It was not Caitlin’s enthusiasm that ran out, it was her breath. Ellen laughed and hugged her back, giving her a chance to regain her composure. “I could not help noticing that Uncle Llewelyn’s spirits were soaring sky-high this past week, but I never suspected… No one else knows yet?”
“Very few, just Juliana and Dame Blodwen, the midwife. Oh, and Hugh, for he was my escort, but he swore he’d tell no one, not even Eluned.”
Caitlin thought that was a prudent promise, for confiding in Eluned was the quickest way to get word out and about; it was her private conviction that Hugh’s wife could not have kept a secret unless she was bound and gagged. But she said nothing, for even with Ellen she was circumspect, resolutely denying herself the dubious comfort of snide slurs and gibes, as much to safe-guard her own self-respect as to spare Hugh’s feelings.
“Caitlin, I would like you to have this length of topaz velvet. It would suit your coloring perfectly, and we still have a few days, can make it into a dazzling Christmas gown. No, lass, do not thank me, not until you’ve heard the bad news, too. You know that Rhys Wyndod has stayed over for the festivities. Goronwy will be coming back, as will Dai, and the Abbot of Aberconwy is expected, and so is Brother Gwilym and Tudur’s son and numerous others…including Davydd and Elizabeth.”
Caitlin’s fingers froze upon the velvet folds, then clenched into a small fist. “I suppose I ought not to be surprised,” she said, “for he delights in thrusting himself into places where he is not wanted.”
“In truth,” Ellen admitted, “I am no longer sure that is so. Llewelyn was rather vague about it, which leads me to wonder if this invitation might not be his doing. I doubt that there could ever be a true reconciliation between them, but having said that, I do sense something different when I see them together. I cannot pretend that I’d understand or approve if Llewelyn did choose to make peace with Davydd, but I would accept it, Caitlin, for his sake.”
Caitlin knew what was being asked, ever so subtly, without the risk of words, and she felt a flicker of envy, wishing she had just a portion of Ellen’s tact. “So would I, Aunt Ellen,” she said quietly, “so would I.”
Just then, the door swung open, letting in a rush of frigid air. “It is only me,” Juliana said cheerfully. “But Eluned is on her way up, too. She wants you to meet her brother, Ellen.”
Eluned’s brother was living, breathing proof that her beauty was no fluke, for Hywel ab Iago was handsome enough to turn most female heads, and Ellen, Juliana, and Caitlin all eyed him appreciatively as Eluned made the introductions. But his polished courtesy was devoid of charm, for it was devoid of warmth, and he cut short the amenities with the brusque assurance of a man accustomed to getting his own way. “I am here, Madame,” he said, “to take my sister home.”
Ellen was surprised, for Hugh had said nothing to her of these plans. But she was heartily in favor of a Christmas visit to Eluned’s family, hoping this was an indication that they were finally thawing toward Hugh. “By all means,” she said, and smiled at Eluned. “Take as much time as you like. Shall you be leaving as soon as Hugh gets back from Beddgelert?”
Although the question was directed at Eluned, it was her brother who answered. “You do not seem to understand, Madame. Eluned will not be returning. This marriage of hers was a great mistake. My sister sees that now, and she wants to end it.”
Ellen stared at them. “Eluned, I fear you have been misled. The process of dissolving a marriage is very lengthy, very expensive, and such pleas are rarely granted. The Church will not end a marriage. It will declare one void from the outset, but only if there existed a prior plight troth, kinship within the fourth degree, or the sort of spiritual consanguinity that results from acting as godparent. Eluned, you can claim none of those impediments, so how can you hope to end the marriage?”
Hywel did not interrupt, heard Ellen out, but with obvious impatience. As soon as she was done, he said, “You are not one of us, Madame, so it is to be expected that you’d be ignorant of our ways. Whether the Church agrees or not is immaterial, for Welsh law provides a number of grounds for dissolving a marriage, one of which is mutual assent of the husband and wife. If the Englishman is as chivalrous as he would have us believe, he will do the decent thing, let my sister go.”
“I think you are the one who should go,” Ellen said icily. “So far you’ve done all the talking. Now I would hear Eluned speak for herself. You may wait in the great hall whilst we talk.”
