Rhiannon (15 page)

Rhiannon’s green eyes observed him with grave disbelief. Her
lips curved with amusement, but worry wrinkled her brow. “That sounds very much
like something my father would say when he wished to explain a war party where
no war was yet declared.”

Simon could not help laughing at her perception. “It may
smack of that, indeed, but I know Richard does not desire a war against King
Henry. He is not a rebel, he swears, and only desires justice. He will not
attack the king’s forces—”

“But he will defend himself, I suppose,” Rhiannon
interrupted, “and you will help him.” She shook her head and sighed. “Never
mind, I have heard all the words already. It is far to Krogen, and I must not
keep you. Go with God, and with the blessings of Anu and Danu also, Simon. I
will pray for your safety.”

“And I for yours, my lady. Rhiannon, you
will
go home
to Kicva, will you not?”

“Yes, as soon as I can ride with comfort.” She gave him her
hand. “When you can come, you will find a welcome there.”

Holding her hand, Simon bent forward and kissed her. After a
moment, he pulled back with a sigh. Without saying any more, he lifted her
again and carried her back to the entrance of the women’s hall, setting her
carefully on her feet.

“Fare thee well, Simon,” she said softly, using the tender,
intimate pronoun she had never offered him before.

“And thou also, my lady. Take care of thy well-being. Thou
hast in thy keeping my heart, and ill will befall me if it be lost.”

“Simon—” she cried, but he had turned and walked quickly
away. “I do not desire that burden,” Rhiannon whispered, but there was no one
to hear and she knew the protest was useless.

She had spoken without thinking and had given him by her use
of thee a hope she should not have offered. It did not matter, she told
herself. There was no way to prevent Simon from loving her except by making
herself too foul for him to love. That was not a path she contemplated.
Fiercely she reminded herself that she had warned him repeatedly that she was
not responsible for either what he wanted or how he felt. Nonetheless, Mallt’s
dead body and Madog’s outlawry reproached her for carelessness and
thoughtlessness. It was useless to say that she had meant no harm or that Mallt
and Madog were worthless. She had been thoughtless and careless with Simon, too,
and he certainly was not worthless.

Rhiannon sighed, hobbling cautiously back to her bed to
rest. For the meantime, Simon’s heart would be quite safe with her, and she
would be firmer and more careful when he came to the hall—if indeed he came to
the hall. Rhiannon wished she could be as certain of his body’s safety as she
could be of his heart’s.

Simon and his few archers had no trouble reaching Krogen
keep. Llewelyn’s men were out in the woods watching, but they recognized
Simon’s colors during the day. In the night the calls and countercalls, which
unknowing persons would take for those of night birds, marked the travelers as
friends. Krogen keep was the best-manned of Simon’s holds, and was managed by
Bifan ap Arnalt, who was fanatically faithful to Simon. When Simon had gone for
fostering to William, Earl of Pembroke, Bifan went as his servant-guardian, and
a powerful bond had been forged between them. Now he held Krogen, the most
sensitively placed and strongest of Simon’s properties, and Simon never needed
to give a thought to its security.

When Simon left the next morning, fifty men-at-arms followed
him. They were the best in the keep, expert trackers able to fade into virtual
invisibility in the thinnest cover, skilled with the longbow, and in addition,
unlike many Welshmen, trained to fight on horseback and armed for defending the
walls of a keep. Simon was not concerned about stripping so many from Krogen’s
roster. Bifan would call in some veterans who had been settled on the land
around Krogen if he needed them; meanwhile, he would choose and train some new
young men.

The news Simon had from Richard included the information
that the king had moved his army northwest from Gloucester to Hereford. Simon
had debated taking the most direct route from Krogen to Usk, hoping he would
have the satisfaction of encountering some of Henry’s patrols and foreriders.
Bifan eyed him coldly and remarked on how pleased Henry would be to hear of one
of Llewelyn’s men carrying messages to Pembroke. There was, of course, no
certainty that such a deduction could be made from the mere facts of
recognizing Simon and knowing he was riding south, but the remark was enough to
remind Simon that he was not about his own business but on a mission for his
overlord.

They took the slower route, west along the valley of the
Ceiriog River, then climbed the goat trails over the mountains to the Iwrch,
which they followed southeast until it joined the Tanai. They had to backtrack
along the Tanai to the long vale that led to Llanfyllin and then eastward to
the Vrynwy. Here, although they had come only about twenty-five miles from
Krogen, they stopped and camped. The terrain was so rugged that, even in the
river valleys, they had more often led their horses than ridden them. And, with
backing and winding around obstacles, the real distance was nearly doubled.

