by June Francis
Kate glanced at Owain’s brooding profile. Was he thinking of the beautiful Gwendolyn who had once been like a sister to him? Perhaps he was not as indifferent to her attractions as he appeared to be? ‘Hal said you were a seer. If that is true, could you not have prevented your father’s marriage?’ she asked.
Owain frowned. ‘Just because I have foreseen how certain events would turn out, it does not say I have the sight. Most folk with sense can do the same…but Hal likes to believe otherwise. Do you understand?’
She nodded, wondering whether now was the time to ask about his home, but he had turned away and appeared absorbed in his own thoughts once more. She gazed about her at the other travellers and the scenery. Trees had been cut well back from the road to deter sudden attacks from outlaws. Brambles grew in the grassy verges, and she could see ripening blackberries peeping out between the leaves. She had always enjoyed this time of year when the harvesting began and food was plentiful. Suddenly she became aware of a horse approaching at speed and saw a rider galloping towards them. She recognised Hal.
‘You must put on all speed, Owain,’ he yelled. ‘Father’s fallen from his horse and is lying as one dead. Gwendolyn has gone off somewhere to weave her spells at a distance, believing she can get away with what she has done.’
‘You believe she is responsible for your father’s fall?’ cried Kate, urging her mount forward.
‘Aye. She looked scared and then furious when I told her Owain was on his way here with his betrothed, the Lady Catherine of Merebury. She accused you of your husband’s murder and of being an adulteress.’
Kate gasped. ‘That is slanderous talk.’
A muscle in Owain’s jaw tightened. ‘What did Father say?’ he demanded.
His brother turned his horse. ‘He repeated her words. Davy said he was talking nonsense, but Father told him to shut his mouth and continued to rage, blustering and threatening to throw you off his land as soon as you showed your face. Davy tried to get him to see sense, but he was not prepared to listen.’
‘So how did he come to fall from his horse?’ asked Owain, digging his heels into Merlin’s flanks.
‘It was just as he mounted his horse that it happened. No sooner was he in the saddle than he slipped sidewards and fell. There was no one near him at the time and the horse did not move. It can only be that she put a spell on him.’
‘Did he bang his head?’ asked Owain.
‘Davy rushed forward and broke his fall.’
Owain said no more, but urged Merlin into a canter. Kate followed suit, but had difficulty keeping up with the two brothers. Inside her head echoed the words your husband’s murderer and an adulteress. Obviously the accusation of adulterer in connection with Lady Catherine had never occurred to Owain.
As they passed fields, where men laboured at the barley harvest and horses and cattle grazed, she caught sight of what must surely be Rowan Manor. From a distance its walls appeared rosy red as the sun caught the sandstone; the building appeared to be a fair size. It was not long before they were riding beneath an archway into a courtyard. Hens scattered before them and from somewhere nearby came the grunting of swine. A serving man, several stable boys and an elderly woman came hurrying out of various buildings.
‘Master Owain, you’re home at last and not a moment too soon,’ called one of the men.
‘Where are my father and brother?’ asked Owain, dismounting.
‘Master Davy is sitting with Sir Hywel in his bedchamber. The physician came swiftly, but he says there is nothing he can do and that the priest should be sent for. Megan has gone to fetch him.’
‘Let us not give up hope yet,’ said Owain. Lifting Kate down from the pony, he introduced her to the members of the household. ‘This is the Lady Catherine, my betrothed. You will see that she receives every courtesy in your power.’ He turned to the woman. ‘Agnes, show the Lady to the best guest bedchamber.’
‘Aye, Master Owain.’
‘Edward, bring the baggage in. Robbie, see to the horses and send one of the lads to Chester to return the hired one.’ Owain hurried up the steps that led to the entrance and disappeared inside. Hal raced after him.
