“Two years,” Junia said, “and this is the first time I have known your surname.”
“And I yours,” he agreed.
“Simon?” She looked just a little bit anxious.
“Yes, Junia?” he answered her.
“Simon, I know of no other way of asking this than to come right out and say the words. Please do not think me forward.”
He put his arm about her shoulders, and drew her against him. “What is it, sweeting? Why, I can see your little heart beating in the hollow of your throat. Tell me.”
Junia drew a deep breath. Somehow his arm about her made her feel braver. “In a few months’ time my father will seek a husband for me. If he approached your father, would you be amenable to such a match? Ohh, please tell me the truth! If you are not then I shall never speak on it again, and you must promise we will remain friends.”
Simon de Bohun turned the girl about. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders. He looked directly into her eyes. “Junia, do you not know that I love you?” he said softly. “My innocent maid, you are the only girl I could ever wed. My father is not an easy man. Some say he is a cruel man, and I will admit that I have seen that side of him. But I am his only son. Certainly he will want me happy in my marriage, for the one good thing they say about Hugo de Bohun is that he loved my mother. I will speak with my father, and have him approach yours about a match now that I know it would please us both.” Then he brushed her lips gently with his, and Junia almost swooned, for she had never before been kissed; but his arms wrapped about her, holding her close.
“Simon,” was all she could say. Junia couldn’t ever remember a time when she had been so happy. His cotte chafed her cheek, but she didn’t care.
“I will approach my father tonight,” Simon promised her, smiling into her green eyes, his hand caressing her face.
“They will not let me wed until I have past my fifteenth birthday next June,” she finally said. “We must wait until then, I fear.”
“It will give my family time to know you, and your family time to know me,” he said. “I can wait, for you, sweeting, are a prize worth having.”
“I have set my traps,” Brynn said, returning.
“Unset them!” Junia said. “I want no blood spilled here, Brother, for this is a joyous place.”
“Jesu!” Brynn swore, and stamped off to fulfill her unreasonable request. What the hell was wrong with Junia? When he returned she was alone again. “Where’s Simon?” he asked her.
“He has gone home. We will meet again in three days’ time. Come on! I don’t want to be riding in the twilight, Brother. Who knows who is lurking about.” She mounted her horse and looked impatiently to him.
Brynn climbed up into his saddle, gathering the reins into his hand. “What happened to put you in such a mood, Sister?”
“We are going to be married!” Junia exclaimed excitedly.
“What?” Brynn looked surprised.
“He loves me, brother! He loves me! He is going to have his father ask Da for my hand in marriage.”
“Jesu!” the boy exclaimed again.
“You can tell no one, brother! Do you swear it?” she demanded of him.
“Why not?” Brynn laughed. “I cannot wait to see the look on your mother’s face when the offer comes. She does not like the English. Even the Marcher English. Just knowing what I know will be worth the wait.”
“I will have none but Simon,” Junia said firmly.
“Now you sound like Maia, but at least we knew the Lord of the Lake was a man of means. What does Simon de Bohun have that will make him an acceptable husband for you in Da’s eyes?” Brynn asked his sister. “Is he the eldest son, or a younger son? Will his family accept the circumstances of your birth? Will they accept your mother?”
“He is an only son,” Junia said, “and what does the rest of it have to do with a marriage between us if we love one another?”
“Sister, sister,” Brynn lamented. “Love has nothing to do with a good match. Matches are made for gold and for land. A match must give an advantage to both parties. Even I, young as I am, understand that. And so should you. Do you not recall that Da was considering matching me with Mary FitzHugh before she died? Had she been my wife it would have gained us the manor of Everleigh, and a toe-hold in the Englishry. Marcher lords always seek lands on both sides of the border. It is practical.”
“I am the Dragon Lord’s daughter,” Junia responded.
“His youngest daughter. Born to a second concubine, and not a wife. You have little to offer the heir to an estate,” Brynn reminded her. “Unless he’s poorer than you.”
