Castle of Dreams (39 page)

“I think the biggest problem will be
explaining our absence to Lord Guy,” Meredith said, uneasy at
deceiving her love. “I really think he should know about this.”

“If he knew, he’d forbid you both to go,”
Brian said. He’d had time to think a little, and could see what
Reynaud had been getting at. “Guy is so consumed with guilt for
letting Thomas go with Isabel he’d refuse to have you two women on
his conscience, too. If we tell him about the secret entrance he’ll
use it to try to rescue the lad himself, and should Walter capture
Guy – well, I leave what will happen then to your imagination.”

“Exactly,” Reynaud agreed. “For his own
safety we cannot tell Sir Guy what we are doing. You understand,
Meredith, that he is being forced to make an impossible choice –
-betray his king’s trust or allow his nephew to die. He can’t bear
to do either, and so he delays. He will welcome Brian’s request to
talk to Sir Walter because it will take time, and during that time,
we, unknown to him, will relieve Sir Guy of his intolerable dilemma
by rescuing Thomas. Then Sir Guy can attack Sir Walter with a free
mind.

“Now, here are my instructions. Branwen and
Meredith, you will return to your home in the forest tomorrow
afternoon before dark. I am at Afoncaer once more, so you are no
longer needed here to read any letters that may come from Sir
Walter. That is what we will tell Sir Guy. He is totally
preoccupied by the problem of Thomas. He’s not likely to leave the
castle long enough to visit you, so he will not notice your absence
from your home. Brian, can you arrange horses for these
ladies?”

“Not without raising questions with Guy.
Preoccupied or not, he’s well aware of what is going on at
Afoncaer.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Branwen said. “If we
walk to Tÿnant, we can more easily arrive unseen. I know the way
through the forest. We can leave at dawn the day after tomorrow and
be there shortly after noon.”

“Good,” Brian said. “I, too, will leave here
the day after tomorrow, and plan to arrive at Tÿnant about
mid-afternoon. That same night, while I and my men are there, you
will enter the manor house, find Thomas, and spirit him away. I can
tell Guy we will need spare horses in case we need to send him
messengers, and I’ll leave three of them for you at a prearranged
place, so you can get away from Tynant as quickly as possible and
bring Thomas here to safety. You had better tell me how to get into
this secret entrance, in case of emergency.”

They talked on, making their plans rapidly,
until first Joan and then Guy came back into the hall. Meredith
thought Joan might have overheard them, but when questioned, she
only shook her head.

“Meredith, I have heard a lot of secrets in
my day,” Joan said, “especially when I was maid to Lady Isabel. I
have learned to hold my tongue. It is safer for me if I don’t speak
of what I hear.”

Reynaud was talking to Branwen again,
explaining about the history he was writing.

‘‘Will you tell me,” Reynaud asked, “more
about the things that happened at Afoncaer when you were
young?”

“I would rather forget.” Branwen’s eyes were
dark pools in her pale face. Then she nodded agreement. “When I am
gone, no one else will remember. I will tell you about Rhys, too,
and about Meredith’s childhood. They are also part of Afoncaer’s
history. I will tell you about my brother Griffin.” Branwen’s mouth
twisted as she spoke the last sentence, making her look as though
she had just bitten into an unripe and very sour fruit.

“Come with me.” Reynaud led her away to his
room in the tower, where they spent the rest of the day
talking.

That evening Brian approached Guy.

“Walter and I were friends once,” Brian said.
“Let me go to him. At the very least it will gain a little more
time, during which your reinforcements from Adderbury may
arrive.”

“I don’t know what you could suggest to
Walter that Reynaud did not,” Guy replied, “but, yes, we need the
extra time, and your idea will give it to us. I’ll send a messenger
tomorrow, telling Walter to expect you the following day. It will
be a dangerous mission, Brian. Walter was forced to respect
Reynaud’s safety because of his connection to King Henry, but you
are only my man.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Brian grinned.
“We will win over Walter, never fear. Thomas will be safe.”

“I pray God you are right,” Guy said
fervently.

