Dark and Bright

by Anna Markland

  “Drink the remedy,” Rhun urged. “We must get you to a bonesetter in a nearby village. You can’t travel back to Powwydd with your leg this way.”

  Rhys drank the potion and succumbed gratefully to sleep as Rhydderch wrapped him in more blankets.

  ***

  The rescue had taken most of the day and it was twilight when the party rode slowly into the village of Llanfarran, a few miles from the gorge. Rhun had sent a rider ahead to warn of their need for a bonesetter. Curious villagers came out to greet them and recognized Rhun and Rhydderch immediately. The men-at-arms had taken turns bearing the still sleeping Baudoin on their shoulders. Rhys had ridden behind Rhun. They were tied together again and Rhun kept his hands firmly set over his brother’s. Rhydderch had ridden alongside, holding Rhys on the horse. Fortunately, the potion had knocked Rhys out.

  He was taken down and carried to the bonesetter’s cottage. To the surprise of Rhun and Rhydderch, the healer was a young woman. Each could tell the other was wondering what such a beautiful silver-haired maiden with rosy cheeks, ice blue eyes and a slender figure was doing hidden away in this remote village. She wore an unusual gown, light and flimsy, yet opaque, with sleeves which came only to the elbows.

  “Lay him here,” she indicated the raised pallet in the centre of the small cottage. Her voice washed over the twins like a warm summer breeze, and they complied eagerly, laying the still slumbering Rhys down carefully. Rhun became aroused at the glimpse of bare female arms as he watched the bonesetter examine Rhys. He looked over at Rhydderch. He had the same problem! They quickly looked away from each other. Rhun explained to the young woman what had happened, and what was in the potion he’d given Rhys.

  “You’re Rhun and Rhydderch ap Rhodri, aren’t you?” she asked. “Your mother was Rhonwen, the great healer, and your sister is the Prioress? I see where you learned your skills. You’ve done well for your brother. I am Glain verch Llewelyn ap Aldwyn. I too have a skill to set bones that are broken.”

  Rhun thought Glain was the embodiment of her name—a jewel.

  “It will be an honour to help your brother. Carry in the other man and place him by the hearth. You have suffered much this day. Go to the cottage next door. They’ll take care of you.”

  Rhun pointed to the still figure by the hearth. “We want to stay with our brothers until we’re sure they’re going to be well. We’re very worried about Baudoin.”

  He suspected the Norman name would surprise her. “He’s your brother also?” she asked.

  “He’s married to our sister. He’s the Earl of Ellesmere,” Rhydderch replied.

  Glain’s eyes betrayed a momentary surprise, but she recovered quickly and turned her attention to setting the broken leg with great skill. Rhys stirred as she worked. She spooned a small amount of a potion between his lips. Rhun asked what it contained.

  “Just a pinch of mandragora to help him sleep again and to dull the pain.”

  She sealed the broken skin with egg whites and covered it with a clean cloth, then mixed up a chalky white powder with water, dipped strips of cloth in it and bound the mangled leg.

  “Help me raise him up and I’ll rebind his ribs,” she commanded softly. “He’s a strong man to have survived this, but I see your family abounds in strong men. After all you’re the sons of Rhodri ap Owain.”

  The twins experienced a simultaneous erection and, coughing nervously, shifted their weight and position to conceal their renewed arousal.

  Glain smeared a poultice on the broken ribs.

  “What’s it composed of?” Rhun asked.

  “It’s a mixture of radish, bishopwort, garlic, wormwood, helenium, cropleek and hollowleek.”

  “How do you prepare it? Mother used to boil them,” Rhydderch added.

  Glain nodded. “I pound them up and boil them with celandine and red nettle. All must then be put in a brass pot until it turns dark red, as you see. Then it’s good for aching bones. It will help him heal.”

  She smiled broadly. “It’s good to see men interested in matters of healing.”

  Rhun’s heart raced. Rhydderch scowled at him.

  She finished binding Rhys’s ribs with clean strips of cloth dipped in the remains of the chalky mixture and bade the twins lay him back down.

