"There were no women at Cythraul?" He looked down into her face to see if she was making mock of him.
"None, my lord," Rhonwyn responded softly.
"And would it not have been as dangerous for you and your brother if your enemies attacked this fortress?" he said.
"Perhaps when we were little, before I learned how to be a good soldier, my lord," she told him frankly.
"A soldier?" he said weakly. Surely she was mocking him, but he could see that she was quite serious.
"I ride, they say, as if I were part of my horse," Rhonwyn said. "I can use a sword and main gauche extremely well. I am passably proficient with a mace and a javelin, but it is with an alborium that I excel. 1 did most of the hunting for Cythraul from the time that I was ten. We ate very well."
"And your brother is equally soldierly?" She had to be playing a game with him. Women were not soldiers, good or otherwise.
"Glynn has no interests in weapons or war. He is a poet, a singer of songs, ap Gruffydd has no use for him," Rhonywn explained.
"Rhonwyn, tell me that you are jesting with me," he begged her.
"Why would I do such a thing, my lord? Nay, I do not jest."
"But you are so… so beautiful! You are educated," he said.
"When ap Gruffydd came to Cythraul six months ago and found he had two sons," she chuckled, "he took me at once to my aunt. All I have learned I learned in the last few months, for I swear to you I could speak no language but my own before then. I knew not our dear Lord Jesus, or anything else, for that matter, but war and weapons. The prince of Wales needed a daughter for this treaty marriage. My aunt saw he got a perfect daughter back, and believe me, it cost him dearly."
Edward de Beaulieu was astounded by her story. "That is why he put the marriage off until now," he said thoughtfully.
"Aye," she agreed. "You call me beautiful, my lord. Six months ago I don't think you would have thought so. My father should have put his children with my aunt when he found us nine years ago, but Cythraul was closer, and it was easier to leave us there. Fortunately for my brother and me, our kinsman, Morgan ap Owen, has a large and good heart. I had no woman to model myself after until I went to my aunt the abbess. I am certain that lasses raised in a normal way know enough about consummation not to be considered fools. My aunt is a holy virgin. If she knew of such things, she did not discuss them."
de Beaulieu suddenly laughed. The entire situation was absurd, and yet the upshot was he now had a beautiful wife.
"You find this situation amusing, my lord?" She was puzzled.
"I can but imagine ap Gruffydd's chagrin when he came to fetch you and discovered you as you were. He must have been terrified, at least momentarily," Edward de Beaulieu chuckled.
"You do not like him," Rhonwyn said.
"I do not dislike him," her husband quickly replied.
"Nay, my lord, you do not like him," she insisted. "Neither do I. I doubt I have seen him more than a dozen times in my life. While he was never unkind to us, his passion was for our mother, not his children."
"But none of what you have told me, Rhonwyn, changes our situation. This marriage between us must be consummated tonight," he said. Reaching out, he caressed her small breasts tenderly.
Rhonwyn squirmed nervously. "Please, don't," she told him.
"Why not?" he demanded half angrily.
"I am not used to being touched in so intimate a manner. It unsettles me, my lord."
"You will grow to like it," he assured her, brushing his fingertips across her right nipple teasingly.
"Never! It is all too possessing, my lord. It is as if you owned me, body and soul," Rhonwyn cried out softly, moving away from his bedeviling fingers.
"I have already told you, Rhonwyn, that I do own you. You are mine to do with as I please. Our marriage will be consummated tonight. If you let me, I will make the experience as pleasing as possible for you. I am not a man who takes his pleasure heedless of his woman's enjoyment. But whether you will or nay, I will have you, my fair wife." Then swiftly he was atop her-and as swiftly gasping with surprise at the dagger pressing against his throat. "What, will you kill me then to preserve your virtue, or do you fear I will learn you have no virtue?" he said in a hard voice.
"You will be the only man to have my virtue of me, my lord," Rhonwyn said, "but I will have something of you in return."
"What?" He contemplated taking the dagger from her.
"ap Gruffydd will leave Haven once our marriage is consummated, will he not?" she asked.
