by Nicole Locke
‘There’s every reason for you to leave.’ He walked to the bedside and towered over her, and she saw clearly the grimness of his expression and his determination. ‘Everything’s changed. Think of the ramparts, the fact you are in danger. You will go. I won’t have any weaknesses here!’
Dark. Forbidding. Arrogant. This was the man who strode into her chambers that first day. The one she feared. But she was still no coward.
And she wasn’t a weakness. What would he do when he discovered she carried his child? Tie her to a cart and send her off? She wouldn’t let him control her. She wouldn’t let any man control her. ‘Your need to protect me comes from your English need to conquer.’
‘No, it comes from trying to keep my future wife safe!’
Anwen’s heart skipped. ‘Your wife?’
‘Yes, in order for you to have my protection at Edward’s court, we must marry.’
Marriage. He was demanding, conquering. As his wife she’d be nothing but his property. And poor property at that. ‘I’m Welsh!’
‘Have you not been listening to me? I don’t give a damn that you’re Welsh,’ he said.
It was said in the tone of voice no one would disobey, but he was the Devil of Gwalchdu and the right hand of the English King. For someone of Teague’s position, marriages were for political reasons. ‘Your King would,’ she pointed out.
Teague frowned at her. ‘Edward worries over his wife, who is sick, but he is practical. With the death of Urien and your sister, you are the heir to Brynmor.’
‘All that’s left of Brynmor is ashes and dirt. And what does that matter since all Welsh land is now English?’
‘But the people of Brynmor trust you and they come to you despite their living on Gwalchdu’s land. You have influence here. A marriage between us may bring a true peace to this land and not one merely wrought by the sword.’
‘So you marry me to bring peace?’
‘I marry you to keep you safe!’
Safe. A home. He’d marry her and her child would not be a bastard. But they’d both be ruled under a Marcher Lord’s fist.
But no, they wouldn’t even be here at all.
‘Even married, you’d send me off to Edward’s court?’
‘Immediately.’
Anwen wrapped the blanket around her, rolled to the other side of the bed. As quickly as she could she collected her clothes and threw them on the covers.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Tugging on her chemise, she retorted, ‘I’m dressing. I’m going, isn’t that what you wish?’
She had come so close to telling him of the child. She believed his past, but it wasn’t enough to fix the present. He was a Marcher Lord. He once kept her prisoner. Now he dictated marriage and would force her to leave. She’d never subject her child to the will of a powerful man.
He tilted his head and studied her. ‘Preparations for the wedding will be made today.’
She stabbed her feet into her hose and tied them around her waist. ‘You misunderstand me, Lord of Gwalchdu. I’m leaving, but I won’t marry you.’
‘I will be obeyed in this.’
Pulling her gown over her head, she ignored the fierceness in his voice. ‘You won’t keep me prisoner this time. You have no authority over me.’
‘Do you think that matters? I told you of my past, and what I did to save my home.’ His lips twisted sardonically. ‘I betrayed kings and countries. I make my own authority.’ He walked to the door, opened it. Without looking back, he said, ‘If you didn’t want my protection, you shouldn’t have saved me from the fire.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Anwen could not sleep, could not keep her mind on the tasks before her. A day of thinking on Teague’s words, a night of tossing and turning had passed until now.
It was Martinmas, the beginning of winter. Now was the start of the Christmas season. A time of year she enjoyed for the work needing done and the festivities.
She wasn’t the only one up this early. Martinmas was always a busy day at Byrnmor and so, too, it was here at Gwalchdu.
Though the sun’s light barely covered the land, already the day had begun. It was the end of harvest and livestock needed to be slaughtered and hung in smokehouses. The meat would be preserved to keep them fed throughout winter.
But she didn’t want to leave the keep to help with the animals and instead she went to the gardens. As she hoped, Melun was there.
‘I see Edith has you busy at your task.’ She knelt beside Melun. His eyes were worsening, but he had gained weight and his skin no longer looked sallow.