  “His ankle isn’t broken, but I’ll bathe it with knitbone from time to time. I’ll see how the swelling is on the morrow.”

  Rhun wished her hands were tending to his swelling in the same loving way she was tending to Rhys. A glance at the still scowling Rhydderch told the same story.

  Glain sighed “Now, the Earl. Who would have believed I would be called upon to tend a Norman Earl?”

  Rhun felt he had to say something. “If he wasn’t our brother-by-marriage—”

  She shook her head. “He’s a man who needs help. It’s of no importance who he is. I’ve heard the Earls of Ellesmere have always been fair men, despite being Normans.”

  Rhun felt chastised. Rhydderch’s sneering grin made him feel worse.

  She knelt beside Baudoin and slowly ran her hands over his body, feeling, probing. Rhun again wished he was the one lying injured. She discovered a large bump on the back of Baudoin’s head. “He has many cuts and bruises, but no broken bones. This swelling on the back of his head looks ugly, but I don’t believe his head is broken. I’ll tend to his injuries, but the best thing for him is rest. Your brother must rest too before you journey on, a sennight at least.”

  Rhun was uneasy. “My sister is with child and Baudoin will want to be with her at Ellesmere when she is delivered. However, we understand your advice is correct and we thank you for your care of our wounded. We’ll stay here in your village while they heal.”

  Rhydderch told his brother, “On the morrow I’ll send riders to the main camp and to Ellesmere with news of what’s happened. Carys will have sensed something is wrong. I hope Baudoin will have awakened and the news won’t be as bad. Come, brother, let’s leave these two fools who fall into gorges in the capable hands of the lovely Glain and find ourselves a bed.”

  They swaggered out, their arms thrown heavily around each other’s shoulder. Rhun suspected his twin also wished fervently he could take the lovely Glain to bed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Carys and Annalise spent many days in prayer, willing their husbands’ safe return. Carys felt they both lived, but had sensed great pain. Alone in their beds each wept, feeling the heart-rending helplessness of women who must wait at home in agonizing suspense for news of the men they love. Annalise could see the toll it was taking on Carys.

  She had nightmares about Rhys falling. Where had he fallen? In battle? Off a horse? But Carys believed he and Baudoin had fallen. How could they both have fallen from a horse? Was he badly hurt? Would he recover? Who was tending to his wounds? How far away were they?

  Why did she care so deeply? Rhys didn’t love her, yet she had come to rely heavily on his presence in her life. She’d sworn she would not fall in love with him, that she would guard her heart. Now her heart would break if he died without seeing their child. What would become of her if Rhys didn’t return?

  She cradled her belly, crooning lullabies to her unborn babe. No-one had ever sung lullabies to her. How she longed to hear Rhys’s deep voice singing with her to their child. He’d made her body sing, made it come alive. He’d made her a woman.

  She loved him! But did he love her? He was kind, gentle and caring, and the passion they shared was more intoxicating than anything she could ever have imagined in her youthful daydreams of her chivalrous knight. Rhys was a chivalrous knight. She’d been intent on rejecting him because he was Welsh, and because he’d cared enough about his brothers to sacrifice himself.

  But he’d never made her feel it was a sacrifice. He made her feel like a desirable woman—loved. Could it be he loved her?

  When Carys suggested they share a chamber so they wouldn’t be alone in their torment, Annalise readily agreed.

  Riders came to Ellesmere, their
horses lathered from the hard journey. They brought news of the accident and rescue. Carys and Annalise stood together hand in hand in the courtyard. Carys gasped when told of Baudoin’s stupor. He’d at length opened his eyes and spoken her name. Annalise fell to her knees and wept for her husband’s suffering. But he was alive!

  “I must go to them, Annalise. I’m a healer. They need me,” Carys exclaimed.

  Annalise shook her head. “Rhun’s news assured us they’re in the hands of a capable healer, Carys. You’re with child. You can’t undertake such a journey now and endanger your baby. Baudoin wouldn’t want you to do such a thing. We must make preparations for their return. Come, let’s weep with relief together, and give thanks that our husbands yet live, and our children are not orphans before they’re born.”

