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

by Anna Markland

  Loud knocking startled her awake, but she couldn’t lift her head. “I can’t help you, go away. I’m tending my sister.”

  “Glain!”

  Old Morgan?

  “I have a message from Rhun.”

  Rhun? His name sent pangs of intense longing flooding through her. She struggled to her feet and dragged open the door, ushering him in. His arms were laden with foodstuffs. “From Rhun? How?”

  Breathing hard, the old man deposited his burden on the table, then sat down heavily, rubbing his back. “He and Rhydderch are camped in the woods on the other side of the barriers. They have brought provisions. They hailed the sentry and arranged to leave everything in a certain place and the lookouts retrieved it. Here child, try to get some of this food and ale into yourself and your sister.” After a glance at Isolda he shook his head. “She doesn’t fare well, but the sons of Rhodri ap Owain may yet save us.”

  Glain sobbed. “It’s too late for Isolda. Poor Rhydderch. How will I tell him? He loves her.”

  ***

  The following morning Glain picked her way slowly through the woods with the sentries who had volunteered to relieve the night guards. They pointed out Rhun’s encampment in the trees and hailed him. Rhun strode from his tent and walked towards the barricade, increasing his pace when he caught sight of Glain clinging to a tree. He clenched his fists, longing to run across the clearing. Her gaunt face told of her need for him. He cursed heaven and earth for his powerlessness. Isolda was not with her, and he looked back worriedly towards Rhydderch’s tent, from which his brother now emerged.

  She held out her hand. “Rhun.” He couldn’t hear her, but knew she spoke his name.

  “Glain!” he shouted hoarsely, his heart breaking. So near and yet so far.

  She closed her eyes for a few moments, then called to him. “Thank you for being here, for bringing us food—and hope. Everyone is grateful. Many are hungry. Food will strengthen them. But come no closer.”

  Rhydderch reached his brother’s side. “Glain, where is Isolda?”

  Glain shook her head and averted her eyes.

  A low groan escaped Rhydderch’s lips. “Glain, tell me Isolda lives.”

  She looked up, her face desolate. “She lives Rhydderch, but she’s ill. She has fallen into the sleep from which most do not awake.”

  Rhydderch blasphemed. “I must go to her.”

  Rhun held him back. “No, brother, you can’t.”

  “He’s right, Rhydderch. She wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger. Some people are recovering and not as many are dying.”

  She turned to lean back against the tree, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. Rhun wept inwardly for her exhaustion. She seemed to have barely enough strength to speak. “Mayhap this will soon be over and we can be reunited. Goodbye, Rhun. I love you. I’ll bring news of Isolda on the morrow. Now she sleeps she no longer suffers pain.”

  They watched Glain disappear into the woods, back to the horror she endured alone. Even during their incarceration and impending execution by the Earl of Chester, the twins had never known such desolation. The lives they led as patriot warriors involved the risk of imprisonment, torture, death in battle, execution. They had never thought they might lose what they loved most to a vile plague. Rhun worried desperately Glain might not return. He turned to his brother and wanted to weep for the look of utter desolation on his face.

  He put his arm around Rhydderch’s shoulder. “There is naught else we can do. Except pray.”

  “Aye!” Rhydderch whispered in a barely audible voice.

  ***

  Glain was thankful for the strong arm of her neighbour as he helped her struggle back through the woods to her home. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. Seeing Rhun had been a boon and a curse. Feelings she had suppressed during the ordeal now resurfaced—the longing of her heart, the physical need.

  She hesitated on the threshold, ashamed of a treacherous hope that had crept unbidden into her soul that Isolda had died in her absence and been released from her torment. It was quickly extinguished by the thought of the unbearable pain such a loss would cause, for Rhydderch as well as for her.

  She breathed a sigh of relief that Isolda’s chest still rose and fell. But she slept on. “Don’t die, Isolda,” she whispered, then wept at the selfishness of wanting her sister’s living death to continue.

  She wandered around the cottage, too tired to sleep, mumbling to herself. “I’ve seen Rhun. He looks well. Rhydderch asked after you.”

  The silence was oppressive. She hastened to her sister’s side and shook Isolda’s shoulders. “Do you hear me? Wake up!”

