village was then fired, and the Welsh rode off with their captives and their loot-for they had sacked whatever had value including several milk cows, the poultry, a team of oxen, and a small herd of sheep.
Late in the afternoon Kate and her servant were taken in a separate direction by four of their captors. Mab began to whimper again with fright, moaning that they were going to be ravaged and killed for certain.
"Be silent!" Kate said sharply. "If they intended such villainy they would not have brought us this distance. It is something else, and I am interested to learn what."
"They will kill us when they learn the truth," Mab sobbed. "You should have told them back in Ainslea, and surely they would have released us, lady."
"Nay," Kate said. "They would have killed us then for they could not allow me to alert my sister-in-law to their perfidy, whatever it may be. I must maintain this masquerade for the time being until I can learn what is afoot. Then perhaps I may speak the truth. Or mayhap not, Mab. Now, pull yourself together, lass. We will not show these Welsh that we are afraid."
"Are you, lady?" Mab quavered.
"Aye, I am," Kate replied. "I should be a fool not to be fearful, Mab." Then she reached out and patted her servant's hand in a gesture of comfort, giving her a small smile.
"My name is Ifan ap Daffydd," the leader of her captors said. "We will overnight at a small convent, lady. If you attempt to escape or try to tell the nuns who you are or that you are captive, my men and I will kill the holy women. Do you understand me?"
"Aye," Kate said, "I do."
"Tell your servant what I have said, and tell her if she continues to whimper and whine as she has been, I will personally slit her throat. There are good Welsh women at my brother's castle who can serve you. You do not need this English cow."
"Nonetheless, Ifan ap Daffydd, I will have her," Kate answered him. "She has been loyal to me since I arrived at Haven. Perhaps you do not value such traits in a servant, but I do. She is not used to seeing such slaughter as she has viewed this day. You will leave her be, for she is my responsibility."
"Your Welsh is odd," he said to her.
"I have been living among the English for several years now and have not spoken my own tongue. I am surprised that I can recall it at all," Kate told him blithely. "Besides, each end of Wales speaks a different dialect, Ifan ap Daffydd, yet we all manage to understand each other."
"Aye, we do, especially when it comes to your tad, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn," he replied, and then he laughed.
When he had ridden ahead again Kate explained to Mab what had been said, couching the Welshman's threats in gentler language. "You must not carry on any longer, Mab, for you are irritating these men, and they could punish us both for your behavior."
"I will try," Mab said.
"You must succeed," Kate said firmly.
"Where are they taking us?"
"To the castle of Ifan ap Daffydd's brother, whoever he may be," Kate said. "From what this Ifan has said, I suspect it has something to do with the Welsh prince, but what, I do not yet know."
When they reached the small convent where they were to overnight, Ifan ap Daffydd explained to the porteress that he was escorting his sister to the castle of their brother, Rhys ap Daffydd, lord of Aberforth. They were welcomed and fed, and then offered pallets in the guest house. The nun apologized that they had but one space for guests and could not separate the sexes.
"I will sleep outside the guest-house door with my men so my sister may have her privacy," Ifan ap Daffydd said gallantly. "We are used to sleeping beneath the night sky, good sister." Having seen the interior of the place, Ifan ap Daffydd felt secure, for it had but one door and the two windows were too high for his captives to use for escape.
In the morning they attended Prime, and then they were given brown bread, a snip of cheese, and cider before they departed. Kate took a coin from her purse and pressed it into the hand of the porteress.
"Thank you, good sister," she said. "Will you pray for my sister-in-law, Katherine?"
"I will, my child," the nun said.
"What was that all about?" Ifan ap Daffydd demanded to know as they rode off.
"I gave the nu
n a coin from my purse. I doubt you thought to do it, Ifan ap Daffydd. Then I asked her to pray for my sister-in-law, Katherine. There was no harm in it. I spoke our tongue, and you were free to hear it. It is customary to pay for one's lodging if you can, and what with your boasting about taking your sister to your brother's castle, it would have been expected that you offer the nuns who sheltered us a small donation for our food and accommodation. You men have no sense of propriety."
He laughed." I had heard that you were a firebrand."
"Had you?" she remarked dryly.
They rode all day and sheltered the second night in a dry cave, for there were no religious houses or villages along their route. Their supper and their breakfast the following morning was roasted rabbit, hot in the evening and cold in the morning. They slept, wrapped in their cloaks, on the dirt floor of the cave, a fire at its entrance to discourage any wildlife from entering. They rode all of the third day, finally coming to Aberforth Castle shortly after the early sunset of that autumn day. The castle before them was small but dark and forbidding. Kate shivered nervously, but then pulled herself together as they passed beneath the portcullis into the courtyard.
When they had dismounted they were led into the castle's great hall. There were no fireplaces, but rather a large stone fire pit in the center of the hall that blazed, heating the entire room. To Kate's surprise the stone walls were hung with beautiful tapestries, and there were fragrant herbs scattered upon the stone floor that gave off a sweet odor when stepped upon. Upon the dais was a high board, and seated there eating was a richly dressed black-bearded man with piercing dark brown eyes and black hair.
Ifan ap Daffydd hurried forth, bringing his prisoners with him. He bowed low, and then straightening, he said, "I have brought Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn as you requested, my lord brother."
The lord of Aberforth looked up and perused Kate. "You do not look like your mother," he said in a rough voice. "Nor do you favor your tad particularly, lady. However, I see ap Gruffydd's mother in you. She had hair your color. Your mother had hair like gilt thistledown."
A Memory of Love Page 34
