Serpent (25 page)

“I will go now,” she said, standing up. “I… I shall return shortly.”

“I will go with you,” Tacey announced, standing up as well. “I would like to help you.”

Penelope smiled weakly at the girl, knowing she was about to make a fool out of herself in front of her
with her ignorant dressing habits. “My thanks,” she said, although she didn’t mean it. “I would be… honored.”

Tacey smiled brightly and grasped her hand, pulling her from the hall
. As they went, Tacey called out to the first serving woman she came across, one who was bringing more drink into the hall.

“We are going to dress,” she announced to the woman. “Send someone up with warmed water.”

The serving wench nodded and went about her business as Tacey practically dragged Penelope up the stairs. The young girl was eager to be of use and Penelope wished she could jump out of the window.

Now she was
the wife of a warlord and the time was finally upon her to dress the part. God, she was dreading it. All of it. She missed her family and was unhappy to be in this strange and new world. She had told her father that she had not been opposed to this marriage and she hadn’t been in theory, but the reality was something new entirely. Terrible creatures, rebelling chieftains, an insane uncle, and her new role in life were all contributing to great regrets. She didn’t belong here. She wanted to go home.

Sneaking away from Rhydilian and running to catch up with her father’s party was looking better by the second.

⌘

Pendraeth Village

There are Welsh everywhere
.

That’s what Penelope thought as she rode into the village of Pendraeth in the company of her husband, her sister-in-law, and her husband’s
teulu
. Since most of them had ridden out with her father’s party, only about forty were available to escort them into town. It was like being in the belly of the enemy, but in this case, they were not the enemy at all. They were her vassals. Bhrodi’s
teulu
were dressed in their traditional garments, tunics of red that were plain, no crests as the English wore, and they carried nothing but spears and crossbows with them. It was all quite strange considering when Penelope had ever traveled with her father, they wore mail, plate armor, helmets, shields, and were generally armed to the teeth. The Welsh didn’t do that and it was all quite puzzling to her.

Even more puzzling was the fact that she was not dressed in her usual traveling attire; with Tacey’s help, she had donned some of the clothing in her trousseau that her mother and aunts had made for her; she had on a fine, soft shift and over that she wore a gown of lavender wool, snug in the bodice and sleeves, with a full skirt that she had already tripped on twice. Over the lavender gown she wore a coat of pale ivory that was tight at the waist but ended just below her hips. It was lined with white rabbit fur, very elegant and warm
. Instead of her usual boots, she wore fine doeskin slippers. For as lovely as she looked, she was absolutely miserable.

But Bhrodi was as proud as a peacock with his lovely new wife as they made their way into the berg. Tacey was on a small and gentle palfrey, being led by Ianto, while Penelope rode at the head of the group with Brodi
. Although she had a big gray charger she was very fond of, Bhrodi had shown some reluctance at her riding a war horse in such fine attire, so she reluctantly agreed to a gentle white mare. And she was hating every minute of it; she wondered if the torture and humiliation would ever end.

Her unhappiness faded as she became interested in the town around her. Welsh towns didn’t seem too different from English towns except they were speaking the very harsh Welsh language, which sounded like gibberish to her. When Bhrodi spoke to his
teulu
, it was in Welsh, and sometimes he spoke to Tacey in it as well. They were heading towards the center of town, near a big well and a stream that ran right through the middle of town, when Penelope finally asked him about his native language.

“Is Welsh your first language?” she asked him.

Bhrodi nodded as he reined his charger near the well where several women were doing their laundry. “Even though my father is English, I learned Welsh first,” he said. “I will teach it to you so that you and I may converse in it.”

Penelope looked dubious. “It sounds very difficult.”

He grinned as he dismounted his steed. “I do not think it is, but it is very different from your language,” he said. “For example,
croeso
means ‘welcome’. Welcome to Pendraeth.”

He was stretching his arm wide to indicate the villag
e as he rounded his horse and moved to help her dismount. But Penelope had already leapt off the little mare, nearly tumbling when she stepped on the skirts she was not used to. Bhrodi grasped her by the elbow to steady her.

“
Croeso
,” Penelope repeated. “Welcome. What else?”

He cocked his head thoughtfully, watching Ianto lift Tacey off her horse and set her to her feet very carefully
. He pointed to his sister.

“
Chwaer
,” he said, “means ‘sister’.”

“And brother?”

“
Brawd
.”

At this point, they were gazing steadily at one another and for the first time all day, Penelope’s mood seemed to be lightening
considerably. Her personality seemed to be coming back as did the light in her eyes. Bhrodi smiled at her as she mouthed the words he had just taught her, whispering them as she rolled them over her tongue. When she caught his expression, she returned his smile.

“Mayhap I will allow you to teach me your language,” she said. “My mother speaks Gaelic constantly but I never learned. I do, however, speak French.”

He nodded his head. “As do I,” he said. “Often, there are men under my command that speak different languages. I must know them all if I am to tell them what to do.”

