Lord of Hearts

by Gillgannon, Mary

  “Whenever you can be ready. Is tomorrow morning too soon?”

  “Nay. The sooner the better.”

  *

  Gerard used a hunk of bread to mop up the last bits of the savory stew. This was what marriage was supposed to be like: two people talking reasonably and working together. For a time, he’d thought they would never get to this place. It was a huge relief to think they finally had. Although he still had doubts. Was Marared being too agreeable? And what had transpired between her and the herdsman?

  “What do you think of the herdsman?”

  “You mean Daffyd? I think he is capable.”

  “What about the mares left to foal? Should we bring them in to the stables?”

  “I think so. Daffyd said all of them should foal within the next fortnight.”

  “Then bringing them to the stables is probably wise. Although if something goes wrong, we’ll have to hope Ormond can manage without you.” He looked at her meaningfully, wanting to show his admiration for what she’d done.

  She didn’t seem to want to meet his gaze. Something was troubling her. She remained quiet through dinner, and as soon as she finished eating, she announced she was very weary and retiring for the night. By the time he arranged for horses and an escort for the morrow and went up to the bedchamber, Marared was in bed, apparently asleep.

  He was keenly disappointed. On the journey they were about to undertake, there might not be any opportunity to engage in intimacy. He wondered if, in the morning, he could coax her into lovemaking.

  But she woke before him and was quickly out of bed and dressing. It almost seemed as if she was avoiding being alone with him.

  It took them all day to reach Carodoc’s fortress. They were damp and weary when they arrived, and after a meal of mutton stew before the fire, Gerard and Marared met with Caradoc in the chieftain’s private chamber to discuss how to deal with Gwenwynwyn. Caradoc suggested they should flatter the prince and pretend to share his scorn of Llweylyn and the king.

  Gerard shifted uneasily. “But isn’t that…I don’t know…a bit treasonous?”

  “’Tis a private conversation, not an oath of fealty. Even if you are uncomfortable speaking ill of John, you can still express your disdain for Llywelyn for wedding the daughter of his greatest enemy.”

  Gerard stared at Caradoc. “And how can I do that? Did I not also wed the daughter of a man, who if not an enemy, then who has not always been on the side of my people?”

  Caradoc waved dismissively. “A very different situation. Although we might not have the same goals, you and I were never enemies. Nor have our houses been at odds for centuries. The animosity between Gwenwynwyn and Llywelyn runs deep.”

  Gerard glanced at Marared, wondering what she thought. She appeared distracted, as if she wasn’t even listening to her father. A moment later, she rose. “I’m going to find Aoife. I’ve scarce seen her since we’ve been here.”

  Gerard watched her leave, feeling more unsettled than ever. Here he was, about to venture into a country that considered men like him their bitter enemies. Although he no longer saw all Welshmen as treacherous and unprincipled, he was unable to truly trust them either. The only ally he had was Caradoc.

  He looked the chieftain square in the eye. “If something happens to me on this journey, or while we’re in Ceredigion, will you seek justice for me?”

  Caradoc’s dark brows drew together and his blue eyes were fierce. “Of course I would. You’re my daughter’s husband, and the father of my future grandchildren.” He cocked his head. “You’re working on that, aren’t you, Malmsbury? All is right between you and my daughter? She is doing her duty as your wife?”

  “Of course.” Gerard hoped his embarrassment wasn’t too obvious.

  Caradoc nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I wasn’t certain how long it would take her to accept her new circumstances. But as for this other matter. Gwenwynwyn needs allies. He wants reassurance you and I are on his side, rather than Llywelyn’s.”

  *

  It was chilly and windy in the courtyard. Marared paced, as much to keep warm as due to her nervousness. What if Rhys didn’t come? She’d asked Diarmad to fetch him as soon as she arrived, and his steading wasn’t that far away. She wished she could have sent him another message, but it was clear she must explain her change in plans to him in person.