  ***

  When Baudoin tumbled over the edge of the gorge, his last thought was that he would never see Carys again. Now he opened his eyes. He was lying before a hearth, bound to a crude pallet of some sort.

  “Carys?” he whispered, sure no one but his magically mystical wife could have saved him from death. But why was he bound?

  “I am Glain, my lord Earl,” a warm voice said. “I’m a healer. Your wife awaits you at Ellesmere. You’ve been in a stupor for some time. You hit your head when you fell. We’ve worried about you.”

  He turned his head. A young woman was bending over him. “Rhys?” he asked. “What about Rhys?”

  “My lord Rhys ap Rhodri broke several bones, but he too lives. He’s asleep on the pallet.”

  Baudoin noted the tone of respect for Rhys in her voice. He was still in Wales. “Where are we? Who brought us here? Who rescued us?”

  She soothed his forehead with a sweet-smelling wet cloth. “Be calm, my lord Earl. Rhun and Rhydderch ap Rhodri rescued you, but you’ll learn the tale later. Now you must rest, so I can send you back home to your anxious wives.”

  The tension left him, but he ached in every part of his body. However, he was alive and seemed none the worse for wear, except for an excruciating headache. What a fool—to fall into a gorge, and drag with him his brother-by-marriage who now lay broken on the pallet beside him, somewhere in Wales! And they’d been rescued by the two hotheads!

  ***

  They stayed in the village with a smaller contingent of their bodyguards for a full sennight. Baudoin made good progress. After two or three days on a more comfortable pallet brought from a neighbouring cottage, Glain gave permission for him to get up and walk outdoors. He went first to the pallet where Rhys lay in the grip of a fever.

  “Rhys, I’m sorry I dragged you with me when I fell. It appears you cushioned my fall and took the worst of it. When we get you home Carys will help you heal.”

  His eyes glazed, Rhys replied. “Baudoin—I’m simply thankful we’re both alive. Imagine—two men such as us—falling off a horse into a gorge! We’re surrounded by—danger wherever we go—but we had to create our own—I’ll be well again. You’re right—Carys will help us to heal—and Annalise—if I survive this cursed fever.”

  “Glain is an accomplished healer, Rhys. She won’t let us travel until you’re sufficiently recovered. I have a feeling that the longer we stay here the happier the terrible twosome will be!”

  In his fevered state, Rhys had been unaware of the romantic tensions going on between Rhun, Rhydderch and Glain. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the lady is going to have to choose between them. They’re both smitten with her.”

  In the days that followed Rhys improved steadily, and he too soon noticed the interplay of suggestive looks, smiles, and discreet touches going on between the three. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. His twin brothers had shared women before, but in a devil-may-care kind of way, like they shared everything. This was different. There was a smouldering passion about the way they looked at Glain, and she seemed to relish the attention of both men, but in a cool, reserved manner, never indicating a preference, or a definite acknowledgement of the subtle intent of their suggestive looks.

  She was the consummate sophisticated flirt, and the twins thirsted after her and obeyed her every whim like dogs. Rhys found it amusing to see the rebellious and defiant twins brought to heel. He and Baudoin jested about it privately and they wagered secretly on which twin would win out in the end. But Rhys worried that if that happened, one of them would be hurt.

  When Glain gave approval for her patients to travel, Rhys saw how difficult it was for his brothers to bid farewell to the healer. It was obvious both men wanted her. She too seemed bereft at their leaving. They promised to return, and Rhys again worried about the damage this relationship could do. They shared everything, but a woman? They looked back several times after the village was well out of sight, and then looked at each other. He knew they too were worried. Envy of each other was foreign to them.

  The cavalcade moved slowly due to Rhys’s injuries. He was able to sit astride his horse, but had to keep the animal to a slow walk. His ribs were much improved, but he didn’t want to undo Glain’s good work. She told him sternly he wasn’t to walk on his leg, and he had to be helped to hobble to a seat each time he dismounted. His ankle was improving, but still tender. He was frustrated he was the reason for their slow progress. Baudoin rode at the head of the party and the twins brought up the rear.

  It took several days to reach Powwydd. Baudoin rested there only one day, anxious to get to Ellesmere for the birth of his third child.

