The Winds of the Heavens (Sons of Rhodri Medieval Romance Series)

by Anna Markland

  THE WINDS OF THE HEAVENS

  Sons of Rhodri~Book III

  by

  Anna Markland

  Kindle Version

  Cover Art by Kate Sterling

  What Readers Are Saying...

  Anna Markland is an incredible writer who writes great books and this novella is just as great. The blurb says it all "They shared everything, but could they share a woman? Juicy medieval romance." The story grabs the reader, and keeps you enthralled until you reach the end. I loved this book, a must read for all.

  Lois Lavrisa, author of Liquid Lies

  As a history buff, I found this story to be an authentic medieval experience. It is clear that Markland did extensive research to get it right. The plot has many twists which I don't want to spoil here and that will make you want to read the whole series.

  J.Thorn, author of Gold Within

  A note to my readers...

  This is the third book in the series entitled Sons of Rhodri. These stories grew out of The Montbryce Legacy Series. If you have read the Legacy books you will be familiar with many of the characters in this book. If not, you will enjoy meeting them for the first time. This is the story of Rhodri and Rhonwen’s volatile twin sons, Rhun and Rhydderch.

  At the end of this book you can find a glossary of characters and a lexicon of foreign words and phrases used in my books, as well as a helpful Family Tree, but don’t peek yet!

  I have something of a grasshopper mentality when it comes to inspiration for my characters and their stories. If you prefer to read in chronological order, here’s a handy list.

  1066—Conquering Passion

  1066—If Love Dares Enough

  1066—Defiant Passion

  1087—A Man of Value

  1097—My Dark Irish Knight (March 2013)

  1100—Passion in the Blood

  1106—Dark and Bright

  1107—The Winds of the Heavens

  1107—Dance of Love

  1113—Carried Away

  1120—Sweet Taste of Love

  1124—Wild Viking Princess

  If you like stories with medieval breeds of dogs, you’ll enjoy If Love Dares Enough, Carried Away, and Wild Viking Princess. If you have a soft spot for cats, read Passion in the Blood.

  *The complete Sons of Rhodri Trilogy is available in paperback from Amazon.

  Looking for historical fiction centred on a certain region?

  English History—all books

  Norman French History—all books

  Crusades—A Man of Value

  Welsh History—Conquering Passion, Defiant Passion, Dark and Bright, The Winds of the Heavens

  Scottish History—Conquering Passion, A Man of Value, Sweet Taste of Love

  European History (Holy Roman Empire)—Carried Away

  Danish History—Wild Viking Princess

  Spanish History—Dance of Love

  If you like to read about historical characters:

  William the Conqueror—Conquering Passion, If Love Dares Enough, Defiant Passion

  William Rufus—A Man of Value

  Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy—Passion in the Blood

  Henry I of England—Passion in the Blood, Sweet Taste of Love

  Heinrich V, Holy Roman Emperor—Carried Away

  Vikings—Wild Viking Princess

  Kings of Aragon (Spain)—Dance of Love

  I hope you come to love my characters as much as I do!

  Start Reading

  Dedication

  Other Books by Anna

  Glossary

  Lexicon

  Contact Information

  Copyright Information

  Family Tree

  Table of Contents

  You were born together,

  and together you shall be forevermore…

  but let there be spaces in your togetherness.

  And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

  ~Kahlil Gibran

  For my daughter, Heather,

  whose laughter warms many a heart

  CHAPTER ONE

  Llanfarran, Powwydd, Wales 1107

  The arduous rescue took most of the day. Night fell as the exhausted men coaxed their weary horses into the village of Llanfarran.

  Rhun turned to Rhydderch. His own fatigue was etched on his twin’s face. “What a relief! I worried we’d never get here after pulling them out of the crevice. I can’t wait to hear the story of how they fell in there in the first place.”

  His brother raked his free hand through his hair. “The mishap might have ended in both their deaths. As it is, our brother’s leg is badly broken and our brother-by-marriage hasn’t wakened from his stupor.”