  By now, Rhys might know about their impending journey to Ystwyth. She expected he had spies here at her father’s fortress, men who were loyal to her father in everything except this matter of the alliance with Malmsbury. One of them might have told Rhys. If she didn’t get him to change his plans, Rhys might seize the opportunity to raid Tangwyl while Malmsbury wasn’t there to defend it.

  Dread made the stew she’d eaten congeal in her stomach. She took another deep breath, seeking to calm herself. A sound behind her made her whirl around.

  Rhys laughed sourly. “You’ve been spending too much time with the Saeson. You’ve grown soft.”

  Marared bristled. “I was preoccupied with my thoughts.”

  “Oh, aye, and what thoughts might those be? Are you contemplating your pampered life at Tangwyl and worrying you might lose it?”

  “Hardly. I was worrying whether you’d come.”

  “What is so important you must speak to me face-to-face? Last time you sent a message through Aoife, as if I was your lackey who should do your will, no questions asked.”

  “I thought I was giving you what you wanted. You’ve always been keen to raid and cause trouble with the Marcher lords.”

  “And now? I’d heard you revel in the luxuries your wealthy husband can provide you and fully enjoy your life as a fine English lady. I remember a conversation we once had before you were wed. At the time you vowed to do all you could to rid our lands of the wretched, greedy foreigners.”

  Marared sought to compose herself. She must not lash out angrily and look weak and foolish, Rhys clearly thought she was. “’Tis true, I have reconsidered my stance, at least toward Engli… Saeson like my husband, who care for their lands and the people who live on them. Those who are honorable and decent.”

  “Ah. I am supposed to believe this husband of yours is some paragon, a noble and compassionate saint. Well, if he is that, why doesn’t he give back the lands his people have stolen and sail back across the channel? You could go with him and continue your comfortable life there.”

  “Malmsbury was born in England. Besides, he’s not free to make such choices. He owes fealty to Fawkes de Cressy. Without his lord’s support and favor, he is a landless knight with no prospects.”

  “And if he were to go back to being a landless knight with no prospects, I doubt you would stay with him. Nay, you’d go running back to your father and beg him to find you another rich Sais for a husband. Maybe you could do even better this time and marry a real lord. You’re comely enough, and if you could tame your fiery temper and learn to be biddable and meek, I’m certain some Saeson gwat would be interested.”

  This was going nowhere. She would never convince Rhys that Malmsbury was a decent lord and a good man. Even if she did, that would not change her cousin’s outlook. She was going to have to come up with something better. “’Tis true I’ve changed my mind about raiding Tangwyl. But not for the reasons you think. The people there are loyal to Malmsbury. They have accepted their circumstances. Nay, I believe they’ve decided their circumstances are actually better. They’ve been treated well and have comfortable lives at Tangwyl. If you decide to raid the demesne, do not expect the locals to aid you.”

  “I doubt all of the people at Tangwyl are as content as you say. Indeed, I know more than a few who are not. They would not speak openly to you, knowing how you feel about Malmsbury.” Rhys smiled suddenly. “You’d be surprised how many spies I have in the castle. You might think about that before you get too cozy with Malmsbury. If he goes down, you might well end up going down also.”

  “No one would dare harm me! They know if they did, my father would wre
ak revenge!”

  “And where will he find the men to avenge you? Caradoc has angered many of his allies. Do you really think any of his clients are going to risk their necks fighting their own countrymen for your sake?”

  Marared snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Cymry have always fought against Cymry. Why do you suppose the first the English were able to gain so much power and control so much of our territory? ’Twas because the princes of Cymru have always been at each other’s throats.”

  Rhys’s expression was deadly. “I never thought to see the day you would defend the enemy.”

  “I’m not defending them. Merely pointing out how often we’ve been our own worst enemy. If the Cymry are to have any hope of keeping the lands they still hold, our leaders must learn to work together.”

  “Is this the nonsense Malmsbury has been feeding you?”

  “Nay, it’s what I’ve observed on my own. ’Tis the constant fighting among our own people that has allowed the English to prevail and prosper.”

  “Nay, they prevail and prosper because they have more men and better weapons. And because they are greedy and ruthless, unprincipled, lying cheats.”

