Conquering Passion (32 page)

Phillippe grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees. “
Tais-toi
, Valtesse bitch. You’ll watch in silence while I despatch your wretched spawn to hell, and then I’ll kill you. Your cursed father turned my father into a raving lunatic who made life a living hell for his children.” He raised his sword. Rhonwen gasped in horror when she saw the sharp blade poised to behead Robert. The boy stood rooted to the spot.

“
Non!
” Mabelle screeched.

Suddenly, Phillippe’s rabid eyes lost their focus. His death grip on Mabelle’s hair slackened. His disbelieving gaze fell to the dagger embedded deep in his chest. He dropped his sword and slumped lifeless to the floor, a spurt of blood from his gaping mouth spraying across the front of Mabelle’s dress. She lunged for Robert, clutching her son tightly, sobbing.

“Phillippe!” Morwenna shrieked. She’d seen Rhodri throw the dagger that had ended her lover’s life. She sprang to her feet and picked up the weapon forced from her hand. She ran towards Rhodri, who had crouched to retrieve his dagger from Philippe’s body. He cursed as she thrust the blade, deflecting the blow intend for his heart. The steel sliced into his bicep.

Giselle gathered up the wide-eyed Baudoin. Rhonwen rushed to place the new born infant into the safety of her sobbing mother’s arms, and ran to aid Rhodri, struggling with the frenzied Morwenna. Rhonwen grabbed the hair of the woman who’d murdered her mother, determined not to let her slay Rhodri. She could see he’d been wounded and it infuriated her.

Morwenna turned her attention and her wrath onto Rhonwen, who bolted and ran out of the door, down the passageway and through the gate to the outside, where she stopped dead at the sight of a blanket of thick fog. Morwenna was pursuing her. She had to keep going, though she had no idea where she was running, having been outside rarely during her captivity.

She felt her way along the wooden palisades, glad she could draw Morwenna away from the man she loved. She could hear the demonic woman screaming and cursing not far behind. The mist cleared for a moment. She was on a narrow precipice with only the palisades behind her. Before her yawned the chasm of the ravine.

I’m standing on the edge of the world
.

She spread-eagled her body against the palisades, clutching at the rough bark, and raised her face, trusting her fate to the spirits of the mountains. A feeling of power surged through her.

A manic Morwenna appeared out of the smothering fog and attacked Rhonwen. The healer looked into Morwenna’s eyes. Death lurked there. They struggled briefly, but Rhonwen felt no fear. Suddenly Morwenna slipped, fell and was gone, swallowed silently by the stoic mountains.

“I didn’t hear her scream,” Rhonwen thought numbly. “Surely, she must have screamed?”

Rhonwen braced her back against the palisades, digging her nails into the bark of the wooden pilings, panting hard and now afraid to move. Fearing she might freeze or faint if she didn’t get inside, she wasn’t sure which way to go when she heard Rhodri calling to her. Reciting incantations whose meaning she didn’t understand, she edged her way along the precipice towards the sound of his voice, until she stumbled into him. He grabbed her away from danger and held her to his body.

“You’re safe now, my Rhonwen, you’re safe. I have you.”

“Morwenna is dead.” A sob racked her body. She reached out her frozen hand to touch the blood oozing from his arm. “You’re bleeding, Rhodri. She’s cut you. I must see to your wound.”

But the dizziness overwhelmed her and she fainted.

Rhodri took his beloved to his chamber, removed her clothes and massaged her body with rosemary oil to warm her. Gradually her teeth stopped chattering and she regained her wits. He covered her with furs and blankets and sat by her bedside until she stopped shaking.

Later, Rhonwen stitched his wound and applied a healing salve of lady’s mantle.

“Your stitches are so delicate, I’ll bear but the faintest scar.”

The small gap it would cause in the Celtic knot designs etched into his biceps would be hardly visible and unnoticed by most. She couldn’t believe he barely flinched as she plied the needle through his flesh.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Three sennights later, a sudden thaw made it possible for Aneurin ap Norweg and his men to make their way from the village of Llansilin, where they’d spent the intervening months, to Cadair Berwyn. He delivered the reply from the Earl of Ellesmere to the ransom note sent by Rhodri.

