Caitlyn Box Set

by Elizabeth Davies

  Edward’s younger brother wore a bewildered expression. ‘Excuse me my lady, but do I know you?’ he called, over Wulfstan’s bellowing laughter.

  Wulfstan heard. ‘Shouldn’t think so, Prince Alfred, not unless you’ve been garnering support from the Welsh.’ He laughed heartily at his own joke. The Welsh were hardly likely to support any English prince, however justified his claim might be.

  ‘The lady is Deheubarth’s queen. She lost her husband and her lands to Llewellyn ap Seisyll,’ Wulfstan added.

  ‘I am sorry to hear that, Lady…? Pardon, but I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Caitlyn ferch Aeddan, Queen of Deheubarth, Princess of Gwynedd. Or I was until Llewellyn ap Seisyll decided he wanted more land and more power.’

  ‘I am sorry for your troubles, my lady.’ He gave me a small smile full of sympathy. ‘Ferch? Is that a title?’

  ‘It means “daughter of” in Welsh. Aeddan was my father, King of Gwynedd. “Ap” means “son of”. Seisyll should be called “Llewellyn ap ast”.’ My bitterness got the better of me for a moment.

  Alfred frowned, a vertical line dissecting his forehead. The line appeared well used.

  ‘Llewellyn, son of a bitch.’ I translated the Welsh for him.

  Alfred let out a laugh. ‘I like a woman with spirit, even if she is shrouded in mystery.’

  ‘There is nothing mysterious about me, sir.’

  ‘I beg to differ. There is something…’ He studied my face with a disconcerting intensity. I looked away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. ‘I swear I know you from somewhere,’ he continued. ‘Never mind, it will come to me.’

  The hall was alive with warmth and noise. The food had been cleared away, though wine and ale flowed freely. Huge logs blazed in the central fire-pit and smoke wafted up to the high ceiling, circling in the rafters like trapped clouds. One of the soldiers plucked out a tune on a lute, the man by his side keeping time with a tambour, the beat of the drum resonating through my chest.

  Wulfstan and Idris were in deep discussion with Edward, Wulfstan waving his large hands in the air. I wanted no part in whatever they were talking about, especially when I heard the words ‘lance’ and ‘spear’.

  Sigrid got up to dance. She was laughing up at her companion, and without the stern expression on her face I realised what Wulfstan saw in her. I had learned a valuable lesson today, and not to judge on demeanour alone – some beauty lies beneath the skin and shines out from the soul. She had been frightened I had come to take her place, and to my shame, I almost had. Or might have done, had it been offered to me. For a moment I had certainly considered it.

  My attention came back to the table. Idris was still being careful with the wine. Good. For all Wulfstan’s image of the jovial host, there was far more to this man. It would not do to let one’s guard down around him, and though the lord appeared to have taken his fair share of ale, I suspected he was not as inebriated as he wanted us to believe.

  ‘I hear you are betrothed to the Welshman, Idris?’ Alfred pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘It seems so.’ I was still bemused at the swiftness of developments and had yet to formally agree to the marriage.

  ‘Will you return to your homeland?’

  ‘That is the plan.’

  ‘We are both exiles then, fighting for what is rightfully ours.’

  ‘Do you have to be an exile? Your mother is Queen of England, after all.’

  ‘Aye, and her husband has fathered an heir on her. My half-brother, Harthacnut, will succeed King Canute, therefore my brother and I are surplus to requirements. Actually, our step-father regards us as a bit of a threat.’

  ‘Surely your mother would not allow anything to happen to you?’

  ‘You do not know my mother.’ His tone was dry. ‘She was never one for sitting out a dance or an opportunity. When our father died and Canute took the English throne, she set her sights on him, determined to remain a queen one way or the other. I like to think she did it for us.’ He jerked his head in the general direction of Edward. ‘My brother has a greater claim to the throne than either Canute or his new son. One day Edward will be King of England.’

  ‘Is this why you are here, marshalling men to your cause?’