Accompanied by Agnes, Kate climbed the steps more slowly. She paused inside and gazed about the hall. Its walls were hung with tapestries, depicting various scenes from the chase and beneath her feet was rush matting. In an enormous fireplace, flames embraced what appeared to be half a tree trunk. But she had no time to note the rest of the furnishings as Agnes scurried towards a staircase at the far end. ‘This way, my Lady,’ she called.
Kate followed her and was soon shown into a spacious bedchamber, furnished with a large bed, an armoire, a carved chest, a washstand and a cushioned chair. A fair chamber, she thought, worthy of an honoured guest. But how long would she be here? And where was Gwendolyn? She went over to the window and looked out over the vegetable and herb gardens.
‘You have no maid with you, my Lady,’ said Agnes. ‘Will I send the head groom’s daughter, Megan, to you when she returns?’
Kate turned and faced her. ‘Of a surety. Tell me, Agnes, have you any notion where your mistress has gone?’
The woman’s rheumy pale blue eyes dropped beneath her gaze. ‘Would she tell the likes of me, my Lady?’
Kate stared at her intently. ‘Why not? No doubt you have lived here most of your life and were here when your mistress came as a girl. Perhaps you were even given the task of tending her every need as a child. Maybe you do know where she is and she has set you to spy on us whilst she keeps her distance.’
Agnes’s eyes darted to her face and she wailed, ‘He must have told you that, for how else would you know?’
‘He? You mean Master Owain ap Rowan?’
Agnes chewed on her lip with toothless gums. ‘He has the sight. That’s why he’s useful to them,’ she mumbled.
Kate seized on the last word. ‘Them?’
A crafty expression came over the woman’s face. ‘You knows the ones I mean. Methinks you be another like him. Although the mistress says you don’t have the power…that it is the woman who was your nurse and her daughter that have knowledge of the old ways…as did the nurse’s man before he met with his death.’
Kate was stunned. Who had told Gwendolyn that she and her mother knew the ancient rhyming spells? They had always kept that knowledge to themselves. Could her father have told Sir Roger? She frowned. And what had the crone meant about Owain’s gift being of use to them? ‘Name me one name,’ she demanded abruptly, fixing the old woman with a stare. ‘If you don’t, I will inform Master ap Rowan that you have been insolent and he will turn you from his gates to beg for your bread.’
Agnes gasped. ‘He would do no such thing. I was here when he was born. I served his mother and grandmother.’
‘I am to be his wife. He would let me have my way. I will keep quiet if you give me a name,’ demanded Kate, her tone inflexible.
Agnes looked uneasy. ‘My Lady Gwendolyn, the Frenchman and the friar will not like it.’
‘So they have been here recently.’ Kate controlled a shudder. ‘For what purpose?’
The old woman mumbled, ‘Always they want money and news.’
‘News of whom? Master Owain?’
The old woman chewed on her lip. ‘Aye! As well as the King’s half-brothers, the Earls of Pembroke and Richmond. There, I’ve said it. But you must not tell anyone that I told you.’ She shivered and glanced over her shoulder.
Kate dismissed Agnes and sank on to the bed. Why were the Comte and the friar so interested in the King’s half-brothers? She must speak to Owain as soon as possible, but knew his father’s needs must come first.
Owain gazed down at the man in the bed, regretting the rift between them. A large, burly figure, his father had emanated power and arrogance all his life. Now he appeared to have aged ten years. The corner of his left eyelid looked as if pulled by an invisible string and he was drooling from the corner of his mouth. His left hand lay, seemingly lif
eless, on the richly embroidered blue coverlet. Sir Hywel had opened his mouth ten minutes ago, but his speech had been slurred and the words incomprehensible.
Much to Owain’s irritation, Hal had declared that their father was possessed and in need of exorcising.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Davy from the other side of the bed, his dark eyes meeting Owain’s.
‘What would you have me do?’
Hal broke into the exchange. ‘Have the priest come or find Gwendolyn and make her lift the spell,’ he said firmly.
A derisive laugh rumbled in Davy’s throat. ‘If she wanted to persuade him to change his will in her and the child’s favour, it does not make sense to put Father in a condition where he is unable to make his wishes known.’