It was, for a wonder, a lovely night, clear and with just a
bare hint of the coming chill of autumn. Usually, Simon thought, staring
contentedly up at the stars, if there was no shelter to be had and sleeping out
was a necessity, it poured rain for spite. Tonight, however, was like a
benison, a peaceful promise of a good future. He had been too much on the alert
on the way to Krogen and too busy while there to permit himself to think of
Rhiannon, but now he reviewed their parting and was well satisfied.

It had come just at the right time. If he had remained in
Aber and Rhiannon had remained also, he would not have dared let her out of his
sight. In that case, he knew quite well that she would have won the contest of
wills. Unable to work off his lust elsewhere and with Rhiannon only too eager
to satisfy him, he could not have resisted her for long.

Simon chuckled softly. He would win her yet. Her softness to
him in parting was no result of any desire of the body. That was her heart
speaking. And he had done well to resist his own wish to linger near her and
see her once more before he rode away. Wild as she was, she would have seen the
pit into which she was slipping and hardened her heart to escape it.

Rhiannon o yr adar
, Rhiannon of the Birds—had Kicva
known when the child was born what she would be? Simon did not fear Kicva,
although he realized she was worth fearing and that some might have good reason
to fear her. Her eyes were always kind when they rested on him, but he was sure
they could read the soul within. Kicva, he thought, knew him better than his
father or mother. Yet she was willing for him to have Rhiannon. She knew, if
Rhiannon did not, that he would never try to tame or cage that wild bird. No,
Rhiannon must tame herself, must come to rest willingly on the strong tree of
his love.

He smiled into the darkness. Blessed Richard, blessed
messenger, who arrived at so perfect a moment. Fear would tame his wild bird.
She would worry and wonder and that would keep her thinking about him. And
thinking about him would increase her desire. Simon chuckled again, then
sighed. It would have been even better if she was promised to him. Then he
could have written to her to tell her he was safe and well and she would not
have worried. Simon did not relish the thought of any shadow on Rhiannon’s
happiness, not even if the shadow was fear for him. Of course, from a different
viewpoint, Simon was amused by the idea that Rhiannon should fear for him. He
could not see that there was anything to fear in a pleasant little war.

At dawn he was rousing the men, urging them into the saddle.
Breaking their fast—hard cheese and wine from the small skins each man
carried—could be done while riding. Simon was eager to bring the news of
Llewelyn’s sympathy to Richard, though he was sorry he could not say Llewelyn
was willing to call up men and join him. But Richard probably had never hoped
for that. He would be much cheered, Simon knew, by the one guarantee Llewelyn
was willing to give—he had promised not to join with or aid the king in any
way. And as a tender of his good faith in that direction, he had loosed his
raiding parties to prey on Henry’s army.

The land was gentler and they made better time down one
river valley and into another until they came to the Wye. Then overland to
Aberhanddu and southeast along to Usk to Pembroke’s keep. That took only three
days more, although it was nearly dawn when they finally came to the castle
overlooking the river. Naturally enough, the guards would not open the gates at
that time of night, and there was a shouting match. Simon won it, but only at
the cost of having the earl himself dragged from his bed.

“God in heaven,” Richard growled, “could you not wait two
hours? Is your news so urgent?”

“I am very sorry,” Simon said meekly. “No, it is not. I just
lost my temper. We have been riding all night, and I am tired.”

“So am I,” Richard said pointedly, and then, “If your news
is not urgent, why the haste?”

“I wanted to be sure to be here before any attack, in case
the king should, for once, move faster than a snail.”

“Attack? What the devil do you mean? Henry is as far north
as Hereford—” Richard’s voice checked as he saw Simon’s expression. “Do you
know different?”

“I heard…we came across a huntsman of Rhys Ievanc, who told
us that the king was moving south again, but—”

“You did not think that urgent news?” Richard snapped.

“I did not know it would be news to you, my lord,” Simon
exclaimed.

“What else did he say?”

“No more than that. I asked, but he had little interest in
the matter since his home lies north and well west. He had followed a boar too
far and come upon a hunting party that had also been led too far by their
quarry. Naturally he listened around their camp when he saw they were English,
but as soon as he was sure there was no danger to his own people, he left. Do
you want me to send out a few of my men?”

“No, we are ready for anything. I was only surprised
that…never mind.”

Simon did not need an explanation. Richard was surprised and
disturbed by the fact that whoever had been sending him information about the
king’s movements had failed to transmit this very essential news. There might
be many reasons, only one of which was a deliberate betrayal, and obviously
Richard did not wish to taint his informer’s name before he was sure of the
cause of the failure.

They had been walking from the gate toward the inner keep.
Richard had stopped when Simon mentioned the king’s movement but now he went
on, silent and frowning until they climbed the stairs and came into the hall.
Here, picking his way carefully among the sleeping bodies, the earl gestured
Simon toward the hearth, where the banked embers gave a gentle warmth that was
pleasant in the damp chill generated by the thick, stone walls.

