In Debt to the Enemy Lord

by Nicole Locke

  Teague. Robert. Brynmor. Gwalchdu.

  She made more comparisons. Annoyed at herself, she adjusted her chair.

  ‘Welcome, Anwen, we have been waiting for you.’ Urien pronounced each word slowly.

  Turning her head pointedly away, she sat and the servants immediately brought great platters of food. Anwen’s mouth watered as she spied soup made of honey, spices and breadcrumbs, white peas, fish with ale sauce and boiled rabbit in spicy almond-milk sauce. No expense was spared to feed Gwalchdu’s lord.

  She tried to concentrate on her trencher, but Teague leaned over. ‘I thought you would ignore my request.’

  ‘I want no battle with you.’

  Teague arched one eyebrow. ‘No? Then what do you want with me?’

  Before she could answer, Robert interrupted. ‘Let her eat, Teague, it has been a long day. She’ll not keep anything down with you towering over her. Anwen, how do you fare?’

  ‘I am well, Sir Robert. Lord Gwalchdu has been most kind in taking care of me these many weeks.’

  ‘I am sure you expected no kindness from one who sides with the English.’

  Teague turned to Robert. ‘So she gives you no rest in that, too?’

  Robert shook his head. ‘Not for a moment, despite all these years.’

  So like men to talk around her. ‘It is difficult to forget, when your very presence is a reminder of why you are here.’

  Robert glanced at the stairs leading to the resident rooms above. ‘I haven’t forgotten why I am here.’

  Teague began another conversation with Robert, but Anwen did not join in. She was too famished to be much company and she intended to use the food to ignore the man sitting next to her.

  But it was impossible. The shared trencher gave him too close a proximity to her and he was always touching her. Their hands would reach for the goblet at the same time and his palm would cover her hand, or his fingers linked with hers. So, too, he would lean and his leg or arm brushed against her. Each time the ephemeral contact would go through her. It made her warm, then hot. Made her breath catch, her heart pound. Each touch added to another and she was again reminded of his lips touching hers, his fingers thrusting through her hair, his body pressed against hers. Her eating slowed, then stopped as she tried to regain some balance.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  Teague’s words skimmed over her ear.

  ‘I believe I am no longer hungry,’ she said.

  ‘Are you not?’

  Anwen shook her head briefly. The almost-full trencher mocked her growling stomach, but she didn’t know if she could get anything past the restriction in her throat.

  Teague kept his gaze on her. Slowly, she took in the fine weave of his tunic and how soft it appeared against the cords of his bare throat. Further up to the indentations and shadows of his jaw, and the small curved scar across his cheek. When she reached his eyes, they were midnight intent.

  ‘I find I grow hungrier the longer I sit at this table with you.’ Teague spoke in a low voice, the deepness of which hummed under her skin. He tilted his head, his eyes skimmed over her features. ‘Ah, you’re lying to me again, Anwen. Your face is flushed, the lids of your eyes almost slumberous; these are manifestations of hunger, but I think we’ll not be able to find our repast here at this table.’ Teague leaned closer. ‘I cannot eat for thoughts of your lips touching me instead of this food.’

  Anwen forced ale down her throat. What was happening to her? Before she could answer him, a high keening sound exploded across the hall.

  It was Ffion. Sprawled on the floor, her black gown askew, she twitched and kicked the air. Vomit and food smeared her face.

  Teague and Robert reacted immediately. Urien blustered and stuttered at the sudden commotion. Shocked, Anwen watched Teague force a wooden spoon between Ffion’s teeth. Robert restrained her arms and legs. The entire hall hushed; people stilled, wide eyed and afraid.

  ‘What must be done?’ Anwen knelt next to Robert and grabbed one of Ffion’s arms to hold it to her side.

  Teague held Ffion’s head between his two hands. ‘We wait until it stops.’

  When Ffion’s shaking slowly decreased, Teague lifted her. ‘We need to get her to her rooms. She will not want to waken here.’