Hywel was furious, but he was not so foolhardy as to defy his Prince’s wife. As soon as he had gone, Ellen swung about toward Caitlin. “What he said of Welsh law…is it true?”
“Yes,” Caitlin said, “it is. A wife can divorce her husband if he brings his harlot under their roof, if he is incapable in bed, is stricken with leprosy, or…Well, this is not the time for a lesson in Welsh law. But Eluned is quite within her rights as a Welshwoman in seeking to end her marriage.”
“I see,” Ellen said grimly. “But is this what you truly want, Eluned? I know your family opposed this match. If they have put pressure upon you to disavow Hugh, you need only say so.”
Eluned had yet to meet Ellen’s gaze. But now silky, sable lashes fluttered upward, revealing eyes of a remarkable lavender-blue. “It is not like that, my lady. Hywel and my other brothers have always been protective of me, for I was the youngest and the only lass…like you. But they want only what is best for me. I ought to have heeded them when they warned me that it was folly to wed an Englishman,” she said, quite ingenuously, for her insults were always unintentional. “Once I abandoned the pretense, admitted how miserable I was in this marriage, Hywel came to fetch me home.”
“I thought you loved Hugh.” This from Juliana, who could no longer hold her indignation in check.
“I thought I did,” Eluned said simply.
“Eluned, listen to me.” Ellen often found herself talking to the girl in the overly patient tones one would use with a child, but now she was hard put to keep her anger from surfacing. “You have only been wed a brief while, little more than a year—”
“Seventeen months, my lady.”
“Seventeen months, then. But that is not very long, not in the life of a marriage. If you and Hugh commit yourselves anew to each other, I am sure you can find contentment together. Wait a while, do not do anything rash.”
“Wait till what, my lady? Till I get with child?”
“I think Eluned is right,” Caitlin said suddenly, ignoring the withering, warning look Ellen shot her way. “Marriage is a sacred trust to us, too, Aunt Ellen. We take it no less seriously than do other Christians. But we understand that men and women are flawed, often impetuous, not always steadfast. We can make mistakes, our needs can change. Why yoke a couple for life if they’d both rather be free of each other? No sensible person would drink from a salted well, but a marriage gone sour is just as poisoned, and our laws merely recognize the reality of that. In truth, I could never see the logic in the Church’s insistence that marriage must last from the altar to the grave. Why is it that there is forgiveness for sins, but not for mistakes?”
Eluned was favoring Caitlin with a dazzling smile, grateful to have an advocate who could plead her case so persuasively. Ellen was considerably less pleased with Caitlin, but her niece met her eyes with studied innocence. Turning back to Eluned, Ellen said abruptly, “And what of Hugh? Does he, too, want to end your marriage?”
Eluned shook her head. “No…he is being very stubborn, very English, with his talk of duty and honor and binding vows. I’ve tried to make him understand, my lady, truly I have.” She sighed, looking, for that moment, quite forlorn. “I thought…hoped that you might talk to Hugh, my lady, make him see it is the only way. Hywel has written him a letter, and if you could give it to him…?”
Ellen blinked. “Hywel wrote it?”
“Well, I told him what I wanted to say. I do not know how to write myself.” Eluned was eager to be gone, uncomfortably aware of Ellen’s disapproval. Not
sure how to extricate herself, she looked to Caitlin for guidance, and the other girl stepped forward, saying:
“If you like, Eluned, I can help you pack?”
“Yes, please.” Eluned made a hasty, graceful curtsy to Ellen, looked apologetically at the stony-faced Juliana, and then said softly, “I want Hugh to be happy, too, my lady. He is a good man, and I wish him well. This is for the best, you’ll see.”
Juliana had been seething, and as the door closed, she snatched up a cushion, flung it across the chamber. “That bitch,” she said succinctly.
Ellen watched glumly as her dog pounced on the cushion, began to drag it through the floor rushes. “I suppose we ought to be thanking God that Hugh no longer loves her. It will still leave a lasting scar, though. And the blow to his pride will not be the worst of it. I think he is bound to feel a secret sense of relief, and he’s sure to be guilt-stricken over it. He’s likely to forgive Eluned long ere he forgives himself….”
