The Silken Cord

by Leigh Bale

  She was crestfallen. What he said was true. Even now, she could see the doubt in their eyes. The anger.

  “Will you help me, or will you die?” she demanded.

  Standing on a barren island of the Hebrides, wearing nothing more than a slave collar and the tattered remnants of his clothing, Wulfgar raised his arm and gave her the courtly bow of a Norman knight. “I’ll help you, of course.”

  Praise the Lord. She breathed with relief.

  “Upon one condition.”

  She froze.

  “I will help you in return for the use of your warriors to help me regain Cynan.”

  She pursed her lips. “Surely you don’t believe King William will restore your holdings to you.”

  Blowing out a breath, he met her eyes. “I dare say he will, once I’m proven to be no traitor.”

  “Please tell me how you plan to prove such a thing, slave?”

  A thoughtful frown pulled at his brows. “I don’t know, but Cynan will be returned to me.”

  The fool. Did he really think his king would allow this?

  Aye, he did. His harsh demeanor showed his determination. She could almost believe he was innocent. That he had been accused falsely and merely needed to find the proof.

  No! She must harden herself to this man. Lifting her head, she thought it would be easy enough to agree to his proposition. Once inside the castle, they could take the guards unaware and open the castle gates to admit Wulfgar’s knights and her father’s men. Wulfgar would be given his freedom and regain Cynan and they’d go their separate ways. If Wulfgar wished to prove his innocence to William and take back his holdings, that was his affair. It had nothing to do with her. She only needed Dafydd and then she would be done with Wulfgar and his band of rabble warriors.

  “I agree to what you ask. My men will fight to help you take Cynan,” she said.

  He sighed with disbelief, or resolution. Ariana wasn’t certain which. “Take heed, ma cherie. Do not play me false. If you make this pact, I promise it will take more than your men to protect you should you decide not to keep your word.”

  Ariana shivered. Her common sense warned her not to dally with this man. He’d earned his reputation as a fierce warrior. Cunning in war and in the ways of William’s Court. He’d proven himself enough times to be richly rewarded by his king. Traitor or not, he was shrewd. He would tolerate no deception.

  “You’ll have the use of my men to retake Cynan.” And she meant it. She would keep her word. God expected nothing less.

  He studied her and she saw suspicion in his eyes, but he’d have to trust her just as she must trust him.

  “Swear it.” He spoke softly but it could have been a shout.

  “I won’t swear, but I’ll give you my word,” she whispered.

  “Done.” He smiled and lifted an arm toward their men. “I await your pleasure.”

  Turning toward the beach, he seemed more relaxed now he had her promise. “Come. The tide is right for an easy departure.”

  He stood back to let her pass. She walked to where their men anxiously awaited them. Neither Welsh nor Norman had put away their weapons. They stared at Ariana and Wulfgar with expectation.

  “I’ve agreed to help Princess Ariana,” Wulfgar announced in a loud voice. “We will join with the Welsh to enter Cynan Castle and take her brother from Edwin of Carlinham, who holds the boy hostage there.”

  The Normans looked surprised, their eyes wide. Ariana heard a sharp intake of breath as dawning covered their faces. They stared at her, exchanging questioning glances amongst themselves.

  The Normans were not stupid. They knew exactly who she was and what her presence meant to Wulfgar.

  “Ariana, Princess of Powys.” Gaston reached to finger the bandage tied around his shoulder where Ariana had stabbed him during their battle at sea.

  Was he the type of man to hold a grudge? She made a mental note to stay away from him.

  Jenkin watched Ariana with guarded skepticism, but he held his tongue. Raulf was not so careful. His heavy gaze rested on her. “And what does she offer you in return? You can’t trust the Welsh, Lord Wulfgar.”

  Ariana’s spine stiffened at the slur.

  “He’s no lord, but only a slave,” Cwrig snarled. “He’s not good enough to lick the mud from Princess Ariana’s shoes. I’ll kill the first man that dares say he is.”

  Cwrig clutched his sword in his hand, his eyes savage as he faced the Normans. Ifor and Evan joined him. Ariana realized their hatred ran deep. They would never unite, unless they heard it from her lips.

