The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  How dare they think such evil thoughts, she railed at them. Didn't they know that she had gone of her own free will? She had run away because she was in love with Daffyd. They had done nothing wrong; the only wrong-doing was in sending those terrible soldiers who had taken her away from the man she loved, locked her in a foul carriage and beaten Daffyd who had done nothing worse than love her better than her parents obviously did!

  It was during the last part of the tirade that the duke had come into the room. He tersely ordered the physician to leave while he advanced on his daughter, took her by the arm and actively propelled her into a chair.

  "Angharad my dear," he began, looking strained and tired. "I understand that this has been a terrible ordeal for you. We have been sick with worry, but it's over and you are back here where you belong." He stroked her head and placed his forefinger on her lips when she made to speak. "Now, the doctor has given you a draught to calm your nerves and help you to sleep. In the morning when you are feeling better we can talk about what has happened."

  "He was trying to look under my shift!" she blurted out angrily.

  Branwilde glanced swiftly at his wife who nodded. "He was only checking to see if everything was...intact," Dierdre said primly.

  "You see," he murmured, "he was not trying to do you any harm. He only wanted to help you."

  "By looking up my shift?" she asked incredulously. "What do you mean by ‘everything intact?’" She looked from one parent to another in bewilderment.

  Her father averted his face as his wife replied in a voice edged with exasperation, "To see if you were still a virgin or not."

  Angharad pushed herself to her feet. Clutching her shawl about her she cried out, "Why does he have to know that? I told you that it was my choice to leave with Daffyd, there was no force or coercion involved. I was not raped. Didn't you read my note?"

  Branwilde looked in puzzlement at Dierdre. "Did you find a letter?"

  "There was no note," she answered coolly. "I think my dear, that your nerves have been greatly overwrought and that you are not yourself. Go to bed now and we will talk again in the morning."

  "I tell you there was a note! I placed it on my bed before I left. It explained what I was doing and why I was doing it. Surely it could not have been lost!" She stood biting her lower lip in frustration and staring down at her feet.

  "Go to bed now," her mother said again, outwardly unruffled by her daughter's display. The duchess clapped her hands and two of her maids appeared in the doorway.

  Worn-out, Angharad's body responded to the suggestion and she moved towards the door with a dragging step. Turning at the door, she asked her father, "What's to become of Daffyd?"

  His face grew harsher then she had ever seen it and she felt her knees weaken before his gaze. "He will be dealt with as befits his crime. Now do as your mother says and go to bed."

  "But he did nothing wrong!" she wailed as the two maids politely but firmly took hold of her.

  "Go to bed at once, Angharad!" He spoke in a tone that accepted no opposition and, with the effects of her journey and the medicinal draught working against her, Angharad was compelled to stumble to her room in the arms of her attendants.

  After she had left, Dierdre sat down opposite Branwilde and gazed at him inquiringly. Her outward form was composed, but there was a glittering quality to her eyes that he rarely saw except when she was intensely angry or perturbed. He drummed his fingers restlessly on a nearby table while considering his next moves. The initial relief of having his daughter back had passed, replaced with a need for vengeance against the man who tried to take her and shock at his daughter's statements indicating her complicity.

  "I will have him hanged," he hissed at last.

  "Yes," his wife agreed, "but what of her?" She was tapping her white fingers on the edge of the chair in a way that let her husband know how extremely agitated she was.

  He shook his head. "She needs time to rest but she will recover. I don't think she suffered much damage."

  Dierdre's mouth thinned to a disapproving line. "The doctor will determine that eventually. What I was referring to was the reason she came with us to Pentarin. Even if she has been," she continued delicately, "untouched, the scandal of the situation will hang over her. I do not think that there will be any acceptable offers while we remain here."

  Branwilde sighed and nodded. "You are quite right; her chances for a suitable match will be much reduced, especially if it is suspected that she went with him of her own accord." He peered closely at Dierdre, "Do you think that she really eloped with him?"

  "It is a possibility," she replied evenly. "They were very friendly together when he was in Gwenth. That is why I ordered him to leave, to forestall any inappropriate attachment. But it does not seem to have helped."

  Both the duke and his duchess were people who were content to live their lives according to the social conventions of their class. People, at least those of noble birth, were betrothed to gain land or create family alliances, settle disputes, or consolidate interests, but not to satisfy the whims of individual fancy. Dierdre had only seen Branwilde a few times before she was informed that her parents had signed a marriage contract and she was sent to marry him. She had not particularly liked or disliked him, but she knew that her duty lay in accommodating him: being a worthy duchess to a Great House, smoothly ordering the affairs of his castle and producing sufficient heirs to ensure the future of the House. She had fulfilled her duty admirably and expected no less from her daughter.