To the Prince of Powwydd

Be informed the Earl of Ellesmere agrees to pay in full the ransom demanded for his family and servants but proposes an exchange at the border village of Rhydycroesau.

Safe passage is to be guaranteed by both parties.

The chests of coins will be carried to the middle of the bridge and left there.

The hostages will walk to the chests with an unarmed escort who will verify the contents and carry the ransom into Wales.

The Earl gives his word for his part of the bargain and trusts Rhodri ap Owain to do the same.

As he read again the ransom reply, signed by the Earl and bearing his seal, Rhodri sent for Rhonwen. He’d already dispatched a message back to Ellesmere, agreeing to the exchange, and detailing the date and time.

He put his hands on Rhonwen’s shoulders, trying to keep his voice steady. “I want you to stay in Wales, with me. I’ll free the others on payment of the ransom, but you are mine.”

“I’ve dreaded this moment,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze. “I cannot stay, Rhodri. My duty is to my lady who has trusted me and given me a place of honour in her household. She’s been like a mother to me, since my own mother was murdered.”

He lifted her chin. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Rhonwen shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’re a powerful warrior, a man who must fight for Wales, for what you believe is right. I’m a healer. I fight to heal men, not to wound them. Our lives and our priorities are different. I’ll always love you, and treasure what we’ve shared, but I don’t want to be involved in war and bloodshed. I want peace.”

Rhodri let go of her shoulders, afraid he might be tempted to force her to stay. “I too want to live in peace, Rhonwen. I seek only peace and justice for my people. Sometimes it’s necessary to fight to achieve it.”

***

Ram had endured many agonized months of not knowing how his family fared, but had a deep inner sense they were still alive. Mabelle had become such an essential part of his life, part of him, that he would sense if she was no longer alive. His body would have felt the loss. There remained no doubt in his mind that, despite his protestations, he loved her deeply.

Why had he never been able to utter those simple words to her? Why had his stubborn pride and ambition deprived her of the assurance he truly loved her? He prayed fervently he would have the chance to tell her. He sensed she loved him too, though she’d never confessed that to him. But he didn’t care. He resolved to tell her anyway.

And what of his children? He loved them and had been a loving father. Unlike his wife, he’d never spoken the words to them either. Why was it so difficult? He swore an oath to tell his sons how much he loved them every day of their lives, if they were returned to him safely. And the child his wife was carrying when she was abducted? Did the child live? Did he have another son, or perhaps a daughter? Could Mabelle have survived bearing a child in the remote mountains of Wales?

He worried the Welsh rebels wouldn’t agree to his proposals for an exchange. “I hope my caution hasn’t cost my family their lives,” he confided to Gervais. “Can we trust Rhodri?”

A messenger arrived with word from Rhodri agreeing to the exchange, and outlining the day and time. Relief flooded Ram.

It’s only a sennight from now.

“Send out scouting parties to reconnoitre the area around the border village where the exchange is to take place. We’ve agreed to the idea of safe passage, but we must position bowmen in strategic locations, as I’m sure Rhodri will do the same. The Welsh archers are famous for their skill and deadly accuracy.”

He’d already gathered the sizable ransom from his estates in Sussex, and it lay in his chamber in two iron chests. “Post a two man guard outside my door, and double the guard on the walls and gates of the castle. We don’t need a surprise attack on the castle to rob us of the ransom money.”

Gervais smiled. “
Oui, milord
. It’s good to be doing something productive.”

Ram was aware some questioned paying the ransom. The other Marcher Lords had been vehemently against the idea, suggesting pursuit and revenge instead. One Earl had intimated their King felt the same way. “His Majesty is not happy with the idea of financing rebels.”

