A Moment in Time

by Bertrice Small

  Wynne scanned the missive. "The lords of Coed and Llyn bring their widowed mothers, and there is at least one sister in the group, although Rhys does not say whose."

  "There are beds stored in the cow barn nearest the house," Enid remembered. "I'll send some men to fetch them, and we will set them up in the solar." She turned on Caitlin and Dilys, who were creaming each other's hands. "There are hangings and mattresses stored in the trunks in the nook at the end of the hall. Fetch them and make up the beds for our guests."

  "But we will ruin our hands," whined Dilys.

  "If you do not do it," their grandmother said, "it will not get done. Do you think the mothers of these men will let you wed them if you cannot even be bothered to make them comfortable? But if you prefer to remain here, old maids, I will not stop you."

  Without another word of protest, Caitlin and Dilys arose from their place and hurried off to do her bidding. Enid smiled archly.

  Rhys and his party arrived, and when finally the horses had been stabled and everyone brought into the hall, the introductions were made between all parties.

  Arthwr of Coed was a lanky man with a large Adam's apple. His stringy hair was nondescript in color, and his eyes, which peered intently, a pale shade Wynne could not put color to, try though she did. He grinned, pleased, showing bad teeth, when presented to Caitlin, grabbing her and placing a wet, noisy kiss upon her perfect cheek.

  "By the rood, cousin," he said to Rhys as if Caitlin were not even there, "this is a pretty pigeon you've placed in my nest! Right gladly will I fill her belly with my seed." His arm was tight about Caitlin's waist, and he did not look as if he would soon release her.

  Caitlin flushed, an angry look springing into her eyes, but before she might vent her outrage, her husband-to-be was introducing her to an enormously large woman whose tiny eyes were almost lost in the folds of fat that made up her face. This was his mother, the lady Blodwen. Wynne flashed a warning look at Dewi lest he blurt out that one of their prize cows was named Blodwen.

  "What a pretty child you are," the lady Blodwen said in a honied voice. "I am so glad my son is to have you for a wife and that you will come to Coed to look after me. I am of a most delicate constitution, as you must surely know."

  Before Caitlin might say a word, Rhys was dragging forth his other cousin, Howel of Llyn, to introduce him to Dilys. He was a most beautiful young man with fair skin, dark brown eyes, and bright blond hair. He peered at Dilys critically and then whined, "She is not as pretty as the other, Rhys. Why should Arthwr have the prettier one? What do you think, Mother?" He addressed his last question to a woman who might have been his twin. She did not look like a mother.

  "She will do quite nicely, Howel. Not everyone can be as fair as you are, my darling boy. She is pretty enough that you may take your pleasure of her without disgust, but not so beautiful that another man will covet her. With this one you will be certain that your sons are your own. Kiss her now, Howel, lest the lady think I have taught you no manners."

  Dilys was, despite their words, ecstatic. Howel of Llyn was the most handsome man she had ever seen. "Ohhh," she whispered softly, "how beautiful you are, my lord!"

  Pleased by her homage, Howel kissed her and, standing back, smiled at Dilys. "I will give you beautiful sons, lady," he told her.

  The lady Gladys, for that was the name of Howel's mother, then introduced her daughter, Gwenda, a proud girl of eleven. She had brought the child along when she had heard that Gwernach's lord was not yet promised to any maid. Gwenda was as fair as her parent and her sibling, but her personality reminded Dewi too much of his sister Caitlin to attract his serious interest, but as the lady Gladys was not aware of that, her hopes were high. Though she deemed Dilys unimportant, she did not want to remain at Llyn forever. Gwernach would be a fine place to end her days, and the old grandmother could not live forever.

  The betrothed couples moved off in tandem. Enid offered wine to the mothers and made them comfortable by the fire, thinking as she did how attractive Madoc and Wynne looked standing together. Rhys shuffled his feet nervously and tried not to look about too obviously.

  "You will find my sister Nesta in the garden beyond the hall," Madoc told him. "She did not want to take away from Caitlin's and Dilys's excitement." He smiled, and Wynne did too. "Go to her, my lord."

