by June Francis
‘I think not. She has me to care for her now, and there is our own priest to see to her spiritual needs.’
There was a taut silence and then the friar said, ‘As you wish…but allow me to speak on behalf of the Lady Gwendolyn on a matter she does not wish to mention to you herself. She is worried that in the excitement and cost involved in your taking a bride that you will be distracted from your duty to her, Master ap Rowan.’
‘I do not need reminding of my duty to my father’s widow,’ said Owain coldly. ‘I see no need for you to be here on this manor. I want you off my land within the hour.’
The friar’s thin lips tightened and his hand fastened on the rope that served as a girdle at his waist. ‘I am concerned only for the Lady Gwendolyn. Your brother tells me you have been to Chester to visit the family lawyer. You should have consulted with your priest first and he would have gone with you. One cannot always trust these lawyers.’
Owain raised his dark eyebrows. ‘You think not? Our priest has no need to fear and I am certain he knows that. He will receive the legacy that my father promised for the repair of the church roof, as well as one of our finest mares. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must find the Lady Catherine.’ He strode from the hall.
‘See, Uncle, it is as I said and she is all he can think about. No doubt, despite his fine words, he intends cheating me out of what is mine.’ Gwendolyn’s voice carried across the hall.
Owain turned on his heel and returned to where she and the friar were seated. ‘As his widow you are entitled to a third of my father’s estate, Gwendolyn. Although it will not be as much as you might have hoped for—it appears that my father has been spending large sums of money without explaining what they were for. No doubt you know where the money has gone?’
Two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks. ‘I am not his man of business, so how should I know what he’s done with his money?’ she cried. ‘Or is it that you want an excuse not to include the child I carry in the payments? As Sir Hywel’s son, surely he is entitled to a share of his estate?’
Owain’s eyes glinted with anger. ‘A decision about the child is best left until it is born. As for you, Friar Stephen, if you are still here when I return, I will have great pleasure in removing you bodily.’
He did not wait to see the effect of those words on them, but left the hall to seek out Kate. He took the stairs two at a time and hurried along the passageway until he came to her chamber. He rapped his knuckles on the door and called her name. Immediately she answered and he heard the bolt being drawn. The door opened to reveal Kate and Megan. Instantly he dismissed the serving maid.
As soon as Megan was out of earshot, Kate said lightly, ‘You would let the servants know that you visit me in my bedchamber without a chaperon, Owain? What will that do for my reputation?’
‘I’m glad you’re still able to jest, Kate.’ He closed the door and rested his back again it. ‘Despite my orders, the friar is with Gwendolyn down in the hall.’
Kate gasped. ‘I am glad I bolted the door. Does she suspect I am not the Lady Catherine? She angered me and I said what I aught not have done.’
‘She referred to you as Lady Catherine, so I think not. I told them that the Fletchers were killed crossing the Pyrenees and I could see in the friar’s eyes that news came as a relief to him. Perhaps you can tell me why later. I want you to stay here until we know for certain he has left. The speed they arrived after my father’s death convinces me that he was most likely staying in the abbey lodging house in Chester and that Gwendolyn knew where to find him. It is near enough for Agnes to go there with the tidings of my father’s death and to enable Gwendolyn and the friar to return here the same day. God only knows where Comte d’Azay is, but no doubt a message will have been sent to him.’
‘She must have taken a different route, otherwise we would have passed her on the road yesterday,’ said Kate.
Owain nodded. ‘There are other paths, although on horseback they would be hazardous for a woman in her condition. What did she say to upset you?’
Kate hesitated, twisting her hands together. He reached out and took hold of her fingers, stilling them. ‘Come, sweeting, there is no need to fear telling me the truth.’
His touch and his use of the endearment sent delight trickling through her veins like warm honey and encouraged her to be honest with him. ‘She told me you were once lovers.’
He cocked a devilishly dark eyebrow. ‘Never!’
‘Also that the child she carries is yours.’
He laughed. ‘Impossible! Besides, she has just told me she carries my father’s son and wishes to lay claim to part of his estate for him. Whether that is true or not…’
Kate smiled. ‘I told her that I did not believe her child was yours—that you would not have betrayed your father.’