"Aye. That is why he waits this night to see if he may snatch you back. He will go, however, on the morrow when I show him the bloody bedsheet with the prool of your defloration upon it. Why?"
"You must ask him before he leaves to send my brother, Glynn, to Haven," Rhonwyn said. "My brother is still a lad. We have never been parted until these past few months. I have seen how much there is in the world since I left Cythraul. I have learned and gained such knowledge as I never knew existed. I want those same advantages for my little brother. He is a gentle soul and does not belong in a fortress of rough men. Only that I was there and as great a roughneck as the others, was I able to protect him. Please, my lord, do this for me, and I will yield myself without further ado to your wishes and desires," she pleaded softly. "Please!"
Unexpectedly he grasped her wrist, disarmed her, and threw the dagger across the chamber. He slapped her lightly on the cheek. "In future when you seek a favor from me, Rhonwyn, do not threaten me with a weapon." Then he pinioned her hard and laughed at the anger in her eyes. "Such a fierce little virgin, it is," he said crooningly. "I will grant your request, Rhonwyn. Now, what have you for me in return?" His mouth came down hard on hers, forcing her lips to part, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth to ravage hers with wildfire.
Rhonwyn lay still, not knowing what else to do. He was almost gagging her with his tongue, and it was all she could do not to become sick. His lips began to kiss her face and her throat. She shivered. His kisses covered her breasts, her belly. She almost screamed as his fingers began to forage in her nest, pushing through her nether lips. She bit her lips until they bled as his fingers went deeper, slipping into a place she had not even known existed, probing her gently.
"This is the place where our two bodies will be conjoined," he told her thickly. "It is called your love sheath, and like a sword, my manhood will fill it, Rhonwyn, wow!" He plunged himself inside her, and Rhonwyn screamed aloud as his manhood made contact with her maidenhead and thrust hard through it.
Oh, God, she hated this! It was impossible not to resist him now, and she fought him with all her strength, biting and scratching at him. "No more! No more!" she sobbed, but he only groaned a sound of distinct pleasure and thrust again and again into her body. Finally he stiffened a moment, and then she felt him relax and collapse atop her.
By the rood, the girl had aroused him, much to his surprise. And when she had stopped lying silent and had fought him, his lust had grown so hot he was surprised his head had not exploded. He knew it had not been a good experience for her, and he regretted it. Gently he kissed the tears from her pale cheeks and said, "There, Rhonwyn, it is over and done with now. We have both done our duty, and I shall leave you to recover yourself, wife." Catching his breath, he climbed from her bed.
Rhonwyn swallowed hard. "Glynn?" she said.
"Your father shall not leave Haven without giving me his promise to send the lad to us, Rhonwyn," he assured her. "Whatever you may think of me, I want you content."
"Do we have to?…" The question was unfinished, but he understood.
"Not until we are ready, Rhonwyn. We have done what was expected of us by king and prince. Now we will wait until you are happier. Good night, wife." He moved through the small arched door separating their bedchambers, and she heard the lock click shut.
For the first time in her life Rhonwyn wept.
Edward heard her on his side of the door and felt sadness that she was so unhappy. Hope
fully these feelings would soon pass, especially when her brother arrived. He had never forced a woman in his life. It had never been necessary for him to do so. He felt guilt sweeping over him. Worse was the fact that he had enjoyed her despite everything. Why? He shook off the question. She was intelligent, and he had explained the situation to her. Her fears he understood, but her stubborn determination and her sudden threat to his person followed by a demand in exchange for her cooperation had truly infuriated him. She was his wife and therefore belonged to him! She must obey him, and that was all there was to it. Still, be had promised her a respite from his attentions, and he would keep his word. Common sense told him that it could not hurt for them to know one another better. He listened by the connecting door again. Her weeping had died away now, and he felt better for it.
