Usually but not always.
As she was usually levelheaded, except when she was near Rheged.
“Whatever came over him, though, I’m not going to excuse him. I give you my word that whatever has happened with Rheged at Castle DeLac, you shall be returned as soon as my physician says you can travel. Until then, you are under my protection.”
Shouts and the sudden clatter of hooves came from the yard below.
“Let’s hope that’s Rheged now,” Sir Algar said as he went to the window while Tamsin moved to put her feet on the floor, until the pain forced her to stay still.
“It is Rheged, thank God!” Sir Algar said, turning toward her.
She sighed with relief, although she couldn’t venture to guess what had transpired at Castle DeLac.
Then Rheged himself was there, his powerful body filling the doorway, his hair disheveled, his boots caked with mud and his expression grim. By rights, she should despise him. She should not be thinking that even exhausted and stained with travel, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen and she would have mourned if he’d been killed.
“Thank God you’re back!” Sir Algar cried, hurrying toward him. “What happened with DeLac?”
“As long as I return the lady in a sennight, all will be well.”
She should be glad that her uncle was willing to be merciful, for his sake and Mavis’s, too.
Yet in spite of her need to save Mavis, Tamsin’s heart sank. She didn’t want to go back to Castle DeLac, or to marry Blane. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t reveal her true feelings, not here, and especially not to him, lest he once again interfere and make more trouble for them all. “The marriage will proceed?”
Only then did Rheged turn his dark-eyed gaze to her. “I assume so. But I told him you would not return until the physician said it was safe for you to do so.”
As if that was his responsibility. “I shall decide—”
“Gilbert—”
“Now, now, there’s no need for an argument,” Sir Algar interjected. “After all, Gilbert may well say she’s able to travel in that time.” He put his hand on Rheged’s shoulder. “What Gilbert has said is that the lady requires rest, so we should go and let her do so.”
Rheged gestured to someone outside and that maidservant with the mole peered around the door. He made another impatient gesture, and she sidled into the room.
“While you are my guest, Hildie will be your servant, and you’ll have all the comforts I can provide. I regret they will not be as fine as those you’re used to, but I am not a wealthy man. Until later, my lady,” Rheged finished before starting for the door.
“Sleep well, my lady,” Sir Algar said. He followed his liegeman out of the chamber and to the hall below.
“Now, then, Rheged,” Sir Algar said sternly as he joined the younger man near the hearth. “What really happened with DeLac?”
Chapter Eight
“It is as I told you, my lord,” Rheged replied. “If I return the lady in a sennight, all will be well.”
“You seem to forget that I know DeLac as well as you know Blane and his brood,” Sir Algar said grimly. “There has to be more to this. He made threats, didn’t he? He said he would go to the king if she’s not returned, or he would have you imprisoned. And me, too, no doubt.”
Rheged had to admit that he was right. “But it will not come to that, my lord,” he finished, “or if it does, I will insist that I alone did the deed, so I alone should be brought before the king.”
“I would like to hope your assertion would be treated with the respect it deserves, but unfortunately DeLac and John are not honorable or reasonable. They are greedy, ambitious men, and should this matter come to trial, DeLac will surely bribe whoever is necessary, including the king, to get the judgment he wants.” Sir Algar sat in the chair by the hearth. “So I fear we must hope that for once, DeLac will be as good as his word and Tamsin will be well enough to travel in a sennight. We shall also have to pray that Blane is willing to overlook what’s happened for the sake of the alliance.”
“He’s greedy and ambitious, too, my lord, so I think he will,” Rheged said, sitting and running a hand through his long, dark hair. “But to think of Tamsin married to that man! The law would be on her side if she refused. Perhaps I can persuade her—”
“No, Rheged!” Sir Algar said firmly. “As distasteful as it is, what must be must be, for your sake as well as mine. You do not have to like or approve of her choice, but since the lady has apparently accepted her fate, you must, too.”