His eyes held a flicker of appreciation and he bent and kissed her mouth. ‘Sweet Kate. Now bolt the door after me. I will return as soon as I can.’
Owain hurried away but instead of immediately going down to the hall, he went to his own bedchamber, not only to change his travel-stained garments, but also to see whether his hiding place in the wall had been interfered with. In the past he had never been certain whether Gwendolyn had knowledge of the hidey-hole where he had kept his boyish treasures: a peacock’s iridescent feather, a pebble with the remains of some long-dead creature embedded in it, a Roman coin he had found whilst fishing in the Dee.
The stone was slightly out of alignment and he sat back on his heels, relieved that he had made the decision that morning to hand the copy of Lady Catherine’s will over to the family lawyer for safe keeping. He had sent a message to Sir Thomas, bringing him up to date with most of what had happened on his travels, as well as the news of his father’s death.
He rose to his feet and made haste to the hall, half-hoping to find the friar there, so he would have the excuse to throw him out. But Gwendolyn’s uncle was gone and so had Jonathan and the hound. She still sat on the settle; the expression on her pale-skinned face caused him to wonder what she was plotting now. She appeared completely oblivious to the preparations going on about her for the evening meal. He did not speak to her, but made his way to the stables and asked one of the grooms whether the friar had gone.
‘Aye, Master Owain. He left a short while ago and appeared to be in a foul mood, kicking out at the stable lad as he mounted.’
Owain nodded, glad to be rid of the man, although he did not doubt they would confront each other again.
‘So tell me, Lady Catherine, how did you and Owain meet?’ asked Gwendolyn, moving restlessly in her chair. Two days had passed since the death of Sir Hywel, but it was the first time she had sat at table with the rest of the family and Kate.
‘You were there when Davy told Father that Owain had met her in Spain where she was on pilgrimage,’ said Hal, reaching for more bread. ‘And your question proves that you lied when you accused Owain of murder and adultery.’
‘My thanks for reminding me, Hal,’ she said in a silky voice, fixing him with a stare.
He shifted uncomfortably and seemed to have trouble looking away. Guessing what the other woman was trying to do, Kate leaned forward to block Hal from her vision and changed the subject. ‘Have you ever been on pilgrimage, Lady Gwendolyn?’ Her voice was icily polite.
Gwendolyn’s mouth tightened; picking up her spoon, she dipped it into the bowl of pottage. ‘My uncle is my spiritual advisor and he says a pilgrimage is an indulgence and an excuse to escape one’s duty.’
‘Even so, you should consider a pilgrimage—one is never the same afterwards,’ said Kate.
Gwendolyn flashed a honeyed smile. ‘I have no wish to be someone different. As for travelling abroad to St James’s shrine—surely it was a foolish notion of yours so soon after your husband’s death? No wonder there were rumours.’
‘No more foolish than your behaviour at this table,’ rasped Owain. ‘You forget your manners, Gwendolyn. Also, it strikes me that you know too
much about what happened at Lady Catherine’s manor that day. No doubt your so-called spiritual advisor and your lover were in the vicinity and had their own reasons for wanting Sir Roger dead.’
‘How dare you accuse me of having a lover?’ cried Gwendolyn, her face twitching as she lumbered to her feet, clutching her belly. ‘You have no consideration for me at all. You ordered my uncle to leave just when I was most in need of spiritual succour. I deem that it will be I who will be asked to leave my home next. Your father welcomed him and you had no right to alter his orders.’
‘He has every right,’ rumbled Davy from the other end of the table. ‘He is Father’s heir, not that bastard you carry in your womb.’
‘So it is you I have to blame for such falsehoods.’ Gwendolyn shot out an arm and pointed a finger at Davy. ‘I will curse you and that slut you would marry.’
Owain banged the table with the hilt of his knife. ‘Enough! The servants are listening. Gwendolyn, you should be resting. Your time is near and we want nothing to befall you or your child.’
