“Bring him forth; I will see him now.” Elisedd clunked the goblet down and leaned back in the wooden throne.
Blaise wondered who among Ethelbald’s men would brave a mission to save the Princess and wear a woman’s gown to do so. He had not seen the like among the Mercian troops. Except? As he sliced off more bites of meat, he gazed at the man the guards dragged before the dais. He dropped the dagger he cut the venison with onto his plate and stood. “Scan!”
Elisedd leaned forward and turned toward Blaise. “You know this man?”
“Yes, sire. He is the guard who unwittingly aided me in my escape.”
“Ah, the fool you spoke of.” Elisedd leaned back in his throne. “A fitting description indeed.”
Of all the men to come to her aid, Scan couldn’t rescue a cat out of a tree. If only it had been someone who could have succeeded and kept Branda out of Cuthred’s clutches.
“Scan, where did you get that dress? It looks awful on you.” Blaise rubbed his forehead. “Does Ethelbald know you are here?”
“He was not pleased with my service during your escape. I have been shoveling horse dung ever since. I doubt if Ethelbald knows I am gone.”
“Saxon, how did you manage to get so far, especially in that disguise? You are the ugliest woman I have ever seen.” Elisedd waved his hand in the air. “Take that dress off and speak to me like a man as I call for your death.”
“Father, it may well be a waste of a good blade to behead this one.” Gods help him, he ruined Branda’s life. He needed to find some way to save Scan, the innocent dolt.
Scan pulled his arms from the gown, pushed it to his ankles and stepped out of it. “I have come to save Princess Branda from harm with no care for what fate befalls me.”
“Well, that is brave of you,” Elisedd said. “Take him to the dungeon.”
Branda flew into the hall. “Stop it; release Scan. Let him go!”
“Release Scan? He is a Mercian hearth guard who gained entrance to Dinas Bran. I cannot thwart the King’s command.” Blaise wanted to smile. She was her feisty, commanding self, no longer meek and sad.
“So, are you going to send me to the dungeons?” Branda tilted her head upward in a challenge.
“Princess, you are not a prisoner.” Elisedd leaned forward. “You are a hostage and are afforded full hospitality.”
“You hold me like a prisoner.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You put a guard at my door. You mean to send me against my will to Cuthred.”
“That is your father’s doing, girl.” Elisedd turned to his sons and shrugged. “How did she get past her guard?”
“I will find out, Father,” Brochfael said with a tilt of his firm chin.
“Where is my sire?” Branda puffed out her chest.
“What?” Blaise was baffled.
“Do not play the fool with me.” She glared at him hatefully. “If Scan is here, then my father and his army must be near.”
Blaise stepped down from the dais, grasped her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Your father has refused your ransom. He thinks you are ruined.”
“No.” She pushed him away. “I know now that it is a lie. When you first told me of this I believed it, but I now know that just as your god Bran lied, so do you. My sire has come to rescue me. He wants me but he just didn’t want to pay the ransom. I know it.”
“Oh, Princess, how I wish it were so, but your father has cast you from Mercia. I came to rescue you and take you to your sister Judith,” Scan said softly.
“Oh.” She cast her gaze downward. “So, it is true. He has disowned me.” She tilted her body to one side as if she was going to faint.
“Come; let me help you to your bower.” Blaise wrapped his arm around her shoulder and escorted her out of the hall.
She was silent as they walked into the sunroom. She dropped down on her bed face down and wept.
Blaise sat on the corner of the bed and eased next to her. “Branda, I will do what I can. I promise I will get Scan out of the dungeon tomorrow. This is not a good day to speak with Elisedd, but on the morrow I will convince him Scan is harmless.” He stroked her silky hair. “Don’t cry. We will free Scan then we will wait for Brochfael to return.” What could he say? He babbled on, “Cuthred may refuse the ransom. If so, then you can stay here. I believe Carthann has an idea on what we can do next, but we will talk of that later.”
Her weeping stopped but she didn’t look up. She lay face down, too sad to speak.
