“Edward is on my doorstep,” he grunted. “Did you truly believe I would greet the man lying in my bed?”
William looked at Penelope; she had tears in her eyes but she was struggling very hard to be brave. A glance at Paris showed the man to be nearly as distressed as Penelope. As foolish as Bhrodi’s actions were, unfortunately, William understood them completely. The man was a knight, and a very good one, and this night would either see his empire preserved or destroyed. Of course he could not have simply lain there and waited for Fate to strike. If his life was to be ended, then he wanted to meet it head-on and if he was to be saved, then he wanted to greet the fortunes of Fate for the same reason. William sighed heavily.
“Where do you intend to go?” he asked, his tone resigned.
Bhrodi looked around the bailey, to the walls of his mighty castle. His gaze lingered on the battlements. “Up there,” he murmured, causing everyone to turn to see what he was looking at. “Upon the wall of the castle that has been in my family for almost two hundred years. I want to see Edward’s destruction for myself. It is my right.”
William could hardly disagree. “Bhrodi, you cannot make it,” he muttered. “In your condition, you will be fortunate to make it across the bailey.”
At Bhrodi’s side, Penelope was trying very hard not to weep out loud. She wiped at the tears on her face. “I will help him, Papa,” she said. “He has asked me to help him.”
She was trying so hard to be brave and William’s heart nearly broke for her. Bhrodi, damaged and ill, was doing what came naturally to him and Penelope understood that. Like William, she understood completely. William looked at Paris, standing behind the pair, and the two of them silently conveyed words of resignation. It would be of no use to try and stop the man. De Shera was determined to see the threat to his life, and his world, ended. Either that, or he would meet it head-on if the beast failed to complete its task. After a few moment’s hesitation, William backed away and Bhrodi continued his hunched-over walk.
Penelope had a grip on her husband’s left arm, struggling to assist the man who was quite a bit larger than she was. Paris walked behind them, holding out his hands to catch de Shera if the man faltered, and William ended up beside Paris doing much the same thing. Together, they followed Bhrodi and Penelope as they made their way very slowly across the bailey. It was a trek that was attracting attention.
Now, the de Wolfe brothers were watching from the battlements and Kevin went so far as to come down from the wall. He started to run towards the pair, to assist, but was intercepted by his father. Kieran had been watching it all from the gatehouse. When Kevin resisted his efforts, Kieran was firmer about it.
“Nay, lad,” he muttered. “This is something they must do together. They do not need you.”
Kevin was watching with great distress. “But he cannot make it alone,” he pointed out. “She will need help.”
Kieran had his hand on his son’s chest. “It is time you learn that you cannot be there for Penny any longer,” he murmured, making to meet Kevin’s eye. “She is Bhrodi’s wife and although I realize you have been very helpful to them during your stay here, you must think on it from Bhrodi’s point of view – how would you feel if you were married to Penny and a man kept trying to interfere, no matter how altruistic his intentions?”
Kevin didn’t like that question, mostly because he knew the answer. He started to say something but just couldn’t find the words. His gaze followed Penelope as she struggled to assist Bhrodi across the muddy bailey. All the while, his heart was breaking; his father was right. He couldn’t help her any longer. He could no longer interfere in her marriage.
Without another word, he turned away and headed back to the battlements. Kieran watched his son go, feeling heavy-hearted for him. It was difficult to accept that the woman he loved would never be his wife. It was difficult to accept that she belonged to another. He could have told Kevin that there would be other women and other loves for him, but that wasn’t something he wanted to hear right now. Kevin would have to grieve the loss of Penelope before he would be able to move on. For Kevin, it was finally over.
Bhrodi and Penelope were now in the middle of the bailey, slowly making progress towards the gatehouse and the battlements. Penelope had a tight hold of him, now counting out the steps as he moved. Step, step. Step, step. That’s good. You are doing very well. But it was a slow and painful journey. They were just entering the shadow of the gatehouse when behind them, Yestin emerged from the keep. The tall, lanky man ran down the stairs, nearly falling at the bottom, in his haste to reach his liege. As he ran across the ward, he began to shout.