  ‘As are you.’ He gave me a small smile and a bow. ‘And I still believe we have met before. Your face is familiar, yet you deny ever meeting me.’ He stroked his chin, gazing into the distance. ‘The French call it déjà vu.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Already seen, is the translation. It means when one has a strong feeling of having been somewhere, or done something, before. I have the same feeling about you.’ He turned to face me, his gaze deepening to intense examination. ‘Even your name is familiar.’

  ‘As is yours.’ I had heard it very recently, but where? The more I hunted for it, the more the memory eluded me.

  ‘Dance, Caitlyn?’ Idris touched my elbow. He held out a hand and I took it with relief. Alfred’s continued study made me uncomfortable.

  Idris led me to the centre of the dancers. Sigrid smiled when she saw me, and I wondered how I had ever thought her plain. I believed I could come to like the woman. If I remained in Castle Cary.

  ‘We could always stay here,’ I suggested to Idris. ‘Make a home for ourselves in Wulfstan’s lands. I am sure he will accept your fealty.’ I did not want any more warfare. I did not want to risk losing another husband, and I dreaded the thought of more upheaval, more grief.

  Idris pulled back a little, his hands loosening on my waist. ‘We cannot.’ His voice was firm and his face had lost some of its good humour.

  ‘Why not? I am sure if you speak to Lord Wulfstan he will be happy to have your sword by his side.’

  ‘That is not our agreement.’

  ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘Wulfstan wants to dip his rod in Deheubarth’s pond.’

  ‘Is this what you were discussing? Letting an Englishman rule Deheubarth?’ No Welsh kingdom would ever bend the knee to an English lord. Seisyll may be growing in power and strength with each acre of land he gained and each king he killed, but at least he was Welsh – utterly preferable to any Englishman.

  ‘Not rule, no, but he will help me send Seisyll back to the hell he came from.’

  Idris wanted revenge. His eldest son was dead because of him, and so was Rhain, and all the other men who had fought alongside my husband for years. I did not even want to think about the fate of the women, children, and old men we had been forced to leave behind. I yearned for peace, not more war, but what did Wulfstan want?

  ‘What will he gain by helping us?’ I asked.

  ‘My lord,’ he paused, inclined his head towards the dais and smiled. Wulfstan watched us. I smiled too. ‘My lord likes to ensure he has a foot in as many camps as possible,’ he continued. ‘Hence he allows Prince Edward to use Castle Cary as a base for his efforts. He is hedging his bets, keeping King Canute sweet, whilst helping Edward.’

  ‘But what about Deheubarth?’ I refused to be diverted.

  Idris caught me in a spin, lifting me high in the air, and I gasped as he gently lowered me to the floor, my skirts swirling.

  ‘Wulfstan might need the help of the Welsh one day,’ was all he said.

  It did not ring true. Why would a man such as Wulfstan risk so much, merely on the promise of Welsh aid at some time in the future? Wulfstan had an ulterior motive and Idris was so caught up in his need for revenge he could not see it.

  I was about to tell him so when he kissed me.

  My mouth opened in surprise as his lips swooped down on mine. He tasted of wine, but I did not find it unpleasant, and his beard was soft and tickly on my chin. At first, his lips were gentle, but when his tongue found mine he pulled me to him with a groan, the hardness of him poking at my belly. He had taken me by surprise. I had never been kissed by another man, but I supposed I would get used to it. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend it was Rhain, but when a sharp bolt
of pain at the memory of my husband’s lips on mine made me groan, Idris thought it was for him, and his embrace tightened.

  Clapping and hooting brought us back to our senses. We pulled apart, Idris grinning from ear to ear. A fierce blush heated my cheeks and I kept my gaze downcast, and tried to wear a smile of my own.

  ‘I have wanted to do that ever since I first saw you riding into Llandarog on your white palfrey with your head held high,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘I wanted to do more than kiss you. Much more.’

  And here I was, recently widowed, and now pledged to another man – that was the sticking point. How could I betray Rhain so easily, so soon? What kind of a woman was I to promise myself to another with my husband so recently dead?

  Shamed and disgusted, I picked up my borrowed skirts and ran.