‘You mean that you do want that. You threaten me!’ Her eyes were wild. ‘I will curse you, too. You and your…’
‘Stop it!’ roared Owain. ‘No one is threatening you, you foolish woman.’
‘She is a threat to me! I will curse her.’ Gwendolyn turned on Kate, only to double up and clutch her stomach. ‘Ahhh! The pain. She wants to destroy me and my child.’
Exasperated, Kate got to her feet. ‘It is obvious that your travail has started. I will fetch Agnes and she will accompany you to your bedchamber.’
‘Nay! I do not want you having any part in this.’ Gwendolyn backed away and turned to one of the serving men. ‘Fetch Agnes.’ Even as he hurried away, she held up an arm between herself and Kate as if to ward her off.
Owain swore under his breath and his brothers exchanged glances and rolled their eyes. Kate whispered to Owain, ‘I do not envy the midwife and Agnes. All I can do is to pray for a safe delivery for her and her child.’
He nodded. ‘Best for all of us if she had joined her lover. As it is, I will ensure that the midwife and Agnes receive all the help they need in seeing her through her travail.’
Kate was woken about eight the following morning by screams. Megan informed her that the Lady Gwendolyn had laboured all night, but that the midwife considered it would not be long now before the baby was born. Kate washed, dressed and went downstairs, to find the three brothers breaking their fast.
Afterwards Kate, accompanied by Megan, sat in the parlour and sewed. Owain joined them there, sitting at a small table and reading the answers to his invitations to his father’s funeral on the morrow. Shortly before ten o’clock the screams ceased. Kate’s hands stilled and she glanced at Owain. He raised his eyebrows. She turned to Megan, ‘Run up and see whether the baby has been born and how fares the Lady Gwendolyn.’
Megan wasted no time in doing as asked.
A short while later the maid returned, accompanied by the midwife cradling a baby wrapped in a blanket. She looked past Kate to Owain. ‘The Lady Gwendolyn has given birth to a daughter, Master Owain, but she has told me to let her die,’ she said, distressed.
He was amazed. ‘Is there aught wrong with the child?’
‘Nay, sir. She’s strong in wind and limb. But the lady wanted a son and refuses even to hold the child.’
Kate went over to the midwife and drew back the blanket to reveal a small screwed-up face topped by a mop of red-gold hair. Owain rose and gazed down at the child. With a helpless gesture, he murmured, ‘With such hair I cannot help but think…’
The baby whimpered and pity smote Kate’s heart. ‘But who is to say that in your father’s ancestry there wasn’t someone with such hair?’ she whispered.
‘That is true,’ he said, sounding relieved. ‘She has survived what must have been an arduous birth, so should have her chance. But if Gwendolyn will have naught to do with her—what do we do?’
‘The midwife could place her with a wet nurse if she knows of one.’ Kate turned to the woman.
‘The smith’s wife has recently given birth, Master Owain,’ said the midwife with a smiling nod. ‘Shall I take her to her?’
‘Aye,’ said Owain, ‘and see that she is baptised.’
‘What name shall we give her?’ asked the midwife.
Owain exchanged a glance with Kate. ‘What was your mother’s name?’ she asked.
‘Anna,’ he murmured.
‘Then shall she be Anna?’ asked the midwife.
He nodded and dismissed her and Megan.
As soon as they left, he turned to Kate. ‘The babe is easily dealt with, but Gwendolyn is a different matter altogether. If she recovers from the birth, I have no doubt that once she is up and about then she will be hellbent on making trouble for us.’
Kate said seriously, ‘Then you must get rid of her. Once she gets her hands on her widow’s portion, she should set up her own establishment in the company of a sensible, older woman, and have naught else to do with her uncle or the Comte.’
Owain’s expression was sombre. ‘I doubt she will do that—she is too much under their influence. Besides, it could be that they will want her to stay on here as their spy.’
‘Why do they need to spy on you? What is it they want from you?’ asked Kate, a tiny crease of worry between her fair brows.
