"Oh, she's gone to St. Frideswide's Convent, where she will end her days. She's quite comfortable, but she is out of my hair at last," Caitlin said in a pleased tone.
"And just how did you get her to leave?" Wynne demanded. "The truth, Caitlin!"
Caitlin laughed smugly and then lowered her voice. "I would not want Arthwr to hear, for I promised the fat old cow I would keep her secret from her son in return for her voluntary departure." Caitlin's voice dipped lower. "I caught my dear mother-in-law in the bakehouse, her skirts bunched up about her waist, bent over a table stuffing her face with cakes and sweetmeats while the baker, his rough hands grasping her fleshy hips, pumped her full of his own cream. It was not the first time I had seen her thus, but I waited to expose her until I was certain it was a regular occurrence. Old Blodwen is lewd beyond all, although to look at her one would not guess it. She visited the bakehouse at least four times a week, and at her age too!" Caitlin finished, sounding just the tiniest bit aggrieved.
"So you forced her from her home and into a convent?" Wynne exclaimed. "Was that not harsh, sister?"
"I cannot have such a creature about to debauch my children with her shamelessness," Caitlin said primly, her hands touching her belly for the briefest moment. "Her behavior was inexcusable, and she would not have changed it had I allowed her to remain. Really, Wynne! A discreet lover of our own class I could have forgiven, but sister, she was swiving the baker!
"And what happened to the baker?" Enid asked, curious.
"I told Arthwr that he had offended me, and I had him well flogged. He got off lightly, Grandmother, and the baker is no fool. He took his whipping and went back to his ovens. I could have had his life."
"But to do that," Wynne noted, "you would have had to expose the lady Blodwen, and then you would not have had such a good bargaining chip. Perhaps she would not have gone willingly at all."
Caitlin nodded. "Do not frown so at me, Wynne. Blodwen is as comfortable at St. Frideswide's as she was at Coed. Arthwr has seen to that, for he loves her well. She will have an unending supply of sweetmeats."
"And just what excuse did you give your husband for shipping his mother to a convent?" Enid said.
"Well," said Caitlin, sounding smug again, "the old cow was forever going on about the delicate state of her health, and so she told Arthwr that being in the house with a squalling infant would be more than she could bear, even if the infant was her grandchild."
"You are expecting a baby?" Wynne looked closely at her sister.
"Of course!" Caitlin replied. "Can you not tell? Arthwr says I bloom more beauteously every day his son grows within me."
"My child," Enid scolded her, "you might have told me! When is your baby due?"
"In the month of June," Caitlin answered her grandmother. "I conceived my son when we returned to Coed, immediately after our marriage. Arthwr is a lusty lover."
"I conceived my son on my wedding night." Dilys spoke up quite suddenly. "Howel is most pleased with me. He says I have all the earmarks of being a good breeder," she finished proudly.
Enid shook her head in wonder. "And when is your child due to enter the world, Dilys?" she asked dryly.
"Certainly before Caitlin's," was the self-satisfied reply. "It is I, dear grandmother, who will give you your very first great-grandson."
Wynne looked to Nesta, who was as near to laughter as she herself was. Distance had made the pettiness engendered by her sisters seem quite funny. Like her brother, Wynne could not like her next two siblings, try as she might. The entire time they were at Raven's Rock they were never still. They prowled about inspecting every intimate detail of the castle, its possessions, its workings. They were openly envious of their elder sister, jealous of Wynne's good fortune, which each assured all who would listen really belonged to her.
Wynne was too busy, however, to pay a great deal of attention to her sisters, as the burden of Nesta's wedding had fallen upon her. The wedding feast would be one that was worthy of the sister of a prince of Powys. There would be over three hundred people, retainers included, to be fed, but Wynne was now confident in her ability to provide enough food. There were to be twelve tubs of oysters that had been brought from the coast set in tubs of cracked ice and snow off the nearby mountains. Four sides of beef packed in rock salt were to be roasted in the great spits in the kitchens. There would be a whole ox and two roe deer, as well as hams, geese, ducks; rabbit stew flavored with onions, parsley, and carrots; partridge pies; platters of quail roasted to a golden turn; and a peacock stuffed with dried fruit, which would be presented with all of its beautiful feathers intact upon a silver salver. There was trout that had been caught in the local streams, to be broiled in butter and lemon; salmon upon cress; and cod prepared in cream and sweet wine. There would be tiny green peas, little boiled beets, and new lettuce steamed in white wine with leeks and capers.