  “Be at ease,” she cautioned them all. “We’ll join forces to free Prince Dafydd and gain control of Cynan. Then, I’ll honor my promise to Wulfgar and he will be freed.”

  She trembled with unease. What if something went wrong and they didn’t succeed? She mustn’t think of that. She must have faith and be positive of the outcome.

  Jenkin walked to Ariana and handed her the dagger she thought she’d lost. With a joyous cry, she hugged Jenkin. “I thought it was gone for good.”

  “You dropped it on the ship before you were washed overboard.”

  “Thank you for returning it to me.” She placed it in her girdle, the twin blades and jewels gleaming in the afternoon sun.

  “Once we’re inside Cynan, the Norman will have his freedom,” Jenkin told them all. “And we’ll do what we can to drive Edwin of Carlinham from our lands.”

  “And what if King William hears you’ve returned to Cynan?” Arnulf asked. “He’ll come for you, my lord.”

  “Aye,” Wulfgar responded grimly.

  Raulf lifted his double-headed battle-ax. “Then we’ll fight by your side and we will die.”

  Wulfgar looked at Raulf, his eyes glittering with emotion. His brows lowered in a troubled frown. Lifting one hand, he clasped Raulf’s shoulder with fondness. Though his voice sounded soft and beseeching, it also bore a stern edge. Ariana could not deny Wulfgar’s conviction. “I would kill Carlinham if I could, but I’m no traitor to our king, Raulf. Your allegiance will first be to King William, second to me. If ever you must choose between us, you will die for William before you die for me. If he comes to take Cynan, we will open the gates and yield to him. Never forget your oath to our king. Never.”

  All was quiet as the other men stared at Wulfgar. Did he mean what he said or was it just an act? He spoke with such conviction. He insisted he was innocent of treason, but Ariana had her doubts.

  Finally, Raulf nodded. “I would never yield Cynan to any man but you, but it will be as you say.”

  Wulfgar smiled before he gently buffeted Raulf’s chin with his fist and walked away. Raulf stared after him, silent and thoughtful. The other men didn’t speak and Ariana hardened her heart. Without another word, she gathered her cloak about her and headed for the ship.

  The Normans followed, their faces glowing with delight.

  “We have only to complete our mission and Lord Wulfgar will be freed,” crowed Gaston.

  “Yes, soon now,” Raulf agreed.

  The Welshmen were silent, their mouths pursed tight, their faces grim. Ariana just hoped they could work together to take Cynan without fighting amongst themselves.

  Chapter Seven

  Ariana couldn’t suppress a smile of relief as they sailed from the Irish Sea into Cardigan Bay. The sun rose high and beat down upon them, warm enough that she shed her cloak and rolled up the ragged sleeves of her dress. They had eaten and she placed the remnants of dried meat and bread into leather packs.

  Home!

  A feeling of joy swept her as she caught the familiar scent of land. She could hardly wait to tell Aunt Frida all that had happened. Perhaps there had been news of Dafydd. She prayed Edwin of Carlinham waited for the ransom. He could always change his mind and kill her brother.

  Dread lodged in her heart, but she couldn’t think about that now.

  Looking up, she found Wulfgar watching her intently, his brows quirked in a puzzled frown. He nodded once
and looked back out to sea.

  He must be worried. If her men were successful in helping take Cynan, he would then need to prove his innocence to his king.

  She admitted only to herself that she didn’t want him to stay in England. She thought about inviting him to live with her people in Wales, but doubted he’d give up his plans for revenge.

  Warmth filled her, a softening of her heart that brought her near tears. In the short time she had known him, he had changed her somehow. Against her desire not to, she cared about him and wished she could help him. He would never agree to stay in Wales. Not without proving his innocence first. A man such as Wulfgar would never be able to live with dishonor. Yet, if he continued with his plan, he would most likely be killed. For that reason alone, he had won her respect.

  Lifting her head, she allowed the breeze to cool her heated cheeks. The men had given up some of their own clothing for Wulfgar, a coarse woolen tunic, braies, and leather shoes. Arnulf offered him a lethal knife, much to the argument of Ifor and Cwrig.