“Rest now. We will speak of this later.” He rose and slowly walked out of the bower.
Leri came up behind him. “I heard.”
He gazed into her soft blue eyes. “She needs you.”
She nodded and stepped into the sunroom.
Blaise leaned against the wall. What have I done? I brought her to Dinas Bran as a hostage to please my father. I should have left her in Mercia, but then I would not have known her.
He strode to his chamber, took off his clothes and sank into the cold bed. Carthann does not know how much I would like to wed the Princess, take her as my bride. Elisedd would never allow it. If Cuthred wants her then I shall have to take her to him. May that day never come. With that thought, he drifted to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Outside, the sky was gray. Sunrise had broken an hour ago. Blaise slid his booted feet into a warrior stance as he faced Elisedd in the hall.
The King looked down at him from his throne upon the dais. A tall tankard brimmed with mead was set before Elisedd along with a bowl of steaming porridge, which he pushed aside to cool.
Elisedd’s red hair swirled in curls about his weather-worn face. His lips were hidden behind the thick, red moustache. A Celtic tunic with tracery embroidered in fine gold thread by Carthann’s hand strained against his broad chest. In addition, the gleaming crown, golden armlets and anklets adorned his aging, yet well-muscled, body.
Blaise cleared his throat and spoke. “Sire, I have come to ask you to free the Saxon named Scan.”
“He meant to steal the Princess, thus the ransom Cuthred and your brother are negotiating in Wessex.”
“Scan meant to save his friend for he and Branda are like brother and sister.”
“Curse these Saxons. Curse them all. I have two now in my keeping, and I know not what to do with either.” He took a swig of mead. “I fear I have gone into the business of fostering Saxons.”
Blaise stepped forward. “They were the only ones to befriend me during my captivity in Mercia.”
He knew there was more to it than that. Scan was Branda’s friend and Blaise would do anything for Branda. Anything except tell Elisedd he loved the Saxon Princess. Nothing frightened him more for Elisedd would see it as treason.
“There would be no joy in killing him. After all, he is naught but a mouse.” Elisedd tilted his head and let out a raspy chortle.
“If you free him, at least he can be of some use to us.”
“What say you? In truth he was no use to Ethelbald as a guard.”
“Father, if you free Scan, I swear to you I will be his guard and keeper,” he said firmly. The guard was Branda’s friend and that made him useful to Blaise.
Elisedd drummed his fingers on the arm of his oaken throne. “So be it.” He took another gulp of mead. “Release him from the dungeon, but—mind you—that fool is your responsibility.”
* * * *
Blaise bowed in reverence, exited the hall, and headed to the cave they used for the dungeon. The entranceway was near the outer wall of the fort. He had secured freedom for her friend. Now all he had to do was find a way to keep Cuthred from getting his hands on the Princess without letting anyone, especially Branda, know how much he cared for her. For if she knew, she’d want to run off with him and then her life would be one of misery and pove
rty, albeit with love. He felt an unexpected twinge of sadness at the thought. He hung his head. No, she was a Princess through and through; he could not bring such hardship upon her.
He entered the dark, musky cave and nodded to the guard. The man sat at a small oaken table where two white candles burned brightly. He held a skin of ale.
“Greetings, Brent. How fares the prisoner?”
“The rats haven’t gotten to him yet.” Brent took a swig from his skin of ale and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“Good.” Blaise placed his hands on his hips. “Elisedd has ordered him to be released to me.”
“Yes, my Prince.” Brent rubbed his face as if it itched, toddled over to the wall and took a torch. The guard handed the firebrand to Blaise then lifted a wooden ladder and lowered it down. Brandishing the torch, he climbed into the dark hole. When he reached the bottom he called out to Scan, “Saxon, how fare you?”
“Prince Blaise, is it you?”
“Yes, I’ve come to free you from the dungeon.”
A wide smile brightened Scan’s dirty face. “My thanks.”