The bakers had worked overtime to produce all the fine white bread that Wynne demanded of them, to be eaten by those served above the salt. For those below there would be cottage loaves and good brown bread. There was butter and honey in abundance, as well as several different cheeses, among them six wheels of Gwernach Gold brought by Dewi ap Owain. There were sugar wafers, and both candied angelica and violets as well as several large apple tarts that would be served with heavy cream. A bridal cake of spun sugar and marzipan was to be the final delight to be enjoyed by all the guests; and all the tables would contain bowls of apples and pears.
To drink, there would be beer and October ale and several varieties of wine. Madoc's cellars were deep, and Wynne made certain that no one would go thirsty. As a special treat she had arranged for those at the high board to have mead, a festive and most deceptively potent drink made from honey. Mead was known to make the blood flow hotly and was said to be a great stimulus to an eager bridegroom.
On that account Rhys of St. Bride's certainly qualified, for his three months' absence from Nesta of Powys had only served to increase his ardor for her. It was a passion that Nesta fully reciprocated. To see them together was to understand the meaning of the word love. It was unfortunate, Wynne thought sadly, that seeing it, she could not herself feel the same emotion. Nesta and Rhys seemed to be bound by some slim and invisible thread. They could scarce wait for their wedding day, for they longed to be united in marriage.
Madoc had calculated the very moment of the Winter Solstice, and it was at exactly that moment that the bridal couple were formally united in marriage. Nesta, as radiant as the winter sun itself, was garbed in gold, a fitting background for her dark red hair and her creamy skin. Her tunic dress was made of gold silk, sewn all over with pearls and gold thread. Both the hem and the wide sleeves were edged in rich brown marten. Her under tunic was of cream-colored silk, the material having been woven with narrow bands of pure beaten gold. The tunic dress was belted with a loose-fitting rope of twisted gold with pearl tassels. A gold torque enameled in green and blue was fastened about Nesta's slender neck and sat upon her neckbones above her rounded neckline. She wore pearls in her ears, and a gold and pearl band encircled her head, holding her long, flowing hair in place. Upon her feet were dainty gold kid slippers.
Rhys was as resplendent as his beautiful bride. He was garbed in a full-skirted kirtle of red and gold brocade, the open neck of which was decorated with garnets and pearls. The tunic was belted with links of gold. As his kirtle was long, only his boots showed, but they were boots such as the guests had never seen. Of red leather! The bridegroom carried no sword. To come armed into his own wedding would have been considered an insult of the highest order.
They were a handsome couple, and when the priest had pronounced them man and wife, Rhys kissed Nesta heartily to the cheers of all the guests. The music began almost immediately. There would be dancing after the feasting was over. An ancient minstrel entertained them, singing in a voice that was incredibly sure and sweet for one so old. Once the minstrel had roamed the world singing his songs, but now he lived out his years in
comfortable retirement at Raven's Rock. The knowledge of the minstrel's history had endeared Madoc to Wynne a small bit. She appreciated this new evidence of Madoc's kindness to others.
"You have done well," Madoc complimented her as the evening progressed. "I can find nothing that has been overlooked. You have more than honored my sister and her husband. I am grateful, dearling."
Wynne flushed with pleasure at his words. Never before had she overseen so large a gathering, and toward the end, as her wedding day approached, Nesta, attacked by bridal nerves, had been virtually useless. "It is good, my lord," she agreed. "All our guests seem to be enjoying themselves. The mark of my great success is that not once has my sister Caitlin complained this evening. She seems satisfied with her place at the high board, the food, the music, everything! Do you think that impending motherhood is mellowing her?"
