Lying in a pool of blood from the huge gash in his midriff, Cynan lay quietly. His head was cradled in Bryant's lap and his friend's tears had washed clean the craggy face. Bryant and Gareth had closed his eyes and smoothed the hair back from his brow and through her tears, Elena wondered that Cynan should look so peaceful in death. Choking back a sob, she pressed her knuckles to her lips and looked to Gareth. His own eyes were dry but filled with a grief so terrible it made her weep all the harder.
"Oh Cynan," she said, crossing the few feet between her and his still form. Heedless of the tears that flowed down her cheeks, she knelt beside him and with shaky hand, reached out to caress his forehead. She gasped to feel it was still warm and made her wonder if perhaps he yet lived. She raised hopeful eyes to Bryant's face but he only shook his head. Her voice thick with tears and sorrow, she whispered. "I shall miss you Cynan. Who will tease Gareth about his bad manners the next time he tells me I'm selfish? Who will make me laugh when I've just swallowed a bug from sleeping on the ground?" She inhaled sharply, trying unsuccessfully to stem her flow of tears. "Who will boil that dreadful dried meat for me and serve it as if it were roasted venison? Who will--" her voice broke again, "who will take care of Enid? Oh Cynan!" Unable to control her grief at her first loss of a friend, she hunched over, crying. She felt strong hands grasp her shoulders and lift her to her feet and when she lifted her face, she saw Gareth's moist eyes before he drew her to him in a crushing hug. She returned the embrace just as fiercely and begged God's forgiveness that she was thankful that Gareth had not been the one to die.
By the time Gareth released her, she had gained some control. She wiped the tears from her face and asked Gareth, "What will we do with him?"
"We will have to bury him here," Gareth said.
"No!" Bryant shouted. "We must take him back to Wales, to Enid!"
"How, Bryant? In this heat? And would you have Enid see him dead with a babe on the way?" No! Let her remember him as he was, alive and smiling. Let us remember him that way with her."
"But to bury him here, so far from home with these English!" Bryant cried.
Gareth knelt down and grasped his friend's shoulders and Elena could see the physical effort it took him to prevent the tears from spilling over his lids. "His body only will remain here. His spirit is already with Enid and their unborn babe in Wales. It flies to the top of the Eyri Mountains even while we bicker her over his remains."
"He will have a Christian burial befitting a hero of Wales."
Elena started at the voice behind her and turned to see the new king standing behind them.
"I hope this was not the friend you sought," Henry said, gesturing to Cynan.
Elena shook her head no.
Henry looked to Gareth who held her hand. “This man and all the others will be seen to with respect and gratitude for their ultimate gift to England.
"As for you, Sir Knight," he said, gesturing to Gareth, "I understand your spurs were hacked off by my predecessor." Without waiting for a response, the new king continued. "Clearly, you are a noble and chivalrous man, worthy of much more than the title of Knight, but since I have nothing else to offer you, I would at least reinstate you to that position."
"I thank you," Gareth said hoarsely.
His attention clearly moving on to the next subject, Henry Tudor said, "Tend to your comrade," as he turned to leave.
***
Though the evening was not chilly, Elena was glad for the warmth of the campfire around which sat the Welshmen. Watching the yellow flames lick hungrily into the dark night seemed to cleanse her mind of the horrors she had witnessed today. The soft blue of the fire that quickly ate the dry wood seemed to warm the chill of Cynan's death and Elena felt herself relax. Gareth sat beside her on the hard ground, his hip and shoulder touching her own. Heedless of the others or what they might think, Elena laid her head on his shoulder and sighed when he rested his head on top of her. She felt as though she could remain in this position forever, even through the discussion of the day's battle.
"When it looked as though Stanley was not joining us, I thought we were lost," Dafydd said.
"Aye," Gareth’s father agreed. "And I thought he had set us up in Aberstwyth with all those instructions."
"Why did he hesitate?" one of the archers asked.
Morgan shrugged but Gareth said, "Richard did hold his eldest son as hostage. Perhaps he only sought to wait until Richard would be unable to send the order for his death."
"I heard that when Richard threatened Stanley's son unless he joined supported him on the field, Stanley sent back word that he had other son's," Morgan said.
About the cozy circle of the fire, men smiled grimly at Stanley's bravado. Elena reflected that they were only smiling at the careless words because the young man had not been executed.
"Well, for all that he was a devious man in his life, I will go so far as to say that Richard at least died well, as a king should," said a Welshman Elena did not know.
The men nodded in agreement as Gareth added, "Many men in Richard's place would have allowed themselves to be taken hostage in the hopes that they would be allowed to live. Richard did at least have the dignity to go down in the fight."
"And took several excellent men with him," the Welshman said.