  Robert stood. ‘I will show you the way.’

  Anwen caught Melun’s worried eye and followed the two men.

  * * *

  An hour later, Anwen still sat at Ffion’s bedside. The Sister’s sleep was less fitful, but her greyish complexion remained. Standing, she addressed Robert and Teague, who stood as if guarding the door. ‘I will go and get some hot water, linens and food. She may also want some repast when she wakes.’

  Teague’s eyes were tired. ‘Thank you.’

  Anwen nodded before closing the door behind her.

  Robert pointed to Ffion lying on the bed. ‘Is she possessed?’

  Teague closed his eyes briefly. ‘No, it has been her condition since childhood.’

  ‘It is like that boy at Cilmeri.’

  ‘Without the bloodshed or the trauma,’ Teague added. ‘I wish Greta from my household was here. She and Edith have some understanding with Ffion’s afflictions and is a great help.’

  ‘She is resting, perhaps that will be enough.’ Robert crossed his arms. ‘The Church knows?’

  Teague nodded. ‘It has never been spoken of aloud.’

  ‘It is a wonder she has not been burned.’

  Teague’s expression darkened. ‘She is family and I am rich. A fact the Church appreciates.’

  ‘It is good you are much favoured,’ Robert said. ‘I will do what I must to keep this quiet.’

  Teague placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder. ‘I appreciate it, but do not tax yourself.’

  ‘Yes, but if Edward discovered your aunt is afflicted, the consequences—’

  ‘Edward knows,’ Teague interrupted.

  Astonished, Robert was silent a moment, before he replied, ‘Your Devil’s blood. That’s why you’re called the Devil of Gwalchdu.’

  ‘At first the rumours were pointed to her, when I could—’

  ‘You took it for your own advantage,’ Robert interrupted.

  ‘Not without some penalty.’ Teague nodded at Ffion. ‘She has paid much because of that rumour that started before I was born. I regret that I could not dissipate it sooner for her sake.’

  ‘Hence you pay the Church and use her affliction so that men fear you on the battlefield?’

  ‘My skill with a sword should have been enough; what I wished was to slash every tongue that spread such whispers.’

  ‘I think they knew that.’ Robert released his arms. ‘What are your intentions with Anwen?’

  Teague had expected this conversation with Robert since the moment he requested to share a trencher. Even so, he did not know how to answer. His request was impulsive. In the mews he had been reluctant to let her go and sitting next to her at the table was an opportunity to keep her close. But his intentions? Of those, he was not certain. His emotions when it came to her were foreign to him.

  Keeping his voice neutral, he answered, ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘She is much loved here. The people need her, respect her, follow her. She has worked hard for that respect and shares their burden and their pleasure. If she were hurt, it would damage what peace there is between Gwalchdu and Brynmor.’

  ‘Is it only the people who would be displeased?’

  Robert’s jaw locked. ‘No, I would be, as well.’

  Teague pounced at the confession. ‘What is she to you?’

  Robert glanced at Ffion’s sleeping form. ‘I have known Anwen a long time and have come to respect and care for her as a sister. That is all, but it is enough. I will not see her hurt.’

&n
bsp; Teague assessed Robert’s words. ‘I do not wish her harm.’

  Robert nodded once.

  Teague’s lips twisted wryly. ‘You believe me?’

  ‘Your word has always been enough for me.’

  ‘But we have not fought together for a long time and there has been much conflict between us. Matters and politics have changed greatly in the last ten years.’

  ‘My trust in you has not,’ Robert said.

  Teague have a low laugh. ‘You have softened, my friend.’

  ‘In many ways. My needs have changed from the times of the wars and conquests. I now value hearth and home.’

  ‘But Brynmor is not yours as long as Urien is here. Why is he still here, Robert? If you value Brynmor so, Edward would have easily given it to you as a prize.’

  ‘There is something here I value more than land.’