“It is gone!” he cried. “The tafod is not in its place!”
Everyone seemed to come to a halt, particularly Bhrodi. Holding on to his guts, he looked over his shoulder as Yestin came running up. The man’s eyes were wide with shock.
“Fy arglwydd,” Yestin gasped. “Y tafod ar goll!
My lord, the horn is missing! Bhrodi’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” he demanded, reaching out to grasp Yestin. “Did you look in my chamber?”
Yestin nodded furiously. “I did, my lord,” he said, his English stilted and heavily accented. “I went to your chamber, to the chest near the tapestry, and it is not there. It is gone!”
Bhrodi tried not to get caught up in Yestin’s panic. William and Paris came up to join the group, both men equally concerned. William looked to Bhrodi.
“Could someone have taken it?” he asked. “One of the servants, mayhap?”
Bhrodi was truly at a loss. “It is possible,” he said, “but why? They would not know what it was. Only me and my teulu know what it is meant for.”
William struggled not to become increasingly concerned. “Could it have been misplaced? Mayhap it was put elsewhere.”
Bhrodi shook his head. “Never,” he replied. “It is always in the same place. It has never been moved.”
William wasn’t sure what more to say; he turned to Paris, who looked back at him with some apprehension. The horn was missing. Would their night be over before it began? After a moment of indecision and confusion, William returned his attention to Bhrodi.
“You have said the beast emerges to feed on the full moon,” he said, his voice quiet. “The moon is full tonight. The beast will come without the horn, will it not?”
Bhrodi sighed heavily, looking up to the brilliant moon and starry night. “Aye, it should,” he replied, “unless it has already fed. If that is the case, then it will not feed again this night. That is why the horn is important… it is a sound that brings out the bloodlust in the creature. When the beast hears the horn, it knows that fear and blood and mayhem are expected. It comes forth because we summon it. We must rouse that bloodlust against Edward.”
Now, everyone was starting to feel the same apprehension that Yestin and Bhrodi were feeling. The horn was somehow key to all of this, a crucial part of the plan that was now missing. If they couldn’t find it, then it was very possible everything would fail; Edward would expect Rhydilian on the morrow and would be faced with three hundred Welsh and English socked in and prepared to fight. It would bring forth everything William and Bhrodi had been fearful of. It would bring about the end.
But Bhrodi was unwilling to give up. This was his plan and he would see it through to the bloody end; too many people were depending on it. His frustration began to get the better of him.
“It is always in that chest,” he said, looking at Penelope as if she could help him find the answers. “The only people who know it is there are me and my teulu. No one else would know its worth except….”
He trailed off and it was evident that a thought occurred to him. Penelope was nearly frantic. “What?” she demanded. “Who else would know its worth?”
Bhrodi was almost afraid to voice what he was thinking but the more he thought on it, the more it might be a viable possibility. He looked at William.
“When you came to me this morning and we discussed
this plan,” he said, “my uncle was in the room. Do you recall? He came upstairs and hid in the tapestry as we were discussing this very scheme.”
William did indeed recall the tiny little man with the stringy white hair, fighting his way into the room and then wrapping himself up in the tapestry.
“Indeed I do,” he said. “Why?”
Bhrodi’s mind was moving quickly. “Because he has also been present nearly every time we have discussed Edward’s want of Rhydilian,” he said. “Even if the man is quite mad, he knows about the horn because he is my grandfather’s brother. The man knows everything about Rhydilian. It is quite possible that somewhere in that insane and outlandish mind of his, he understood what we were speaking of. He understood our peril and he understood our plan. Is it possible that he actually took the horn and is now out wandering the marsh, preparing to unleash the beast?”