  Chapter 12

  Idris had saved my life, more than once. He had shown me nothing but respect and kindness, and he wanted to give back to me what was rightfully mine. His wife had died long before I wed Rhain. I had never met her, but there had been no talk of him being anything other than a good husband to her. I could certainly vouch for him being a good father. Cai was a fine young man, and Tan had been too. Idris had suffered as much, if not more than I, in this war with Seisyll. he’d lost a son, and I could not contemplate anything worse than the loss of a child.

  Husbands could be more easily replaced than sons. Did I need to remind Idris I was barren? He was young enough to father many more children, but it would never be with me. He deserved a wife who was more woman than I could ever be. Did he love me so much he was willing to forgo more sons? Or was it the chance of being a king that he loved?

  He had not said he loved me, but I recalled a certain look in his eyes and the feel of his lips on mine. Maybe I would grow to love him – I certainly cared for him as a friend. My stomach gave a small horrified lurch at the thought of his body lying next to mine under the blankets, and I drew back from the image. I would deal with the reality when it happened, and besides, women were not required to enjoy the marriage bed, only to submit to it, and I would not be the first wife to close my eyes and endure the deed.

  I did not want to marry again so soon, but there was no arguing my need for a protector, and if I married Idris I would be more than a wife – I would be a figurehead, a rallying cry. Did I want such a burden on my shoulders? I hoped he wasn’t planning on reclaiming Deheubarth just because he thought it was what I wanted, or I expected it of him. There had been enough killing and death, and I was sick of it.

  The air was cool, the light breeze welcome on my heated cheeks as I stepped out into the night. The doors to the hall swung shut behind me, smothering the raucous noise within. My head hurt and I needed rest. My body still ached from days in the saddle, though it was nothing compared to the ache in my mind. My thoughts buzzed like a fly trapped in a web, and I knew I would not easily find sleep tonight.

  One of the doors opened and a boy darted out, an empty cask of ale held lightly on his shoulder, probably sent to fetch a fresh one. There would be an abundance of sore heads come morning, if he made many more of these trips. Song and laughter chased after him, and a couple, pulling at each other’s clothes, followed him out. They staggered around the side of the hall. I waited for their footsteps to fade, but when they stopped abruptly and moans took their place, I decided it was time to leave.

  The fortress was a village in itself, contained by the high wooden palisade, with many buildings between the hall and the gates. The streets were close and narrow, hemming me in.

  In a bid for solitude, and a desire for open spaces, I headed for the palisade and climbed the ramparts, the wooden rail smooth beneath my hands, taking each steep step with care. The highest points of the defences, except for the topmost floor of the keep, were the turrets either side of the gatehouse. The watch patrolled the palisades, ever vigilant, ever wary. A woman would not be welcome up there, so I settled for a lower level. A section had been carved out of a beam, sufficient for an archer to shoot through, and I peered through the gap. The town outside the wall was illuminated by flickering candles and fires, and beyond lay darkness. Stars twinkled intermittently overhead, clouds scudding across the sky. There was no moon tonight to alleviate the darkness.

  The rampart immediately above me was empty, the nearest soldier a hundred feet away. No one was close, yet I could not shake off the feeling of being watched. Perhaps Wulfstan had set a guard on me, with instructions to keep out of sight? I chuckled. What danger could befall me here in this stronghold? And the lord would hardly see a mere woman as any kind of threat. My imagination must be playing tricks.

  Yet as I lifted my face to the heavens, two stars caught my attention. Close together, equally bright, they reminded me of a cat’s eyes glowing in the light of a candle. I shivered. One of them winked out, a cloud passing across it. Within a heartbeat, it reappeared.

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I should go. The ramparts here were deserted, though shadowy soldiers stood sentry further along. I was alone, but wasn’t that what I wanted?

  Footsteps below, from a lone servant scurrying across the bailey. Most folk must be in the hall. Noise travelled far in the dark, and singing and laughter, muted by heavy oak doors and distance, reached me. Light spilled out when one of the doors opened, and two figures were silhouetted by the glow of the many lamps behind them. Music flowed across the bailey, until both sound and lights were dimmed as the doors closed behind them. The taller of the two hitched up his breeches, burped, and clapped a hand on the other’s shoulder. They sauntered across the open space, their voices reaching me as they came closer.

