Montbryce Next Generation 01 - Dark Irish Knight (5 page)

They rode into Powwydd at dusk. Rhodri had told Ronan his home was not a castle. He had called it a
llys
, and Ronan’s first sight of it reminded him of his home in Ireland. The architecture was different—Powwydd was squatter, nestled into its surroundings rather than towering over them. But it had the same feeling of permanence, of a fine dwelling built generations before.

Homesickness swept over him as they crossed the causeway that straddled the first moat. It was oval shaped and black as night. A pale crescent moon beginning its ascent into the darkening sky shimmered in its depths.

Powwydd was a royal court, but was more like a manor than a castle. It was protected by a sturdy wall and two moats, but most of it was not made of stone.

Many of the other buildings, which Ronan surmised were chambers and storage barns, were made of earth and straw, their roofs thatched.

Rhodri led his guests into the hall. The
neuadd
was made of timbers, though the footings were dry stonework.

Ronan hobbled along on his crutches, aided by Conall. Some sharp-toothed creature gnawed his leg.

Rhodri opened his arms wide. “Rhoni, my home is not as comfortable as I am sure Ellesmere is, but we are improving things gradually, learning from you Normans, ironically enough. And you can be assured there is always a roaring fire in the hearth to warm your bones! And, we have
ty bach
.”

She looked at him curiously. He winked. “I believe you Normans call it the
garderobe
.”

Rhoni’s face reddened, but she took the teasing with good humour. Ronan was captivated by her smile. It lit up the darkening Hall.

Carys and Rhonwen took Rhoni off to her chamber. Only Rhodri, Ronan and Conall remained in the
neuadd
. Rhodri braced his legs and folded his arms. Ronan could not remain upright on the crutches much longer, but the time had come to reveal the truth. He cleared his throat. “My lord Prince, there is something I must tell you.”

Conall did not understand English, but it was the only language Ronan and Rhodri had in common. He would have to hope the quick witted lad would get the gist of what he was saying.

Rhodri remained silent.

He has already guessed.

Ronan swayed on the crutches and Conall hastened to his side. He looked into the lad’s eyes, hoping he understood the silent message. “As you have rightly surmised, I am not a farmer. My name is Ronan MacLachlainn. I am the nephew of Muirchertach Ó Briain, King of Munster. My estate in Sord Colmcille was usurped by two brothers by the name of MacFintain.”

Rhodri’s face showed no expression. “And Conall?”

Ronan put a hand on Conall’s shoulder. “He is the son of my steward who was murdered by the MacFintains. The boy rescued me from the cells.”

Conall clenched his jaw.

Ronan swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “They also murdered my wife and unborn child.”

Rhodri drove a hand through his thick hair. “I understand more than you know the burning desire for revenge. Even before the Normans came, my family fought to end the oppression of my people by the Saxons. I have spent my life righting wrongs.

“But do not let vengeance consume you, Lord Ronan. It makes for a lonely life. My darling Rhonwen has brought light to my darkness, and my children, well, you have seen how blessed I am. You cannot let hatred rule your life.”

Ronan hobbled away from Rhodri. “Perhaps my anger and grief are too new. I cannot let go. I have sworn to help Conall avenge his father, and I will not allow Mary’s murderers to go unpunished.”

He touched a hand to his bandage and hoped his voice would remain steady. “And I have reasons of my own for wanting them dead.”

Rhodri unfastened the scabbard of his dagger and laid it on a trestle table. “I understand. Only remember this. I am a sworn enemy of Normans and do everything I can to interfere with them, yet I have the daughter of a Norman Earl as a guest in my home. My eldest daughter is named for her mother. The two of them travelled a goodly distance at significant risk to attend Myfanwy’s ordination.”

Ronan said nothing, anticipating what Rhodri would say next.

Rhodri paced, then came to stand directly in front of him. “Rhoni preferred to come here rather than return home with her mother. While I would like to believe she is consumed with a burning desire to see the place of her birth at Cadair Berwyn, I believe there is another reason she chose the dangers of a journey into Wales. She may not understand her actions, but anyone can see you are attracted to each other.”

Ronan looked quickly at Conall. He had to get the lad out of the Hall before he caught on. “The boy is exhausted. Best I get him to the stables. We can bed down there.”

Rhodri shook his head. “I’ll not have a fellow nobleman sleeping in my stables, especially one still in need of care from my wife. There’s a chamber for you and the lad can share it if you wish.”

Ronan bowed. “I thank you.”

“Before I summon a servant to escort you there, I will say one last thing. Rhoni has taken a big risk coming here, and her mother has taken a bigger one in allowing her to.”