They climbed up the ladder and out of the dark dungeon. Brent followed behind them with his ale skin in hand.
Blaise led Scan to his chamber to bathe and dress in Celtic attire. In a red tunic and checkered braies, blonde-headed Scan walked with him through the fort of Dinas Bran.
“I would serve you and be your man if you will have me, Prince Blaise.”
Blaise stared into his lucid blue eyes. “Would a Saxon of Mercia serve a Prince of Powys?”
“Yes. Though you took Branda hostage, you have seen to it she has been well cared for. You freed me.” Scan inhaled. “I know you to be brave and just.” He exhaled. “I would serve you to my death—this I swear.” He spoke in a tone of awe and respect.
“I accept your service, Scan.” He patted him on the back.
“Might I ask how you and the Princess are fairing?” There was a trace of amusement in Scan’s voice. “She is quite fond of you. I thought love had sparked between you two.”
God’s teeth! How is it Scan knows of this? Blaise put his hand to his forehead for a fleeting minute then let it fall back down to his side. “No! Branda is my hostage. Naught more.”
“In truth?” There was a glint of humor in Scan’s eyes.
“Yes. Branda is comely but, because of me, Ethelbald banished her from Mercia.”
“He was not a good sire. A good King mayhap, but not a man to raise a daughter alone. He never understood the Princess.”
“She can be a trial upon a man’s nerves.” Just thinking about her brought a smile to Blaise’s lips.
“My Prince, am I wrong to think you have found her pleasing?”
He swallowed. “I find the Princess charming and I take pleasure in her company but she will be turned over to Cuthred. There is naught I can do.” However, he didn’t believe his own words. Somehow he would find a way to stay with Branda.
As they walked on, Scan turned to Blaise. “My Prince, could you not ask Elisedd to give Princess Branda to you as your wife?”
“You are the second person to ask me this.” I wish it were so simple.
“If the Princess is angry, and I am sure she is, it is not because she is banished from Mercia but because you would give her to Cuthred, her betrothed, instead of pledging your troth to her.”
“What madness, Scan!” If only it were so. Elisedd will never let me marry a Saxon.
“Very well, my Prince, but I still believe Branda is as fond of you as you are of her.”
Scan’s pause was answered by Blaise’s silence.
“Will you take me to her, my Prince?” Scan arched his eyebrows.
He nodded his head. “That is where we are headed.” He recalled the last time he’d seen her. She had lain face down on the bed crying. “Branda is sad. She will be happy to see you, Scan.”
“As I will be to see her, my Prince.”
* * * *
Blaise stopped before the sunroom door and rapped on it lightly.
Leri greeted him. “Good day, Blaise.”
“Is the Princess in? I’ve brought her friend Scan.”
“Is it true? Is it Scan?” Branda yelled with glee as she ran to the door.
“Princess!” Scan smiled and opened his arms to hug her.
Blaise stepped back, feeling a tinge of jealousy. I got the fool released. Where is my hug?
“I was so afraid when the guards took you,” Branda said as she released Scan from her tight embrace.
“The Prince freed me.”
“Blaise!” she exclaimed and jumped into his arms.
She was warm and soft. He melted in her heat. Her shimmering hair smelled of daffodils and sunshine.
He dropped his arms, easing out of the embrace. “Princess,” he rasped, “it was naught.” He stepped back.
She stepped forward.” I want to thank you for freeing Scan.”
Was she mad? It was killing him to be this close to her. His pulse pounded. An unwelcome surge of excitement raced through him. She stared with longing at him as she softened her mouth.
When he cupped her face in his hand, his palm burned. Her breath was warm against his face. She pressed her mouth to his. Her trembling lips clung to him. His mouth tingled. He slid his fingers down her face and released her.
The kiss was but a gentle whisper, yet it left his mouth burning with fire. Long after, they still held each other’s gaze. Scan cleared his throat loudly and brought them out of the dreamy daze.
There was a long pause before Blaise spoke. “Ah, Princess.” He knew he wore a foolish grin upon his face. “I came only to bring your friend to you. I shall leave you now.”