  Rhys made a mighty effort not to appear too eager, but he could scarce keep himself from running. As he entered the small garden his mouth fell open in wonder. The most ravishing girl he had ever seen in his entire life, surely the most exquisite girl in the entire world, stood awaiting him, her hands outstretched in welcome. This, he realized, shocked as the thought penetrated his consciousness, was the woman he had been waiting for his whole life long; and until his first glimpse of her, he hadn't realized it. Behind her a hedge of pink damask roses bloomed their last, a wild and tangled background for her dark red hair with its coppery lights that seemed to float all about her almost like a garnet mist.

  The girl's face was a perfect heart with a straight, little nose, a rosebud of a mouth on either side of which were deep, single dimples, and the most beautiful gold eyes Rhys had ever seen. She was garbed in a blue-green and gold brocade tunic dress with a blue-green silk under tunic. A narrow gold band encircled her forehead, just barely containing her wonderful hair. In its center was a moonstone.

  "Welcome, my dear lord of St. Bride's," Nesta of Powys said in her clear, musical voice, and she stepped forth to greet him.

  Rhys of St. Bride's fell to his knees and kissed the petite girl's tiny hands. This wonderful creature was his! He felt suddenly humble, and almost shouted with his joy were he not so close to weeping. What had he, a great, rough man, ever done to deserve such a perfect treasure of a wife? "Lady," he finally managed to say, the fact he must appear the fool not distressing him in the least.

  Her fingers closing about his, she urged him to his feet and said admiringly when he stood again, "You are so big! I do not think I have ever known so big a man; but you are gentle too, I can tell though you would hide it lest some think you weak." She stood as tall as she might upon her tiptoes and, drawing his head down, kissed his mouth warmly.

  To his surprise, Rhys felt a single tear slide down his bearded cheek.

  Nesta smiled full into his face and with one finger, she brushed the tear away. "It will be all right now, my dear lord," she told him. "We have found each other and nothing will ever part us." Then she kissed him again. Rhys shuddered, closing his strong arms about her, fearful that he might unwittingly hurt her, for she was so delicate a little creature.

  Wynne, watching with Madoc, shook her head in wonder. "She is not in the least afraid of him, yet I was. I do not understand it."

  "He was not the man for you, my dearling," Madoc said.

  "And you are?" she answered, smiling slightly.

  "Aye, I am," he responded quietly, his arm tightening about her. Then his fingers gently took her chin in their grasp and, turning her head just slightly, he put his lips briefly upon hers.

  Wynne's green eyes widened in surprise as she felt the warmth of the contact.

  Madoc smiled down into her eyes. "You do not know how to kiss," he remarked, surprised.

  Hearing amusement in his voice, she said sharply, "Of course I do not know how to kiss! I have never done it before. Surely you would not have a wanton wife!" Then she stamped her foot at him. "You will teach me to kiss properly, Madoc. There must be great pleasure in kissing, for people seem to enjoy doing it, I have noted."

  "I shall gladly teach you, my darling, and I will give you as much pleasure as you desire, I swear it!" he promised.

  "Good! We shall begin tonight after the meal, when my duties are concluded for the day. Though we be pledged to one another, you must court me if you are to win me. Kissing is part of courting, is it not, my lord?" Her cheeks, he noted, were flushed pink.

  "Aye, very much a part of courting," he told her.

  Hand in hand they turned back into the h
all. Wynne would not allow her own curiosity to override her province as Gwernach's mistress. She did not find either of Rhys's cousins to her liking, but her sisters had no complaints at all. After her initial shock of being treated like a brood mare had subsided, Caitlin had skillfully set about to win over both Arthwr and the lady Blodwen. Her betrothed husband would respond, she concluded, to flattery regarding his masculinity, and so she had immediately set about adulating him, allowing him outrageously bold liberties that included passionate kisses and naughty fondlings in the shadows of the hall where none could see.

  "Ohhh," Caitlin cried softly as Arthwr squeezed one of her plump breasts hotly. "You set me aflame, my lord! I am a virgin, but I sense you will be a mighty lover. I shall never want another but you!" She pushed herself against him, her lips wet and parted, her hand reaching out to fondle him daringly. She almost laughed at the glazed look upon his face, seeing she had easily enslaved him, and now certain as she received his wet kisses that she would have her own way in their marriage.