  ‘Is it Anwen?’ Teague felt a flash of possessive anger.

  Robert smiled secretively. ‘No, but I find it interesting that you ask if it is she.’

  Teague did not like secrets. ‘I will be staying a few days.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I need to ascertain a matter concerning me at this time.’

  ‘What you do with Brynmor concerns me, Teague. I have a right to know what it is.’

  ‘Not in this, you don’t.’

  ‘If it involves Anwen or anyone else—’ Robert said.

  Teague interrupted. ‘You mention Anwen again, Robert. What is she here? You have told me nothing about her position, yet it is clear she is no mere astringer or servant.’

  Robert turned towards the door. ‘It seems we all have our secrets, don’t we?’

  ‘I will find the answers I need. I merely wished for your cooperation.’

  Robert stopped at the door. ‘As long as it is in Brynmor’s best interests I’ll cooperate, but it is best you remember I am not under Gwalchdu’s rule.’

  * * *

  Sitting at her bedroom window, Anwen stretched the sleep from her shoulders. The morning sky was a cloudless light blue, making the day colder than usual. She was surprised she’d slept at all since her chambers were next to the guest rooms and, consequently, near Teague. More than once she glanced at the door, expecting it to open, but he never came.

  Running her hands down her skirts, she gave an exasperated snort. Whether she felt relief or regret, she wouldn’t think about it any longer. She had returned to Brynmor and she wouldn’t waste her time on the Traitor of Gwalchdu.

  She was leaving the garderobe when Ffion approached. Teague said that his aunt would not suffer long and might have no memory of the episode. To ease her transition, they all agreed no one would mention what happened in the Hall. Although the Sister had made her stay at Gwalchdu unpleasant, Anwen didn’t want to cause her additional discomfort.

  Perhaps it was Rhain’s description that softened her towards Ffion, but Anwen also saw how hardships shaped people. Sometimes making them stronger or leaving them bitter. The Sister had, at least at one time, been kind. The least she could do now was give Ffion some courtesy.

  ‘Good morning, Sister.’ Anwen waved her hand in the direction of the garderobe. ‘It appears we are of the same ilk this morning.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Ffion’s eyes barely flickered to the closed door. ‘Did you sleep last night?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’

  ‘Alone?’

  Ffion was clearly recovered, if she was back to lecturing on her favourite sin. ‘Of course, Sister.’

  ‘It appears not for long, my child. Your manner is too bold by far and you are not escaping the lord’s notice. If you are pure, you’ll not stay that way.’

  ‘I do not understand what you mean.’

  Ffion’s pursed her lips. ‘I wonder if you are truly that naïve. I watched you during dinner last night. You have not escaped his notice and now he seems even more taken with you. Take a care, or you will lose more than your freedom, you will break God’s commandment.’

  Even a trip to Brynmor did not end Ffion’s seeming obsession with adultery. Only the visibility of Ffion’s black circles under her eyes kept Anwen’s patience. ‘Thank you, Sister, I appreciate the concern.’

  Ffion stepped closer. ‘Be careful. You know not what goes on. It may cost you dearly.’

  * * *

  Anwen didn’t knock as she entered Alinore’s rooms. As expected this early in the morning, her sister was on her knees in prayer, and the morning’s light cast her golden hair as if in a soft halo.

  ‘How long will I have to wait until you’re done?’ Anwen asked, as she held her arms out wide.

  Alinore’s entire body jerked before she swept over to Anwen. ‘Oh, it is time you visited me!’

  Anwen closed her eyes to savour the light gossamer feeling of Alinore’s arms around her. ‘Please let us sit and talk again.’

  Anwen pulled open the coverlet on the bed and sat at the head, while her sister snuggled beside her. This was just what they always did and Anwen’s heart filled with fond memories, but also other...darker memories.

  ‘You will not find any bruises.’ Alinore’s lips curved.

  Anwen stopped scanning her sister’s arms. ‘Was I that obvious?’