“My sisters—” Junia began, but her brother cut her short.
“Averil’s marriage was good fortune for her based on Rhys’s stupidity. Maia was born a legitimate child, and had land to offer along with her dower of silver and cattle. Do not pin your hopes upon Simon’s father agreeing to even consider a match between you two. He will be looking higher, seeking an heiress with lands to add to his as well as livestock and gold.”
“You are wrong,” Junia said firmly. “Simon will convince his father otherwise despite what you believe are my shortcomings.”
“Your mother bore but one child, and a daughter at that,” Brynn said.
Junia countered gamely, “Gorawen bore but one child, and yet her daughter now has two children.”
Brynn laughed again. “Well,” he said, “I can see you will fight to the death for what you want, Juni. I wish you naught but good luck, Sister.”
“I wonder how far it is to Simon’s home from Mryddin Water,” Junia said.
It was not far, and Simon had ridden quickly, for he was anxious to tell his father that he had fallen in love and wanted to marry. At eighteen he was more than ready to take on the responsibility of a wife, and children of his own. His only qualm was bringing Junia into the de Bohun household where his father ruled with an iron hand. Junia was such an innocent girl, and from the stories she had told him of her family her house was a kinder place than his had ever been.
Simon had not lied when he said his father was not an easy man. That he was considered cruel by some. A few said the death of his beloved wife had been what changed him, but the old nurse who had raised Simon said otherwise. He was always cruel, she told Simon. But he had loved the lady Anne, and she had softened him while she lived. She had never really recovered from Simon’s birth. Yet his father loved and treasured her. When Simon was twelve his mother found herself with child again. She had died shortly thereafter, unable to sustain either herself or her unborn babe. Hugo de Bohun had bitterly mourned her passing for a year before he reverted to his old and wicked ways. He had left the raising of his son to his beloved wife, and her elderly nurse. After Lady Anne’s death no women would serve willingly in Hugo de Bohun’s household, for most who did were prey to the lord and his men. His serfs either hid their daughters or disfigured them to keep them safe from rapine. Simon could but hope that Junia would have as civilizing an effect on his father’s house as his mother once had.
That evening the hall was unusually quiet, and Simon took the opportunity to approach his father who was not yet in his cups, and without his latest whore in his lap.
“I want to marry,” he said.
“Aye, I have been thinking it was time for you to take a wife,” Hugo agreed. “There’s this little heiress whose lands match ours to the east. Her father would be amenable to a match, I suspect. The de Bohun name means something in this land though we are but a minor branch of it.” He picked up his goblet and drank deeply.
“I have chosen my own wife,” Simon said boldly. “I would marry for love as you once did, Father.”
“I married for love, aye, and what did it get me? One son, and a broken heart. ’Twas foolish, and you will wed where I say you’ll wed, boy.”
“I will not marry some bucktoothed wench for her lands, damn it!” Simon said angrily. “I want Junia Pendragon, and by God, Father, I shall have her!”
“Who did you say?” Hugo de Bohun asked, his look suddenly dark.
“Her name is Junia Pendragon. She is Welsh, and while I know you profess to dislike the Welsh, many of your fellow Marcher lords mix their blood with the Welsh. It gives them lands on both sides of the border, and a stronger position.”
“No de Bohun will ever marry a Pendragon, Simon! Are you a fool that you do not know the story? Do not tell me there is something old Elga has not told you?” he sneered, draining his cup and slamming it on the board to indicated his need for more.
A servant quickly filled the cup to the brim.
“What story?” Simon demanded. Until today he never remembered even hearing the name of Pendragon.