‘Yes, confounded woman has me kneeling here every day. These flowers are taking too long in their training,’ he said. ‘But I suspect they’ll come to hand in spring.’
She smiled. ‘With you at their creance I am sure of it.’
Melun smiled. ‘I told her so, but she won’t leave me alone, though I tell her she’s much too busy to waste time on an old man like me.’
Edith was just Melun’s age, but they acted like children around each other. She watched him add more eggshells to the dirt. He was more content here than at Brynmor.
Her home was gone now. Yet she knew part of it was planted at Gwalchdu. Her people, the chaos, the flowers. Those were all the parts of her home she wanted. The parts of her home she had thought perhaps she’d be able to keep.
‘Can I help?’ she asked. ‘You’ll have to teach me.’
Melun nodded. ‘I would always be glad of your help. Ffion has been teaching me.’ He pulled some weeds. ‘But I don’t think you come here merely to help an old man.’
‘I wanted you to know, I can’t stay here.’
Wherever she went next, she knew some parts of her former life had to go. She’d controlled her life at Brynmor, so that she was needed. So she wouldn’t be thrown away like her mother. She never realised how her need changed Alinore and Melun. She never gave courage to Alinore like Robert had done. She never suggested other tasks for Melun to help him gain his pride. He was happy again here because he had a purpose. In her next home, she wouldn’t make the same mistake.
Melun stopped and looked around at his plantings. ‘It’s not Gwalchdu, is it?’
‘No, it’s Teague. He’s demanded I marry him.’
Melun’s eyebrows rose. ‘Truly?’
She gawked at him. ‘Oh, don’t look so pleased. He demanded it.’
‘I have every right to be pleased.’ He chuckled. ‘You are my daughter despite you being of Urien’s seed and I rejoice to know some love comes back to you.’
‘I didn’t speak of love. He said it was for peace.’
‘And that’s why you wish to leave? A man does not marry for peace unless a king has ordered it, and I know King Edward has made no such obligation. Peace. Hah! It’s for love.’
Melun beamed contentment. She couldn’t change his mind. She certainly wouldn’t tell him of the danger and reveal the other reason Teague demanded marriage. If she did, Melun most likely would help Teague tie her to a cart and send her to court.
Melun stuffed leaves and eggshells around a stalk and nodded to the outside bailey. ‘If it’s his past bothering you, know it cannot be changed. But what I’ve seen of his future, it seems he’s trying.’
Anwen followed Melun’s nod until she saw Teague sitting at a table set in the outer courtyard with a queue lined up in front. People chatted as they held ropes tied to horses, cattle, carts of chickens and grain. Some came empty-handed, but she watched Teague treat them all the same.
‘There’s much more to tell you. Teague is no traitor. He never was.’ She told him of what the lord had done in the past and what threatened him now. When she was done, Melun crushed the shells left in his hand.
‘I wish I could have killed Urien wh
en I had the strength and eyesight of a peregrine.’
‘You were his falconer, not a soldier,’ she reasoned.
‘I was a man and could see how he abused his daughters. That should have been enough.’
Anwen squeezed his hand. ‘You did more than enough. I could not have asked for a better father than you.’
Melun released her hand to hug her. ‘Are you as sure of your feelings about Teague as you are about me?’
She laughed. ‘No, for now, my sole certainty is that every morning I’m either starving or sick. Everything else seems to be confusion.’ She patted his arm. ‘Why do you look strangely at me? I merely jest.’
‘Do you?’
She could never hide anything from Melun. ‘I’m carrying his child.’
‘Ah! So you are closer to him than you let on. I don’t think you are confused about your feelings.’
No, she wasn’t confused. She might believe his past, but he was still a Marcher Lord and she carried his child.
A baby. Anwen wanted to clench her arms around her stomach to hold it close. As much danger and indecision she was in, she could feel only joy. No matter what happened, she would keep her child safe.