  “I wish I could accompany you,” Rhys said. “Annalise will be concerned. Please assure her I’m recovering. Tell her I’ll be there in a few days.”

  ***

  Baudoin took his men-at-arms and the cartographers with him and made it to Ellesmere in a day and a half. Annalise hurried to meet him in the courtyard. Where was Rhys? Baudoin’s face showed his alarm that Carys hadn’t greeted him.

  “Milord Baudoin,” she said before he could ask her where Carys was. “Milady Carys is abed. She hasn’t felt well for the last few days. She has been worried about you—and Rhys. Where is my husband? He’s not with you?”

  Had he even heard her question? He was intent on getting to Carys. “He couldn’t travel yet,” he replied, walking away. “But his leg is improving. He’ll be here in a few days. Don’t worry.”

  He hurried off.

  “Don’t worry?” Annalise shrieked to the empty courtyard. The stone walls threw her anguish back, echoing her despair. “How can I not worry?” she whispered. “My beautiful Rhys is suffering and I’m powerless to help him.” She gathered her skirts and walked quickly to her chamber, where she collapsed onto the bed, weeping.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Baudoin entered his chamber quietly and walked over to the bed where Carys lay, her eyes closed. She looked pale. He’d never before seen her in anything but the best of health. A lump rose in his throat. “Carys, my love,” he whispered, taking hold of her hand.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Baudoin—oh, Baudoin, hold me. I’ve missed you. I was worried. I knew you and Rhys were hurt. It has drained me. I have no energy. Poor Annalise. She has been obliged to take care of me, and she’s worried about Rhys.”

  “I’m here now, Carys,” Baudoin whispered hoarsely, hugging his wife. She felt limp in his embrace. “I’ll take care of you. Rhys is still at Powwydd. He’ll come in a few days. His leg was badly broken and pains him. I feel terrible remorse that I dragged him into the gorge. It was an incredibly stupid accident.”

  “Tell me what happened,” she said, lazily patting a spot on the bed next to her.

  He sat beside her and recounted the details of the incident and the rescue. He took her hand and touched it to the back of his head. “I still have a lump. Had it not been for the strength and courage of your twin brothers we would have died in that crevice. But, enough of that, what’s happening with my third son?” He ran his hands over her swollen belly and kissed her there.

  “Not ready to come yet, but soon,” she replied. “And I thin
k your son is going to be a daughter. Will you mind?”

  “Mind?” he exclaimed, smiling. “My heart is so full of the idea of a little girl, I can hardly speak.”

  He kissed her lovingly, and she entwined her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, cupping her heavy breasts in his hands, brushing a light kiss over each nipple barely visible through the fabric of her nightgown. “Be well, Carys. You look pale.”

  “I’ll be well now you’ve returned,” she whispered.

  He held her and she drifted off to sleep. He was terrified he might lose his Carys. Life would mean nothing without her at his side.

  ***

  Two days later, Baudoin covered his ears to block out the pitiful moans that had hung in the air for a day and a night as Carys struggled to deliver his child. He couldn’t look at the worried faces of the two midwives and Carys’s apprentice healer as they scurried in and out of the chamber. He was convinced he would be facing the rest of his life without her. This was nothing like the first two birthings and he knew it.

  He prayed that if it came to a choice between his wife and his child, he wanted his wife to survive. That brought on a bout of guilt, and he wept at his selfishness.

  “Dieu,” he prayed on his knees in the chapel his father, Rambaud de Montbryce, had built. “Deliver them both whole from this torment. I beg of you.”

  How selfish he’d been, assuming Carys would never have difficulties bearing children. “I thought only of myself and my desire for more and more children.”

  Annalise offered comfort, but she was immersed in her worry for Rhys. Baudoin was lost in his despair. He worried for his sons. How Gallien and Etienne would miss their loving mother! He went to the nursery. His maman, Mabelle, had been a loving presence in his life. He wanted that for his own children. He forced a smile as he played with them.

  “What’s wrong, Papa?” the always perceptive Gallien asked, taking his father’s hand. “You’re sad. Where is Maman?”