by Regan Walker
While the men faced each other, Merewyn sped the few feet to Owain’s pony and reclaimed her bow.
Owain nocked another arrow and took aim.
Merewyn, too, nocked an arrow and swiftly drew alongside the two men, separated by a dozen feet, lifted her bow and pulled back the string. “Both of you stop!”
The two men turned their harsh looks from each other to her.
“Owain, you will not loose another arrow. Alex, you will let Owain go. He meant me no harm.”
Alex gave her an angry, incredulous look, but he held his sword still. Blood dripped from his leg. Her chest heaved for the panic she experienced. The arrow could mean his death.
“Owain, go!” she shouted.
Owain looked at her with disdain. “You would choose to stay with this Norman dog, who would plant a babe in your belly yet offer you no ring for your finger?”
“It is my decision to make, Owain. Wales is not far. Leave us.” When he failed to move, she added, “Please!” Her unwavering gaze met Owain’s angry brown eyes. “Go!”
Owain slung his bow over his shoulder and swung onto the back of his pony. “Only because you ask it of me, Merewyn. But should you change your mind, you have only to send for me and I will come.” With that, he shot another glare at Alex, turned his pony and galloped away.
She ran to Alex and kissed him. With his free arm he drew her to his side. She looked down to see the arrow had gone through his leg, the tip sticking out the back of his calf. “You must have care. Let me help you.” She placed her shoulder under his left arm and leaning on her, he was able to sheathe his sword.
“What was that about a babe in your belly?” he gritted out, wincing with the pain, as he tilted his head toward her.
“Can we come out now?” said a voice she recognized as Rory’s. The redheaded knight stepped out of the trees. Beside him stood Guy. Both were wearing mail, their swords drawn.
Alex’s gaze shifted to his companions. “Aye. Might as well join us. You can see I have managed to get myself shot and the Welshman got away.”
“But you did rescue the fair damsel,” said Guy, his mouth twitching up in a grin.
“Aye,” said Alex. “My errant wife.”
“We need to talk about that, Alex,” she whispered. He might have claimed she was his wife for Owain’s benefit, but why did he persist in doing so now that Owain was gone?
“You two can talk in Chester,” said Rory, sheathing his sword as he walked to where they stood. “Let Guy and me help you to your horse.” Bracing Alex under his right shoulder, he said, “It seems we must impose, once again, on Earl Hugh’s hospitality.”
Guy sheathed his sword and came alongside Alex. Merewyn relinquished her hold.
“First,” said Alex, “break off the fletching and pull the arrow through. I would have it out sooner rather than later.”
“If you insist,” said Rory. “Hold him steady.”
With Guy and Merewyn holding him, Rory tore open Alex’s hosen and broke off the fletching.
Merewyn kept her eyes on Alex’s face. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, bracing for what was coming.
Rory pulled the arrow through. Alex grunted, bearing the pain.
“Hold him for a moment while I fetch the horses,” said Guy.
Merewyn took Guy’s place.
Guy returned with their horses and accepted the weight of Alex from her shoulder.
“We can take him,” Rory said to Merewyn and the two of them began to help Alex toward the horses.
“Wait!” They stopped and she tore a strip from the hem of her undertunic and bent to Alex’s leg. Placing a wad of cloth against the wound, she wrapped a long length around his leg and tied it tightly. “Mayhap it will staunch the blood.”
“My thanks, my lady,” said Alex in a weak voice.
With Alex between them, Rory and Guy helped Alex into his saddle, his face contorting with pain as they did. He was growing weaker with the loss of blood. The bandage she had made for him was already leaking the crimson fluid.
Rory helped her mount Ceinder and then he and Guy swung into their saddles and flanked Alex as they rode toward Chester. She thanked God it was only a few miles away.
“Owain was kind,” she said to their backs.
“What do you mean?” asked Rory. “He shot Alex. I would hardly call that kind.”