  Angharad's behavior grieved and appalled her mother. When she had first noticed Angharad's imprudent liking for her music instructor, though she had dismissed it as the folly of a young girl she had also determined that the girl was of sufficient age and attainment to be married. Thus it was that she had brought Angharad to Pentarin with the specific task of finding a suitable husband among the gathered nobles. She had not even begun her campaign for a son-in-law before it was brought to naught by her daughter's senseless behaviour. Dierdre had indeed found the insolent note that told her of Angharad's ingratitude and imprudence, but had destroyed it before anyone else could know of it. Determining that no one should know of her daughter's betrayal of parents and birthright, she began to formulate a plan by which something could be salvaged from the wreck Angharad had caused.

  "I think that it would be most judicious if I returned straight-away to Gwenth with Angharad," she told her husband. "It is obvious that staying here can bring no good to her, and might increase the harm."

  "There will still be talk," he said gloomily.

  "Talk will die down after awhile. Everyone is very involved with this journey of Hollin's and the eventual return of Prince Brian. When we are gone, people will forget about this unfortunate incident and in a few months, a year at the most, we can again consider proposals."

  Branwilde snorted derisively and Dierdre had to school her face not to betray her irritation with his response. "Proposals, hah! I swear I will kill that bastard with my own hands!"

  "She is still the daughter of a duke. She may not make as brilliant a match as she could have before this, but she will be married and married well." The firmness of voice and chin arrested Branwilde's attention and he stopped to truly consider what she had said.

  "All right, take her away with you if you think it judicious, but I will have my vengeance on him! In the meantime, Angharad is to be kept safely locked up until we find a husband for her."

  After he left, Dierdre issued orders to begin packing in the morning so that they might leave by the next afternoon.

  Chapter 7

  By the feeble light of an inadequate air shaft, Daffyd ap Blewyns surveyed the moist, dark walls of his cell. A chain, bolted into the wall behind him, was attached to the heavy leather collar that encircled his neck. Another short chain fettered his ankles together. Movement of any kind was slow and painful, so he stood with his back supported by the wall and tried not to notice the rustling sounds coming from the straw
on the floor near his feet.

  When he had been dragged in here last night he had been too exhausted to do anything other than slide to the floor in a faint after the chains had been clamped on and the door slammed closed. Recovering his senses this morning, he had found a jug of water and a covered container of cooked grain, gone cold and glutinous. He had drunk most of the water in one draught and forced the cereal into his protesting stomach. By stretching to the limit of his neck-chain he was able to relieve himself in the foul-smelling hole provided, and then returned to stand as close to the source of light and air as he could manage. From here he contemplated his situation and felt very depressed in regards to his future.

  He did not, could not, blame Angharad, but he did castigate himself. Her headstrong naiveté should never have swayed him the way it had, corrupting his own judgment. He had known their elopement was wrong; wrong, not because it had so little hope of succeeding, but because it was done without honour. Sneaking away as they had was the act of guilty children. What they should have or could have done, faced with his lower social status in respect to hers and the knowledge that her parents would not have tolerated him as a suitor, he still did not know. Passion (which seemed so irresistible when he was with her) evaporated into foolish infatuation as he stood in the cold damp of his cell and waited for his jailers.

  The sound of a key grating in its lock brought the focus of his attention back to the immediate present. The door swung inwards and he saw a figure that made him turn his head away in chagrin. The Viscount of Treves entered quietly and stood facing him. With effort, Daffyd straightened and forced himself to meet the lord's eyes.

  "I can't let you stay long, m'lord," the jailer said uneasily from the door. "My orders is that no one should visit the prisoner..."

  "I'll be but a few minutes," Lord Colin assured the jailer without turning. The door was pulled shut and the two men regarded each other by the light of the lantern that Colin set on the floor. "Well Daffyd?" His voice was light and cool, telling nothing.

  "My lord," he mumbled in response, not knowing what else to say. The acute embarrassment he had felt the previous night on seeing Lord Colin returned. The man had been his patron and in many ways his friend. To be in his current situation after what he had done, or attempted to do, was a degradation he had never thought to experience. He almost wished that the duke's men had finished him in Dacara.

  The silence grew and Daffyd realized that he had let his gaze drop to the floor. Again he looked up and found himself being appraised. Hesitantly he began to speak. "To say that I am sorry for what has happened would be as true as it is inadequate. I have committed a grave mistake, but it was not done out of evil intent. I have failed in my duty to you and to my own conscience. Whatever penalties I must bear, I will; only know that I never meant to wrong you or anyone else." He finished his statement and fell silent.

  "And if that penalty be death?" Colin's voice was sharp. He was there, partly at Dinea's behest, to determine what crime had been committed by their former retainer from his own lips. Surprised by the degree of restraint used on the young man, he found himself being harsher than he had intended, to compensate for the pity he felt.

  Daffyd's head rocked back as if he had been slapped. "Death? My offense is not that great surely? I admit I have been foolish, but I have not committed such a terrible a crime as to be killed for it!"

  "Then tell me what crime you have committed," Colin demanded.

  Not without a certain dignity, Daffyd related in the close darkness of his cell the history of his love for the Duke of Creon's daughter. Colin listened without interruption; thinking all the while that it was much as Dinea had guessed and he had feared. When he had confessed all of the story, Daffyd asked tentatively about Angharad. "She is all right, isn't she? The guards did not mistreat her?"