He smiled faintly. ‘Perhaps they think I know more about their affairs than I do.’ He took her hand and clasped it firmly. ‘Then there is you, Kate. They might believe the Fletchers dead, but Lady Catherine could still be a threat to them. She might have heard them plotting against the King when Sir Roger was supposedly turning base metal into gold.’
Kate’s eyes widened. ‘You believe them traitors?’
‘These are uncertain and dangerous times. Even if the King recovers from his sickness—as I hope—there are those who would rather see England ruled by someone stronger. There are many who believe there are others of the royal blood who have more right to the throne than Henry of Lancaster.’
Kate paled. ‘The King’s half-brother, the Earl of Richmond, could he be one of these men?’
Owain shook his head, toying with her fingers. ‘They share the same mother, so it’s in his interest to support Henry.’
Kate nodded. ‘I was not thinking clearly. I spoke his name, only because Agnes mentioned it. But perhaps his life could be in danger because of his closeness and influence on the King.’
Owain smiled. ‘It is possible. But we have discussed this enough for now.’ He drew her hand through his arm. ‘Let’s go outside. There’s a mare, no use for breeding, that I wish to show you.’
‘Why is she of no use for breeding?’ asked Kate.
‘A stray stallion ran amok amongst the mares and covered one before we could capture him. The offspring of that union is not pure bred, but she has nice manners. We’ll go through the orchard, so you can pluck an apple for her and make friends.’ He smiled down at Kate with such warmth in his eyes that her heart was filled with love for him.
As they walked beneath trees heavy with fruit, she wished that she did not have to leave this place. The air was filled with birdsong and when the sun came out from behind the clouds, sending beams of pale golden light through the branches, she experienced an explosion of pure happiness. Yet she was going to have to leave and soon, thought Kate, bending to pick up a windfall apple.
Owain opened a gate and they went through into a meadow where there were several horses. He caught and brought a dapple-grey mare towards her. Kate realised that the horse was no beauty—her head was too large for her body and her legs seemed too short. Wisps of grass hung from the mare’s mouth as she ambled towards her as if in a dream. Kate held out the apple on the palm of her hand and the mare blew gently down her nostrils, lipping her fingers before taking the fruit gently in one gulp.
‘Her name is Epona,’ said Owain with a twinkle in his eye. ‘She is the perfect lady’s mount, so if you wish to ride at
any time…’
Kate thanked him with a laugh in her voice. ‘Epona was an equestrian goddess, worshipped by those who followed the old religion. Whoever named her was surely jesting. She does not have the appearance of a goddess.’
‘I named her. I wanted to make up to her for her ill appearance.’ He patted the horse’s neck.
A slight pucker formed between Kate’s brows as she stroked Epona’s muzzle. ‘But you must have learnt something of the old religion to know the goddess’s name.’
‘It pays to know as much as one can about our enemies’ interests,’ said Owain lightly. ‘But I question whether Sir Roger really believed in the existence of the old gods and goddesses. I believe what attracted him was that they were worshipped at a time when men discovered that by applying great heat to lumps of different rocks, they were able to extract metal from the stone. You will have seen a smith hammering red hot iron into shape…imagine the excitement felt by those ancients when copper, tin, silver and gold ran in liquid form separate from the rock.’
‘It must have been exciting, unbelievable…magical,’ said Kate, trying to picture the scene.
‘Some would definitely believe it magic.’ Owain smiled. ‘And think about those ancients mixing iron with tin and making bronze…copper and zinc and discovering brass.’
‘But even those metals corrode,’ said Kate.
Owain nodded. ‘Silver, too.’
‘But not gold…and that’s why the King and other gullible fools are prepared to hand over chests of coin to Sir Roger.’ Kate nibbled on her nether lip.
‘So you know there was more than one chest?’
Kate hesitated. ‘It would make sense. Coin is heavy and easier to carry in small chests, rather than one large one. Do you think Sir Roger was murdered for the coin he had collected?’
Owain hesitated, then said smoothly, ‘It’s as good a reason as any. Who knew about the money?’
‘My father, of course…but as he was already dead he could not have murdered Sir Roger. What about Sir Thomas? Surely he would have known about the chests,’ said Kate.