How he longed to stay there to simply look upon her. Feeling the heat of embarrassment on his face, he left the sunroom. He needed to get control of himself. Even now Brochfael rode to Wessex so Cuthred could ransom the Princess and take her for his own. He walked to the practice yard to work up a healthy sweat to way-lay his need for Branda.
* * * *
The moment Blaise left, Branda escorted Scan to the Druid temple. As Neilyn and Scan talked, she found a corner near the wall behind an overgrown mulberry bush. Hidden behind the shrub, she watched Blaise drill his men.
Her breath caught in her throat as he discarded his tunic. She peered at his chiseled chest glistening with sweat and waved her hand in front of her face for cool relief from the surge of heat rushing through her. His thick hair hung to his shoulders and moved with a manly sway, like the mane of a stallion. He never flicked or brushed it back, he showed no concern for it, which made it more alluring. He swung his muscle-corded arms fast and powerfully, and the thighs bulging beneath his pants were taut. He turned toward the mulberry bush as if he knew she watched and curled his lips into a half-smile, like the crack of dawn in a twilight sky.
She felt a puff of warm breath on her neck. Startled, she lost her balance and fell head first toward the shrub. Lanky arms grabbed hold of her waist and caught her.
She looked up. “Scan, you startled me.”
“I have the most wonderful news, Princess.”
“Cuthred does not want me?”
“No, it’s not that, my Princess. It’s about me. Neilyn agreed to take me on as a bard in training. I feel it is my true trade. I am more of a bard than a guard.”
“It’s not fair,” she unknowingly said aloud.
This cannot be. Scan was to stay here with Neilyn, but she would leave Blaise.
“What do you speak of, Princess?”
She couldn’t let her friend know she was jealous of him staying in Powys. What was she thinking, anyway? Born a Saxon Princess, Branda could never marry Blaise. It didn’t matter what she’d dreamed, there were better men
for her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of better men. No one came to mind except the young Prince of Powys.
“Branda, are you all right?” Scan grasped her shoulders.
“Yes, I’m just saddened by this news. I mean, I’m happy for you, so happy.” She hugged him. “You belong here. I’m sure Elisedd will say yes.” She took both his hands in hers. “He is a loveable old man deep down. He would want a bard to sing songs of love before his Lady Carthann, though he would never say so. I am very fond of Elisedd. I wish he were my father,”...by marriage, she silently proclaimed.
“I am glad you’re pleased, but I have been your friend for many years and I know something troubles you.” He slapped his brow. “What a blithering, blathering clod I am. You dread the coming union with Cuthred. What can I say?”
“Nothing, but I will miss you at court.” She flashed a brave smile.
“My lady, I am not to go to Cuthred’s court.”
“Cuthred’s court? No, I speak of Mercia.” Then it hit her. She let in an audible breath. “Oh, you are right. I’d forgotten.” A cold sweat clung upon her palms. She’d been banished from Mercia. Her stomach sank. She raked her upper teeth across her lower lip and mustered her resolve, yet heaviness pressed upon her. Try as she might, she could not force herself to smile. She gazed silently at Scan. Tears slid down her face, unchecked. She was like a melting candle, dripping wax.
She heard the sound of running feet as Blaise rushed toward her. Oh no, she couldn’t face him now. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“What means this? Branda, what has happened?” Blaise came to a stop just a breath span away from her.
Branda couldn’t speak and fell into the warm embrace of his strong arms, sniffing his musky scent. She closed her eyes. She would never leave.
Blaise lifted her chin and leaned his head downward. His thick hair veiled her face as she pressed her lips against his in a feathery touch. She was molded to him with the heat of his kiss, overcome with a bittersweet fever caused by his beckoning lips and the firmness of his hands as he held her tight. He suckled her lips as if he were feeding from her mouth. She could not pull away and wanted more. He released her mouth but pressed his hard body against her.
The Prince of Powys Page 10