But how to keep it safe? If she married Teague and was sent to Edward’s court she’d be safe. But then she’d only be going from one powerful man, to yet another with even more power and control. No, it was best if she just left. She had skills; she could protect her baby.
‘This baby is his, but for now, I’m keeping this our secret.’
‘I wouldn’t wait long. He’s requesting to marry you now. Once he knows, he’ll demand it.’
And that was her issue. Power. Control. Every trait she fought against with Urien.
‘Even with the baby, I can’t stay here.’
‘Ah.’ Melun nodded his head. ‘You worry for the child; you worry about what kind of man he is.’
Teague’s laughter startled her and she turned to watch. She noticed the different way the villagers looked at him today. Many were reserved, a few still crossed themselves, but there were more who talked to him. As if they could sense the change in him as she did since the fire.
Teague...changing. Opening his home and his coffers to her people. Would Urien have ever done such a thing? Was Teague like Urien?
Teague gave of himself, gave to King Edward his unswerving loyalty and gave help to her people. Gwalchdu’s lord wasn’t all darkness; there was light in him, too.
He could be fair, but there was something more. Hadn’t he said he wanted to marry her, to send her away to keep her safe? Hadn’t he told her to stay away from the fire? Perhaps his orders, his demands, came not from selfishness, like Urien’s, but from the need to protect.
‘Yes.’ She did worry about what kind of man he was. But she also worried about the enemy.
Melun tucked her hair behind her ear as he used to do when she was a child and something rested just a little inside her heart. ‘You’re stronger than you think and so is he.’
Anwen spread her fingers wide over her stomach, willing the life inside her to feel none of her fear.
It seemed not only did Teague need to find the enemy, but if he was right about the fire, about her being trapped on the ramparts, it seemed so did she. The enemy was after her, as well. It was right for her to leave. It wasn’t safe here for her baby.
Her life was immeasurably tangled with Teague’s. She didn’t know how the enemy knew it, but it was why she feared—
Anwen closed her eyes. Fear. She was no coward, but she’d been acting like one. Not telling Teague of the baby was a cowardly act. He deserved to know regardless of who he was and what power he held. Melun was right. Teague was trying to change. By not telling him, she wasn’t giving him a chance to do what was right.
As for this enemy, when had anyone driven her away before? Even Urien’s fists hadn’t forced her to leave Brynmor. And the heart of Brynmor was here. Knowing the truth of the past, there was no reason to leave. She wanted to make her home among Brynmor’s people and Melun. If Teague wanted to acknowledge the child or not, she would have some family. More than anything, she wanted her baby to know it was loved. She could only have that here and she wouldn’t let anyone take that away from her.
Especially Teague. She knew he wanted her to leave to keep her safe. He was acting as he always did. He wasn’t a traitor, or a devil, or a foe. He was a man, who for too many years stood alone. But no more. Enemy or none, he had caught her and he’d have to keep her.
She was strong enough to take his protection, but also to return it. She had saved him from the fire and she’d keep saving him. She wouldn’t abandon him when he needed her the most.
He was used to controlling matters around him, but she realised now that she was used to controlling her life, as well. She wanted what was here. All of it. Gwalchdu and Teague. It was almost as if she—
‘Weak! Useless!’ Ffion cried, walking unsteadily into the gardens. ‘Sacrilege!’
Anwen rushed to her side immediately. ‘What has happened?’
‘He’s done it again! The Marcher Lord has let those peasants flaunt their ignorance! Only God can keep us safe and how is God to help us, if the Lord of Gwalchdu can’t honour Him? See there!’
Ffion pointed to the outside bailey. In the queue several villagers waited to pay their tithes. Many of them carried a Mari Lwyd for the festivities later on.
‘Those are to honour Mary on the donkey as she travels to Bethlehem,’ Ffion spat. ‘Those aren’t to come out now with the slaughter of animals and no doubt drunkenness. It’s sacrilege!’