Juliana called Eluned another harsh name, rescued the cushion from Hiraeth. Ellen sat down on the settle, beckoned the disappointed dog up into her lap. She understood now why Llewelyn was so often at odds with the Bishops of Bangor and St Asaph; in no other Christian land was Church law subordinate to secular law, and the Church was never so zealous as in defense of its own prerogatives. But at the moment her concerns were personal, not political. “Poor Hugh,” she said, and then, “Well, at least I know now why Caitlin has been balking every time we spoke of finding her a husband.”
“You think she truly expected this to happen, Ellen?”
“She obviously had hopes that it might. That girl was much too knowledgeable about Welsh divorce law for it to be pure chance.”
As Juliana took this new complication in, she shook her head in dismay. “Hugh has enough on his plate at the moment, needs no more grief. Surely Caitlin must know that she could have no future with Hugh? Your husband would never give his consent.”
“No,” Ellen agreed sadly, “he would not…and he would be right. Hugh is very dear to me, but Caitlin is a daughter of the Welsh royal House, for illegitimacy counts for naught amongst Llewelyn’s people. If she still has her heart set upon a landless English knight, she’s going to get it broken, for certes.”
It was quiet then, as both women considered the multitude of troubles Eluned had inadvertently set loose upon them all. Ellen was the first to rebel. “No,” she said, “this time I shall prove Amaury wrong. He swears I cannot keep from seeking trouble out, but for once I shall wait for it to find me, if indeed it can. Eluned might even be right, and this may well be for the best. Hugh will need time to mourn his marriage, but at least he’ll be free of Eluned. As for Caitlin, we’ll just have to wait and watch. Hugh is the last man to dally with a girl both highborn and innocent. And I am no less confident that Caitlin would never willingly put Hugh in peril. So it may well be that we need do nothing at all, Juliana.” When Juliana did not reply, Ellen gave her a curious glance. “You do not think so?”
“What I think is that you’ve been raiding your hope coffer again,” Juliana said wryly. “I know you seem to have hope in amazing abundance these days, but it might still be prudent to store some of it away for leaner times.”
Ellen grinned, putting up her hand to fend off Hiraeth’s questing tongue. “I’ll admit that my garden now grows hope in lavish profusion, leaving little room for anything else. I suppose it has squeezed out more practical plants like caution and common sense. Still, though, hope does not flourish in every garden, and I feel thankful that it has taken root in mine,” she said lightly, beginning to laugh. “But then, I’ve proved myself to be a superior gardener, for am I not soon to harvest a genuine miracle?”
Elizabeth could not remember a colder winter. It had been a fortnight since the last snowfall, but the ground was still hidden under a treacherous glaze, snow packed-down and dirty where paths had been dug across the bailey, frozen in deep drifts wherever walls came together. The Christmas Eve sky was clear of clouds, but the stars glittered without warmth, piercing the blackness like scattered shards of ice. The comparison was a natural one for Elizabeth to make, for ice had come to symbolize the worst of winter suffering. Davydd had told her of forest trails splattered with blood, of deer foundering in the snow, legs cut and gashed after breaking through the ice. Most rivers were frozen solid; the Thames had iced over all the way from Lambeth to Westminster, and five arches of London’s great bridge had cracked under the weight of so much snow. Even the wind put her in mind of an icy blade, for it slashed and thrust at her as she scurried across the open space separating Dolwyddelan’s hall and West Tower. Never had spring seemed so far away.
Elizabeth’s sons were almost invisible under the pile of blankets heaped upon their pallet. Although stacked kindling still fed the hearth’s flames, the air was chill. Davydd would probably want to make love once the revelries were done, but afterward she’d take their lads into bed with them, where it was warm and snug. Their nurse dozed in a chair by the fire; Elizabeth tiptoed around her, bent over the boys. They were in familiar poses, creatures of habit even in sleep, Llelo sprawled on his back, Owain curled up like a cat, head ducked down under the covers; she used to worry that he might somehow suffocate, and even now her eyes lingered upon his chest until reassured by its rhythmic rise and fall. Her fingers brushed Llelo’s cheek, gentle as a breath, and she carefully tucked Owain’s stuffed dog into the crook of his arm before departing the chamber.