  One of Rhun’s bowmen, part of the infantry escort, glanced up at his lord. “Good thing the ledge broke their fall, yr Alglwydd. The conveyance of tree limbs lashed together to hoist the Earl up was what saved him.”

  “The contraption was Arglwydd Rhydderch’s idea, Dylan.”

  Rhydderch smiled wearily. “Maybe, Rhun, but your strong arms got Rhys out.”

  Rhys was tall and well-muscled, the gorge steep and narrow. It had taken every ounce of strength and endurance Rhun possessed to haul his helpless brother to safety on his back. The rope binding Rhys to him had cut deep into his skin, and the burns on his hands stung like the devil. Every muscle in his body ached. But they had saved two lives precious to their family. The thought of telling his dear sister, Carys, that her husband, Baudoin was dead could not be borne.

  Dylan shook his head. “It was a disastrous end to an expedition cursed from the start.”

  Rhun had to agree. The venture to gather information for road improvements in Wales had encountered a discouraging number of catastrophes, including the loss of several horses and the deaths of too many good men. Resumption would have to wait until next spring.

  A rider had been sent ahead to warn of their urgent need for a bonesetter. Rhys could not travel far with his mangled leg. Curious villagers recognized and welcomed them warmly as the famous Welsh rebel patriots they were.

  Rhydderch shrugged and a wry smile curved his mouth. “This cursed hair gives us away!”

  Rhun shared the humor. “How many other redheaded twin warriors do you know?”

  Men-at-arms had borne Baudoin’s bier on their shoulders. Rhys had been tied behind Rhun. Rhydderch rode at their side, his hand planted on Rhys’s back.

  They reined to a halt and Rhydderch jumped from his horse to assist in supporting their injured brother. “It’s fortunate you gave Rhys one of mother’s potions. He’s completely out.”

  Rhun felt his brother’s weight slumped against his back. “This won’t be the last time we’ll be glad we are the sons of a famous healer, and that we paid attention when she instructed us.”

  Rhys was taken from the horse and carried to the bonesetter’s cottage. They had expected a man. A young woman awaited them. They exchanged a glance of surprise at the discovery of a slender maiden with ice blue eyes and hair the colour of the harvest moon hidden away in this remote village. Her unusual gown captured Rhun’s attention. Light and flimsy, yet tantalizingly opaque, its sleeves came only to the elbows.

  “Lay him here.” The woman indicated the raised pallet in the centre of the cozy cottage. Her sultry voice swept over Rhun like a hot summer wind, and he and Rhydderch complied eagerly. Rhun became aroused at the glimpse of bare female arms as the bonesetter examined the injury. A furtive glance at Rhydderch showed the same reaction!

  Each man coughed and turned his attention elsewhere. This was not the first t
ime they had both been aroused by a beautiful woman, but for some reason Rhun was irked now. To ease his discomfort, he embarked on an explanation of the accident and the potion given to Rhys.

  She gazed at them. “You’re Rhun and Rhydderch ap Rhodri, the sons of Rhonwen, the renowned healer, and brothers to the Prioress? I have long wished I could meet your mother. The skills she passed on to you probably saved this man’s life. I am Glain verch Llewelyn ap Aldwyn, setter of broken bones.”

  Rhun’s eyes widened. She was the embodiment of her name—a jewel.

  “This man—er—he’s our brother too. He’s Rhys, the—er—Prince of Powwydd.” Why was he stammering? She must think him a tongue-tied fool.

  She bowed her head. “My honour to tend the Prince.” To the men bearing Baudoin she said, “Place him by the fire.”

  She turned back to the twins. “You’ve suffered much this day. Go to the next cottage. My neighbours have food and pallets for you.”

  Rhun indicated the injured man by the hearth. “We want to stay with our brothers. We’re worried about Baudoin.” He suspected the Norman name would surprise her.

