A Memory of Love (14 page)

“
And you!
You have grown so! You are taller than I am now, little brother! Oh, Glynn, I have so much to tell you, and you have so much to learn. I actually called him
Tad
, and he softened and let you come to me. Did I not promise you, Glynn?”

“I have your weapons,” he said softly. “But you have become such a fine lady, Rhonwyn, will you want them now?”

“I will want them,” she assured him. “Come now and meet my husband, Glynn.”

“No greeting for us, lady?” a familiar voice called to her.

Rhonwyn turned. “Oth! Dewi! I greet you both.” She swept them a curtsey, laughing as she did so.

“We scarcely recognized you, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, such a great lady you have become,” Oth, the more talkative of the two, said.

“I am no great lady,” she replied. “Just a simple lord's wife. You aren't used to seeing me dressed so prettily, Oth.”

“Good thing you didn't look like that at Cythraul, Rhonwyn, else we should not have been able to keep you chaste,” he chuckled. “Go on now and take the lad to your husband. We'll follow behind.”

Together the siblings walked their horses to where Edward de Beaulie awaited them. When they reached him, Rhonwyn introduced her younger brother to her husband. Edward greeted the boy graciously, and Glynn responded in kind, Rhonwyn translating for both of them.

“That is your first task,” she told Glynn. “You must learn the Norman tongue. It isn't hard. I learned very quickly.”

“Far easier than the Welsh,” Edward said in that same tongue.

Rhonwyn gasped with surprise.
“You speak Welsh?”

“My nursemaid was of the Cymri,” he said to her.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she demanded, suddenly both angry and worried. If he spoke Welsh, then he knew exactly what she had said to ap Gruffydd to convince him to let her have Glynn—that she would free Glynn or kill him if the English tried to take him.

He grinned wickedly. “I wanted to surprise you one day.” He turned to Glynn. “I shall not often speak Welsh to you, lad, for you must learn the Norman language if you are to succeed in this world. Do you understand me, Glynn ap Llywelyn?”

“Aye, my lord, I do,” Glynn agreed, not comprehending the deviltry in his brother-in-law's eyes.

“How could you do that to me?” Rhonwyn said as she remounted her horse and they turned to ride back to the castle, Glynn between them. “How could you speak my native tongue and not tell me so?”

“Why do you think I was the one chosen to wed you, Rhonwyn?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “King Henry asked who among the bachelor lords in the Englishry could speak Welsh well enough to take a Welsh wife. I was the only one to admit such a talent. It was thought you would not speak the Norman tongue. When you did, I saw no reason to bring up my own abilities, for I was pleased you cared enough about your impending marriage to learn my language.”

“But you know then what I promised the prince,” she said.

“And you should know I will never let it come to that,” he told her fiercely. “Do you not think I realize that if you had to kill Glynn, you would then kill yourself, Rhonwyn? Do you think me so great a fool not to understand that? I can protect Glynn without compromising my loyalties. This I swear to you, my lady wife. Do you believe me, Rhonwyn?” His gray eyes turned to look directly at her.

She met his look searchingly, and then seeing the truth of this man's word, replied, “Aye, Edward, I believe you.” “Good!” he replied.

“We will not speak on it again.”

Glynn ap Llywelyn had never known a world such as that he entered into at Haven Castle. He had a chamber all his own. He was treated with deference as the son of the prince of Wales. At Cythraul he had just been Glynn, the lad. And more often than not he was known as Rhonwyn's little brother, not that he minded. He had new experiences, the first of which was his baptism into the Christian faith, his brother-in-law standing as his godfather. When his two companions, Oth and Dewi, admitted to not being certain if they had ever been baptized, they, too, were christened.

“There can be no heathens in my home,” the lord said with a small smile. “Surely you have not been Christians before now else you would have taught Prince Llywelyn's children their faith.”

“Have you been baptized, sister?” Glynn asked Rhonwyn.