"More likely she is at a loss for words," Madoc replied, and then he murmured low so that only she could hear, "how beautiful you look tonight, Wynne. Green and gold are surely your colors. How I wish that this were our wedding feast, but alas, we must wait until Beltaine."
His words set her heart to racing. Madoc of Powys was a very romantic man, as she was beginning to learn. She found that she was anxious to be alone with him. She would be very glad when all her guests had departed to their own homes. He had been correct when he said that they needed time together. They did. She wanted to know him better. Wanted to learn what it was that bound them together, yet made her fearful of linking her life with his once again. She suddenly knew that she wanted to overcome whatever barrier it was that lay between them.
Wynne looked up at her betrothed husband and saw that he was smiling. "Villain!" she accused, rapping his hand lightly. "You have been intruding upon my thoughts again." She sighed deeply. "Madoc, you are incorrigible!"
"I love you," he said simply, as if that should excuse him.
Wynne laughed. "What am I to do with you, Madoc of Powys?"
"Love me, dearling," he told her. " 'Tis all I desire of you."
"No," she answered him, suddenly serious. "There is more, but it will come, I know. I feel myself changing here at Raven's Rock."
The bride and groom were put to bed with much good-natured teasing and ribaldry. The guests all found their own assigned sleeping spaces. In the morning, from the window of Nesta's chamber, a crimson-stained sheet was hung, bloodied proof of her virgin state and of Rhys of St. Bride's masculine prowess. The guests, well-breakfasted, began to depart. Wynne, returning to her bedchamber to change her shoes, for the ones she wore chafed her, was surprised to hear Nesta's voice coming from Madoc's chamber. Curious, she moved across the room, not really meaning to eavesdrop, but unable to help herself.
"You are happy?" she heard Madoc say.
"Aye," Nesta replied, "I am very happy, but I fear for you, my brother. Brys came yesterday, I know it. Did you think you could keep it from me?"
"He got only as far as the bridge that spans the river before I sent him away. He will not bother you again, Nesta."
"Oh, Madoc, 'tis not me he seeks to hurt, but you! He feels for you the same hate our father felt for your father, Gwalchmal. The same bitterness. The same envy. It seems to breed deep within him. It a terrible curse, my brother. Black and evil."
"He cannot hurt me, Nesta," Madoc reassured his sister. "He knows the extent of my powers."
"He knows that despite your powers you are a softhearted soul. A man loath to destroy any living thing. If Brys had your powers, he would willingly and eagerly destroy you, and he would take pleasure in it. Perhaps you yourself are not vulnerable, Madoc, but you are vulnerable now through your love for Wynne."
"Brys knows nothing of Wynne."
"He knows!" Nesta said positively. "Oh, perhaps he did not know that you betrothed yourself to an infant those long years ago, but you may be certain that he now knows your betrothed wife resides within this castle! He is a part of it, Madoc! An important part of it! Has Wynne had no glimpse of memory yet?"
"She has had a dream since childhood," Madoc said, and then he related her dream to Nesta, "but there has been nothing else."
"She has to know the truth, Madoc. Particularly lest Brys try to destroy your happiness once more," Nesta said firmly.
"I cannot tell her, Nesta, and you know it. She must remember herself," Madoc told his sister.
"You can help her, Madoc, without telling her, and well you know that!" Nesta responded hotly.
Wynne was absolutely fascinated by the conversation between brother and sister. What did it all mean? She hoped against hope that no one would come into the prince's apartments and discover her listening. She wanted to hear more.
"I had hoped," she heard Madoc answer, "that being here with me at Raven's Rock, she would begin to remember on her own."
"You have little time left, brother. Your marriage is scheduled for the first of May. Help her! I cannot go to St. Bride's and be content, knowing of the dangers you both face from Brys, unless this matter between us is resolved once and for all. I love Wynne, Madoc. As she once was, she is again, the sweetest of souls," Nesta said, her voice filled with emotion.
"I will take your advice, sister," Madoc answered, "but now you must find your husband and depart, for I am eager to be alone with my own fair lady."