  Her eyes widened. Duwiau! They were as blue as the summer sky. “He’s your brother also?”

  Rhydderch’s abrupt reply betrayed his irritation at having to explain once again their connection to a Norman. “He’s married to our sister. He’s the Earl of Ellesmere.”

  Glain’s eyes showed momentary surprise, but she returned her attention to Rhys’s leg. He stirred and moaned. She spooned a small amount of a thick potion between his lips, then carefully wiped his sweating face. Rhys calmed.

  Rhun asked about the ingredients. His mouth fell open as Glain turned to him.

  Pray to God I’m not drooling.

  “A pinch of mandragora to help him sleep again and to dull the pain.”

  Both men nodded their understanding, though Rhun had no idea what she had said. His thoughts were not on potions.

  They observed intently as she sealed the torn skin with egg whites and covered it with a clean cloth. She mixed up a chalky white powder with water, dipped strips of linen and bound the damaged leg, crooning softly. Rhun assisted by supporting the broken limb. Rhydderch bathed his brother’s fevered brow. Soon both men were humming with her and suddenly they looked up at each other in shock. It was a lullaby from their childhood. The memory washed over Rhun, strengthening his hope for Rhys’s recovery. Rhydderch pressed his lips into a thin line. Always the more emotional, tears welled in his eyes. He sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his face.

  Glain’s voice interrupted. “Help me raise him up and I’ll rebind his ribs. He’s a strong man to have survived this, but obviously your family abounds in strong men. You’re the sons of Rhodri ap Owain.”

  The twins again coughed nervously and shifted their weight and position. Rhun frowned at the confusion in his twin’s eyes as they stood either side of Rhys, supporting him.

  Glain smeared a poultice on the broken ribs. Rhun thought he detected the ingredients from the aroma. “What’s the poultice composed of?”

  She kept her concentration on her task. “A mixture of radish, bishopwort, garlic, wormwood, helenium, cropleek and hollowleek.”

  Rhydderch inhaled the scent. “How do you prepare it?”

  Glain pointed to the mortar and pestle. “I pound them up and boil them with celandine and nettle. Everything must be put in a brass pot until it turns dark red, as now. The remedy soothes aching bones and will help him heal.” She smiled broadly, first at Rhun then at Rhydderch. “It’s good for men to be interested in matters of healing.”

  Rhun’s heart raced. Rhydderch scowled at him.

  She bound Rhys’s ribs with strips of cloth dipped in the remains of the chalky mixture. She bade the twins lay him back down, turning her attention to his swollen ankle. “The bone isn’t broken, but I’ll bathe it with knitbone from time to time. I’ll check on the swelling on the morrow.”

  Rhun wished her hands tended to his swelling in the loving way she touched Rhys. A glance at the still scowling Rhydderch told the same story.

  Glain sighed and looked over at the man lying by the hearth. “Now, the Earl. Imagine a lowly Welsh bonesetter tending a Norman Earl.”

  Rhun felt compelled to explain. “If he wasn’t our brother-by-marriage—”

  She shook her head. “He’s a man who needs help no matter who he is. The Earls of Ellesmere have a reputation as fair men, despite being Normans.”

  Rhun smothered his anger at the rebuke. Rhydderch’s sneering grin made things worse.

  She knelt beside Baudoin and ran her hands over his body, probing slowly. Rhun again wished he was the one lying injured. This must stop. He had to regain control of his rampant arousal. The ache was unbearable. Was he bewitched?

  Glain finished her examination. “He’s cut and badly bruised. This swelling on the back of his head looks ugly. I’ll tend to his injuries, but the best cure for him is rest. Your brother must convalesce too before you journey on, a sennight at least.”

  Rhun rubbed his chin. “My sister is with child and Baudoin will want to be with her at Ellesmere Castle when she is delivered. However, we thank you for your care of our wounded. We’ll stay here while they heal.”