She knew she’d done Ellen no kindness by bringing Llelo and Owain, and she was sorry for that. But she was not willing to be separated from them, for a mother’s time with her sons was all too brief. The sons of English gentry were sent off to serve as pages at as young an age as seven. The Welsh were more flexible, but she knew their sons were often fostered in noble households, and she suspected that the time would come when Davydd would entrust Llelo into Llewelyn’s keeping, to be raised at his court as Caitlin had been. And she would not object, for such a sojourn might one day make her Llelo Prince of Wales. But she would miss him with every breath she drew, fret that he was not eating as he ought, worry that he might be homesick or fevered or risking life and limb in the sort of rash foolhardiness little boys found so irresistible, for motherhood was both burden and blessing; once her sons were born, she’d realized that she would never again be free of fear.
Slipping inconspicuously back into the great hall, Elizabeth was pleased to see that her absence seemed to have passed unnoticed, for she knew Davydd thought she coddled their sons. Although she deferred willingly to Davydd in most matters, she did not think he was all that reliable a judge of maternal behavior, for his own mother’s affections had been doled out in unequal, sparing portions, with the lion’s share going to Owain, her firstborn. Shedding her mantle, Elizabeth looked about the hall with keen interest. Candle light, scented evergreen, silver-stringed harps, lively carols, and later, a dalliance with Davydd: Elizabeth could not have have envisioned a more perfect Christmas Eve. She was still shivering, had started toward the hearth when an arm snaked suddenly about her waist and a familiar voice breathed against her ear, “You’re lucky I have such a trusting nature, or I might have suspected you of sneaking out of the hall to meet a lover.”
Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. “I just wanted to make sure the lads were settled down for the night, love. Ah, Davydd, you should have seen them; they looked so sweet, almost angelic.”
“So they were asleep, then?” Davydd murmured, and Elizabeth laughed, let him lead her over to the center hearth.
“I did not miss the surprise, did I?”
Davydd looked puzzled. “What surprise?”
“It might be nothing; I could be wrong. But I’ve been watching Ellen and Llewelyn all evening and they seem… I do not know, somehow expectant, as if something were afoot. I thought they might have a special sort of entertainment planned: mayhap a shepherd’s play or a rope dancer like the one we saw at Westminster, who balanced high above the hall whils
t juggling daggers…remember?”
She’d caught Davydd’s interest; nothing intrigued him like secrets. “I think you might be right, Elizabeth. Look over there,” he said, and turning, she saw that Ellen had approached her husband, was whispering a few words in his ear. A moment later they were heading toward the oaken partition that blocked off the far end of the hall. Grabbing Elizabeth’s hand, Davydd began an oblique stalking maneuver, ignoring his wife’s half-hearted protest that “We cannot spy on them, Davydd, for pity’s sake!”
“Of course we can,” he said, drawing her into a window recess, which gave them a partial view of the screened-off section of the hall. They were just in time to see Llewelyn and Ellen embrace. “We dashed madly across the hall for this,” Davydd demanded, “to watch a man snatch a quick kiss from his own wife? I’m beginning to pity Llewelyn’s confessor, for any account of his sins must put the poor man straightaway to sleep!”
Elizabeth took the bait. “I think it is very romantic,” she insisted. “I noticed tonight how often Llewelyn’s gaze kept straying toward Ellen, even whilst he was talking to others. What woman would not want a husband so devoted that he truly cannot keep his eyes off her?”
“Or his hands, either,” Davydd joked, for teasing Elizabeth was a temptation he could rarely resist. Elizabeth’s nature was such an incongruous mix of salt and sugar that she was not always predictable, a trait many men would have found undesirable in a wife, but one Davydd relished.
Just then, Ellen took Llewelyn’s hand, pressed it against the velvet skirt of her surcote. It was a private moment not meant to be witnessed by other eyes, and as he watched, Davydd’s amusement vanished in the span of seconds, in the time it took a memory to surface. Ellen’s gesture was familiar to him, for Elizabeth had often done that when she was pregnant with Llelo and then Owain, putting his hand upon her belly so he might feel the baby kicking.
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