“At the abbey with our Aunt Gwynllian, my godmother,” she told him.

It was ap Gruffydd's wish that Oth and Dewi remain at Haven with his son. Edward de Beaulie did not object. “A prince's son should have his own retinue, however small,” he said graciously, but in truth he understood the real reason for ap Gruffydd's wish. Should the English ever threaten Glynn, his two watchdogs could get him safely over the border into Wales with neither Edward nor Rhonwyn being held accountable.

“You must learn the Norman tongue,” Edward told the two Welshmen in their own language. “You will be of more use to me if you do. However, it is not necessary that strangers be aware of your skills.” He winked at them meaningfully.

“Our loyalty is to our prince first, my lord,” Oth told him honestly. “We are Welsh, not English.”

“If the day comes when there is war between our peoples again,” Edward said, “I will expect you gone without my saying it. I understand your loyalty, so I know you understand mine. Until that day, however, your loyalties must be with me, at least in part. Are we agreed?”

“The lady …” Oth began.

“Is my wife, and her loyalty, as you may ask her, lies with me now. As for the lad, that will be his choice to make. Be certain he does not forget his own tongue should he ever need it one day.”

“You are more than fair, my lord,” Oth replied, and he bowed.

Glynn's life now had more structure, and like his sister when she had first left Cythraul, he chafed at it. He was required to be at early mass with Rhonwyn. After he broke his fast he was schooled for several hours in a variety of subjects by Father John. Only in mid-afternoon was he free to ride or follow his own pursuits. Learning to read and write was for him a joy. Now he could copy the words to the songs he created onto parchment for all to see. With his brother-in-law's aid his manners became polished and elegant. Regular meals and plenty of food caused him to fill out and grow a bit taller.

One afternoon as he and Rhonwyn sat their horses atop a hill in view of Haven, she said to him, “I believe you are truly happy, Glynn, for the first time in your life.”

The boy thought a moment, and then he said, “Aye, sister, I am; and I am not afraid any longer. I was always afraid at Cythraul, especially after you left. Are you happy, Rhonwyn? Edward seems a kind man, but there appears to be little between you.”

“We are only getting to know one another,” Rhonwyn said to him. “I am told that marriages are always arranged affairs. There is an advantage to each side. Ours was a marriage devised as a matter of good faith between two warring parties. England wed to Wales. My husband and I are yet strangers. Now enough; I just have time for sword practice with Oth before the evening meal. Come on, little brother! I'll race you home,” she cried, and spurred Hardd into a gallop.

From the castle heights Edward observed them as they sped down the hill and across meadows, scattering the sheep as they came. Unable to help himself, he chuckled. His wife was a changed person since the arrival of her younger brother. The love between the two had made him jealous until he realized that her love for Glynn was almost maternal. She had watched over the boy her whole life and felt responsible for his well-being. And the lad was certainly no trouble. He sopped up knowledge eagerly, being a very quick study. Rhonwyn had been correct when she said he was a gentle soul not fit for a soldier's life. He was now writing poems in the Norman tongue that he put to music.

Edward watched as Glynn and Rhonwyn entered the courtyard, dismounting their animals. Oth came forward with a padded garment, helping Rhonwyn to don it. Fascinated, Edward observed his wife as she was handed her sword, one that had obviously been made just for her hand. She began to practice her moves beneath the eye of the Welshman. Edward could hear him directing her sternly.

“You're out of shape, lady. Think! Think! And follow your instincts else you find yourself dead of your own carelessness.” Oth picked up his own sword and began to block her blows. “That's it, lady!” He leapt aside, dodging her thrust. “You didn't anticipate that, lady! Ow!” He jumped back, swearing softly.

“And you didn't anticipate
that
!” She grinned at him, lowering her weapon. “I didn't hurt you, did I? It was just a tap, Oth.”

“You're beginning to remember,” he said with a rueful smile. “All right now, back to our practice, my fine lady.”