“Several generations back, I think it was in the time of my great-grandfather, a de Bohun son was to wed a Pendragon daughter. The bethrothal papers were signed, the dower delivered, when the bridegroom died unexpectedly before the wedding could be celebrated. The greedy Welsh Pendragons then demanded the return of the dower from us. Of course, we refused them. It was not our fault that the de Bohun lad died after the papers were signed. The girl’s property was rightfully ours. Then the damned wench went and killed herself by jumping from the top of her father’s keep because without her dower lands she could not wed another, and no convent would have her. The Pendragons blamed us, but it was not our fault. The dower was ours.
“It might have ended there had the Welsh been willing to let it go, but they were not. They kidnapped the de Bohun heir, and castrated him in retaliation for their daughter’s death. Of course, he did not live long after it, but at least his wife bore him twin sons several months afterwards. She raised them to hate the Welsh, and particularly the Pendragons. It has been that way ever since. Pendragons do not wed de Bohuns, Simon, and there is an end to it.”
“How long ago did this happen, Father? A hundred or more years ago? Is it not time for this feud, or whatever it is, to be ended? And what better way than by a marriage between a Pendragon and a de Bohun? A marriage that this time will be celebrated and consummated, and lead to de Bohun heirs,” Simon said to his father. “A betrothal began this feud. Let a marriage end it.”
“Jesu!” Hugo de Bohun swore violently. “It is as I have always feared. You are a damned weakling with a soft heart. Fuck the girl if you must, but you will wed the girl I choose for you to wed. You will not disobey me in this.”
“I will marry no one but Junia Pendragon,” Simon said angrily.
“You will wed Aceline de Bellaud,” Hugo roared. “She is an only child, and her father is as anxious for the match as I am.”
“First you speak of this girl as if you are merely considering it. Now suddenly it appears that you have already set the negotiations in motion, yet you have not consulted me in the matter. I am eighteen, Father, not a stripling of twelve.”
“Under the law, however, you are bound to obey my wishes, Simon.”
“I could leave Agramant,” Simon threatened his father.
“Leave your home?” Hugo shouted, and he slammed his cup onto the high board, sloshing wine across it. “Where the hell do you think you would go? And what would you do, you damned weakling?”
“I could go to my mother’s family,” Simon said.
“Do not think your grandfather would take you in under the circumstances. He would send you packing as soon as he learned why you had come! Your mother’s father is a man who understands the necessity of an advantageous marriage. Aceline de Bellaud will make you an excellent wife. Her lands are fertile. She has livestock aplenty. And she has a dower of both silver and gold.”
“If she is so well-propertied, Father, then why would her father consider us?” Simon queried his father. “We are a minor branch of the de Bohuns.”
“But we are still de Bohuns,” Hugo replied. “And while the de Bellauds have wealth, they have not a great name. We do. Aceline is an only child. Her father’s line dies with her, but can live on in her de Bohun sons. I have seen the wench myself. She is ripe for fucking, and you’ll get a houseful of sons off such a toothsome little bitch.”
“It sounds as if you would like to have at her yourself, Father. Why don’t you wed her? Why must I be the sacrificial lamb to your greed? And while I am thinking about it, what the hell was the matter with the de Bohuns that they would not return the dower belonging to the Pendragon girl? The marriage had not been celebrated, and the death of the bridegroom was not their fault. The dower should have been returned. It was not the Pendragons who were greedy, Father. It was the de Bohuns.”
“They killed the de Bohun heir,” Hugo growled.
“After their daughter was cheated, shamed, and killed herself,” Simon countered. “I expect they considered it as much justice as they would ever receive from us.”
“It matters not just what I say or think, Simon,” his father replied. “The Dragon Lord will never allow you to wed his child. The Pendragons hate us every bit as much as we hate them. Put the girl from your thoughts and concentrate on a marriage with Aceline de Bellaud, for it is she who will be your wife, and not this Junia Pendragon.”
“I will not marry this girl of your choosing,” Simon said firmly. “I will wed with Junia, or I will not wed at all.”
“You will obey me, Simon, for I am your father,” Hugo said. “Whatever made you think you could choose your own wife?”
“You did,” was the answer.