  Marared sighed. This was a waste of time. She might as well give up and go back inside. If Rhys decided to raid Tangwyl, there was nothing she could do about it. Except tell Malmsbury so he could warn the people there. But she didn’t want to do that yet, not when she had this journey to make with him.

  *

  After leaving Caradoc, Gerard had returned to the hall and looked around for Marared. When he didn’t see her, he went to the guest bedchamber and lay down.

  But he couldn’t sleep, so he went back to the hall. There was movement near the door. A slim, hooded form entered, glanced around, then headed toward the wing where the unmarried women slept. Gerard went rigid. He felt certain the woman was Marared. He wanted to catch up with her and demand to know what she’d been doing. But if she’d been up to something deceitful, she was unlikely to admit it.

  A sick feeling built in his stomach. What if she’d been meeting a lover? What if there was a man she’d yearned for at Caer Brynfawr? Now that she was no longer a virgin, Marared could lie with any man she wished and not worry if she got with child. Any babe she gave birth to would legally be considered his offspring. She would face no shame or censure. She could keep her lover and her husband, and no one would be the wiser.

  Bile filled his throat. Would she do such a thing? Was she truly that faithless?

  Nay. He would not believe that. He would not. If their marriage was to have any chance at all, he must give her the benefit of the doubt. He must trust her until she proved herself untrustworthy.

  He returned to the bedchamber and sought to fall asleep. But the image of the surreptitious form of his wife, sneaking in from the outside, would not let him rest.

  He eventually fell into an uneasy slumber, waking as soon as a servant came to stoke the brazier. Getting up, he made his way outside, intending to relieve himself in the midden near the stables. As he peered into the early morning mist, a mounted figure rode across the yard. The rider said something to the guard at the gate. The gate creaked open and the horseman rode out.

  Gerard strode to the gate. To his relief, he knew the guard. After greeting Corbi, he asked the man about the rider who had just left the fortress.

  “That was Rhys ap Cynan.” Corbi jerked his head the direction the man had ridden. “He’s a nephew of Lord Caradoc.”

  Marared’s cousin. Was that what Marared had been doing last night? Meeting with him? But why?

  “Does Rhys ap Cynan come often to Caer Brynfawr?”

  “Not often. Caradoc and he don’t usually see eye-to-eye.” Corbi assessed him carefully before adding, “Rhys would never have agreed to allow an Englishman to marry his daughter.”

  Gerard’s belly still felt tight with unease, but he told himself there was no proof Marared had met with Rhys.

  When he went inside, Marared greeted him with a warm smile, as if she was genuinely pleased to see him.

  “Did you have a good visit with Aoife?” he asked.

  “Aye. ’Twas delightful to catch up with her. When we met at Abergavenny, it was so rushed.”

  Exactly as I told you it would be. “Has there been any talk of her wedding this fellow she yearns after?”

  Marared looked thoughtful. “I think she has changed her mind about how she feels about him.”

  “Then there’s no reason for her not to come to Tangwyl for an extended visit.”

  “Mayhaps.”

  Gerard motioned to the bread and cheese on the table. “We should break our fast. We must leave soon.”

  Marared nodded and reached for the knife. Gerard watched her cut the bread. She seemed weary, as if she had not slept well. Perhaps she had stayed up too late visiting with her friend.

  They left Caer Brynfawr, accompanied by three of Gerard’s knights, Guy, Rob and Anselm, and three of Caradoc’s men, Owain, Madog and Ifan. Gerard wondered if it was a large enough escort. But he told himself this was a diplomatic mission. Marared’s presence should safeguard their journey through Powys. When they reached Ceredigion, they had the missive from Gwenwynwyn.

  Caradoc had advised them the best route to Gwenwynwyn’s fortresss, Castell Ystwyth, was to head west along the River Wye.