  ‘Yes.’ Alinore giggled. ‘You know Robert protects me and has since he returned.’

  But there were times Urien risked a swipe or foolishly forgot Robert’s wrath. ‘You are Urien’s daughter and he hurts you! I’ve never understood why you still care, let alone tolerate him, when all he ever does is shout and hit you.’

  ‘Patience. He is my father and I do not simply tolerate him. I love him as God wants me to do. He’s your father, too.’

  Urien would never claim her as a daughter. Not her, bastard-born. He hadn’t been her father since the day he struck her aside and went after Alinore.

  Alinore’s hands fluttered as if to stop Anwen’s thoughts. ‘Pray, no anger or tears. I share not your grief.’ Her sister’s gentle eyes reflected the truth of her words.

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you.’

  ‘You cannot protect me from everything.’ Alinore gave a teasing smile. ‘Although you always did try.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it. You are too dear to me.’

  Alinore squeezed Anwen’s hand. ‘I know. I love you too, though I see you are still too stubborn to say it.’ Putting her hand back into her lap, Alinore added, ‘But in truth, it has been weeks since he tried anything.’

  ‘It’s good to see that Urien was so in his cups that he couldn’t hurt you.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t that, and it wasn’t just Robert delaying his hand either.’

  ‘What has happened?’

  ‘Things have changed since you have been gone. Robert has taught me how not to get hit.’

  ‘You were always good at avoiding Urien before,’ Anwen answered, more defensively than she intended.

  Alinore shook her head. ‘It is not the same. I avoid, not by hiding like a child, but with words and deeds. In fact, Father is much easier to control than I ever thought possible!’

  Anwen was taken aback at these words. Anwen had learned long ago how to control and avoid Urien, but she always thought Alinore too fragile. Now, with Robert’s help, it appeared she found confidence.

  Alinore gave a light laugh. ‘Anwen, do not be sad, be happy for me.’

  She tried to smile. ‘Of course I am happy. It’s only—’ She stopped and waved a hand. She realised what her sister said was true. Looking at Alinore, glowing with happiness, she could have hoped for nothing else, even if Robert of Dent played a part in it. Was Alinore in love?

  ‘What is Robert to you?’ she asked.

  Alinore blushed, her hand covering her mouth. ‘Oh! I can see that getting hit on the head ha
s not changed you.’

  Anwen remembered how Teague had asked whether she’d always been direct. She also remembered how the moon’s light hid his face and body in its darkness, but his words, though softly spoken, still vibrated through her.

  I watched you.

  She believed him. He saw her, not only physically, but also something of her heart. Perhaps in the forest or in the nights he held her through her pain, but she gave him something she could not take back even if she wanted to. There was a connection between them.

  Alinore raised one brow. ‘Or maybe it has changed you.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Anwen shook her head. ‘It was merely a minor injury.’

  ‘That is not what I understood.’

  ‘So, you were given correspondence, as well.’

  ‘Very much so. When you did not return, I worried the rains made the river too full for crossing and somehow you were swept away. But we received a missive from Gwalchdu that very night telling of your accident and we have waited ever since.’

  They waited, but didn’t come. Anwen suppressed the thought, but not soon enough. She should be happy to be here again.

  Melun said Alinore was better. It was true. There was a certain glow to her and a strength that hadn’t been there before. Alinore still moved with the grace and serenity of those of the convent, but she had gained some strength and happiness.

  Anwen smiled. ‘I’m starving! Shall we break our fast?’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anwen clapped her hands briskly against the morning frost as she knelt in the rich dirt of the south field.

  It had been three days since she returned to Brynmor and she had spent that time planting winter wheat. The planting was behind and some of the fields hadn’t even been tilled.

  Brynmor hadn’t lain fallow while she was recovering from her injury, but there was no denying the fields needed more hands. Anwen welcomed the work and the exhaustion for she needed the distraction to her thoughts that strayed to a certain traitor and the declaration he made.