  Isolda did not waken. Glain snatched her hands away and put them to her mouth, horrified at what she had done.

  I am losing my mind!

  She staggered to the ladder and climbed wearily to the cot in the loft, wanting to be as far away from her sister’s agony as possible. The scent of Rhun lingered in the brychan. She sobbed as she clutched it to her body and allowed sleep to take her.

  ***

  Glain came to the rendezvous twice more, and Rhun dared hope she seemed stronger each day. The news she brought about Isolda did not bring Rhydderch any comfort. The rash had improved, but her sister lay motionless. However, the elders believed the worst had passed. The barriers would be taken down the next day.

  By dawn, the twins stood ready to move their encampment into Llanfarran as soon as the all-clear came. They left the pitching of the new camp to their men-at-arms and rushed to Glain and Isolda’s cottage. Isolda lay like a corpse ready for burial, but Glain bathed her forehead. She rose slowly as they entered and Rhun hurried to catch her as she swooned. “Glain, my beloved, it’s wonderful to hold you in my arms again.”

  Rhydderch strode to Isolda’s pallet and gathered her up, holding her tightly to his body. She lay in his arms—a limp doll. His face was bleak. “Come back to me, my beautiful Isolda. Don’t leave me.”

  Rhun was concerned for his brother. “Rhydderch, perhaps you shouldn’t touch her. Is it safe, Glain?”

  Rhydderch lost his control. “Not touch her? She can’t harm me. My touch may heal her when she senses I’m here. Does she feel things, Glain? Is she aware I’m here?”

  Rhun grieved for him. There he stood, a powerful male, cradling Glain’s emaciated sister, willing her to be well. Strong, but helpless.

  Glain leaned into Rhun and turned to Rhydderch. “It can do no harm to hold her. She may feel the heat from your body, as I feel Rhun’s.”

  ***

  The men of the Welsh patriots buried the remaining corpses. Rhun ordered everything in sight be scrubbed clean, citing his mother’s teachings. His heart soared as Glain’s health improved each day. If only she smiled more often, but fear for Isolda consumed her.

  Rhydderch rarely left Isolda’s bedside. He forced broth between her lips, carried on a conversation as if she could hear, and assisted with changing linens and combing her hair.

  One evening, as the three supped in silence, Rhydderch shoved aside his bowl of broth. “On the morrow I intend to send men to fetch a priest. I want him to marry me and Isolda.”

  Rhun shook his head in protest, but it was Glain who spoke. “Rhydderch, I know Isolda wanted to marry you before this happened, but she wouldn’t want you to be burdened with a wife who sleeps.”

  Angered, Rhydderch leapt to his feet. “Your sister would not be a burden to me.”

  Rhun too spoke softly, placing his hand on his brother’s arm. “Rhydderch, no priest will marry you without her consent, and she can’t give it.”

  Rhydderch could hardly speak. He gritted his teeth. “If Isolda is to die, I want her to die as my wife.”

  Glain too put her hand on his arm. “You don’t need to have a priest say words over you. Isolda is already your wife. She gave her heart to you when she agreed to the betrothal. If the saints wish it, she’ll recover with your love to aid her.”

  Glain cleared away the remnants of the half-
eaten meal and suggested to Rhun they leave their siblings alone for a while. Hand in hand they walked in the woods in silence, their heads bent, enjoying the rustling of leaves beneath their feet.

  Rhun took a deep breath, but did not look up. “If a priest comes, you can give your consent. You and I could be married.”

  She turned to face him and pressed her body to his. He enfolded her in his cloak.

  “Rhun, you know I want that desperately. You once told me you were greedy for me. I’m greedy now, hungry for life—with you. But I can’t marry while my sister—”

  He tried not to let his impatience show. “She may stay like this for a long while. Are you willing to take the risk?”

  She nuzzled her face into his chest, sending waves of desire coursing through him. “I can’t do otherwise, Rhun. You’re a twin. You wouldn’t abandon Rhydderch in the same circumstances. How can you expect less from me?”

  He remained silent for a long time, knowing she spoke the truth. “Then I propose we take her to Powwydd. She can receive good care there in our llys.”

  Her body tensed. “She’s receiving good care here.”