Penelope wasn’t apt to believe it so quickly. “How is that possible?” she wanted to know. “He has been in the hall when we have discussed Edward but he never acknowledged that he understood anything. He fights his ghosts and returns to the wardrobe.”
Bhrodi knew that. God help him, he knew that, but he just couldn’t shake the possibility. He turned to Yestin. “Go see if my uncle is in his wardrobe,” he ordered. “If he is, then we are right back where we started, but if he is not….”
Yestin nodded swiftly and began to run. But the moment he did so, a faint sound, like that of a mournful beastly cry, filled the air. The knights upon the battlements who had been watching the conversation with Bhrodi suddenly rushed to the parapets, straining to find the source of the sound. They were looking off towards the marsh, into that dark and cold night with the blanket of stars high above. Even William, Paris, and Kieran began to swiftly mount the ladders to the wall walk so they could see where the sound was coming from.
But Bhrodi knew; he knew the moment that heady, rough tone pierced the cold night air. He’d heard the sound a thousand times before. He looked at Penelope.
“That is the horn,” he murmured hoarsely. “Someone is blowing it.”
Yestin, who had momentarily paused when they heard the first few sounds of the horn, now ran for the keep and disappeared inside. Back in the bailey, however, Penelope was looking at Bhrodi with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension.
“Do you really think it is your uncle?” she whispered. “It is truly possible he understood everything we were saying and is now seeing the final element of your plan through?”
Bhrodi was gazing into her wide hazel eyes, seeing the woman he loved. But it was more than that; she was his strength, his heart, his soul, and the day he found her out in the marsh driving her broadsword into the eye of the beast was the day he had begun to live again. Only he didn’t know it then; all he knew was that his life had been a dead thing, a terrible thing, and now it was pure joy. What Sian’s death had taken out of him, Penelope had put back and then some. He was overflowing with the life and love she gave to him.
“It is not only possible, it is probable,” he murmured.
Yestin suddenly appeared at the keep entry. “The old man is gone!” he shouted into the bailey. “Shall I look for him?”
Bhrodi called him off; there was no need. He knew where his uncle had gone. The horn sounded again and so did a host of distant cries; faint screams began to fill the air. As the English knights watched with amazement from their vantage point on the battlements of Rhydilian, the beast of the marsh, the serpent of legend, emerged from the murky depths to destroy more than half of Edward’s army.
It was a brutal, bloody fight as men tried to fight off the creature with swords, only to see dozens upon dozens of men chopped to pieces by the beast’s dagger-like teeth. The cries, the fight, went on into the night and Bhrodi, who had practically been lifted to the battlements by William and Paris, watched it all. On that dark and brilliant night, his legacy was saved at the jaws of the Serpent.
Edward managed to escape along with those fortunate enough to avoid the gnashing jaws, making all due haste back the way they had come. They had no choice, as the creature had virtually blocked their path to the castle, which would have offered quick shelter. They left everything behind – provisions wagons, equipment, and men, all of that as England’s offering to Anglesey’s angry beast, an apology for having come to Anglesey in the first place.
Terror followed Edward’s men that night because when they reached the ferry over the Menai Strait and there wasn’t enough room to shuttle everyone on the first crossing, many of them plunged into the frigid waters and tried to swim across. By the time Edward crossed the strait and headed back to his encampment at Aber, he had eighty-seven out of the nearly one thousand men he had traveled to Anglesey with. The creature’s feast had been thorough.
Edward never spoke of that event again. It was hushed-up, a forbidden topic even in the most private of conversations. Even when he managed to conquer all of Wales in subsequent years, the topic of Rhydilian Castle and Bhrodi de Shera was strictly off limits, and the Pendraeth Forest was heavily avoided. No one really knew why, only that Edward had commanded it. He never ventured into that area again and de Shera never ventured out. At least, not that Edward was aware of. It was an unspoken arrangement that evidently made both of them happy. In truth, Edward didn’t want the man badly enough to risk facing the creature of the marsh again.