Elena tilted her head to look at Gareth but his gaze was lost in the fire. She watched the light and shadows play against the strong planes of his face, in the stubble that covered his square jaw, in the gray depths of his eyes. He must be thinking of Cynan, she thought. His father's voice pulled her attention back to the conversation.
"And now it is time to rebuild this country."
"Enid must rebuild her life," Bryant said bitterly.
There were several seconds of silence at his words but Morgan declared an end to the mourning when he said, "But for now we must rebuild this fire so that we may cook this enormous pig King Henry has sent." Three men behind Elena and Gareth came forward carrying great logs and they quickly stood and moved out of the way. Once they were beyond the circle of firelight, Gareth grabbed her hand and pulled her after him as he led the way to the other side of the tethered group of horses. Alone and out of sight, he pulled her tightly to him and buried his face in her shorn hair.
Elena grabbed fistfuls of his own hair and turned his face until she could kiss him. He returned her passionate kiss with equal fervor and in the heat of the embrace, the tension and heartache of the day dissolved. When the kiss finally ended, they were both shaky with its effects and neither spoke for several moments. Finally Gareth started to speak, stopped, cleared his throat, and started again. "Elena, I must make you understand why I left you at Nottingham when you helped me escape. I know you must think that I was thinking only of my own goal of reaching Wales and King Henry's army, but I swear to you that I was only concerned with your safety. I had put you in enough danger since the day I met you that--" Elena stopped his words with her fingertips and then replaced them with her mouth.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips.
She grew worried when he inhaled sharply and said nothing. In the pale light of a half moon, she could not judge what emotions were playing across his face and she wondered if he had only claimed he loved her weeks ago because she had helped him escape Nottingham's dungeon.
"Elena, I have nothing to offer you but a small keep that will one day be mine but which will always be hard work. I know there are things you want out of a husband, things that are important to you and--"
"Do you?"
"Of course, you have told me often enough what you desire and the security that wealth and power can provide should be yours."
Elena could tell, even in the dim light, that he was thrown off balance by her next question. "Gareth, are you the same person you were two months ago when Richard's entourage was attacked?"
"What? Of course I--"
"No, no," Elena interrupted, "think. Are you really the same or have you changed in any way?"
/> Gareth stared at her as he thought of her question and Elena had to suppress a giggle. At times, he really was so easy to maneuver and she loved him for it.
"I suppose I have changed in the way I think and act. Certainly in the way I feel about you. I used to hate you, you know."
"I know," Elena said ruefully. "Now don't you think I have changed in many ways as well?"
"I don't know, you still seem to demand--and get--your way continuously," he said wryly.
When Elena merely glared at him in response, he said, "Yes, you have changed considerably since first we met."
Placated, Elena continued with her strategy. "Yes, I have. And part of that change has been to realize just what is important in life. I've come to learn that love and happiness mean more than wealth or power. You've taught me those things." Elena began to think that Gareth was going to force her into saying exactly what she meant and she didn't know if she could be that humble. Thinking of how much she loved him, she decided she could, but before she could open her mouth, he spoke.
"Does that mean you could settle for a drafty Welsh keep with a beautiful view of the mountains?"
Elena laughed at his non‑proposal but decided it was better than no proposal. "Do you come with it?"
"Of course."
"Then I can settle for a mud shack."
Gareth grabbed her into his arms once again and swung her off her feet. She stifled the urge to squeal in delight for fear that the men at the campfire would come running. When he finally put her back on the ground he kissed her firmly and Elena felt herself growing warmer with their shared passion.
"How is it that in just a few hours I could go from complete despair over Cynan to ecstatic joy?" she asked when their lips finally parted.
"Because Cynan would have preferred us to be joyful," Gareth replied solemnly. "He found joy in everything and it is only right that we celebrate that joy and remember him for it."
Elena nodded in agreement. As she hugged her fiancée tightly, she looked to the night sky and gasped.
"What is it?" Gareth asked.
"I just saw a shooting star. Do you think it is a bad omen?"
"No. I think it was Cynan."
"Gareth?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Epilogue
An eagle screamed high above the mountains that sheltered Eyri Keep. The last of the snow covering the shallow valley in which the keep sat had melted and pale green grass shoots and crocus buds were peeking out to inspect the soft spring day. Inside the keep, a woman screamed in pain.
"I hate you Gareth ap Morgan," Elena shouted, twisting the bed linens as another strong contraction swept over her.
"That's what you said when little Meg was born, darling."
Elena panted shallowly. "I mean it this time."
"Of course you do my love."
Enid entered the bedroom with a stack of clean linens. "Really, Elena," she teased, "you're scaring poor Bryant. He can hear you all the way downstairs. He's beginning to feel guilty about what I'll be going through soon." Enid smoothed her wool gown over her swelling abdomen and smiled.
"Well he should feel guilty," Elena said, gritting her teeth and trying to breathe through the pain. "And you would too, you oaf," she said, addressing her grinning husband, "if you had any feelings whatsoever."