Ronan bristled. “I am not in a mood to be sympathetic to Normans. The MacFintains have held sway only with the help of Norman allies.”

Rhodri frowned. “Who are these allies?”

Ronan shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

Rhodri put a hand on his arm. “I can assure you they are not Rhoni’s family. Ram de Montbryce and I are enemies, but he is an honourable man who has the interests of his people at heart. He is neither a murderer, nor a thief. He would be a good ally. Who better to help you in your quest for vengeance than another Norman?”

Ronan gritted his teeth. He had to get off his feet. The journey had been long and the going difficult. An insistent trembling shook his limbs. “My lord Prince, I fear I must retire or I am likely to fall over.”

Rhodri immediately summoned a servant. “I apologise. Sometimes I talk too much. It’s a failing we Welsh have! If there is aught you need you have only to ask Ewan for it. I bid you goodnight.”

Ronan smiled weakly. “No need for apologies. Irishmen have been known to blather on as well. Goodnight.”

Rhoni lay in the comfortable bed in the toasty warm chamber behind the kiln oven of the foodhouse. It was Carys’ chamber, but the girl had insisted she would sleep elsewhere.

The journey had been exhausting, but Rhoni was too upset to sleep. She repeated Ronan’s words over and over in her head.

Grief for him and what he had suffered welled up in her throat and she sobbed into the fragrant linens.

His wife had been murdered, along with his unborn child. She tried to conjure a vision of his wife. Had he loved her? Most noblemen did not love their wives, though her own family were exceptions to that rule. Her parents were deeply in love.

But her father would not be happy with her mother once he discovered she had allowed this journey to Powwydd. Why had her mother acquiesced, and relatively quickly? Rhoni had expected more opposition.

She did not understand why she had wanted desperately to follow Ronan. He had been terribly disfigured by the abomination of his eye. He might be lame if his leg did not heal properly. He would bear forever the ignominious mark of the lash.

Yet, she had only to put her hand on his and rivers of fire flooded through her veins. Her breasts tightened at the thought of him. But, he was a man filled with the need for vengeance, a man who spat at the mere mention of Normans.

Rhoni was not so naive that she did not know hatred for Normans existed, but how insulated she had been from it, safe in the bosom of her family.

She suddenly felt alone, in enemy territory, though Rhodri would defend her to the death if necessary.

Coming here had been foolhardy, another example of her impulsiveness. Grief and pain had ground love out of Ronan. It was hopeless.

Mabelle de Montbryce was not looking forward to explaining why Rhoni had not come home. Ram greeted her in the bailey. He usually enfolded her in his cloak, but he stopped short and frowned when he noted Rhoni’s absence.

Best to get it over with.

“Rhoni stayed in Wales.”

Confused anger flickered in his blue eyes. Would he trust her judgment? Even she was not sure she had made the right decision. Relief stole over her when he wrapped his cloak around her and drew her close. She felt the evidence of his love pressed to her body.

“I suppose you will explain it to me. You must be tired after your journey. Come inside.”

She acknowledged Steward Bonhomme as he took her cloak. Her husband escorted her to their solar. Feeling the tension in his arm, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “You will need patience for the telling of the tale, Ram.”

He led her to a chair and she sank into it wearily. He stood with his back to the hearth, his legs braced. “Tell me.”

What she wanted to do was peel off his clothes and run her hands over his body, still hard and well muscled despite his age. The sight of him never failed to arouse her. She clenched her hands together in her lap.

Ram folded his arms across his chest. “Get on with it, Mabelle. Then I can take you to bed. I have missed you.”

He glanced at his groin. “You can plainly see the evidence of what I say.”

She swallowed hard, hoping he would still want to bed her after hearing the story. “The tale begins with the rescue of a man from the sea.”

Ram frowned. “A man?”

“An Irishman.”

Ram rolled his eyes.

This was not going well.

“He had been tortured.”

Ram unfolded his arms and clenched his jaw. “Go on.”

She took a deep breath. “Let me start at the beginning.”

She recounted the story of their arrival at Llansanfraid, the ceremony to install Myfanwy Mabelle, the rescue of Ronan and Conall as far as it had been told to her, and Rhonwen’s nursing of them. Ram paced back and forth, his hands locked behind his back, grunting whenever she mentioned Rhodri’s name.

She paused. He stopped pacing. “You have said little of Rhoni in this.”

Much as she loved Ram, she suddenly felt like a worm wriggling on the end of a fishing hook. There would be no escape. “When we were ready to leave Llansanfraid, Rhoni asked if she might stay with Rhodri’s family and accompany them to Powwydd.”

Ram towered over her, raking his hands through his hair. “You allowed my daughter to go to Powwydd? With Rhodri ap Owain?”

