by Karin Tabke
His men! They searched for him! He whooped and threw sand up into the air. He hurried back into the cave and donned the meager clothing she had brought for him. With hope and love flying high in his heart, Rhodri took off down the beach to find his men. Anticipation burned in his belly, creating a nervousness he had never experienced. This night would find him wed and abed with his secret angel.
*
Six
“Mercia! Where have ye been?” Lord Cedric demanded, as she hurried up the dirt path to the manor. He cuffed her harshly when she passed him without a word. He yanked her hair so hard her feet flew from beneath her. His red face puffed in fury. “Where have ye been, wench?”
She could only shake her head as she came to her feet. She could not tell him. He would see her nailed to the manor doors. Knowing the one thing her father could not abide by was tears, she broke down and flung herself into his arms. He immediately recoiled. “Off me, girl!’’ He turned to Agatha, who stood nearby wringing her hands. “Take her, old woman, and see her to bed. Do not let her out of yer sight!”
Mercia’s heart broke into a million tiny pieces. The pain so great she did not know if she could survive it. Never had she thought such emotions hid inside her. Never had she thought she could love so deeply. Never had she dreamed of a man such as the dark stranger she had run from.
Agatha steered her into her chamber. Mercia refused to allow herself to be undressed. His scent clung to her clothes, to her hair, to her skin. She would never bathe again. She wanted always to be surrounded by him. Her tears for her father had been a ruse, but now they flowed freely, hot and thick, unending. Rowena’s weak attempts to soothe her sister went unwarranted. Agatha’s insistence she eat was ignored. As the sun rose, Mercia’s heart sunk into the deepest, darkest pit of despair.
Desperately she wanted to leave this place and fly into his arms. Desperately she wanted to feel his hard strength. Desperately, with every part of her being, she wanted to spend the rest her days with him in that little cave where no one or nothing would disturb them. But she could not. She was promised to the church. And ‘twas there she would die!
*
“Mercia!” Rowena squealed. “He’s here! He’s here! My prince has come!”
Mercia rolled away from her sister. She did not care if the king of England made an appearance. She would not move from her bed. Not for her sister, not for anyone.
Rowena grabbed her hand and pulled her from the bed. “Ready yourself! Father insists we greet him together.”
Mercia rolled over and looked at her sister’s exuberant face. It was lit up in true happiness. Mercy scowled. Did Rowena not know that her heart had broken into tiny, unfixable shards and she cared not one wit what happened to anyone?
“Please, Mercy. I beg you. Ready yourself in your finest dress. He must think we are prosperous.”
Mercia could see Rowena had donned her finest gown, save for the one she would marry in. “Come, puss,” Agatha softly encouraged. “Let me ready you.”
Trancelike, Mercia allowed them to bathe and dress her. Rowena’s excitement only deepened Mercia’s despair.
As they were escorted down the rickety stairway to the open hall, Mercia nearly fainted. The contingent of the prince’s men stood proudly, surrounding the stranger in the cave. He had washed and his handsome face was clean shaven. He wore splendid clothing, and stood regally looking up at her. When their eyes met and locked, he smiled. Nay! This could not be her sister’s betrothed! Nay!
She stumbled. Her father jerked her harshly to him, keeping a firm hand on her arm. Rowena was on the other side of him, but the prince had eyes only for Mercia.
Every other eye in the hall was on Rowena, who beamed like the moon. Prince Rhodri cut a most dashing figure in his velvet, leather and fur clothing.
Mercia held her breath as they descended the last step. They bowed. Lord Cedric cleared his throat, and made the introductions. “Prince Rhodri of Dinefwr, allow me to present my daughter, Lady Rowena.”
The prince did not once break his gaze with Mercia. She could not have looked away if she tried. Visions of them locked in a passionate embrace as he moved inside her clouded her vision. Her cheeks flamed hot.
The prince stepped toward her and extended his hand. When Rowena bowed deeper, and her father placed Rowena’s hand in the prince’s, Mercia wanted to disappear into thin air. The prince halted.