The man who had never accepted the fate decreed for him by birth and status said, “If you will excuse me, my lord, I should give Gareth the watchword for the day.”
“Of course. Then get some rest yourself, Rheged. You look exhausted. Where did you sleep last night?”
“Where I did the night before,” Rheged replied before he bowed and went to find his friend.
* * *
Gareth had not been on the wall walk when Rheged had returned, and he could guess why. So much watchful waiting would make the soldiers and servants anxious, and anxious soldiers meant quarrels and perhaps a fistfight or two.
That didn’t mean Rheged hadn’t seen him when he returned to Cwm Bron. He’d spotted Gareth, along with a company of soldiers, in the large meadow closer to the mill engaged in sword practice.
They must still be there, he reasoned, heading to the gate where the guards on duty were warily watching him. He nodded in passing, just as he would under any circumstances, and continued toward the meadow with his usual steady and determined pace.
Drawing closer, he could hear Gareth, in the time-honored tradition of commanders of foot soldiers, loudly instructing and insulting the men under his tutelage. Like Gareth, they were dressed in boiled leather tunics and breeches and leather helms as they practiced with wooden swords.
“Damn me, lad, you’d have lost an arm if that sword was real!” Gareth chided one of the younger soldiers who’d failed to block a blow.
Since his friend’s back was to Rheged, the blushing, blond-haired soldier saw Rheged before Gareth did and stiffened to attention. Gareth immediately swiveled on his heel.
“Come to see the poor sods you’re stuck with, my lord?” he asked, his tone jovial but with a serious look in his eyes that told Rheged he was concerned about recent events. “Pathetic, mostly, but there might be a wee bit of hope for some of them.”
“A word with you, Gareth, if you please,” Rheged said.
This time, Gareth made no amusing reply. He nodded and gestured for one of the older men to come forward. “Rob, I’ll let you have a go at trying to get it through their thick heads we’re not playing patty fingers here.”
The man whose face bore evidence of more than one skirmish nodded as Rheged led Gareth a short distance away, where they couldn’t be heard over the clash of wooden weapons and Rob’s forceful corrections.
“So DeLac didn’t drag you into his dungeon,” Gareth noted with genuine relief, telling Rheged just how worried he’d been.
“No, and as long as I return the lady in a sennight, he won’t cause any trouble.”
Gareth grinned. “Well, that’s good.” His grin faded. “Isn’t it?”
“She’ll go home when she’s fit to travel and not before.”
“Am I to take it you don’t think that’ll be in a sennight?”
“I don’t know. But I won’t risk her health if moving her is dangerous.”
“Not even if DeLac takes exception? The man can afford to hire an army to take her back.”
“I know.” Rheged gave his friend the ghost of a smile. “But I have you.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but we’ll be no match for an army. Is she worth a battle? Is she worth losing Cwm Bron?”
“I have hope she’ll either recover enough to go home in the time he demands or DeLac will agree to a delay.”
“I guess we’ll find out in seven days,” Gareth said grimly.
“What are the men saying?” Rheged asked. Gareth might be their commander, but like Rheged, he’d come from nothing, and the men considered him one of their own, albeit one with authority and worthy of respect.
“They were baffled, of course, when you came back with a wounded woman and wondering what was afoot. Nervous, the lot of them, so I told them it was a Welsh tradition to abduct a bride.”
Rheged stared at him. “You...what?”
“Well, I had to tell them something, didn’t I? You coming back, then riding out again at once like a madman, coming back the second time with a woman, and her with an arrow in her leg to boot. And then you go riding off again with barely a word to anyone. Bound to cause them to wonder and worry and not just the soldiers. I heard Hildie talking to that quiet girl, the pretty one, Elvina. Hildie thinks you must have fallen in love with the lady at the tournament and she with you. She wanted to come away with you, but her uncle protested so you had to fight your way out. Very romantic, Hildie thinks. That gave me the idea to tell the men about the custom.”
“It was a bad idea.”