“Owain never misses. Had he meant to kill you, Alex, you would be dead. He only wanted to slow your advance.”
Alex huffed. “ ’Twould have done him no good.”
CHAPTER 14
Still in her archer’s clothing, Merewyn paced in front of the door to Alex’s chamber, chewing nervously on her knuckle, while Countess Ermentrude patiently waited beside her. On the other side of the door, the earl’s physic was tending to Alex’s leg, which was still bleeding when they arrived at the castle.
Rory and Guy were allowed to stay with Alex, but Merewyn was escorted to the corridor. “I would go in,” said Merewyn to the older woman who had been gracious in admitting them to the castle a short time before.
“ ’Tis not fitting that you should be in Sir Alex’s chamber while the physic examines his wound.”
“My friend, Lora, tends all manner of wounds,” she argued. “She is more knowledgeable about herbs than anyone at Talisand, save only her mother. Lora often gives the wounded a mixture of hemlock, wormwood and henbane in wine for the pain and to help them sleep.”
Lady Ermentrude patted her arm. “Our physic also uses such herbs. Cease your worry. It will not be long now.”
A few moments later, the door opened and the physic emerged to speak to the countess. “I have cleaned and bandaged the wound and given him a potion for the pain. He may not long be awake, but you may go in.”
“Will he be all right?” Merewyn inquired anxiously.
“Yea, but he needs rest,” said the older man. “The wound must not be allowed to mortify.”
Merewyn thanked him and hastened through the door with the countess following. Alex’s two friends looked at her from where they stood on the far side of the bed. Her eyes were drawn to Alex, who lay with his right leg on top of the cover, his calf wrapped in bandages.
As soon as he saw her, he gave her a faint smile. It was clear he was already feeling the effects of the potion.
She went to sit on the edge of the bed and took his hand. “You look pale. How do you feel?”
“I am told I will survive. ’Tis only a scratch.” She knew better, of course, and a quick glance at Rory’s troubled countenance confirmed the wound could prove dangerous.
She squeezed Alex’s hand. “I do not imagine you will like it, but you are to rest.”
Alex shrugged off her counsel and his gaze met that of Lady Ermentrude standing behind her. “Thank you, my lady, for your hospitality.”
Lady Ermentrude stepped forward. “I am just glad you were close enough that we could help. Besides, to have three handsome knights and a young woman who plays chess as my guests is an unexpected delight. My children are all on their own and with the earl and his senior knights away, the castle seems empty. Who was it, by the way, who shot you with that arrow?”
“A Welshman, alone in the woods,” Alex said, shooting a glance at Merewyn. “I should have been more wary.”
On the other side of the bed, Rory and Guy looked down at the floor, saying nothing. Merewyn was relieved Alex and his friends had not named Owain as the one who had wounded Alex, for it would only make him a target of the earl’s wrath, already kindled against the Welsh.
“They are not usually so close to Chester,” said the countess. “Even now the earl and his cousin are chasing the Welsh deeper into their mountains.”
Merewyn despaired at the news that her Welsh friends might be in danger, but she took heart that they were worthy warriors who had successfully fought back the Normans more than once. Mayhap they would again.
“Might I see Merewyn alone for a moment?” Alex asked from his pillow wher
e his eyes had begun to droop.
“Of course,” said Ermentrude, promptly shuffling Rory and Guy from the room as she left the chamber.
When they were alone, Alex squeezed her hand. “Is it true? You carry my babe?”
“Aye,” she said, suddenly shy. “I only learned of it after you left to meet the king. And then I did not want you to know.”
“Why?” he asked, his brows drawing together in a frown, his gray eyes turning flinty.
“Because you might be tempted to defy your king and marry me.”
“Ah,” he said, laying his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes for a moment. “Jamie said as much.”
“Jamie told you?”
He opened his eyes. “He said nothing of a child, only of your concern for my relationship with the king.”
“I did think of returning to Wales—”
“I would have come for you just as I did.”