Gareth leaned down and kissed her sweaty brow. "I have more feelings than you know."
The door opened again and a three-year-old boy stuck his head in. "Momma," Cynan's son said, "Papa Bryant just threw up."
Enid rolled her eyes and after ordering her son out of the room, said to Gareth. "You can either stay here and take your wife's abuse, or you can go down there and help my husband get some fresh air."
"What a choice!" Gareth said.
"Make sure," Elena said in between breaths. "Make sure Meg is alright, too."
"As you wish, sweet."
Gareth kissed his wife's forehead again stared at her damp face with worry he refused to voice. Leaving the sunlit room, he went in search of his queasy friend. He found Bryant just outside the front door, sitting outside on an overturned barrel, his head in his hands.
"Don't tell me the man who marched into battle without flinching has been brought to his knees by a woman's labor pains."
Bryant lifted a pale face. "Don't you tell me her pains don't affect you!"
Gareth's grin faded. "Of course they do." Sitting on the stone steps into the keep, Gareth sighed. "I guess I forgot how much pain she went through having Meg. Once the baby is born and all is well, the bad parts just seem to fade."
The two men were silent for several seconds before Bryant spoke. "Gareth, do you think it's alright that I married Enid?"
"What?" Gareth asked. "Of course it's alright. Why would you think otherwise?"
"I sometimes feel guilty about it. As if I had loved Enid even when Cynan was alive and that I just took advantage of his death and her helplessness."
Gareth laughed and then quickly smothered it at his friend's worried expression. "I'm sorry, Bryant, but the thought of Enid helpless is amusing."
"You know what I mean," Bryant said with exasperation.
"I know. But what I also know is that you never thought of Enid as anything more than a friend until last year. And I also know that Cynan would have chosen you above all others to be a father to his son."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes."
As if embarrassed by the intimacy of their conversation, the two men fell silent for several minutes. Finally, Bryant said, "Thank you."
"You are welcome."
A loud crash behind them was followed by a small child's loud wail. Both men quickly stood and entered the hall. "It's mine," Gareth said when he saw his daughter sitting on the floor in a puddle of honey. The metal pitcher that had held the sticky stuff was overturned at her feet. "Oh Meggy," her father said. Crossing to her, he picked her up under the arms and held her away from him as blobs of honey dripped off of her. "Cleaning you up aught to take all day."
Cynan's young son ran into the main hall to see what all the racket was. Pointing to the sticky mess, he said to his stepfather, "Meg made a mess!"
"Yes she did," Bryant agreed, his mood visibly lightening.
***
That evening, Gareth knocked lightly on the door to his bedchamber and then entered. A bank of candles gave the room a soft golden glow and bathed his wife in their radiance. As he entered, he decided that is was her radiance that lit the room instead. She was propped up on several pillows, her glorious hair spilling over one shoulder as she held their new baby against the other. "Hello my love," he said.
She looked up and smiled. "Come meet your son."
He carefully eased himself onto the bed beside her and curled his arm around her. Pressing a kiss to her sweet-smelling hair, he looked at the tiny sleeping face that was pressed against her breast. "He is beautiful."
"I rather think so," she agreed, smiling at the man who had given her the richest gifts in her life, starting with his love.
Turning his attention back to her, he traced her satiny cheek with his forefinger, relishing its softness. Losing himself in the cinnamon‑warmth of her eyes, he said, "Do you still hate me?"
"I never did."
"Do you still love me?"
"I never stopped."
About the Author
Yes its true, Michelle did marry her very own knight in shining armor. Years ago (read, "before kids"), Michelle's love of medieval history and all things Brittish led her to the SCA, a medieval re-creation group. There she got to see how sword and shield battles occurred first hand, and learned just how hard it was to camp and cook with a train and big drapey sleeves. But she also met her future husband there and the rest, as they say, is history.
Writing has always been a part of Michelle's life and it was love of writing that led her to graduate magna cum laude with a degree in Professional Writing which
she then used to write and edit technical manuals and reports for Los Alamos National Labs and Sandia National Labs. Needless to say, such writing left her craving something....jucier. Around this time, she read her first historical romance (by the amazing Judith McNaught) and she was hooked! Her first book (which hopefully you will never read!) was soon followed by other, much better manuscripts (which hopefully you will read!).
Today, in addition to writing novels, Michelle is owner of a dance studio, dance instructor (belly dance, if you must know) and director of a professional dance company (Farfesha Belly Dance). She has also produced three instructional videos and teaches workshops around the world.
Michelle is married (see above, KISA) with two beautiful daughters (one of whom is a budding novelist herself) and one very spoiled, but very sweet Labrador Retriever. She lives in Albuquerque, NM.
If you liked this book, check out The King’s Rebel, also available on Amazon!
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