Wynne fled swiftly into her room, hearing his words. She would have been very embarrassed to have been caught listening to what had been a very private conversation. Changing her shoes, she returned to the Great Hall just in time to bid Nesta and Rhys a fond farewell; escorting them along with Madoc out into the main courtyard of Raven's Rock Castle, where their horses and their men awaited them.
Nesta, radiant with her own happiness, hugged Wynne warmly. "I shall come for your wedding in the spring," she promised.
"I wish you did not have to leave so soon," Wynne said.
"There is a storm coming," Nesta predicted, "and we would be wise to be well out of the mountains before it strikes."
"But the Christ's Mass is in just a few days," Wynne fretted. "You will still be on the road."
"Then we will celebrate it on the road." Nesta laughed. "I long to be in my own home. From the look of Rhys when he first arrived, I shall have much to do to make St. Bride's Castle habitable." She hugged Wynne a final time and kissed her upon the cheek. "Take care of Madoc, Wynne, and should you meet our brother Brys, beware of him. He has the look of the angels, but he is the devil's spawn."
"Wife!" roared Rhys, looking mightily pleased with himself and quite happy, "will you linger all day gossiping with our sister in the courtyard? To horse, I say!"
"Aye, my lord," Nesta answered meekly with a small wink at Wynne, and he lifted her into her saddle, putting her reins in her hands.
Madoc put his arm about Wynne. Together they waved the lord and lady of St. Bride's off, standing at the entrance to Raven's Rock until their guests disappeared from sight around a bend in the road. "And now, dearling, we are alone," he said, smiling into her face.
"I am content with that, Madoc," Wynne replied serenely, and she smiled back as they turned to reenter the castle.
Chapter 6
Nesta, who Wynne had learned was weather sensitive, had been correct about the coming storm. Late the following afternoon after a still, grey day, the snow began to fall. It fell throughout the night. Delicate little crystallized flakes that clung to whatever they touched, until the castle and the land about them was frosted entirely in white. The windows were rimmed in icy patterns of beautiful design. And the storm had brought with it a deep stillness that penetrated even into the castle.
They were alone in the Great Hall, and it seemed so large with the servants gone to their beds. Fires crackled in the four big fireplaces, sparks occasionally shooting from the burning logs with a noisy pop that invariably startled. They had ridden the previous afternoon, after the last of their guests departed. Madoc agreed with his sister about the coming storm and said they should take the opportunity to get out w
hile they still could. Today Wynne had overseen the servants as they restored Raven's Rock to normality following the celebration.
They sat most companionably together, enjoying a rich, sweet wine, and for a time Madoc played upon a small reed instrument. Suddenly he put it down and, looking directly at her, said, "What is it that frets you, Wynne? I can feel your distress."
"It came to me," she replied, "that I had not seen old Dhu, my raven, in several days. I had not thought to look for him, with all the last minute preparations for Nesta's wedding. We rode all yesterday afternoon and he did not appear. Now with the storm upon us, I worry that he is all right. He is quite old for a bird, Madoc."
"And does this ugly black creature mean so much to you, Wynne, that it would trouble your slumber?"
"He is not ugly!" Wynne defended the bird. "I consider him most handsome for a raven."
Madoc laughed. "Why does this beastie mean so much to you, dearling, that you would safeguard him against even me?"
"Old Dhu has been my friend my whole life," Wynne said softly. "I believe that he keeps me safe from harm, even though I know such a thing is not possible."
"Perhaps it is," he told her.
"I do not understand you, Madoc."
"Close your eyes but a moment, dearling," he said quietly.
She trusted him enough by now that her green eyes closed most obediently, and it was then she heard the flap of wings. Wynne's eyes flew open and she was hard-pressed to believe what it was she saw. Soaring about the room was old Dhu, who swooped amid the rafters of the Great Hall, cawing triumphantly.
Wynne burst out laughing and clapped her hands together gleefully. "I knew it! I suspected it all along! I just didn't know it was you," she cried. "You're a shape-changer, Madoc!"
The great black raven flew directly toward her, and in the second that Wynne blinked, Madoc stood before her. "You are not afraid?" he said.
A Moment in Time Page 15