Mabelle came to her feet and took his hands. “Please do not be angry with me, Ram. I felt it was her destiny.”

He gripped her hands. “You have spent too much time with Celts.”

She shook her head. “That isn’t fair. You recognized thirty years ago it was your destiny to serve Duke William of Normandie, to help him invade this country and become the great Conqueror. Just as I knew you were my destiny when I first set eyes on you by the lake, but was too afraid to admit it.”

Ram inhaled deeply, easing her gently back into the chair. He sat in the one beside it, rubbing his knees. “Pacing is playing havoc with my rheumatism. I do not fully understand. What exactly is Rhoni’s destiny?”

“The Irishman.”

Ram stared at her as if she had spoken in Greek. It seemed he might erupt like the mighty Mount Vesuvius he had described to her after his return from Constantinople. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of his chair. He came slowly to his feet, his shoulders drooped. She had never seen him so despondent. She preferred his anger. “There is more to learn about Ronan MacLachlainn.”

He leaned his hands on the mantel of the hearth. “What is it?”

“He claims to be a farmer from an estate in Ireland that was overrun by brigands, but no one believed he was a farmer. Rhodri suspects he was the lord of the estate that was usurped and is burning for vengeance.”

Ram gazed into the flames. “Life is often brutal, as we can attest. While I am sorry he may have undergone such a trial, I cannot see this bodes well for Rhoni. You are telling me that after the numerous handsome, wealthy, titled Norman noblemen I have paraded before her, Rhoni has fallen in love with an exiled, impoverished, mutilated Irishman?”

Mabelle sniffled as a tear rolled unbidden down her cheek. “I doubt she is aware she has fallen in love, but his effect on her was obvious. He is a fine man, Ram, a noble and honourable man.”

She rose and went to him. She stretched her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his back. His spine was rigid. She felt his struggle for control. He unwound her arms from his body and turned to face her. “I had high hopes for my little girl.”

This angered her. “You condemn the man before you have met him.”

Ram arched one eyebrow, surprised at her vehement reply. He had a sinking feeling there was more to come. “It’s hardly likely I will ever meet him, is it?”

His wife hesitated, which worried him more. He and Mabelle had endured many trials together, and he was eternally grateful that she loved him passionately despite his failings. When they had first met, he had deemed her unsuitable for the role of Countess, yet she had turned out to be his biggest asset. Life without her at his side was inconceivable. He did not understand why she had allowed Rhoni to remain with the Irishman, but he had to trust her.

“She will bring him here.”

He had not been prepared for that. “She told you this?”

“
Non
. She did not know it at the time, but they will come. You will meet him.”

For a moment, Ram worried his wife’s advancing age was playing tricks with her wits, but he quickly dismissed the notion. “What can he offer her if his lands have been usurped?”

Now Mabelle did not hesitate. “Nothing, but we can offer Alensonne.”

While it was true Mabelle’s birthplace in Normandie remained a castle without a Master, he balked at the idea of handing it over to a complete stranger. There were memories attached to Alensonne he would sooner forget. “You jest?”

She fixed her gaze on him. “Robert will inherit Montbryce, Baudoin will be lord of this castle. What would be more fitting than to give Alensonne to Rhoni as her dowry?”

Ram again felt the urge to pace in spite of his painful knees. “We are getting ahead of ourselves, Mabelle. Let’s go to bed. I cannot think clearly when you look at me like that. Perhaps after I bury myself deep inside you again—”

She grinned. Thoughts of Rhoni fled as he took his wife’s hand and led her to their bedchamber.

Later, as they lay sated, entangled in the bed linens, Ram voiced the fear that had crept into his awareness as he awoke from a pleasant doze after their lovemaking. “He will come seeking my help.”

Mabelle sighed, her head nuzzled into his chest. “
Oui
.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I am dimwitted. You already foresaw that.”

She traced a finger along the top of his shoulder. “I’ve had more time to ponder the matter and the advantage of having met Ronan.”

“I cannot aid him. Indeed why should I? If he is the man for Rhoni, why not set them up in Alensonne? Why risk his life in a quest to regain what he has lost?”

He knew the answer as the words left his mouth. Mabelle propped herself up on her elbows, her still glorious breasts pouting at him. “I told you he is a man of honour. His pride would never allow him to accept such an offer. If Ellesmere Castle were taken from you, you would move heaven and earth to regain it.”

Ram put a finger to her lips. “Do not speak of such a thing. You are right. I would be a man consumed by hatred and the need for vengeance, as I was when Rhodri kidnapped you with my child in your belly.”

She nestled back into his side. “Their fate is in their own hands. I may be wrong and he will not come. In some ways I hope he doesn’t.”