  Idris.

  I couldn’t get away from the man. The other was probably Cai. Height and darkness made his features difficult to see. I shrank back. I did not want to have to speak to either man tonight.

  ‘…congratulate you. She is a fine woman. You will be happy here,’ Cai was saying.

  ‘That is what I wish to talk to you about. I do not intend to remain in Castle Cary.’

  ‘Is that why you brought me out here? I thought you wanted help to find the latrine?’

  I prayed neither of them would look up. I needed more time before I faced Idris and his proposal, though Idris and Wulfstan appeared to have everything worked out between them.

  ‘I well know where the latrine is; you forget that this is not my first visit to Castle Cary.’

  ‘Why couldn’t you tell me in the hall?’ Cai asked.

  ‘Too many ears. There is something else you need to know.’

  Cai halted. The two men were twenty feet away and as many feet below. I shrank back against the palisade and peeped over the edge. Should I leave? I tried to lift my foot but it would not move. Neither would the rest of me. It was as if an immense pressure held me in place. The twin stars glowed brighter, bigger, pinning me to the spot. The scent of thyme wafted across my nose. A voice in my mind said, Listen.

  I had no choice but to do as it commanded.

  ‘What is it?’ Cai asked. ‘Do you not trust Wulfstan?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Idris scoffed. ‘I trust no one, apart from you and Tan.’

  ‘Tan is dead, Father.’ Cai’s sigh carried to my hiding place. He sounded perplexed and saddened.

  ‘On the contrary, he is very much alive,’ Idris stated, ‘and is in Deheubarth mustering forces against Seisyll as we speak.’

  ‘What!’

  Cai’s cry masked my own gasp. Why had Idris not told Cai sooner? Had he only now discovered his eldest son had survived the battle? But how could this be? Idris was the one who had brought news of our defeat and Seisyll’s victory to Wulfstan. Lord Cary had no knowledge of it before our arrival.

  ‘Keep your voice down, someone will hear you,’ Idris hissed.

  Cai’s hands ruffled through his hair. ‘Tan is alive?’

  ‘Yes, son.’ There was no joy in Idris’s voice, only grim determination. His reaction baffled me.

  ‘Thank the Lo
rd!’ Cai cried. ‘Who told you? Wulfstan? How did-?’

  ‘Not Wulfstan, nor anyone here. I already knew.’

  ‘Why did you not tell me before now?’ Cai’s voice grew louder. ‘You let me think my brother was dead.’ He shoved his father in the chest, and Idris staggered back. ‘You bastard! I wept for him, and all the while you knew he was alive?’

  The same questions scurried through my own mind, and another thought occurred to me – how did Idris know what Tan was doing?

  Unless he had sent him to do it.

  ‘Shush, son,’ Idris said. ‘I had my reasons. I would not have told you now, but I thought it best before Wulfstan lets slip. The man drinks like a horse at the trough.’

  Those reasons had better be good, else Cai was not apt to forgive his father for the deceit.

  ‘No wonder you didn’t seem to care he was dead. I thought you were made of stone. I grieved enough for both of us.’ Cai paced back and forth. ‘How is he still alive? I saw him die. Tan was fighting beside Lord Rhain, protecting his flank. The battle was going our way, but Tan fell. Rhain stepped forward to cover him, and-’

  Cai stopped pacing. I held my breath. The details of the battle were too painful to hear, and my tears were close to the surface. Please don’t describe how Rhain died. I would not be able to bear it. I had to stop them from talking further. If I could not leave, then I had to alert my companions to my presence. I opened my mouth to call out, when Cai spoke.

  ‘It was you! You felled him. I saw you fighting back to back, then Rhain dropped like a stone. I thought it was an unlucky blow by one of Seisyll’s men, but I was wrong. You were behind him, protecting his rear. You struck him. It came from behind. It wasn’t Seisyll’s men who killed him. It was you.’

  I did not understand. Were they still talking about Tan? Was Cai accusing his own father of striking Tan in the middle of battle? He had to be. Otherwise…