  "As far as I know, the Lady Angharad has been sequestered in her parent's rooms and is due to leave Pentarin for Gwenth, in her mother's care, later today or tomorrow."

  Daffyd nodded in resignation. "Yes, I suppose that is best."

  "Yes and no," was the unexpected response. "She is the only witness for your defense," he went on to explain. "You affirm that she went with you of her own will and that she left a note. Neither the duke nor the duchess, nor anyone else in their household, has said anything about finding a note. The duke's men say that they found the girl locked in a room at the back of a tavern and that she was hysterical when they rescued her."

  "It was not a tavern, at least not in the way that they mean it. It was an inn and the door was locked by her on the inside while I went out to buy food. As to the note, I did not see it, but she assured me that she left such a note explaining why she was going away with me. My lord, I swear that I did her no harm other than running away with her."

  "Was it her idea, then?" Colin asked.

  Daffyd paused to consider and then answered, "We both agreed to it."

  It was Colin's turn to stop and ponder the framing of his next question. "Because of the duke's accusations, I must ask whether you and the lady made physical love while you were away."

  If the previous question had its delicacy, this question was even more sensitive to him. "Traveling on an open barge as we did was not conducive to lovemaking." He did not elaborate and Lord Colin asked for no further details.

  "I will do what I can for you," the nobleman said with a frown, "but your situation does not look so bleak to me now as when I entered. Ducal honour is a touchy subject and Lord Branwilde is a very proud man. What you have done is inexcusable, Daffyd ap Blewyns, but should not be punished with death." He turned to rap on the door, signaling the jailer that his interview was over.

  Colin strode back the way he had come, deep in thought. It was still hard for him to believe that the young man had garnered so much trouble for himself. He was also concerned for Dinea, who would be very distressed if Branwilde pushed for an extreme sentence for Daffyd.

  He crossed the great central courtyard, and made for the stairs that would take him to his own apartments. As he started up he almost collided with a tall, well dressed young man coming down the steps. The man looked at him, recognized who he was, excused himself and hurried away. Bemused, Colin continued up the stairs trying to put a name on him. By the top of the stairway he had identified him as one of the Duke of Tuenth's sons, and as he reached his own suite of rooms he had the name: Blaise.

  Dinea had patiently been waiting for him. As soon as he entered the room she glided towards him, took him by the hand and pulled him to the couch before the large window. When they were both seated, she raised her eyebrows in inquiry.

  "I saw him," Colin began. "He's well, or at least as well as a man in his situation can be. He has been very imprudent and getting him out of the pit he has dug for himself will be difficult." He went on to tell her all that Daffyd had disclosed to him. After he finished, Dinea sat quite still beside him, her brow furrowed in thought.

  "In order for us to prove that Daffyd is not guilty of abduction or rape, I suppose the girl must be interrogated However to do so exposes her to her father's wrath and does not ameliorate their mutual actions of impropriety. He has certainly tied a great knot for himself." She sounded discouraged.

  "And we are left to untangle it, I'm afraid. I suppose that I must go to Percamber now and ask to play defender to Branwilde's accuser. We are going to have to insist that the Lady Angharad submit to questioning. Her father won't like it, but it's Daffyd's only hope of acquittal. I confess though, I don't relish drawing Branwilde's anger."

  Dinea smiled at him. "Diplomacy is one of your strong suits, my dear. You do what you can and I will ponder what to do with our miscreant after you gain his freedom."

  He kissed her and rose to leave. "I can tell you what I would like to do with him when he is freed: box his ears!" He left with Dinea's laugh following him.

  In the privacy of her own chamber, the Duchess of Mirvanovir was decidedly less than happy with her visitor. He was lea
ning against the doorjamb and surveying her with an appreciative smile. She was not yet fully dressed. A voluminous robe of furs was wrapped about her shoulders to fend off the morning chill and her hair, lustrous with recent brushing, lay bright gold upon the dark brown of her robe. Normally she would have welcomed the young man's attentions, but not here in her rooms in Pentarin Palace, with her husband so close and gossip so ready. She was impressed with his ability to gain entrance to her bedchamber so stealthily, though it gave her pause to think that she was not so well guarded as she believed. She privately admitted to a certain pleasurable excitement in the danger of having him there, but she was not about to create a rift with Niall just when all of their plans were beginning to be set into motion.

  "This was a dangerous and idiotic thing for you to do," she admonished in a quiet voice.

  "Dangerous? Possibly. Idiotic? No, I don't think so," he stepped into the room, his eyes warming. "Come now Rashara, admit that you are at least a little happy to see me." He advanced on her.

  "Blaise, you are straining my patience. I have told you that nothing must be done to arouse anyone's suspicions." Her voice was cold and she turned to retreat into her inner bedchamber.

  He followed her, continuing to smile at her discomfiture. "No one saw me enter or will see me leave. This council session has been damn boring and now I'm to be turned out of your rooms? Have a heart, Rashara! You weren't so discouraging a few months ago."