The lord of Haven watched for a time as his beautiful wife turned into a warrior before his eyes. This was another side of Rhonwyn he had not anticipated. He found himself excited by this new knowledge, but he wasn't certain he approved. Surely such mannish activities could harm her abilities to bear him children. For now, however, he held his peace.

Rhonwyn was such a complex creature, and he really did want to know her better, but he was finding that it was not easy. They seemed to coexist, but nothing more. With Alfred's help she was learning how to manage the household. With Father John's aid she was becoming charitable to the less fortunate. His servants and his people liked her well. It was only he who seemed to be shut out of her life, although she was certainly polite and thoughtful of his well-being. But he had not entered her bed since their wedding night five months ago.

He wanted children, and it was certainly her duty to give him heirs; but each time he attempted to touch her, Rhonwyn shied away from him, distress all over her beautiful face. They could not go on like this, and if she would not make the first move, he would have to do so. But he needed to choose his moment carefully lest he repel her even more. He needed to be alone with her, without her brother and his two Welsh watchdogs. Then fate intervened in the person of Father John.

“I should like to take Glynn to Shrewsbury,” the priest told his lord one evening as they sat at the high board. “He has never seen a town, and as you know, my lord, it is a fine one.” He turned to Rhonwyn, knowing her approval was paramount. “There is an abbey of monks, lady, and many churches and shops. Trading vessels come up the Severn from Bristol, for the river is very navigable. Oth and Dewi would, of course, come with us. There are many Welsh who visit the town regularly, and so they would not stand out at all.”

“What think you, Rhonwyn?” Edward asked her. “And you, Glynn? Would you enjoy such an educational journey?”

“Oh, I very much want to go, Edward!” the boy said enthusiastically. He looked to his sister. “Rhonwyn, please say I may.”

“Perhaps I shall go with you,” Rhonwyn said thoughtfully. “I have never seen a town either, little brother.”

Glynn's face fell. “Oh, do you want to go?” he said, his dismay very evident. This was obviously a trip he and the priest had previously planned.

Edward leaned over to murmur in his wife's little ear, “He is growing up, Rhonwyn. This is the first time in his life he has been treated as he should be. As a prince's son should be. His tutor wants to take him on a brief journey. I don't think he wants his big sister with him, as much as he may love you.”

She had never before considered that Glynn would grow up. He was her baby brother whom she had always watched over and protected. She had brought him to Haven and expanded his world. Now, like a little bird, he wanted to leave the nest to fly on his own. It came as somewhat of a shock. Surely he wasn't ready yet! Then she realized that Edward's large hand was covering hers in a comforting gesture. She turned her gaze to him, and he smiled at her encouragingly.

“I will take you to Shrewsbury myself one day,” he promised her in a soft voice only she could hear.

Rhonwyn sighed deeply, and then she turned to her brother. “How long would you be gone?” she asked him.

“Just a week, no longer,” Glynn replied.

“You must be certain no one knows you are the prince's son,” she warned him.

“He can be known as Glynn of Thorley, a young relation of mine,” Edward said. “It will be assumed he is my son by one of my former mistresses. In the care of the castle priest, it will be presumed that his mother is dead, which is, of course, a truth.”

“ 'Tis a grand idea!” the boy said enthusiastically. “When can we leave, Father John?”

“Would tomorrow be too soon, my son?” came the answer, and Glynn cheered. His sister, unable to help herself, smiled.

“You must have Oth and Dewi with you at all times,” she said firmly, “and you will obey Father John without question, Glynn. If I learn you have been a wicked rascal, there shall be no more trips, my lad, I promise you,” Rhonwyn sternly warned her brother.

He grinned at her happily, and the following morning he rode off with his little party with nought but a scant wave for his sister. To her surprise, Rhonwyn began to weep, and Edward, who was with her, put an arm about her shoulders. For once she did not shrug him off.

“There, wife, he will be back soon,” he reassured her.