  He pulled her to him. “Don’t be angry for the wrong reasons.”

  She hesitated a long while before she spoke. “What you suggest has merit. You’re both needed by your people. Rhydderch can’t spend his life kneeling at my sister’s bedside in a remote village. I agree she should be taken to Powwydd, but I’ll go to tend Isolda, not as your wife.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The silent walls of Powwydd welcomed the three sons of Rhodri. Carys had removed the bindings from Rhys’s leg and he walked with the aid of a staff. Annalise would bear their child soon and Rhys wanted his son born in Wales. Carys’s recovery had been swift. Rhys and Annalise were godparents to Fleurie at her baptism. That scrap of humanity prospered, making her demands known.

  A sadder homecoming brought Rhun and Rhydderch within the walls that had sheltered them since childhood. It was not the joyous occasion they had hoped for, but both brothers repeated to anyone who would listen that they were happy to be with the women they loved.

  Rhydderch provided Isolda with healers to tend to her nursing. Maidservants washed and combed her hair, dressed and undressed her and attended to her bodily needs. He lavished her with kisses and soft touches, crooning soothing words and conversing with her about each day’s happenings. He turned her in the bed, bolstering her with pillows.

  “My heart breaks to watch him,” Rhun told Glain.

  She was unsympathetic. “He has shut me out of my sister’s care. He does everything for her. I may as well not be here.”

  Rhun winced. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  ***

  Rhys worried the tense atmosphere in the castle would have a negative effect on Annalise. She protested and told him she sympathised with his brothers’ plight. “Rhys, you’re nervous about our bébé and you’re angry because your brothers are unhappy.”

  They lay abed, his head resting on her breasts. She stroked his hair. “Pauvre Glain is probably crying herself to sleep alone in her own chamber, longing for Rhun, but she can find no way out of the predicament. She’s trapped by her loyalty to Isolda.”

  He kissed her breast, grateful for the peace and contentment his Norman wife brought him. “You’re right. Rhun is cut off from the brother he’s been bound to all his life and is powerless to satisfy his craving for Glain. He’s become morose and moody, quick to lose his volatile temper. I’m supposed to be a diplomat, and yet I can’t reason with my own brothers. Rhun is tearing himself apart and Rhydderch is immersed in his sorrow. Nothing I say to them seems to get through.”

  She cuddled into him and kissed the top of his head. “They’re desperately in love and the fates have seen fit to thwart them. Perhaps they’re being tested in some way, as we were. We must find a way for them to be wed, but Glain won’t marry Rhun while Isolda sleeps.”

  He turned her to spoon into her back, cupping her heavy breasts as her rounded bottom snuggled into his manhood. “You’re lovely, Annalise. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

  He ran his hand over her swollen belly. She smiled as she pressed it to where the baby moved. “Là, he’s telling us he’s alive and kicking.”

  He let out a long, slow breath. “If only we could say the same for Isolda.”

  ***

  “Glain?”

  Rhydderch’s head jerked up from the side of Isolda’s bed. Had he heard something? Had he imagined Isolda had spoken? He rubbed the cramped muscles of his neck.

  “Glain?”

  His eyes swivelled to Isolda’s face. The darkness thwarted him. He lifted her hand, massaging her palm with his thumbs, then pressed her fingers to his lips. “Isolda? Come back to me.”

  “Rhydderch?”

  He felt light headed. Sweat sheened his body. “Isolda? I’m here waiting for you.”

  Her eyes remained closed. “I know.”

  He laid her hand back on the bed and ran to fling open the door. His voice echoed down the hallway. “To me, quickly.”

  A breathless pageboy appeared.

  “Find Arglwydd Rhun and Lady Glain now! Tell them to come here at once.”

  The boy nodded nervously and hurried off. Rhydderch rushed back to Isolda, grasped her hand and murmured her name again. He must not alarm her.

  “Rhydderch? It’s dark.”

  He pressed her hand to his forehead, unable to stem the tears of relief. “It’s late at night, my darling.”

  She licked her lips. “I—I’m—thirsty.”

  He quickly retrieved ale left over from his supper and held the goblet to her mouth, cradling her head. “Drink this.”