Later in the evening Brian, as he had done
each night since she had come to stay at Afoncaer, took Branwen to
one of the tiny guest chambers that were built into the thick stone
walls of the keep. That first night Branwen had gone with him
without question, putting her hand in his and letting him lead her
where he would. She trusted Brian as she had trusted no man in her
life before except Rhys. She had not needed to ask where he was
taking her. Now, on this their last night together before beginning
their dangerous undertaking, she knew the way and smiled to herself
in the darkness while side by side they silently crossed the inner
bailey from the great hall.

Brian had the freedom of the castle. No one
stopped them when they entered the tower and climbed part way up
the spiral stairs to the room they had made their own. When he
closed and bolted the door behind them, Branwen felt completely
safe. This room was lower in the tower than Guy’s bedchamber, and
thus more vulnerable to enemy arrows, so the single window was only
a slit, just large enough for a defending archer to aim and shoot
out through it. Brian closed the shutter over the window. Near one
wall was a straw pallet and a pile of furs and blankets, neatly
folded, undisturbed since they had left the room that morning.

“I’ve brought food and wine,” Brian pointed
out, reaching for a flask and removing the stopper.

“But only one cup.” She took it from his
offering hand and tasted it. “We will drink from the same cup, my
love.”

“Always. Whatever it contains.” His hands
were on her shoulders. She held the cup to his lips and watched him
drink. There was no shyness between them. They had been lovers for
more than a year now and they knew each other well. Branwen lifted
her lips and met his, the wine cup caught between them.

“This will spill,” Brian said a while later.
He took the cup and set it down, then reached for her again,
untying her corded sash and pulling it off so her gown flowed
loosely about her until he removed that, too, leaving her in her
coarse linen chemise and stockings.

“Shall I do the same for you?” Branwen asked
lightly, working at the buckle of his wide leather belt. He had to
help her, but together they got it off, and then his tunic.

Branwen rested her head on his bare chest for
a moment, feeling his strong muscles and the thick scars of his old
battle wounds. Brian’s body was hardly beautiful. He was only a
little taller than Branwen, with a barrel chest, mighty arms, much
black hair, and all those scars, but she loved every inch of him.
She felt his warm breath as he bent his head to kiss her shoulders
and her neck. His arms tightened.

“How I love you,” he breathed. “Branwen, my
own, you are the only woman for me.”

She raised her head and looked at him. She
could just see him. The single tallow dip gave only weak,
flickering light, but Branwen knew well enough what he was.

“You are my only love,” she said.

They sank down upon the bed he had made for
them on the stone floor. Slowly, not caring that the room was
chill, for they had their own inner fires to warm them, they
removed what clothing they still had on. Brian’s hose and linen
under breeches, piled carelessly on the floor, disappeared beneath
Branwen’s chemise and stockings. Branwen never braided her hair,
she only twisted it into a knot beneath her linen headscarf, and
now the dark curls tumbled loosely about her face and
shoulders.

I’ll soon grow so used to making love in a
building,” she said, teasing him, “that I won’t want the forest any
more.”

“Does it feel different?” he joked. Then,
more seriously, “You deserve a palace, Branwen. I wish you need not
live as you do. When Walter is vanquished and Thomas is safe then
I’ll make a home for you, but it won’t be as fine as you ought to
have.”

“Hush,” she said, kissing him. “I have all
any woman could need. I have my love and know that he loves me. I
want nothing more.”

Then she gave up thinking and talking and
concentrated on what she was feeling. Brian was always a little
rough with her when they made love. He was a warrior, he had never
learned to be gentle, and yet his ways suited her admirably, for
once he had begun to touch her, her own desires flamed into
impatient urgency. She writhed beneath his large, calloused hands,
moaning in delightful misery, touching him in return until neither
of them could bear any more delay, and she wrapped her arms and
legs about him as they joined together, throbbing into complete
fulfillment with a great cry, their voices mingling then dying away
into soft sighs of release.

Brian rested his head on her belly and she
stroked his dark hair, contented and peaceful at last.

“I wish we could lie like this every night,”
Brian said, his voice quiet in the dim room.

“Would anyone stop us?” Her fingers tugged
playfully at his hair. “We are not naughty children, my love. We
are both middle-aged and what we do is no one else’s concern.”

