Walter fitz Alan stood in the center of the
room. His chain mail had been removed, leaving him in padded
gambeson and hose. A guard was fastening iron chains between
Walter’s wrists while Guy frowned at his former friend.
“You,” Guy said, “will be the first guest in
my new dungeon. You will remain there, in chains, until I receive
instructions about your punishment from King Henry.”
Meredith shuddered. She had once peered into
the dungeon. It lay below the basement storerooms. It was nothing
more than a dank pit carved out of the solid rock, with only a
narrow slit high up in one wall for light and air. She could almost
feel sorry for Sir Walter. Almost, until she recalled what he had
done to those she loved, and then all pity left her.
“Your first prisoner?” Walter, apparently
fearless, sneered at Guy. “My dear host, what an honor. I only
regret that our positions are not reversed. I cannot begin to
describe the pleasure I would feel, could I but do the same for
you.”
“Take him below,” Guy ordered. “Give him a
blanket, and see that he has adequate food. We’ll keep him alive.
For now.”
“Do ask your cook to send me a platter of
venison braised with leeks,” Walter said, as the guards dragged him
out, “it’s my favorite dish. And some Rhenish wine to go with
it.”
“Bread and water is what he deserves,”
Geoffrey declared, “and that only every other day. What will be the
king’s orders about his fate, my lord? Can you guess?”
“No, I cannot,” Guy replied. “It may be that
King Henry will leave the manner of Walter’s punishment up to me.”
He sighed, and Meredith, watching him, sensed the pain he must be
feeling at Walter’s unrepentant betrayal of their long
friendship.
“Walter’s brother Baldwin would ransom him,”
Isabel said, suddenly moving out of the shadows at the side of the
wardroom. “Send to Brittany, Guy, and ask Baldwin. Then Walter and
I will go away and bother you no more.”
“Oh, my lord, please.” Father Herbert was on
his knees before Guy. “I implore you to do as Lady Isabel asks. The
king will listen to you if you plead for Sir Walter’s life. Let not
blood spilled in vengeance-taking be upon your hands. I have been
told young Thomas is unharmed. Let this day see an end to this
unfortunate episode.”
Meredith stepped forward, brushing aside the
restraining hand Reynaud put out as she moved past him. She faced
Father Herbert squarely.
“Thomas is not unharmed,” Meredith declared.
“He has been grievously ill, and even now his mind and heart are
sorely troubled by all he has endured.”
“I can bear witness to that,” Reynaud spoke
to Guy. “Thomas might well have died, my lord, had Meredith not
been here. She has cared for him as if he were her own child.”
“Thank you,” Isabel breathed. “Oh, Meredith,
I do thank you. I was so worried about him.”
“Worried?” Meredith stared at her in
astonishment.
“Worried?
You unnatural mother, you never took
a moment’s concern for Thomas! Your only care was for yourself and
your position in the world.”
“I helped him escape,” Isabel declared
boldly. “I saved his life.”
“You?” Meredith cried, and then found herself
unable to speak further, for the anger choking her.
“Never!” Geoffrey shouted. “You betrayed us
all to Sir Walter. I saw you speaking to him.”
“I did not tell him Thomas and the women had
gone to the cellar,” Isabel insisted. “It was the guard who did
that.”
“You lie, lady.” Geoffrey’s face was red with
rage.
“I do not. Walter may never forgive me for
what I did to help Thomas.”
“Be quiet, all of you,” Guy commanded. “There
will be time enough to sort out the blame here. You, Father
Herbert, get off your knees. I mean you no harm, but I will keep
you confined for the present. You will be taken to a guest chamber
on the floor above this one, and there you will remain, with a
guard at your door, until I decide what to do with you.”
“I am not subject to secular law,” Father
Herbert stated, drawing himself up.
“You are in my castle, under my rule, because
you were consorting with traitors.” Guy’s voice was dangerously
soft. “Go with my guards, Father Herbert.”
“Reynaud, tell Lord Guy he cannot do
this!”
“I think you’d be well advised to do as you
are told.” Reynaud’s voice almost matched Guy’s for softness.
Father Herbert, realizing he would find no help from the builder,
gave up and allowed himself to be led away.
“And now you.” Guy turned to Isabel. “I
believe it was your idea to use my brother’s son as hostage, was it
not?”