  They crossed brilliant hills ablaze with golden gorse bushes. The trackway dipped down into the river valley and they rode through a woods where the last of the bluebells carpeted the ground in a haze of violet. Chiffchaff, thrush, and cuckoos called to their mates in the trees above them. When they climbed the hills again, heavy-fleeced, pale gold sheep were everywhere, as well as a herd of small black cattle. The harshness of winter was gone, and the landscape seemed bursting with life. Observing the beauty all around them, Gerard understood why the Welsh fought so hard to keep control over their wild lands.

  They saw only the occasional farmstead, and Gerard thought how different this place was from the area around Malmsbury, where settlements and villages were everywhere. Here, you might ride for miles and not see any people, nor any sign of them. When he first came to Wales, he’d thought the landscape lonely and bleak. But now he was starting to see the pleasures of living in a place like this. When it was clear, the sky was a dazzling blue and he felt as free as one of the goshawks that rode the air currents above.

  *

  Marared’s stomach churned as she rode. She’d lain awake half the night trying to figure out what to do. She wanted to warn Gerard about Rhys’s possible plans, but if she did that, she’d have to admit her part in them. And if she betrayed Rhys, didn’t that prove him right, that she was turning her back on her own people and giving up any hope that Cymru might some day be free of outsiders?

  But she genuinely cared for Malmsbury. And not only because of the spectacular lovemaking they’d shared. Her husband was kind to her, unfailingly considerate. Over time, she’d come to admire him. His calm, quiet authority. His respect and concern for the inhabitants of Tangwyl. He seemed to be a good man, much better than many of the men opposing him.

  She didn’t think Rhys was a good person at all. He was cynical and ruthless, and had little concern for the people who might be hurt in his quest for power. She wished she’d realized that before she’d sent him the message encouraging him to raid Tangwyl. How could she have been so wrong about her cousin? If only she’d seen his true nature sooner. Before she’d been so foolish as to ask for his aid. Now if anything happened, it would be her fault. But the only way to thwart his plan was to warn Malmsbury.

  Even if she could convince herself to do that, it might not work. She had no idea when or in what form the raid might come. Even if she told him now, Malmsbury would not be able to do anything. They were headed away from Tangwyl and couldn’t spare any of their escort to ride back with a message.

  All at once, she realized how risky this journey was. They were a small traveling party, traveling to Cerdigion and meeting a ruthles
s prince who clearly had no love for the English. If she wasn’t Caradoc’s daughter, they would be in grave danger. Her father clearly thought his authority as the overlord of Powys was enough to protect them. What if it wasn’t?

  As they neared the coast, the tangy, wild scent of the sea filled her nostrils. Marared immediately thought of one of her early crossings to Ireland, how the violent wind had buffeted the ship as the gray-green waves heaved and tossed around them. She told herself she had survived that experience, and she would endure this one.

  Gwenwynwyn’s stronghold was a castle set high on a ridge above the Ystwyth River. But unlike most Cymry fortifications, the walls of this stronghold were of stone. Marared was impressed that Gwenwynwyn held such an impressive citadel. Then she realized Castell Ystwyth had probably been built by the English and Gwenwynwyn had only taken it over recently.

  She said something in this regard to Ifan, one of her father’s men who had accompanied them. He nodded in the direction of the fortress. “Aye. It was originally built by an Englishman named Gilbert de Clare near a hundred years ago. Since then it has been added on to and rebuilt several times, changing hands through several Welsh princes.”

  “And Gwenwynwyn is the latest?”

  Ifan nodded, his expression wary. “I would not set much store by what Gwenwynwyn tells you. He’s not an ally I would seek out myself.”

  “Then why do you think my father has sent me here?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to have friends in several corners. As little as I trust Gwenwynwyn, I trust King John even less.”

  “And what of Llywelyn?”

  “I’ve not met the man, but he seems shrewd and clever. And he must have impressed John, that he would agree to give his daughter to the man. Although she is illegitimate and not a true princess, as the English account it.”

  “And so my father’s plan is that we appease Gwenwynwyn, in case we need his support at some point?”

  “Your father is like a maiden with two lovers these days. He must work hard to keep them both happy, and at the same time, prevent them from learning about each other and realizing he keeps faith with neither of them.”