Enit gently shook her mistress awake the following day. "You must wake, my lady. It is time to dress for the mass." The servant felt shy, for she knew Rhonwyn had lost her maidenhead the previous evening. She had been fearful that the master would be in her lady's bed yet, and was relieved to find it not so. She bustled about the apartment, laying out her mistress's clothing and skirting about the oak tub that still stood before the fire in the dayroom.
As she arose, Rhonwyn realized that she ached. She saw her dagger across the floor and hurried to pick it up. She always kept it beneath her pillow at night, for she had been taught an enemy can come upon you at any time. And an enemy had, but she had not killed him when she had the chance. Had it been necessary for him to be so rough with her? He had enjoyed it, the fiend! Well, at least she would not be bothered with his attentions any longer. He had promised her that, and she sensed that Edward de Beaulieu was a man of his word in spite of everything that had happened between them the night before.
Enit helped her lady dress. The two young women were silent. Together they walked to the church. Rhonwyn spoke the words of the mass quite automatically, startled to suddenly realize that her husband was by her side, ap Gruffydd was nowhere to be seen, for he only went to church when it was absolutely necessary. When the service had been concluded de Beaulieu took his wife's hand, and they walked back to the great hall where the morning meal was being laid out. Rhonwyn saw the prince standing by the fire, a large goblet in his hand.
"You have not forgotten?" she asked de Beaulieu anxiously.
"Nay," he reassured her softly, "but in exchange, Rhonwyn, I would have you call me by my name from now on, wife. Will you do that?"
"Aye, Edward, I will," she responded low.
Llywelyn ap Gruffydd saw de Beaulieu smile down at his daughter, and the prince thought to himself, perhaps it will be a happy union. For her sake, I hope so. In the end I did my best for her, Vala. "Good morrow," his voice boomed.
"My lord," de Beaulieu replied. "You will be leaving us this morning, Prince Llywelyn, will you not?" It wasn't really a question.
"Perhaps, if I am satisfied you are well and truly wed to my daughter, Edward de Beaulieu. Show me the proof of this marriage's consummation. I would see my daughter's innocence bespattered across the sheet of your nuptial bed."
Rhonwyn felt her cheeks burning at his words.
Her husband, however, turned to Enit and said, "Fetch the bedding, lass."
"Nay!" ap Gruffydd said. "I will go with the girl and see for myself, my lord. You cannot object to it, I am certain."
"Go then," de Beaulieu answered him calmly, but was angered that Rhonwyn should be so openly embarrassed by her own father.
When ap Gruffydd returned to the hall he said, "You did not spare her. That I could see. Very well, my daughter is now your wife. Other than paternal affection, I no longer have any claim upon her."
"Paternal affection?" Rhonwyn burst out. "You never had any affection for me, ap Gruffydd! How can you mouth such words with such piety? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"Rhonwyn." Her husband's voice warned her.
She was about to turn her scorn on him, but then she remembered. She was suddenly silent.
"Come, my lord, and let us eat," Edward de Beaulieu said. "I have a boon to ask of you."
They sat at the high board, Rhonwyn between her father and her husband. The servants bustled about. Small round trenchers of bread, baked fresh earlier that morning, were set before them. Into them the servants spooned an oat stirabout with bits of dried apple. A square board with a small cheese upon it was placed in front of them along with a platter of cold, roasted rabbit. Their goblets were filled with watered wine. They ate for a time in silence, de Beaulieu amazed and amused to see his wife's prodigious appetite. He wondered if she always ate like that, but he doubted it, considering her slender form.
Finally, when they were finished and the servants were clearing away the remnants of the meal, the prince spoke.
"What is it you would have of me, son-in-law?"
"Rhonwyn wants her brother here at Haven. She misses him," Edward de Beaulieu said. "If it would make her happy, then I am willing."
"So the English, having had my daughter, would now take my only son," ap Gruffydd said.
"Not the English, prince, but your daughter, his sister," de Beaulieu explained. "There is no trick in this, my lord. Surely you can understand that never having been separated until a few months ago, she misses him."
"Rhonwyn and her brother are my only offspring," ap Gruffydd said. "As she has had her value, so my son one day might prove useful to me. But if he is in English hands already, then his value is lost to me, son-in-law."