“I knew you would not let him die. You love
him too dearly. I knew you would give up Afoncaer in exchange for
his life.”
“You misjudged me, Isabel. I would never have
betrayed King Henry’s trust.”
“I don’t believe you.” But Isabel’s face had
gone as white as her silk wimple.
“Because of you and Walter, my dear friend
Brian is dead, and six good men of mine besides, and Meredith’s
Aunt Branwen is dead, too. She was a woman worth twenty of
you.”
“What will you do with me now?” Isabel
whispered. She was trembling visibly. Her hands were clasped
together and pressed tightly against her bosom to still their
shaking. Her deep blue eyes were wide, but there was no sign of her
usual tears. It was instead the maid Alice, along with the other
maidservant, Margaret, sheltered behind Isabel, who wept
copiously.
“Until I decide,” Guy answered Isabel, “you,
like Father Herbert, will be confined to one of the guest chambers
above. I pray God that Afoncaer does not have many guests like you
three in the future.”
“Please, Guy, just let me explain. I can make
you understand. I know I can.” Now, at last, Isabel’s great weapon,
her tears, began to fall. “Pity me. Pity Walter. You can help us if
you will.”
“Take her to her room.” Guy nodded to his
guards, and one took Isabel by the arm. She shook off his hand and
walked out, her head high. The heavy wardroom door slammed upon
her, and upon Alice’s sniffling and Margaret’s distressed,
frightened face. Guy took a deep breath and faced Meredith. “I must
now confirm what you already know. We found Branwen dead in the
secret tunnel, and Brian lying close beside her. He had taken six
of Walter’s men, vengeance for our own who were killed, before his
wounds stopped him. We buried them side by side in the old burying
ground, on the hill overlooking Tynant. We had a priest come from
Llangwilym Abbey to say the mass for them.”
“Branwen was happy there as a child,”
Meredith said. “I am glad she will rest at Tynant, and glad Brian
is with her. Thank you.” She had no tears left.
“What now, my lord?” Reynaud asked.
“My men hold Tynant in the king’s name. I
expect no opposition from the Earl of Chester now that Walter is
defeated. For the moment there are no other threats to Afoncaer.
Tomorrow we can begin building again. But for tonight,” Guy moved
his shoulders, stiff with fighting and riding and bearing the
weight of chain mail, “for now, after Geoffrey has unarmed me, I
want a bath to ease my aches, and a good meal and a night’s sleep.
Is Thomas still in my room?”
“Yes, but he’s well enough to be moved,”
Meredith assured him.
“He’ll not take kindly to the women’s
quarters,” Reynaud advised. “He’s growing a bit irritated with all
this coddling.”
“Put him by the fire in the great hall,”
Geoffrey suggested. “And I’ll watch over him.”
“And I,” Reynaud added.
Somehow, in the bustle of moving Thomas out
of the lord’s chamber and bringing in Guy’s bath water, they
overlooked Gwyn until after the evening meal was finished.
“I haven’t seen her anywhere,” Thomas said as
they settled him on a pallet by the firepit. “I don’t think she
would come into the hall, because of the dogs.” Thomas nodded
toward the hounds who ranged freely around the hall, picking up
bones or scraps of meat after meals.
“Don’t worry, she’s probably still in the
keep. I’ll take a bowl of milk to her,” Meredith offered. Leaving
Thomas to Reynaud and Geoffrey, she went to the kitchen for a small
pitcher of milk and a bowl, and then made her way to the keep. The
guard at the entrance was the same man who had stood outside
Thomas’s sickroom door two days ago.
“For the lad’s cat?” he asked, laughing as he
noticed what Meredith was carrying. “I saw the beast run up the
stairs a while ago as I came on duty. It’s probably looking for
Thomas.”
How Gwyn had gotten into the lord’s chamber
Meredith did not know, but there she lay, curled before the fire.
She did not move until Meredith had poured out the milk. Then she
bestirred herself and came to sniff at the bowl.
The door opened, and Guy came in, followed by
one of his new, younger squires, freshly arrived from
Adderbury.
“Are you waiting for me?” he asked. His eyes
never left her face as she explained. She felt her cheeks reddening
under his steady, and distinctly hungry, look.