  As for that fat old cow, the lady Blodwen, Caitlin was swift to realize that all her new mother-in-law would desire to be content was flattery, an unending supply of sweetmeats, and the leisure to pursue absolutely nothing. She hoped that Coed had a competent staff of house slaves. If they were not competent, Caitlin would soon see they were, for she knew her home must run smoothly, although she preferred not to be involved herself. She had learned a great deal watching her eldest sister. Because she didn't choose to lift her hand to menial tasks did not mean she wasn't aware of how something should be done properly. Caitlin was well-satisfied with her bridegroom.

  As was Dilys. Dilys was not clever like Caitlin, but instant and innocent adoration of Howel of Llyn won her his immediate favor. The handsome Howel was vain beyond most men, a condition encouraged his whole life by his mother. Dilys was obviously not going to change anything in their lives. She would, like the lady Gladys, heap praise upon her beautiful spouse. She was immediately welcomed into her new family. Her mother-in-law was particularly tender toward Dilys, for she hoped to cajole the girl into influencing Dewi to look favorably upon her daughter Gwenda, not realizing that Dilys had no leverage at all with the young lord of Gwernach.

  After the evening meal the women departed for the solar. The twin marriages would be celebrated with the first mass of the new day. Then the brides and their grooms would be feted until the noon hour, when they would depart. Gwernach had not the facilities for two simultaneous bridal nights. The newlyweds would have to return to their own separate homes in order to consummate their marriages. Wynne personally saw to the comfort of her female guests. Two additional beds had been set up to house the mothers-in-law. Gwenda would sleep with her mother, and the two serving wenches who had accompanied these ladies would sleep upon trundles belonging to the beds. There was plenty of water for washing.

  In the hall below, Enid saw to the comfort of the gentlemen, assigning bed spaces, making certain that there were enough coverlets, that the fires were banked, the men-at-arms settled in the stables, the doors bolted securely. Noticing Madoc glancing toward the staircase, Enid said quietly, "She must get her rest, my lord. All of tomorrow's preparations rest upon her shoulders."

  "We had planned a tryst, lady," he admitted.

  Enid shook her head. "Not this night, I think."

  He bowed politely. "As you will, lady. Will you tender my regrets to Wynne?"

  "I will," Enid promised, and patted his cheek. "There will be plenty of time to get to know my granddaughter after tomorrow."

  He smiled at her and said, "I can see from where it is Wynne gets her strength of will, lady."

  Enid chuckled. "Perhaps," she agreed, "but Wynne is also very much herself, my lord. Never forget it."

  "I suspect she will not allow me to, lady," was his response, and Enid nodded even as she turned to ascend the staircase to the solar. There she found Wynne, free now of her obligations, preparing to descend.

  "No child," she told her granddaughter. "I have told Madoc that you must have your rest this night. Tomorrow will be a fiercely busy day for us all, but most of the obligation will fall upon you. I am simply too old for it."

  Wynne was disappointed, but she knew that her grandmother was correct. Besides, she was eager to hear what Nesta had to say about Rhys. Curious as to how Madoc's petite sister had so easily enslaved the big man, for it had been obvious from the moment the two had returned to the hall in the late afternoon that Rhys of St. Bride's was touchingly in love with the radiant Nesta of Powys. Removing her clothing but for her chemise, Wynne washed herself, as was her custom, and then climbed into her bed.

  "I thought you were to meet Madoc," Nesta said, surprised.

  "Grandmother said I must get to bed, for tomorrow will be busy," Wynne answered. "Tell me about Rhys? You must certainly possess some sort of magic to have so easily tamed so fierce a man."

  Nesta's laughter tinkled softly. "There is no magic involved, Wynne, I swear it!" She rolled upon her side and looked into Wynne's beautiful face. "Ever since I was a tiny child I have dreamed of marrying a man like Rhys. A great bear of a man with a heart as tender as an egg."

  "Rhys? Tender-hearted?" Wynne whispered unbelievingly.

  Again Nesta laughed. "Aye," she said. "Tender-hearted! I vow it is true, Wynne, but of course he dare not show such a face to the world. You can understand that, can't you?"