Owain murmured, ‘I have seen a man struck down like this before where some spoke of devilry, but then he recovered and all claimed a miracle had taken place.’
‘You sound as if you don’t believe in miracles,’ burst out Hal.
Owain said gently, ‘I’m sure they do happen.’ He was reminded of Kate pretending to be dumb and her claim to a miracle later. He smiled faintly at the memory.
‘We should try and find Gwendolyn so as to keep an eye on her,’ stated Hal. ‘I’m sure you could tell us where she is if you wanted to.’
Owain could hazard a guess as to his stepmother’s whereabouts, but had no intention of going in search of her. ‘I must speak with Lady Kate before I make a decision,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Hal, you stay with Father. Davy, you’d best get back to your work.’
‘How long must I sit with him?’ said Hal, frowning.
‘Until either I or Davy take your place,’ ordered Owain, heading for the door with his middle brother just behind him.
Once outside Davy said, ‘What say you to the accusation that you murdered the Lady’s husband and have committed adultery with her?’
‘I say that Gwendolyn had it in mind to accuse me of such before my arrival. Instigated, no doubt, by the Comte d’Azay or her uncle, who must know of my search for the Lady and the Fletchers. When were they last here?’
‘I don’t know. You forget, brother, that I’ve been in France, too.’
Grimfaced, Owain said, ‘At least he won’t get any more money from Father now.’
‘You think he will die?’
‘He is in God’s care. I will say no more than that.’
Silently, they walked to the top of the staircase before going their separate ways.
Owain made haste to his old bedchamber. His baggage had been brought up and the bed made, and he was glad to see a fire burning in a brazier. He felt cold. It had been a shock to see his father laid so low and he only hoped that he would regain his speech long enough for them to heal the rift between them. He delved into one of his saddlebags and removed a package wrapped in oilskin. He went over to the wall next to the bed and removed a block of sandstone a few feet from the floor. Behind was a cavity in which he placed the package before replacing the stone. That done, he went over to the carved chest at the foot of the bed and flung up the lid, hoping that his father had not got rid of all his possessions.
He was relieved to find some of his old clothes within its depths and took out undergarments, a linen shirt, a dark green doublet and rust-coloured hose. All were clean and smelt of lavender and he knew that he had Mistress Carver to thank for that.
He must change and find Kate. Sweet Kate! He wanted to tell her the secret that Sir Thomas had imparted to him, but had sworn an oath that he would leave the telling to her mother. He did not doubt that sooner or later Kate would lead him to Beth Fletcher. He guessed that his love would react angrily at first. Hopefully, she would soon realise the benefit of the change in her circumstances. Remembering her response to him when he had held her naked in his arms on that Brittany beach, he felt a heat in his blood and had to force himself to veer his thoughts away from her and concentrate on his father. The next twenty-four hours could bring about such a change in his own position that he could offer for Kate’s hand and, hopefully, Sir Thomas would consider him worthy of her and would not withhold his permission if matters went his way.
He combed his windswept black curls and went in search of Kate. Not finding her in the house, he went outside to search for her. Eventually he heard her voice imparting wisdom concerning the healing property of comfrey, also known as boneset and bruisewort. He entered the herb garden by a picket gate in the bay hedge to see her talking to Megan. At the sound of his footsteps, Kate turned a smiling face towards him. His heart seemed to turn over in his chest.
‘How fares your father?’ she asked, her expression becoming grave.
Owain gained control of his emotions and covered the distance between them. ‘He has gained consciousness but is not himself.’
‘I will leave you, my Lady,’ said Megan, and hurried away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Kate said, ‘Will you have to stay here?’
‘That decision will be made for me in the next few days.’ He took her hand and drew it through his arm and began to walk along a path set between low-growing thyme and pennyroyal. He was aware that her fingers quivered as they rested on his sleeve. ‘Hal would have me go in search of Gwendolyn.’