  “A slave must not have weapons,” Ifor had said.

  As if Wulfgar needed any. From what Ariana had observed, he was skilled and resourceful enough that he seemed to do well even without a sword.

  “Where we go, there is danger,” the Norman Cedric exclaimed. “He must be able to defend himself and fight for our cause. We’ll need every able man to fight.”

  “Your cause? You’re nothing but outlaws. Prince Dafydd’s life is in danger and we must save him. That is our only cause.”

  The men’s jaws locked, their eyes spitting fire. Ariana sighed, wishing they could get along for even one day. She prayed she wouldn’t have to thrust herself between them to stop another fight.

  Jenkin shrugged as he directed the tiller of Wulfgar’s ship. “Let him keep the knife. He may need it before we finish our journey. He’ll fare better with us than his own people. Though he’s a slave, he may live with us. If he returns to England, he’ll be put to death. He knows this very well.”

  It was a good point. If only Wulfgar would heed Jenkin’s wisdom. Ariana took a step forward to ask Wulfgar to stay in Wales, but didn’t get the chance.

  “I would face any danger to regain my honor. My place is at Cynan, and I’ll regain my holdings.” Wulfgar’s stormy glare centered on Jenkin, as if he dared the Welshman to challenge him.

  “These bloody Normans will slit our throats yet,” Cwrig grumbled as he stowed away his oar.

  A hot gush of disappointment rose in Ariana’s heart. Wulfgar wanted only his lands and titles, nothing more. Certainly not a bedraggled princess of Wales.

  They beached their ship in Aberystwyth harbor. Jenkin jumped over the side into the slapping water. Turning, he reached up for Ariana. She had no chance to respond before Wulfgar swept her into his arms. Fearing she might fall into the sea, she wrapped her arms about his neck as he stepped over the side. Wading through the water, he carried her to shore. She stared into his dark eyes. No words were spoken as he splashed through the sea, but his look spoke volumes. He’d made his ownership plain to all and the Welsh watched with narrowed eyes and grim mouths.

  Ariana was conscious of the heavy cords of muscle along Wulfgar’s throat and shoulders. She felt his hard arms around her, filled with strength and warmth, and was reminded of how he’d protected her on the island. It had been an almost idyllic time and she wished they could forget their troubles and return. But dark times called for action and she would never shirk her duty.

  Suddenly Ariana couldn’t stand his nearness.

  “Put me down,” she demanded.

  A few more steps to dry land and Wulfgar did as asked, placing her on her feet. Ariana glanced at Jenkin, who had watched them with open fury. Normally, Jenkin was a calm man, noted for his patience, wisdom, and loyalty. Right now, his face looked white with rage.

  “Jenkin,” she called in a sweet voice.

  Looking her way, his tensed shoulders relaxed as he nodded with respect. “Aye, princess?”

  “You’ll direct the way and take us to our people. We’ll find rest here. On the morrow, we’ll continue our journey to Cynan.”

  “As you wish.”

  Ariana stood back while Jenkin passed between her and Wulfgar to take the lead. In so many words, Ariana had expressed her confidence in Jenkin. She couldn’t help pursing her lips with disapproval as she turned to look at the Norman slave. In the next moment, her mouth dropped open with surprise. Wulfgar wore an amused expression, his mouth spread wide in a smile. He didn’t appear the least bit upset by her dismissal.

  He turned to follow after the other men. Shifting her feet upon the pebbled beach, Ariana stared after him. She fumed as she watched his broad back.

  Slowly she followed after them, with Ifor and Cwrig bringing up the rear. They climbed the steep incline to the hilltop Pen Dinas, where a massive fortified hillfort had been built by another clan of her people. As they approached, Ariana was surprised no one came out to greet them. But no welcoming horns blared their arrival.

  Where were the watchmen?

  The wind shifted and she caught a horrid whiff of burned flesh. Her gaze darted up the hill and she saw the blackened remnants of the fort.

  She froze.