  “Thank you, my love,” she whimpered after drinking a few sips. She drifted back to sleep, her hair spilling over his trembling hand.

  ***

  Rhun strode into the chamber. Nothing had changed, apart from his brother’s obvious agitation. He raked his hand through his hair. “What’s happened?”

  Rhydderch beckoned. “She spoke to me, Rhun. She spoke to me.”

  Rhun looked into his eyes, fearful for his twin.

  Glain hurried into the chamber, concern etched on her face. “What’s happening? Isolda? Has something—?”

  Rhydderch interrupted excitedly. “She spoke to me. Actually, at first she spoke to you. She called your name.”

  Glain had longed for Isolda to whisper her name, prayed for her sister to be whole again. She rushed to the bed. “But she still sleeps.”

  Rhydderch’s eyes were wild. “Yes, but she said your name, and mine. She sipped some ale. Then she fell back to sleep. But she told me she knew I—that I waited here—for her. She knew. She said ‘thank you my love’. She spoke. I heard her. She said it.”

  He looked at his twin’s face and must have seen the doubt written there. He clenched his fists. “I tell you she spoke and she’ll speak again.”

  Rhun kneaded the tense muscles of his brother’s shoulders. “I believe you.”

  I must, for my own sake.

  ***

  They continued their vigil into the early hours of the morning. Glain dozed in a chair. A faint whisper came to her ears. “Glain?”

  She rocked forward and grasped her sister’s hand, pressing it to her lips. “Isolda?”

  “Glain? The darkness—”

  Glain gasped, holding her breath. “It’s the middle of the night, Isolda. I’m here. Can you see me?”

  “No. But I feel your hand.”

  Sennights of restrained grief washed over Glain as she pressed her sister’s hand to her forehead, trying to stem the torrent of threatening tears. Rhun and Rhydderch now stood at her side. Rhun put his arms around her. “She’ll understand if you cry.”

  Glain finally took in a ragged breath. “Isolda, my sister, my twin. I feared you were lost to me forever. I’ve missed you.”

  Isolda’s voice was faint and raspy. “I’ve—missed—you—Glain. Rhydderch has been telling
—me news of everyone—it’s dark—can you bring light?”

  Rhun hurriedly brought the torch from the hallway sconce.

  Rhydderch pressed Isolda’s hand to his lips. “My love, welcome back. My heart never doubted you would awaken.”

  With his help, Isolda sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me back. I can’t see. Is someone bringing light?”

  Rhun and Glain exchanged a glance, and Glain stifled a gasp. She passed her hands in front of Isolda’s eyes and looked back desperately at Rhun.

  Rhydderch was immersed in kissing Isolda’s hand.

  Glain whispered to Rhun. “Mayhap it’s a passing thing?”

  He shook his head.

  “Bring more light, Rhun,” Rhydderch suggested. “It’s a moonless night.”

  Rhun put his arm around his twin’s shoulder, and passed his hand in front of Isolda’s unflickering eyes. He whispered in his brother’s ear. “More light won’t improve the matter.”

  Rhydderch understood at once. He gathered Isolda to his chest and rocked her. “Isolda, your eyes will adjust to the light. We won’t bring torches until your sight improves. We don’t want to harm your beautiful blue eyes.”

  Pride and sorrow warred within Rhun as he watched his brother cradle his beloved.

  Rhydderch turned to look at them. “I’ll stay with her. She will need my help.”

  ***

  Rhydderch ap Rhodri had known all his life what his destiny was. Or thought he had. He had grown up listening to his father’s tales of his dream of the goddess, Arianrhod, revealing his destiny with Rhonwen as his wife.

  But in the moment he understood that Isolda was blind, Rhydderch recognised that his ultimate destiny was not to be a fanatical Welsh patriot warrior. The reason for his existence was to be the helpmate of this woman he loved. It was as compelling a truth as his father’s dream had been.

  He would not have thought it possible, but now he loved Isolda more. The pestilence had stolen nothing of her beauty. He grieved for her loss and acknowledged with a heavy heart that she would be devastated. But she was a woman of spirit who would overcome her grief. He relished a future of serving her, meeting her needs. He would never fail her. Her blindness would help him become the man he was intended to be.