  He turned to speak to Rhydderch, but Glain took hold of his hands. He forgot the pain of the rope burns as her warmth penetrated his skin.

  “Your palms are hurt. I will salve them.”

  He was too dumbstruck and tired to object. Not even his brother’s jealous scowl dissuaded him from yielding to her ministrations. As her delicate fingers spread the cool balm he was tempted to lift his jerkin and have her salve the welts on his belly—

  —and mayhap the ache lower down—

  Rhydderch jerked him out of his reverie, a grim expression on his face. “On the morrow I’ll send riders to the main camp and to Ellesmere Castle with news of what’s happened. Carys will have sensed something is wrong. Come, brother, let’s leave these two fools who fall into gorges in the capable hands of the lovely Glain. They need her more than you do. We’ll find a pallet, and perhaps a tankard of ale.”

  They swaggered out, their arms thrown heavily around each other’s shoulder. Rhun winked at Rhydderch, singing the lullaby the bonesetter had hummed, suspecting his twin was also wishing fervently he could take the lovely Glain to bed.

  ***

  Glain gripped the edge of the pallet where her injured charge slept in his drugged state and breathed a sigh of relief. Good thing this beleaguered Prince could not see the beads of sweat on her upper lip. The moment the redheaded twins had entered her small home, she had been overwhelmed by their presence. Was it their size? Their notoriety? The red hair? The green eyes?

  They had been angry with each other. Perhaps exhaustion had set them on edge? How hard it had been to keep her voice steady when explaining the poultice, suddenly aware of the gown she wore for tending injuries. Its short sleeves allowed for ease of movement, but it seemed both men had been fascinated by the sight of her bare arms, and she had wanted to cover them. Or perhaps not? The possible transparency of the material had never occurred to her before.

  Despite the cooling properties of the salve she had used on Rhun’s hands, his heat had burned into her. The idea such men might find her attractive sent a chill of anticipation rushing up and down her spine. She took in a deep breath. No! The sons of Rhodri ap Owain would never be interested in a village woman. Noble blood flowed in their veins.

  The sound of Rhun’s fingers rasping against the stubble of his chin had made her want to caress his tired face, to soothe his concern for his brother. Perhaps it was the presence of two badly injured noblemen and the heavy responsibility of caring for them that had her sweating one moment and icy cold the next. The hot wetness seeping from between her legs embarrassed and worried her. The experience had left her breathless. She couldn’t wait to tell Isolda.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Isolda verch Llewelyn ap Aldwyn unbraided her ha
ir and raked her fingers along her scalp, relieved to be rid of the tight plait. Such a long, wearying day! The sooner she left Affetside, the better. The people welcomed her, grateful that she had left her own village of Llanfarran to take the place of their healer. However, they understood she would only replace the recently departed Moyra temporarily. She could never leave Llanfarran forever, never be separated from her twin.

  Everyone was aware of her departure on the morrow. A steady stream of complaints kept her busy from dawn till dusk. She understood their fear at the prospect of being without a healer and assured them she would return from time to time. She liked Affetside. Why did she expect to live forever in the same village as Glain? Some invisible thread kept them joined, rendering unthinkable a life apart from her sister.

  The people of Llanfarran should consider themselves lucky to have a skilled bonesetter and a gifted healer in their midst. The little village was their birthplace, where their parents had died. They had depended on each other, shared the despair of grieving orphans. Their healing gifts had helped them survive and prosper.

  Wearied by the long day of dealing with fears and superstitions, of patiently reassuring people, she pulled her dress over her head and slumped down on the pallet. She looked forward to returning home. The short journey held no threat. Ewan the Smithy, her uncle-by-marriage with whom she lodged, would accompany her.

  The route meandered by Cyfyng Gorge. She shuddered, remembering the nervous excitement of travellers who had ridden into Affetside with a tale of two men being taken to Llanfarran after falling into the gorge. She had gleaned only second-hand snatches of their account of the daring rescue. Glain no doubt tended them. Good thing she was going home.