“Nay,” he said, turning to Mercia. “She is Lady Rowena.”
“Indeed, my lord, she is not. ’Tis Mercia, my youngest daughter, who is promised to God.” Cedric moved in front of her, obscuring the prince’s view, and soundly placed Rowena’s hand in his. “My daughter, Lady Rowena.”
Prince Rhodri stiffened, refusing to take Rowena’s hand. His dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What subterfuge is about?” he demanded. Mercia shrunk further back as all eyes turned on her.
Lord Cedric looked as if he were about to combust. Tears filled Rowena’s eyes as shock and sudden realization dawned. Mercia shook her head. “I—I did not know, Ro. I’m so sorry.” She turned then and fled the hall, heedless of the furious calls for her to return.
She ran as fast and as far as she could. Blindly. She had no idea where she could go or where she would end up. She could not return to her home, and now as a soiled bride of God, she could not return to the abbey. Shame filled her. She had disgraced her family and her God. But despite all that, Mercia’s deepest pain was that of knowing her sister would marry the man she loved.
She found herself standing at the entrance to the small cave. The place where she had come alive. The place she felt if she went into she would die. The memories haunted her, they would come to fruition if she stepped inside. Yet, knowing that, she moved into the cave.
The scent of their lovemaking assailed her senses. She could see him laying here, naked, full of desire for her. The furs she had brought lay scattered about as they had left them this morn. The fire was cold, the wineskin empty. Sucked dry like her heart. Mercia sank into the soft pelts, pulling them around her as his scent filled her senses. She lay down and let the tears flow. She could do naught but mourn what she dreamed of and what surely could never be.
*
“I demand to know what trespass you have committed against my daughter!” Lord Cedric shouted.
Rhodri stood silent, too stunned to move. The realization that the woman he had dreamed of these past few days, the one who saved his life, nursed him back to health and who had given herself freely to him, was lost to him forever, tore his guts up. He had never been a man to pine for a woman. Indeed, he had made a vow long ago never to surrender his heart. His father loved a ghost, and his mother, though she had given all to Hyclon, was miserable because he loved another. Rhodri had vowed never to tread into those dangerous waters, yet here he stood in a ramshackle manor, promised to a lady he did not want. How could he desire her when he longed for her sister? She was all that he wanted in a woman. Now, he understood perfectly how his sire felt. If he wed the fair Rowena, she would suffer the same fate as his mother. A lonely miserable existence, knowing her husband loved another.
He looked candidly at Lady Rowena. She was beauty, to be sure. Serene and composed despite what had transpired. She met his gaze, willing by her stance to accept him still. He realized there were some things love could not conquer. A betrothal contract. Anger shredded his innards. He was a man of honor. He would wed Lady Rowena, for he was bound to her by a contract. Yet ‘twas her sister he wanted, and would take in her stead if she but allowed it.
Rhodri turned his attention to the blubbering Lord Cedric of Wendover. He noticed for the first time that the man’s cloths were skillfully patched. He looked beyond him to the manor, and saw that beneath the layers of fresh rushes and cleaned walls it was in a state of disrepair. When they had ridden up from the beach they had seen the fields lay fallow, no churls to tend them. The stable had been bare of livestock. Morgan voiced his suspicions on the ride to the manor. Rhodri
had ignored them, thinking he would have the woman he wanted, and would take her if she came to him with nary a piece of silver.
“Lord Cedric, may I speak with you in private?”
Cedric looked to his daughter, then to Rhodri. “Of course.”
As the hall cleared and only the two men stood face-to-face, Cedric said, “I insist you wed Rowena immediately to still the wagging tongues. She is as pure as a new morn. Not a careless wench like her sister.”
It took a great effort for Rhodri not to strike the insufferable lord. “Do not speak of Lady Mercia so. She saved my life. I will not have her slandered in her own house by her sire.”