“Robert,” Guy said to the squire, “take the
cat to Thomas, and then go to bed yourself. I won’t need you any
more tonight.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Guy barred the door after the squire had
left.
“My lord,” Meredith said, “I should go,
too.”
“So formal? Are you not pleased to see me?”
As he advanced toward her she backed away until she reached the
bed. He grinned.
“Just,” he said, “where I wanted you. Will
you welcome me home properly, Meredith?”
She had no doubt of his meaning. His hands
were on her shoulders, pulling her toward him. She felt his warm
breath on her cheek, just before his lips found hers. She tried to
fight the desire welling up in her but could not. She did not
really want to struggle against it, whatever the consequences for
herself. She had feared for him, and here he was, her own dear
love, safe and whole, and she wanted him.
“Meredith,” he murmured, “I saw the room
where Thomas was held. I know how many guards Walter had and what a
terrible risk you took to rescue Thomas. How brave you were, and
how completely foolish.”
“I had Branwen to help me,” she said, a catch
in her voice at the thought of her aunt, “And Brian and his men. I
was not the only courageous one.”
“That tunnel,” he said, crushing her against
him as if he feared he would lose her to the black dampness of the
place. “When I found Branwen and Brian there – Brian had crawled to
her at the last and rested his head on her shoulder – Meredith, I
could only think that might have been you lying there. It could so
easily have been you.”
“Oh, Guy.” She could think of nothing else to
say.
“They were happy together,” Guy went on,
“while we denied ourselves.”
“Your reason was a good one,” she reminded
him.
“Now I am home safe, shall we dissolve our
earlier agreement, Meredith?”
She pulled her head back to look at him,
amazed by the question. He had insisted on mutual agreement that
they would stay apart from each other, and now, when he could have
taken her with no discussion at all, he held back, wanting joint
consent. She was filled with love and tenderness.
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, lifting her
face for his kiss.
She felt his hands moving across her back,
and then down to cup her buttocks and press her against his
hardness and hold her there, and all the while his tongue was in
her mouth, searching, teasing, driving her wild with skillful
strokes. She was clinging to him, her fingers in his golden hair,
too happy to attempt more speech. With her body awakening and
clamoring for his remembered touch, she surrendered completely.
When he began to pull off her gown, she helped him, and then, once
freed of the garment, tugged at his long indoor robe as he buried
his face in her breasts, breathing in the sweet smell of her soft
skin. His hands covered their high, round fullness.
A chill draft blew through the shutters over
the western windows. In spite of the warmth growing inside her,
Meredith shivered a little.
“Are you cold?” he murmured, running his
hands along her arms to her shoulders. “Come, my sweet, come under
the covers with me. We will stay snug there until spring.”
“You’ll be hungry long before then,” she
teased gently, burrowing into the furs and quilts he was drawing
over them.
“Only for you.” He wrapped strong arms around
her, holding her close.
She was warmer now, exquisitely warm, his
arms a safe shelter from the wind rattling the shutters, his mouth
a delicious torment. Her limbs suffused with a honeyed, aching
languor, she welcomed his caresses, returning them with a slow,
tender fierceness that roused him to a peak of excitement so
intense he cried out as he entered her, and then again, almost
immediately, as flaming passion took them both, and Meredith knew
once more that near-miraculous merging of her spirit and his. They
were one in mind and heart and body, and whatever lay outside his
chamber door, whatever the future might bring, mattered not at all.
Only Guy mattered, her golden, constant, eternal love.
On the third day of her imprisonment, Isabel
asked to see Guy. He was busy with Reynaud, laying out the final
plans for the building of the new great hall. He sent the messenger
back with word he would come when he could. Deliberately, he let
her wait two more days, and when he went, he took Reynaud with
him.
“After we have spoken with her,” Guy said,
“include our conversation in the report on this affair that you are
writing for the king.”
Isabel looked years older, lines showing at
the edges of her deep-circled eyes and around her mouth. She wore a
dark grey gown, severe as a nun’s, and no jewelry save her marriage
ring. Her hair was bundled under a white linen coif, without her
usual gold circlet. Guy, regarding her with fascination, wondered
where she had found such a costume. She certainly looked like a
martyr, and he suspected that was the role she was prepared to
play. He decided to take the offensive at once.