Thoughts of that terrible night in the swamp gave the man nightmares up until his deathbed. Edward took the truth of that night, and the truth behind The Serpent, to his grave.
Nobody would have believed him, anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Three weeks later
“Papa? Thomas?” Penelope called up the stairs. “Are you coming? Everyone is waiting!”
Penelope could hear hissing and fussing up on the third floor. Standing next to Bhrodi in the keep entry, they had been waiting for her father and brother for quite some time. Penelope looked at her husband who, in spite of his improving health, still appeared pale and drawn. And sad; he was most definitely sad. She put her arms around him.
“You do not have to do this,” she murmured. “We can quite easily raise the child as our own.”
Bhrodi sighed faintly as he planted a kiss on her forehead. “Nay,” he said quietly. “This is the best thing for the child. Going to live with your father and mother and being raised far from Wales is the safest course of action. No one will ever think a full-blooded Welsh princess to be living with the greatest English knight in all of England. After what Edward did to Dafydd and his family, I am terrified for this child. We must spirit her out of Wales and away from Edward.”
Penelope smiled sadly at him; she knew how hard it was. It had been very hard for all of them with Tacey’s death after having given birth to a very large daughter. Paris had tried so hard to save the young woman but in the end, it had been too much for her immature body to handle. Thomas had been devastated.
But there were more threats to the Welsh now than ever before; even though Edward had been turned back from Rhydilian, Dafydd and his family had been captured. Edward had shown no mercy in sending Dafydd’s children and wife to prisons all throughout England and in taking Dafydd himself to London to face execution. Fortunately, he seemed to have forgotten about Bhrodi altogether, which was as they had intended. No one would dare try to reach Rhydilian again with the threat of The Serpent lingering about. Still, Bhrodi didn’t want his niece in Wales. He wanted her safe with The Wolfe where she could grow up without fear. He knew that was what Tacey would have wanted.
As Penelope clung contentedly to her husband, they could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Thomas was first, carrying a chest of things for the baby, while Paris was next, fussing at William, who was coming down behind him carrying the infant in his arms.
“Paris, get out of my way,” William told him. “You fuss and worry like an old fish wife. If I fall, it is because you tripped me.”
Paris gave him a droll expressio
n. “If you fall, it is because you are a one-eyed knight and have no business carrying an infant,” he said flatly. “Give her to me.”
William would not relinquish his prize and the baby slept peacefully through all of the scolding. Penelope shook her head at the two of them.
“Look at you two,” she said reproachfully. “Fighting over a baby.”
Paris scowled at her although it was good-naturedly. “You keep out of this,” he told her. “This is between your father and me.”
Penelope stuck her tongue out at him. “All of the arguing in the world is not going to force him to turn over the baby,” she said. “You may as well stop begging.”
William grinned as he came off the stairs with the tiny bundle in his big arms. He made his way over to Penelope and Bhrodi, who strained to get a look at the little girl with the perfect features.
“Is she a good baby, Papa?” Penelope asked. “I have never been around one long enough to have experience with them.”
William was gazing down into the little face. “Aye,” he said. “She is a good baby. Not like you were; you screamed all hours of the day or night. There were times that I was tempted to put you in a basket and send you out to sea.”
Penelope scowled as Bhrodi grinned. “If she does not behave herself, I still may do that,” he said.
Everyone chuckled at Penelope’s expense. “I think you are all horrid,” she said, reaching out to touch the tiny little hand that was exposed through the blankets. “Mama will love her, won’t she? She will be so excited to have a baby around again.”
William nodded. “She will indeed,” he replied, glancing over at Paris. “We have the wet nurse, correct?”
Paris nodded patiently. “I have a wet nurse and two serving women to accompany us back to England,” he said. “Trust me; Lady Tacey will have everything she needs. She will want for nothing.”
William’s gaze lingered on the baby before seeking out his daughter. For a moment, they simply gazed at one another with warmth and understanding until finally, he smiled weakly.
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