Cedric’s eyes popped from his head. “Eh? What say you? How?”
Rhodri swept past him, waving his question off. “Show me the chest of silver promised me, and the charters for Lady Rowena’s dower lands.”
Cedric sputtered. “Why ‘tis—‘tis an insult to ask for such things before the vows are sealed!”
Rhodri turned on the stammering lord. “’Tis customary in Dinefwr. Show me.”
“I—I cannot. ‘Tis hidden at Drury Abbey. ‘Twill take a day to retrieve it.”
“I am a patient man, milord. I will not honor the betrothal until I have seen with my own eyes all that was promised to Dinefwr.”
Cedric panicked. “You have deflowered Mercia! She was to say her final vows in three month’s time! The nuns will not take her now! Rowena’s silver will be demanded for her virgin’s blood! I cannot wed the wench as she is now. You owe me for that!”
Rhodri grabbed the greedy lord by his tunic. “I owe you nothing, milord. Not when you are in breach of our contact.”
He pushed Cedric from him. “Why did you not find a suitable groom for Lady Mercia?”
Cedric pursed his lips. Rhodri nodded. “Aye it is apparent the house of Wendover has fallen on hard times. You could not afford another dowry, so you packed her off to the nuns. Did you think to trick me into marriage, sir? “
“Nay! Mercia heard the call of God! She begged to go! Rowena is the prized daughter. In her veins flows the bluest blood in all of Saxony! Her beauty alone is worthy of a prince such as yourself!”
Rhodri shook his head and pushed past Cedric. “On the morrow we ride to Drury Abbey!”
*
Seven
Mercia woke to darkness. The distant sound of the waves as they crashed against the beach drowned out her sadness. For long hours she lay there, unable to think, only to feel the pain in her chest. On every turn Rhodri’s scent taunted her. On every turn, she prayed with all her heart she would open her eyes and he would appear.
She closed her eyes and lay still, wondering if he had already said the vows to her sister, and if now as man and wife he touched Rowena as he had touched her. Jealousy flared. She could not help it. That Rowena would have him through eternity was more than Mercy could bear. She opened her eyes and sat up. A scream tore from her lips. A shadowed figure stood at the entrance to the cave.
He raised the small torch in his hand. She nearly died of happiness.
“Rhodri,” she breathed.
His handsome face was drawn in a dark scowl. But the brightness in his silvery eyes belied his wrath. He stepped into the cave. Slowly she stood.
“Why did you lie to me about who you were?”
She cast her eyes to the ground, then looked up at him, ashamed to admit the truth. “I have dreamed of being my sister, of being the beautiful one, the one all men longed for, of having a man such as yourself desire me.”
He dropped the torch to the pile of cold embers, and the fire flared. Rhodri reached out a hand and smoothed his fingertips along her cheek, then into her hair. He cupped the back of her head and he drew her to him. “You sell yourself short, Mercia. You are more of a woman.”
Mercia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. A mighty battle raged inside her. She wanted to melt into his arms and beg him to run away with her, but what little honor she had left she stood upon. “Please, milord, do not dishonor my sister by touching me so.” She backed away.
“Tell, me Lady Mercia, how is it that the times you came to me you were clad in nothing but rags, yet upon our meeting today you wore this finery, expertly patched as it is.”
“War is costly, sir. My father has given generously to Harold, then to Edric.”
“To the point of being destitute?”
She gasped, and she knew by her slight hesitation he knew the truth. She grabbed his hands. “You cannot deny Rowena! ‘Twill break her heart! She is a worthy wife!”
He scowled. “Would that you could take her place, would you?”
Wide-eyed she looked at him but shook her head. “I cannot. I am soiled, and I am promised to the nuns if they will still have me.”
“What of me, Mercy? Of us? What we shared? Does it not mean anything to you?”