“You will always be young.”

“I am thirty-three. I’m five years older than
you, and well I know it.” Branwen sighed. “You and I have lived a
lifetime in the last year.”

“I’ve no regrets.”

“Nor I. Whatever happens.” Her hands stopped
their stroking motion and lay still upon his head. Brian rose on
one elbow to look at her.

“What is it, my love?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it is something. Tell me, Branwen. Rhys
had ways of knowing things, and so have you. I want to know what
disturbs you and makes you shiver.” He pulled a fur over them,
tucking it about her with rough tenderness.

“It’s more feeling than knowing,” Branwen
said. “Something about Tynant. I have such a feeling of foreboding
when I think of that place.” She stopped, shivering again.

“Branwen, don’t look so far away. Come back
to me.” Brian watched while Branwen shook her head and then smiled
at him.

“It may be nothing,” she said. “I am not the
adept Rhys was. And I am nervous about going to Tynant. Anyone
would be.”

“We don’t have to do it the way we’ve
planned. I can go by myself.”

“Do you think I would stay here waiting while
you go into danger?” Branwen said. “I will go, too. I love Thomas.
I must try to save him. And I want a part in bringing Walter fitz
Alan to justice. For Thomas, and for Rhys.”

“We can do it,” Brian declared. “I know we
can. Two or three nights from now you and I will be here again, in
this room, holding each other once more.”

“Well, until then,” Branwen put her arms
around his neck, “until then, my love, feed me and give me wine to
drink and love me again. Let no moment go to waste when we could be
loving. Kiss me, Brian. Now. Now.”

When Meredith and Branwen were ready to leave
Afoncaer the next noonday, Joan brought them clothes that could
pass for those of any serving woman in Isabel’s employ and handed
each of them a well-wrapped package of food.

“I wish you luck. I will pray for you,” Joan
whispered, and walked away quickly before Meredith could say
anything. She was certain now that Joan knew what they were going
to do, and equally sure Joan would say not one word to Guy about
it.

Meredith said her farewell to Guy, wishing
she could tell him the truth yet knowing it was impossible for his
own sake.

“It is better for you to leave,” he agreed.
“I have several times been perilously close to breaking our
resolution. If I continue to see you every day it won’t be long
before I forget all caution and take you to bed again. You will be
safer away from me.”

“But not happier,” she said. “Still, Branwen
and I have work to do.”

He kissed her cheek, then left her to join
Brian and Reynaud by the fire to discuss what Brian would say to
Walter. Meredith, her eyes full of tears, headed for the door where
Branwen was waiting. She bumped into Geoffrey on the way.

“I’m going to Tÿnant, too,” the squire
announced, tilting his head toward the men. His honest brown face
broke into a great smile. “Sir Guy said I was intelligent and
trustworthy and that I should go as Sir Brian’s aide.”

“I’m happy for you, Geoffrey.” He was fond of
Thomas. Meredith knew he would do his best to help Brian. She
watched him join the other men in deep consultation. With an odd
combination of fear and excitement knotting her stomach, she joined
Branwen.

“What do you suppose Brian will have to say
to me that Reynaud did not?” Walter fitz Alan dismissed the
messenger who had come from Afoncaer and moved to stand behind
Isabel as she bent over her embroidery. Late afternoon sun streamed
through the windows of the solar, lighting the gold threads in her
coif. Walter’s fingers stroked seductively across the nape of her
neck, under the sheer veil, and then strayed below the neckline at
the back of her gown.

“Perhaps he is finally ready to give up
Afoncaer,” Isabel said. “I am sure it will be soon, Walter.”

Still his fingers teased along her neck and
upper back, rubbing softly down her spine. She wished he wouldn’t
do that in front of her women. Alice kept her eyes primly on her
own needlework, but Margaret, newly promoted from kitchen wench to
assist Alice in caring for Isabel’s wardrobe, was watching Walter
with laughter in her bright eyes. Another moment and the silly girl
would break into giggles. Walter fitz Alan’s most unseemly passion
for his beautiful wife was the talk of Tynant.