Penelope nodded, her smile fading. “In speaking of men under your command,” she said, “you do not think that my father will run into any trouble as he travels through Wales? That is to say, the trouble from last night will not follow him, will it?
The men who are escorting him, your men, will see him through safely?”

He was surprised the question hadn’t come up sooner and he nodded as he began to lead her towards a small avenue near the well that seemed to be very busy
. There were open merchant stalls, very tiny and crowded stalls, but very busy.

“My men will make sure your father makes it safely out of Anglesey,” he said. “English from the garrison at Caernarfon will be waiting to escort them the rest of the way. They should not run into any more trouble.”

Penelope could see that he was leading her towards a cluster of merchant stalls. “But what of the men last night who caused all of the trouble?” she asked. “Did you chase them away?”

Bhrodi’s smile, and his good mood, faded as he thought on the fate of those he thought were his friends.
That ancient and horrible fate. “Nay,” he said after a moment. “I did not chase them away.”

Penelope took the news with some relief. “Then you imprisoned them,” she
assumed and he did not correct her. “Excellent. I was fearful they would be lying in wait for my father.”

Bhrodi didn’t say anymore. He didn’t want to tell her what he did with those who had betrayed him, at least not now. It would be too much for her to bear when she was still emotionally fragile
in this new world. He was about to change the subject when Tacey rushed up and latched onto Penelope’s hand.

“This is so exciting!” she gasped, her young face alight at all of the vendor stalls. “Where is the sweet vendor?”

Bhrodi pointed off into the cluster of stalls. “In there, somewhere,” he said. “We shall find him.”

Perhaps that was the truth, but Tacey wouldn’t wait. She tried to run ahead, pulling Penelope with her, but Bhrodi cautioned her to slow down. Tacey tried, but for a young girl who hadn’t been out of Rhydilian in over a year, she was wild with excitement. As they entered the busy avenue, Tacey spied a man with all manner of food about his stall. Letting go of Penelope’s hand, she ran towards the stall before her brother could stop her. He did, however, send Ianto after her so she wouldn’t get into any trouble. By the time the rest of the group caught up, Tacey already had two sweets in hand.

“This is a fruit pie,” Tacey said happily, indicating a big, brown, and fried piece of crust. “It has figs and raisins and apples in it. And this is a custard with rice and almonds. There is honey in it, too!”

She was indicating a small
box made from dried grass that was filled with a lumpy white pudding. Bhrodi eyed the treats.

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

Tacey nodded eagerly. “I do!”

Bhrodi shrugged and indicated for Gwyllim, the keeper of the purse, to pay the merchant. As the man counted out
the coins, Bhrodi turned to Penelope.

“Would you like sweets also?” he asked.

Penelope watched Tacey, so very happy with her treats. “Nay,” she said. “I have never been very fond of them.”

Bhrodi cocked an eyebrow as he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “Is that so?” he asked. “What are you fond of?”

Penelope snorted. “Great black ale that comes from Scotland,” she said.

He made a face. “Ale? God’s Blood, woman, must you be fond of a man’s drink?”

Penelope laughed softly as she allowed Bhrodi to lead her down the street. She was feeling better now, her depression lifting, and she was coming to enjoy Bhrodi’s company once again. The last time she had enjoyed being with him was last night before the attack in the hall. William had believed in Bhrodi’s innocence in the matter and, truth be told, she did, too. She never truly believed he had been behind it although, at the time, she hadn’t known what to think.

Now, she was feeling somewhat guilty for thinking the worst of him. He had, in truth, been trying very hard to be kind to her since the moment they met. He was still trying very hard as he helped
her come to know her new world and she knew she wasn’t making it easy for him. As they passed by a blacksmith’s stall, she paused to look at the swords he was working on.

Bhrodi paused as well, watching her face as she watched the blacksmith
. When she realized she was being watched, she smiled rather sheepishly at him.

“Sorry,” she said. “I have always been interested in metalworking. My father has allowed me to help the blacksmith at Castle Questing
. I find the whole process fascinating.”

Bhrodi gazed at his beautiful wife, looking so elegant and womanly in her lavender gown. But it was coming to occur to him that it was going to take a lot of work to turn her from a knight into a true lady. He wondered if he would ever truly be able to do it
. He wondered if he should even try. She seemed so uncomfortable in her fine clothes even if she looked delicious and he liked to see her in them. To see the woman dressed in tunics and leather was such a waste. Aye, her mother had said it best – he wanted a wife, not a knight, but he knew it would be a difficult transition.

“It is man’s work,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “
I do not think I should like to see my wife in the stalls, banging away on an anvil.”

Penelope laughed softly. “I would not do it if you did not give me permission,” she said, her gaze finding the half-finished swords again that the smithy was working on. “But… but I did lose my broadsword in the battle against the beast. I was hoping… well, I should like to have another one.”

Bhrodi pondered her request. It was the first one she’d truly made of him and he hated to deny her, but he didn’t want to encourage her either. He settled for a wink. “Mayhap you will be surprised with one at some point in the future,” he said, taking her elbow and pulling her gently along with him. “Come and look over her; there is a merchant who has traveled all over the world and he has some marvelous and mysterious things in his stall.”