‘Peace, Sister,’ Melun began. ‘That’s just a harmless horse skull with a bit of linen for the wassailing parade—’
‘Harmless! What do you know of harmless or safe? You’ll know soon enough. You’ll know the harm here and so will he. He’ll know what has happened here and he will pay. He will—’
‘Ffion, please.’ Anwen laid her hand on Ffion. It was then she noticed the hem of her gown and sleeves were streaked with blood. ‘Sister, there’s blood—’
The Sister swung her arm away. ‘Do not touch me! You know what sacrifices have to be made on this sacred day!’
Of course, on Martinmas day they prepared the animals for winter. Still Anwen’s heart didn’t ease.
Ffion’s eyes gleamed then. ‘But you know nothing of sacredness, do you? You think you were alone in this garden? Hmm? I know what grows in your belly. I heard you. I’ve been watching you. Haven’t been eating, have you, and all that sickness that you’ve been covering up? You lay with him and now God will forsake us all since we have forsaken Him!’
Anwen’s mouth went dry. Ffion had been listening to her conversation and her fervency was spiralling. Teague and Rhain were animatedly talking to several villagers. They could not be disturbed.
She wouldn’t leave Ffion pale and hurting like this, though. She’d seen what happened at Byrnmor and could take care of her.
‘Should we go to your room?’ Anwen said.
‘Or perhaps we should find Greta,’ Melun suggested.
‘No!’ Ffion gripped her wrist, her nails sunk in. ‘I’ll be fine. Take me into the keep, to the chapel. It is the light. There’s too much light here.’
* * *
Teague was uneasy. It had been hours since he last saw Anwen. It had been a good day, a profitable day in more ways than not. Even in spite of Anwen ignoring him and rejecting his offer.
He would make her see reason. If he had to imprison her until she agreed, it would be done. He didn’t care.
No, he did...too much.
An enemy who destroyed her home and killed her family was now after her. He must keep her safe.
Glancing around the courtyard for that bright golden hair, he adjusted the sword at his side.
/> It had been foolish to tell her of his past. His reasoning was weak, circuitous. He had severed the connection between them until she felt only animosity for him and the enemy had no need to make her a target. But because he opened up to her, she had tried to find him. And it had almost killed her.
Teague rubbed his chin. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d told her. Couldn’t think when faced with her animosity. Not when she told him she was leaving because she could never trust him. It hadn’t sat well with him. He had wanted her to know the truth.
Another weakness. He had too many when it came to her. Hope. Desire. Loyalty. Trust. But he couldn’t love her. Love had weakened his mother and ultimately caused her death. No, with an enemy after Anwen, he would not dare to love.
‘Have you seen Anwen?’ Teague turned to his brother.
Rhain shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen her since she took Ffion from the gardens and into the keep.’
‘Ffion?’
His brother nodded. ‘She didn’t look well, but she was walking, so maybe it was an upset rather than an episode.’
The queue was dying down now that people were eating and drinking. There was work to do still, but maybe it could be delayed. ‘I will check on them,’ Teague said, standing.
Rhain stood, as well. ‘If you go, so will I. If Ffion has worsened, it would be better if I’m there, as well.’
Teague nodded, already walking to the great doors. He wanted Anwen to himself, but Ffion would want Rhain.
* * *
Blood. Everywhere. It was dripping from the draperies adorning the bedposts; slithering down the walls; pooling on the stone floor.
‘It’s not hers.’ Rhain stood just behind him in the doorframe. ‘It’s not hers. Teague, do you understand? Look—there in the corner are buckets from the slaughtering. It’s the animals’ blood.’
Teague couldn’t move. His heart and breath had completely left him. A search for Ffion and Anwen in Ffion’s rooms had led them to Anwen’s chamber.
It was saturated with blood. He stepped inside the room as his brother followed. ‘Close the door,’ he ordered.