“You may as well empty the budget now, since I am awake
already,” Richard said.

“Yes, my lord. This news is good, although not the best.”
Simon went on to state Llewelyn’s promise not to oppose Richard and to describe
his interest in an active alliance—eventually. His reluctance had nothing to do
with the cause or any doubt of Richard, Simon pointed out, but he could not
commit himself until he could make at least a temporary truce with his
neighbors. “I do not think that will be difficult,” Simon concluded. “They will
wish to hold aloof until they see which side is the more powerful. Then they
will leap on the weaker to share the spoils.”

Richard shuddered slightly. “Truce or no truce?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Simon said cheerfully. “A truce with
estraid
—I
beg your pardon, I have been speaking only Welsh for some days to my men. A
truce with foreigners has no validity to begin with, and even with other
Cymry…they can always find an old feud—or two or three or more—that had been
forgotten and precluded in making the truce in the first place.”

“You think that is funny?” Richard asked, amazed at the tone
of Simon’s voice. “How can you trust such people?”

“But everyone knows the rules of the game,” Simon protested
somewhat surprised by the earl’s distress. “I do not know how to explain,” he
continued earnestly. “They are
not
dishonorable. They simply have a code
that is different from ours. There are ways to bind them to each other with
words—if they really wish—and such bonds will be kept with no regard for cost.
If you—an
estraid
—need to be sure of good faith, you must take a
hostage, and you must treat that hostage with honor. If you do not—”

“God forbid that I should have so great a need of Welsh
support,” Richard exclaimed. “And what the devil does your message from
Llewelyn mean, if—”

“No, no,” Simon hastened to say. “I did not mean you to
include Prince Llewelyn. He has had long experience with your father and your
brother and my father, of course. He will fulfill with exactness any agreement
he makes with you because he knows a failure will prohibit any future agreement
at all. Indeed, my lord, that is why he has been so chary of making any promise
of assistance to you at this time.”

“You are his vassal and love him, and you wish to marry his
daughter,” Richard said, frowning in perplexity.

“I am also my father’s son,” Simon pointed out, his voice
suddenly cold. “If you do not trust me, I will call my men and go, having
delivered my message.”

Richard raised a hand and covered his eyes. “Sorry, Simon,
that was not meant for you. I am sick at heart, that is all. I know I am doing
wrong, and yet to do otherwise would be an even greater wrong. The world is
black to me now, and everyone I look upon is smirched with my own dishonor.”

“You have done no wrong,” Simon cried. “My lord, you must
stand fast or we will all be slaves.”

“Yet I gave fealty to Henry. How am I better than those—”

“My father says King Henry is possessed, is sick,” Simon
interrupted. “He has known the king from a babe and says this is not his will
or his spirit, that the Bishop of Winchester has infected him with evil
notions. It is Winchester and Seagrave and those evil councilors you are
standing against. Freed of them, King Henry will return to reason and you may return
to your duty.”

“That is what I tell myself.” Richard sighed, dropping his
hand. “Well,” he went on, “so you advise me to trust in Lord Llewelyn’s
promises.”

“Yes, and even without an alliance he will be of great
service to you. Until now he has forbidden his men to raid English land because
he did not wish to give Winchester an enemy to point at so that men’s eyes
would be turned away from his iniquities. Now he has lifted that prohibition
with regard to foreigners on Welsh soil.”

“Would that not apply to me as well as to Henry in the
opinion of most of Llewelyn’s men?” Richard asked wryly.

Simon grinned. “Perhaps, but you need not worry about it.
They will not assault your keeps. They have not the means and they are not
fools. Why should they try to crack a nut they know will break their teeth when
plenty of sweet meat is lying about loose? They will prey on Henry’s baggage
trains.” He paused and frowned. “I do not say any of them—not even Prince
Llewelyn—loves you. They do not wish to do you good, only to enrich or protect
themselves. Why should you care? If Henry’s army begins to starve and the men
are too busy watching over their shoulders for raids to give full attention to
Usk keep, Llewelyn and his men will have served you as well as if they were
your devoted servants.”

Richard did not like what he said. Simon could see that in
his face. He was accustomed to spoken and sworn alliances, not to these
negative, roundabout benefits. Sometimes sworn partners were no more reliable
than the ephemeral Welsh, but you could curse them with a clean heart. The only
safe path, to Richard’s mind, was to assume they would give no help at all.
Still, Simon knew them well and, although young, had shown more than once that
he was no fool. He said Llewelyn would act.

“When would such help as Llewelyn’s men will give me begin?”

“I should imagine Henry’s army has already been well stung.
Ievanc’s man said they were over the border, and, anyway, the raiding parties
often claim more land for Wales than was ever truly ruled by the Cymry. The
raiding parties would have reached the army before I came here. They are on
foot and able to travel quicker.”