"You will marry eventually, Prince," de Beaulieu said. "You must for your heredity's sake. The children of your legal marriage will be of far greater value to you than the two children who were born to you on the wrong side of the blanket. Let Rhonwyn have her brother's company again, my lord. I swear to you that I will protect the boy from any political chicanery and send him directly back to Cythraul should I find I am unable to do so."
"I must think on it," ap Gruffydd said slowly.
Now Rhonwyn was unable to contain herself any longer. "Glynn means nothing to you!" she cried. "I will be here, and you will go your way without another thought or care for my brother. I know you well, O prince of the Welsh. Glynn is your son, but he is not you or your brothers. He has no ambitions other than to create beauty. Let me have him, my lord. You know in your heart that you do not want him."
"If I let you bring him into England, he could be a dagger turned against me one day, Rhonwyn," ap Gruffydd said.
"And if you do not let me have him, what will happen to him? Would you destroy him because of some imagined fear, my lord?" she said. There were tears in her green eyes, and Edward de Beaulieu vowed then and there if ap Gruffydd would not willingly let his son go, he, himself, would ride into the Welshry and bring the lad back to his wife. "Please, my lord prince," Rhonwyn pleaded. "Let me have my brother's company. You have said yourself that he is good for nothing more than the priesthood or poetry. Surely there is no threat to you in that."
"It is not Glynn who worries me, Rhonwyn. It is the English," ap Gruffydd said.
"I have said I would protect him," de Beaulieu replied.
"You are the king's man, son-in-law, which is why he chose you to be my daughter's husband," the prince said. "You are reliable and can be trusted. This is why I have waited so long to marry. I never wanted to be torn between my duty and the woman I loved. That is where you will find yourself, Edward de Beaulieu, if I put my son into your keeping. As for your wife, you do not love Rhonwyn. You barely know her. Perhaps one day you will have an affection for her, perhaps not. Therefore I believe your stronger loyalty would be to your king, and not to your wife and her brother."
"Please, Tad," Rhonwyn said, slipping into the Welsh tongue.
"You have never before called me father," he answered her in the same dialect.
Rhonwyn smiled wryly. "It is unlikely I ever will again," she said honestly. "Let me have Glynn. I swear to you on my mother's honor that if I think the English mean to use him ag
ainst you or Wales, I will either aid him to escape or kill him myself. You know I am worthy of your trust, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd. You know that as much as I love Glynn, that 1 will do my duty, whatever it may be. Please!"
"Say it again," he replied.
She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Please, Tad."
"You have my pride, daughter, but you know when to yield even as your mam did. Had you been my son the English would have truly had something to fear, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn." The prince turned now to his son-in-law and spoke Norman words to him. "My daughter has convinced me that my son's interests are better served here at Haven Castle rather than at Cythraul. Since you have given me your word to protect him, I will send Glynn to you."
"I know you have made Rhonwyn happy," de Beaulieu said quietly. "Thank you, my lord prince. You will find I keep my word, should it be necessary to protect your son from the crown. Since I do not intend to inform the king that the boy is with us, it is unlikely we should face any difficulties."
"Henry is indecisive, but his cub is far fiercer than most I have known," ap Gruffydd warned his son-in-law. "He will be king sooner than later, and you must remain on his good side. He is the best and the worst of all his ancestors, son-in-law. How long the peace will hold after he becomes king, I do not know. If we should meet in battle, Edward de Beaulieu, look away. I should not like to slay my daughter's husband, the father of my grandchildren." He arose from the high board. "I have remained here long enough. It is time for me to depart lest you one day be accused of conspiracy," he chuckled.
de Beaulieu arose, as did Rhonwyn. Together they walked the prince of all the Welsh to the courtyard where his men awaited him. Taking his daughter by her shoulders, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd kissed her first on the forehead and then on each of her cheeks.
"Farewell, my daughter. May God be with you always," he said.
"Farewell, my lord prince," she responded. "I thank you."
A Memory of Love Page 9