“Aye! It means everything to me!” She grabbed his hands and brought them to her lips. “I gave myself to you because I knew there was no one else for me. I gave myself to you because I knew in my heart you were promised to another. But I could not have stayed away if my life had depended on it.” She kissed his hands. “I am your always, Rhodri, but by contract you belong to my sister.” She looked up into his eyes, and something deep and powerful moved within her. She loved this man she had known only for a few short days with all her heart. “I am promised to the church, Rhodri.”
He pulled her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. “I journey to Drury Abbey at first light. Your sire and sister will accompany me. I desire your company as well.”
She pulled away from him. “I cannot face my family! I have disgraced them. And the abbess will be most disappointed if I arrive with the object of my impropriety.”
He grabbed the torch and pulled her gently along with him. “Never fear, my love. You belong to me. I will not allow any man, woman, or child, kin, or no, to slander you.”
She tugged at his hand. “Rhodri. I cannot be seen with you. ‘Twill destroy my sister.”
“Then I will send you ahead this night with a few of my men. You presence will be required as I sort all this out.”
*
And so Mercia found herself the next morning at Drury Abbey. An odd sense of contentment filled her as she stepped into the cold stone edifice. Immediately she flew into the abbess’s arms and confessed all, begging for forgiveness. The old woman hugged her close and shushed her.
When her family and the prince’s train arrived, a dark pall held court over the stone and wooden structure. Her knees ached from the hours praying in the chapel. She prayed for her sister, for her father, for her prince, and lastly for herself.
When they all had gathered in the vestibule outside the chapel, Rhodri called for the chest of silver to be brought out. Nervously Mercia watched her father’s face redden.
“Show me the charters!” Rhodri’s voice boomed.
The abbess bowed, wringing her hands. “My lord, we have no charters or chests of silver.”
“’Tis not yours I request, but those of Lord Cedric that you keep safe for him.”
The abbess looked from Cedric, who had had turned a pale shade of yellow, back to the prince. “We have no such treasure or documents.”
“He lied!” Rowena burst. “He lied so that you would wed me! We are destitute and cannot honor the contract!” She fell into a simpering pool of angst onto the stone floor. Mercia rushed to her sister and held her. Rowena flung her away. “How dare you touch me after what you have done!”
Mercia sat back, shocked and hurt. Rhodri came to her and offered her his hand. She took it.
“Abbess Avril, is it possible for a novice not to make her final vows?”
The old woman shook her head. “Once promised to God, it would take an act of God to stay it.”
Rhodri smiled. “Would one thousand silver pieces soothe God’s disappointment?”
Everyone gasped in shock. The abbess nodded. “We are poor here at Drury A
bbey. ‘Twould be a welcome gift.”
“Then consider the gift a sign from God through me, and the order one less novice. The Lady Mercia will no longer reside here.”
Mercia gasped. Cedric sputtered, Rowena howled. Rhodri turned to Cedric. “You have lied to me, sir, and therefore I retract my betrothed contract for your daughter Rowena’s hand.”
“How dare you!” Cedric cried.
“I dare whatever I like. You broke your oath! I am free to negotiate a new contract.” He looked down at Rowena, who glared at him through swollen eyes. “I would give you five hundred silver pieces as a dowry to another groom of your choice.”
Another collective gasp rent the air. Rhodri turned to Cedric and brought Mercia’s hand to his lips. “For this daughter, I will accept as her dowry the clothes on her back and nothing more.”
Mercia’s knees shook, and had Rhodri not held her so tightly she would have joined her sister on the floor.”
Cedric sputtered. “You mean you wish to wed Mercia? But she is—”
“The woman I choose. Do you agree or not?”
“I—take Rowena, she is more worthy.”
Rhodri stepped into Cedric’s face. “’Tis Mercia I desire. Do you give your permission!?”
“Father!” Rowena cried as she came to her feet. “Do not come between my sister and her happiness. For if you do I will cut my hair, rend it with ashes and wear rags, so that no man, not even for five hundred silver pieces, will want me.”
Mercia’s heart filled with love. Cedric nodded, but grunted his true feelings.