But Ram feared pursuit and vengeance would result in Mabelle’s death. He knew with dread certainty that if his King commanded him directly not to ransom his family, he would defy the order. He’d also learned something from an unlikely source. True to her word, the healer, Caryl Penarth, had come to Ellesmere a sennight after the Fayre. She’d agreed to stay when told of Rhonwen’s disappearance with Mabelle. Ram had questioned her about the Fayre and her possible knowledge of rebels in the area of Whittington. He’d sensed there was something she wanted to say, but didn’t. After receiving the ransom demand, he’d gone to her again.

“There are many who say I shouldn’t pay the ransom, Caryl,” he told her.

Caryl hesitated a moment before she replied. “Then many will starve, my lord.”

Ram arched his brows. “Starve? The harvests have been good.”

“Not in Wales. It’s a blighted land,” she whispered sadly.

Ram knew much of the
blight
had been caused by Norman brutality.

“How do you know what Rhodri intends to do with the coin?” he asked.

“I’ve heard the whispers of hope on the lips of desperate villagers.”

***

On the eve of departure from Cadair Berwyn, Rhodri summoned Mabelle and her family to the Great Hall. He’d developed a great admiration for this proud Norman woman, who seemed to have taken her ordeal in stride and maintained her bearing and fortitude throughout.

“My lady Countess,” he began, bowing slightly. Had she noticed it was the first time he’d used the word ‘
my’
in front of her title? “On the morrow we begin our journey back down the mountain to the border, where you’ll be reunited with your husband. I trust you have all in readiness? My men and I will accompany you as your escort, and see you safely delivered.”

Mabelle returned the bow with a curtsey. She looked surprised that he would accompany them, but she said nothing. She was aware of his love for her healer. Did she suspect he wanted to go with them to be with Rhonwen as long as possible? Did she know he’d asked Rhonwen to stay?

Rhodri continued, trying to keep his eyes off Rhonwen, and his mind on the matter at hand. “It was never my intention to have you killed. I wasn’t aware of the reasons for Giroux’s involvement in our plans, and Morwenna has paid with her life for her treachery against you, and me. It has been my honour to have you and your sons and servants as guests in my fortress home. You’ll never forget your daughter was born in Wales, and I hope one day she’ll come to love the country of her birth.”

Mabelle bowed slightly and smiled. “I too have come to have respect for you, and your people, Lord Rhodri ap Owain, ap Dafydd, ap Gwilym, Prince of Powwydd. I assure you my daughter will be told of the land of her birth, and I’m sure my sons will carry with them stories of how a Welsh chieftain slew the monster who wished them dead. I thank you for the respect with which you’ve treated us—all of us.”

He knew she was referring in particular to Rhonwen. He nodded his understanding of her words and intent. Did she know how he burned for Rhonwen, how hard it had been to not claim her body and soul, to make her stay.

Mabelle cleared her throat. “I would like to return to our chambers now to make final preparations for the morrow. I’m worried about how the little one will cope with the journey.”

Rhodri wanted to reassure her. “The weather is good, and we should have an easy journey. I myself will see to your infant daughter as we descend.”

Mabelle seemed about to take her leave but turned back. “One last favour, Lord Rhodri, could I trouble you for writing materials? Parchment—ink. I wish to compose a letter.”

Rhodri was curious but replied, “Of course. Do you need a scrivener? We’ve a monk here.”

“
Non, merci
. I can write it myself.”

Now it was Rhodri who coughed nervously. “Perhaps you could spare Rhonwen for a few moments? I would like to speak with her alone.”

Mabelle turned to her healer. “Of course, if you’re in agreement, Rhonwen. We’ll go finish our packing.”

Rhonwen blushed and nodded.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“Come.”

Rhodri led Rhonwen to his chamber and motioned for her to sit by the hearth in her chair. They faced each other, as they’d done at their first meeting alone. After long minutes of silence, he saw her eyes were full of tears. He longed to hold her, to wipe away the tears, to tell her he was sorry he’d hurt her, that he loved her, that she was his destiny. His thoughts were confused and she was conflicted too. He wanted to beg her to stay with him. His dream had convinced him they were meant to be together.