“Would you rather I told them the truth? That you lost your head and abducted the woman against her will and made an enemy of a man like DeLac? They’d be seeing soldiers around every tree and calling an alarm every time a branch moved in the breeze.”
Rheged raked his long fingers through his hair. “If they know she was shot trying to get away from her uncle, how does that lessen their worry?”
“I told them you took back the prize for a bride price and to make peace with the man. Since you came back safe and sound, they’ll believe it.”
“Except that we aren’t going to be married and she has to go back. And DeLac may attack us anyway.”
“So we say she changed her mind. I wouldn’t advise telling them anything more until we have to.”
His men and the servants would think him a jilted suitor. Given what he’d done, that would be a small cross to bear. “All right. Let the soldiers and servants gossip as they will, but say no more about weddings and Welsh customs. And don’t say anything like that to Sir Algar.”
“Perish the thought—not that the man talks to me. He’s a fine fellow, for a Norman, but he’s a Norman nonetheless, and since I’m not a knight...well, his loss, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“I do,” Rheged replied, regretting that although Sir Algar was friendly to him, he was like most other Normans when it came to those beneath him in rank or heritage.
Gareth glanced back over his shoulder at the men still practicing. “Anything more? I should get back to those louts.”
“I should give you the password for the night.”
Gareth’s eyes brightened with mischief. Nothing, not even the prospect of a battle, could dim his spirits for long. “Blast the bastard?” he suggested with a grin. “Death to DeLac?”
“No.” Rheged smiled grimly in return. “Fate be damned.”
* * *
The stocky young man sneered with disgust as he looked around the messy room in the inn on the road to Castle DeLac. Clothes and stockings and boots lay scattered on the floor. A carafe of wine, two goblets and the remains of a meal littered the table. The bed was little better, a tangled heap of sheets and blankets wound around and about the two occupants.
“Get out, slut,” Broderick of Dunborough said to the woman lying beside the gray-haired man.
Eying him with dread, the slatternly woman quickly gathered up her ragged, dirty clothes, clutched them to her sagging breasts and fled.
After she was gone, the stocky knight with the hard eyes and thick lips in a fleshy face shook the carafe, finding it nearly empty, before he went to the bed to rouse the old man sleeping there. “Father! Wake up!”
“What is it?” Sir Blane demanded querulously. He raised his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his small, rheumy eyes dots of rage, his body as thin as his son’s was prone to fat.
“I have news about your bride,” Broderick replied. He strode to the door and grabbed the man waiting outside. Holding the fellow by his shoulder, Broderick dragged the young man with light brown, curling hair and weak chin into the room and shoved him toward the bed. “Tell him what you told me down below.”
The minstrel clasped his hands and swallowed hard while the old man sat up in the bed and regarded him with annoyed expectancy, not even bothering to hide his nakedness.
“I...I...” the minstrel stammered “...that is, I was there...and I saw...”
“You woke me up to listen to the gibbering of an idiot?” Sir Blane demanded as he got out of bed. Still naked, he struck his son hard across the face. “Fool! Call the wench back—and you’ll pay her this time, not me. Then find me another one, too. Younger. For later.”
Hatred smoldered in Broderick’s eyes, but he stayed where he was, despite the red welt growing on his cheek. “Tell him what’s happened,” he ordered the minstrel, who was sidling toward the door. “Or was all that a lie? If so, you’ll rue the day you—”
“No, no, it’s true, it’s true!” Gordon cried, looking from the angry young man to the irate, thin old one whose lips were tinged a cold blue.
He quickly told them all that he had seen and heard when Sir Rheged had returned to Castle Delac with the prize. “Lady Thomasina was taken right out from under Lord DeLac’s nose,” he finished. “The Welshman just grabbed her and rode away!”
“He’s talking about your bride, my lord,” Broderick said to his father, whose expression betrayed neither shock nor outrage. “She’s been abducted.”
“Aye, aye, that’s right,” the minstrel confirmed. “He—the one who took her—he was angry about the tournament prize and so he came back and took Lady Thomasina.”