“Aye, I did, but I was lord of Agramant when I did. My father was long dead, but I followed in the path I knew would please him when I chose your mother. I could not have known how frail she would become after your birth,” Hugo de Bohun replied. “You have not the authority to pick your own wife, and so you will obey your father who does.”
“Must I kill you and become lord of Agramant to gain Junia as my wife?” Simon shouted angrily.
“You have not the balls for it, lad,” Hugo mocked his son. “You are far too civilized and good-hearted. The bride I have chosen for you is a strong young woman. She will make up for your lack, and make certain you do what you should when I am gone one day.” He laughed at the look on Simon’s handsome face. “Sulk for a bit if you must, boy,” he told his son. “Satisfy your longing for the girl if you are man enough. When you are ready to see reason we shall visit the de Bellaud family, and you can meet your bride, Simon. As I have said, a most toothsome little bitch.”
“Go to hell, Father!”
“I undoubtedly will one day,” Hugo responded, “but I shall have a fine time getting there, I promise you, boy!” And he laughed as his son stormed from his hall.
Simon found the sanctuary of his own chamber, and flung himself across his bed. What a disaster this was! But he loved Junia, and he was not yet ready to give up his quest for her hand in marriage. He would go to her father himself! He would do whatever he had to do to gain the Dragon Lord’s permission to wed Junia. He heard the door to his chamber open and close, and looking up he saw old Elga.
“My poor laddie,” she began.
“Were you in the hall?” he asked her, “Or did someone else report the conversation my father and I had? More a shouting match, I fear, Elga.”
She sat down next to him on the bed. “You must give up this girl, my lad. If you do not, your father will do whatever he must to see that you do. Hugo de Bohun is a bad man. You have not yet seen the length and breath of his wickedness. Only your mother, God assoil her good soul, could keep his demons under control. If you truly love this lass you must part with her, for if you do not you put her in the gravest danger.”
“I would go to her father and plead my case with him,” Simon said. “Certainly if he sees how much I love Junia he will allow us to wed.”
Elga was pained by her nursling’s naivete. “Laddie, even if the Dragon Lord would take into account the love you and his daughter have for one another, what have you to offer if your father disinherits you? And he will if you disobey him.”
“But I do not care if he casts me out, E
lga! Junia has become my very life! Today when she said she loved me I thought my heart would crack within my chest from the sheer happiness I experienced. How can I give her up?”
Elga sighed. “You must, Simon. If you do not, then whatever vile revenge your father takes on this innocent maiden will be your fault. Can you live with that? And in the end you will still be forced to do his bidding and marry the bride of Hugo de Bohun’s choosing. And the Pendragon girl will be forced to marry the man of her father’s choosing despite her love for you. Better you break off this unfortunate liaison now so that both of your hearts may have time to heal,” Elga advised. She patted his shoulder. “I am so sorry, laddie. More often in this life we do not get to do the things we want, or have the things our hearts desire. It is the way of the world.”
He sighed. It was a deep and desperate sound. “I am to meet her again in three days at Mryddin Water,” Simon said.
“And you will tell her then that this union between you is not possible?” Elga probed.
“I do not know,” Simon replied.
“You have not breached her, laddie, have you?” Elga’s worn face had a worried look upon it.
“Jesu, no!” he said with such fervor that she knew he spoke the truth. “I love her, Elga. I would not shame her.”
“Of course, laddie, but I thought it wise to ask,” she answered him. Then she arose. “I will leave you now to consider what you must say. You have three days in which to decide.” And she departed his chamber.
“I will not give her up,” Simon said softly to himself. “There has to be a way. There has to be!”
Chapter 14
She couldn’t keep it to herself. She just couldn’t! Seeking out Gorawen in the hall she caught up the older woman’s hands in hers saying, “Simon is going to ask his father to ask for me in marriage!” Junia’s eyes were sparkling. Her whole demeanor mirrored her happiness. She sat next to Gorawen.
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