  The tall palisade gates had been burned and torn down on the south side. Where the outbuildings had once stood, now there was nothing but burnt rubble. She stared with wide, disbelieving eyes at the charred form of a body lying on the ground by the rock wall. More bodies littered the ditches and terraced defenses. The great hall inside the compound was now a gaping maw. Clasping a hand to her mouth, Ariana silenced a scream. Her imagination ran wild. Her heart stopped beating and she gave a half-whimper.

  Aunt Frida and little Rhodri. Were they inside?

  “No!”

  She ran toward the fort, all reason lost except finding her loved ones. Her aunt and cousin. Her friends.

  Her people.

  Wulfgar grabbed her around the waist, swinging her about as he pulled her back down the hill. She kicked and screamed all the way. “Let me go. Let me go.”

  “Hush, woman. You’ll not go up there.”

  She pounded his chest with her fists and tried to pull away. She must go to them. She must.

  Wulfgar stood, holding her to him, muttering words of condolence. “Shh, sweeting. Not now. I’ll not let your eyes view what is there until we know it’s safe.”

  She clung to his arms, sobbing like a babe. Tears ran down her cheeks blinding her, her mind a riot of fear. “Let me go. I must help them.”

  “You can’t help them now. What is done is done.” He reasoned with her but she didn’t hear as she thrashed against him.

  Still he would not release her. He held her with shear strength, his arms like bands of steel. Ah, why couldn’t she have been born with the physical strength of a man? Struggling, she almost won her freedom. He lifted her off her feet and held her tight. She kicked and screeched, but he wouldn’t release her.

  “Shh,” he soothed again and again. “Wait and let us make certain it’s safe. We’ll find your father.”

  Her movements lessened. Out of complete exhaustion, she quieted, her pitiful sobs filling the air. She’d lost control and was ashamed. What must her men think of her?

  Peering over Wulfgar’s shoulder, she saw their warriors staring at her, their faces ashen, both Norman and Welsh. They stood on the alert, crouched and ready, holding their weapons, prepared for attack. From their glances her way, it was obvious her distress upset them all. Her father would have chided her for showing such weakness. Then he would have forgiven her. How she missed his gentle gruffness. How she missed her strong, handsome brothers.

  As she squalled against his shoulder like a little child, Wulfgar embraced her. No longer was she dignified. She felt wretched, her heart broken. She knew without going inside the hillfort what they would find.

  Death. Destruction.

  The bloody Normans had done this. No rival clan had the strength to
breach the outer walls of the fort. Only the Normans with their superior horses and weapons of war could have burned the fort.

  Edwin of Carlinham. Oh, how she hated the man. Though it wasn’t Christian, she hated him like nothing else.

  “One day, I will kill Carlinham,” she whispered in a pitiful tone. “God help me, I want to see him dead.”

  Wulfgar kissed her forehead and caressed her face. “I plan to save you the trouble.”

  His gentleness touched her deeply. Against her common sense, he’d become her ally. But it seemed unfair for Wulfgar to want to kill Edwin simply because King William had made him Earl of Glyndwr. Ariana sensed something more in Wulfgar’s words. Something must have happened between Wulfgar and Edwin. Something bad.

  With a gentle hand, Wulfgar brushed tangles of hair away from her eyes. He’d pressed his face against hers, his cheek moist with her tears.

  Lifting her head, she caught sight of Jenkin’s expression. His locked jaw as he glared at the Norman. He glanced her way and never had she seen such hurt in his eyes. Was it anger over the destruction of the hillfort, or because Wulfgar comforted her? How odd.

  * * *

  “Are you all right, now?” Wulfgar asked when she’d quieted.

  Ariana nodded, her eyes red, her nose dripping.

  Assured that she wouldn’t make a mad dash for the fort, he placed her on her feet again. She sniffed and looked at him with wide, accusing eyes. Compassion filled him as he reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Her sadness tore at his heart and he longed to protect her.

  “It’ll be all right, ma cherie.” He tried to soothe her so she wouldn’t run up the hill again. Only the heavens knew what they would find there.

  As he looked at the burned corpses lying along the ramparts at the base of the hill, he was outraged. Then, he wondered why he cared about these people. The Welsh meant nothing to him. They were his enemy. And yet this senseless killing twisted inside of him. If he had the power, he would punish the ones responsible. He did care, he couldn’t deny it.