Blane finally picked up his bedrobe lying over a chair and drew it on over his scrawny body. Even then, he didn’t look angry or upset. If anything, he looked...pleased. “Her uncle did nothing to stop it?”
“He tried,” Gordon answered. “He ordered his men to stop them, but Sir Rheged was gone before his soldiers could get to their horses and by the time they gave chase, they’d disappeared.”
Blane darted a look at his son before he addressed the minstrel. “Sir Rheged, you say?”
“Aye, my lord, Sir Rheged of Cwm Bron, him they call the Wolf of Wales.”
Blane wrapped the bedrobe about himself and slid into the chair. “Well, well, Broderick. Sir Rheged of Cwm Bron. Your very dear friend.”
Gordon thought that if Sir Rheged was Sir Broderick’s friend, he’d hate to see how Broderick would regard an enemy.
“So he’s taken my bride,” Blane continued. “For vengeance, or his own lascivious ends, perhaps.” The old man froze the minstrel with his gaze. “When was this dastardly deed done?”
“Four days ago, my lord.”
“You hear that, my son? Rheged has had her for four days.” Blane turned his attention back to the quaking minstrel. “Has he demanded a ransom?”
“I...I don’t know, my lord. I left Castle DeLac just after she was taken.”
“Understandable. I’m sure no one was in a mood for entertainment after that.” Blane again addressed his eldest son. “Does this fool have any other news we should know?”
Broderick shook his head.
“Then he can go,” his father said, and with that, Broderick grabbed the minstrel by his collar and pushed him out the door, slamming it behind him.
“That Welshman is as good as dead!” Broderick declared as the minstrel’s clattering footsteps died away.
As if he had all the time in the world and nothing else to do, Sir Blane picked up the heel of a loaf and began to tear it apart with his long, gnarled fingers. “Is that any way to repay a man who’s done us such a favor?”
“Favor?” his son repeated with disdain.
“Favor,” Blane replied, dropping what remained of the loaf and dusting off his hands. “If DeLac wants an alliance with me, simpleton, he’ll have no choice now but to give me his pretty virgin daughter,
and a larger dowry, too.”
Which would be a waste of a pretty virgin, Broderick thought, unless his father wanted to share. He did that sometimes, when the mood was on him.
As for the Welshman... “I’m still going to kill Rheged,” Broderick declared.
“I suppose this time you might succeed.”
“I know his tricks now.”
Sir Blane laughed the wheezing, mocking laugh that all his sons hated. “Go ahead and try, my son. If you’re successful, all well and good, and if you’re not, I don’t suppose Roland or Gerrard will mind it if you fail.”
The old man’s wheezing laugh turned into a hacking cough. “Don’t just stand there, you oaf!” he said as he gasped for breath. “Fetch me some wine!”
Broderick obeyed, even as he wondered how much longer it would be before the old man was in his grave.
* * *
“You’re healing quite well, my lady,” Gilbert said as he finished tying the new bandage around her calf a day later. An anxious Hildie hovered nearby, having come with the physician and a bundle in her arms. Tamsin had yet to discover what was in the bundle, but that question was far less important than Gilbert’s verdict.
“Then I can get out of bed?” Tamsin asked. For years she’d been awake and dressed and about her duties as soon as the first cock crowed. This forced rest was almost beyond bearing.
“Yes, and you may walk about a bit, as long as your leg isn’t too painful. If it begins to ache, though, you must sit down and rest at once.”
“I shall,” she promised, glad she could at least get out of bed.
“I shall return in two days’ time, my lady,” Gilbert said as he picked up his medicinal chest, “to check again.”
“Thank you, Gilbert,” she replied. “I appreciate all your care.”
The physician nodded and left the room. The moment he was gone, Tamsin threw back the sheet and blanket and put her feet on the floor, paying no heed to Hildie setting the bundle on the foot of the bed and opening it.
Castle of the Wolf Page 9