‘You know where she is?’
‘Chester or Nether Alderley…but I see no sense in pursuing her. She will return of her own volition and no doubt she will not come alone.’
She looked at him. ‘Agnes told me that the friar and the Comte are often here, asking for money and news of the Earls of Richmond and Pembroke.’
Owain’s stride faltered and he slanted her a searching glance. ‘I guess she did not volunteer that information,’ he murmured.
She pulled a face. ‘Not immediately. She also said that, because you have the sight, you’re useful to some unnamed persons. Does she mean Sir Thomas?’
He shook his head as in disbelief. ‘What other fodder did she throw your way?’
Kate hesitated and whispered, ‘She knows that Mother and I have knowledge of the old rhyming spells. I can only believe our enemies found this out from Sir Roger before he died. I want to believe that my—my father would not have willingly revealed it, knowing such information could be used by our enemies if they decided to get rid of us by bringing a charge of witchcraft against us.’
‘That’s why now they must not suspect your real identity,’ said Owain, thinking it was vital they both played their roles as a betrothed couple to the hilt. The least suspicion that it was a hoax and she was not the Lady Catherine Miles could prove fatal.
‘I’m sorry to worry you with such things when your concern for your father is so great,’ said Kate, rousing him from his reverie.
‘I am glad you feel you can trust me with your worries.’ Owain raised her hand to his lips and planted a kiss on her palm. All sensible thought fled as she felt that tingle that never failed to thrill. Here was magic enough for her without any need to ensnare with love potions or spells.
‘I shall order a watch be kept for the Comte and the friar and any sighting of either to be reported to me before they are allowed into the house. Shall we take another turn round the garden before we dine? Regretfully, I will have to leave you to your own devices afterwards. I must sit with my father.’
Dinner was a sombre meal. People spoke in hushed voices and Kate was aware of being the focus of numerous pairs of eyes. She was introduced to the local priest, who congratulated her on her betrothal. She thanked him, although convinced it would all end in tears. Conversation was spasmodic. The priest questioned Kate about her pilgrimage. Davy talked to Owain about the brood mares in foal and the barley harvest. As soon as the meal was over, Owain excused himself and the priest accompanied him from the hall. Kate went to her bedchamber and took up her sewing. She was making a kirtle with the scarlet Venetian cotton and settled comfortably to her task.
Shadows were filling the corners of the room when there came a knock on her door. ‘My fath
er is failing and I want you to come to his bedside before he dies,’ called Owain.
‘Then I will come,’ she said, opening the door.
He took her hand and hurried her along a passageway lit by torches in sconces every few yards. Both were silent as they rounded a corner and sped along another passage until Owain stopped in front of a massive door. He ushered her into a vast, candlelit bedchamber.
Kate’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large bed set against a far wall. Its curtains were tied back and Hal and Davy were seated on one side of it and the priest on the other.
Owain drew Kate forward. Her heart thudded in her breast as they stopped at the foot of the bed. She gazed down at the dying man, observing that one side of his face was dragged down and his breathing was shallow.
‘Father!’ called Owain. There was no response, so he repeated the word. Slowly one of the man’s eyes opened and he fixed it on his son. ‘This is the Lady Catherine, my betrothed,’ said Owain earnestly. ‘She will tell you the truth about Sir Roger. We are both innocent of the accusations Gwendolyn levelled against us.’
With obvious difficulty Sir Hywel opened the other eye, but there was no sign of recognition in his face, although he continued to stare at them both for what felt like an age without moving. There was something about his immobility that caused a cold shiver to run down Kate’s spine. Suddenly his breathing stopped.
A haggard-faced Owain hurried to the side of the bed and placed two fingers against his father’s neck. ‘He’s dead,’ he muttered.
The priest reached past him and closed the dead man’s eyes, chanting as he did so. Owain’s hand crushed Kate’s and, turning away from the bed, he drew her from the bedchamber.