  Wynne nodded. "Do you love him?" she said.

  "Not now," Nesta said honestly, "but I am going to once I get to know him better." She smiled. "When your sisters are wed and gone, we will have such a good time! We will take bread, your fine cheeses, sweet wine, and we will picnic in the hills near Gwernach."

  "If the weather holds," Wynne answered practically.

  "It will," said Nesta with a deep certainty, "but go to sleep, sister, for the lady Enid is right. You do need your rest."

  It was the best night's sleep that she had had in many weeks, and when the head house slave, Dee, touched her shoulder to awaken her in the hour before the dawn, Wynne rose refreshed. It was too early for her to dress in her fine garments, but she pulled an ancient, well-worn tunic from her trunk and, belting it, hurried downstairs barefooted. She was pleased to see that the fires had already been rebuilt from their embers and were blazing merrily. Unbolting the door to the hall, Wynne hurried to the bakehouse to find the baker was even now removing a second baking of fresh breads from the ovens. With a smile of approval and a wave, she moved on to the dairy to find the cows being milked and the cheeses to be eaten at today's feast set upon the stone counters, awaiting transportation to the hall.

  In the cook house, Gwyr, the cook, his spoon badge of office waving, directed his minions in a number of duties both inside and outside the building. Outside spits had been set up for the two great sides of venison, the two sides of beef, and the four young lambs that were now turning over open fires. Inside, the cook fires roasted capons, ducks, and a young boar. Wynne almost collided with a lad carrying a tray of game pies to the bakehouse to be baked.

  Gwyr, a fussy fellow, shrieked aloud. "Drop those pies, you clumsy oaf," he threatened, "and I'll mince you up to take their place!"

  The boy tossed the cook a saucy grin, not in the least fearful of the threat. "You'll have to catch me first, Da!" he laughed.

  "Is there to be fish?" Wynne asked.

  "Aye, my lady! Sea trout stuffed with mullet stuffed with oysters. It's to be steamed in wine and herbs and served with carved lemons on a bed of fresh watercress."

  "You are an artist," Wynne told him. "Are the sweets made?"

  "Aye! Harry, the baker, has made a sugar cake for our brides, and we have molded rose jellies and candied violets as well as an apple tart."

  "You have all done your work so well, there is little left for me to do," Wynne complimented Gwyr and his staff.

  "You must make yourself beautiful for your prince," Gwyr said with a sly smile.

  Wynne laughed. "I shall have no
time for my lord Madoc until I have seen to the safe departure of my sisters."

  Gwyr said nothing, but a voice from somewhere in the cook house said quite distinctly, "Which cannot come too soon, lady!"

  "For shame!" Wynne answered, shaking her finger at the unseen culprit, but she was hard-pressed to contain her laughter. Neither Caitlin nor Dilys had ever been popular with the servants, and with good cause. They were both demanding girls who were never content with the service rendered them.

  Wynne next hurried to the church to find Father Drew directing several young girls who had just arrived bearing fresh flowers, still wet with the dew, and branches of greens, newly picked, with which to decorate the church. Unlocking a long, narrow box in the vestibule, Wynne drew out fresh beeswax candles and gave them to the priest. Moving on back to the hall, she found the men already stirring and, catching Einion's attention, said, "Make certain that the lords of Coed and Llyn bathe before they wed. I suspect neither has seen water in several weeks, for I noted that both were rank yesterday when they came. Perhaps, though, it was just the hot ride."

  "I'll bathe them myself, lady," Einion said, a grin upon his face, "not that your sisters deserve the kindness I do them. The prince will help me. He's a man who likes his water."

  "Take them to the river and then see the oak tub is filled as quickly as possible so the ladies may wash."

  The large oak tub used for bathing was quickly set up in an alcove of the solar and filled with hot water. Wynne woke her guests first, but both the ladies Blodwen and Gladys looked horrified at her suggestion they might like to bathe.

  "I shall be chilled to the bone if I bathe," Blodwen protested in weak tones. "I would surely catch my death of cold and be abed for months… if I survived."

  "I only bathe in my own tub," the lady Gladys said loftily, "and I did so last month. I certainly do not need another bath yet."