“In the end, as Owain made to leave, I realized I could not do it. But he gave me no choice.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Nay.”
“If he had, I would hunt him down. I was very angry with you until I realized you were his prisoner. Then my anger kindled toward him. Had you not stopped me, I would have killed him.”
“I am glad you did not,” she said with a small smile. “He wanted to marry me. It was only after I refused to go with him he took me. We have long been friends. To him, you were the villain.”
Alex appeared to be succumbing to the potion as his eyes drifted closed. “ ’Tis good we are wed,” he murmured.
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head, “we are not! Why do you say that we are?”
He opened his eyes. They were suddenly serious. “When we returned from London, I consulted Father Bernard to confirm I was right. He told me that we needed only to say it was our desire to belong to each and once the bond was consummated, the marriage was complete.”
Merewyn felt her cheeks heat.
“We said the words, Merewyn, and I meant them. Did you?” His black brow was raised in challenge.
She nodded. Nothing could make her deny the truth of what she had told Alex that night in London.
He smiled. “Since you carry my babe, it will be clear to all the marriage has been consummated.”
Tears filled her eyes. She wanted it to be true more than all else in the world, but she could not let him do it. “But what of the king? He has already chosen the woman he would have you wed.”
“Lady Adèle?”
Reluctantly, she nodded.
“I will not wed her.” He smiled, his eyes closing. “I have already wed the woman I want.”
“I cannot let you defy your king, Alex. You would only come to hate me if I did.”
Alex did not open his eyes. His speech was now slurred. “We will speak of this more when I wake.” With that, his hold on her hand loosened and a moment later, he was fast asleep.
* * *
They did speak of it the next day and much to Alex’s increasing frustration, Merewyn did not budge. “What did you think the words we spoke in London meant?” he asked her from his mound of pillows where he lay with his lower leg wrapped in bandages. “I vowed to have you as mine forever and you replied with similar words. I ask you again, did you not mean them?”
She paced in front of him, quite adorable in the gown the countess had given her. “Of course I meant them,” she insisted. “But wanting something does not mean you can have it. I have never believed I was worthy of Talisand’s heir.”
“Now there, you would be wrong. I want no simpering Norman woman with poison in her wine cups.”
Merewyn looked at him, shocked. Poison? Had the woman really meant to kill her?
“Aye, poison. Nay, I prefer a fierce English archer who wears a bowman’s clothing.”
“You jest.”
“A bit, mayhap, but not in my intention toward you, Merewyn. You are mine; I have claimed you in all ways recognized on earth and by God above.”
“What of your parents? Even if you do not want Lady Adèle, the king may have another.”
“I have done all William has asked of me, yet I never requested a favor. I know him to be generous. Once his anger from the loss of his ships has cooled, he will grant me my heart’s desire. And my parents have three other sons to give him for his lands in Normandy. Raoul is off on some quest. Mayhap a boon for his efforts can be a Norman bride.”
She gazed down at him, her brows drawn together in apparent frustration. “I cannot persuade you of the folly of wedding a bastard?”
“Never have I liked that byname, though the Conqueror himself bore it for a lifetime. And it will not stop me from making known to all that I have taken you as my wife.”
She pressed her lips tightly together as if in protest.
“To prove I am serious,” he ventured, “I ask you to bring me my cloak.”
“Your cloak?” she asked, confused.
He pointed to the dark blue garment lying across the chest at the foot of the bed.
She picked it up and handed it to him.
He dug into the pouch he’d had a seamstress sew into the cloak in London, his fingers closing on the gold ring. Lifting it from the garment, he reached for her left hand.
Pulling it toward him, he slid the ring on her finger. “I chose this ring for the sapphire that reminds me of your eyes.”
She sat down on the bed and stared down at the rounded blue stone set in the band of gold. When she raised her eyes to his, they were filled with tears. “But when?”
“Remember that morning when I came upon you visiting the merchants of London with my mother? Buying fish, as I recall.”
“You purchased a ring for me in London?”
“Aye, as soon as the barons’ meeting ended, I was off to the goldsmith’s stall. When I saw this one, I knew it had to be yours.”
“Oh, Alex!” She flung her arms around him and kissed him.
He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her on top of him. He deepened the kiss and slid his hands over her gown, her hips, her buttocks, all the sweet curves he remembered. His groin swelled in response. It had been too long since he had lain with her. Wanting more, he broke the kiss and looked into her beautiful blue-hazel eyes. “Shall we seal our vows once more?”
She smiled up at him from where he cradled her head in the crook of his arm. “What about your leg?”
He brushed the tears from her face. “I am certain, with your help, I can manage.”
* * *
Two days later, Merewyn had just finished a game of chess with Lady Ermentrude when the countess stifled a yawn. It was late and dinner long concluded. Merewyn sat back, waiting to see if her hostess would play another game. She had replaced her archer’s clothing with a lovely rose silk gown, one that had belonged to the countess’ daughter. Around her neck on a riband tucked into her gown was Alex’s ring. She did not wear it on her finger because she did not wish to explain its sudden appearance to Lady Ermentrude. But knowing she belonged to Alex, that he had decided to make her his wife, was a happy truth that settled deep within her. She only hoped his parents agreed with his decision.
“ ’Tis time I retire,” said the countess. “Will you stay awhile by the hearth fire or is it time you looked in on your patient?”
“I will bide here for a bit. Rory and Guy are keeping Alex company, each trying to beat him at chess. He claims I only defeated him because of his weakened condition.”
“Humph! Even he does not believe that. You are a fine chess player, Merewyn. Sir Alex has always been an arrogant young pup. And his handsome face keeps him so. To lose a game of chess to a beautiful young woman will keep him humble.”
Merewyn laughed. She did not think it was possible to keep Alex humble for long. “I thank you for the compliment, my lady. I will check on him before I seek my bed. He wants to leave on the morrow.”
“Whenever you think it prudent, my dear.” The counte
ss pressed her palms on the table to assist her to stand. “ ’Tis late and I am not one for late nights.” Ermentrude bid Merewyn a good night and went to the stairs, ascending them slowly.
Merewyn picked up a candle from the table and wandered about the hall, retracing the path the countess had taken when she had shown Merewyn around the castle the day after they arrived.
Peeking into the alcoves behind the tapestries that adorned the castle’s main hall, Merewyn made her way around the cavernous room. The weavings displayed beautiful scenes of gardens and animals, likely reflecting the countess’ taste. They were so unlike those that hung in the king’s hall in London.
Each alcove was sparsely appointed with a small table and bench seats. One held two narrow beds.
As she neared the far corner of the hall, she spotted stairs leading down. She had not noticed them before as they were partially hidden by a wall that extended part way into the room.
On either side of the stairs were copper lanterns hung on sconces. In each lantern burned a small candle. Curious, she decided to see where the stairs led. Still holding her candle, she followed them down to the floor below where she encountered a corridor with many doors. Each door had an iron grate at the top that allowed one to look inside. Before she could look into the first one, she heard the sound of men’s voices ahead.
From a door halfway down the corridor came a gruff voice. “Have another cup of wine, Marcel. The castle’s asleep and the prisoner is locked away. Why should we stay sober all night guarding an old man in fetters?”
An old man in fetters? The King of Gwynedd?
“Well, mayhap just one more before I leave you to your watch. ’Twill be a cold night.”
She must hide! Holding her candle to the grate of the door closest to her and standing on her toes, she peered into the chamber. Sacks of grain and spices filled the room. The smell of cinnamon and cloves was distinct in the air. Quickly she tried the handle and it gave way. Blowing out the candle, she entered and crouched behind one sack, glad for the strong smell of spices that masked the smoke from her snuffed candle.