by Leigh Bale
“Why do you help our man? He’s a Norman.”
Because she was generous and kind. Wulfgar wanted to answer Arnulf’s question, but waited for Ariana’s response.
“God doesn’t care whether you’re Norman or Welsh,” she said. “It’s not a bad wound but he’ll die without care. I’ll not have his death on my conscience.”
Wulfgar didn’t question what she did. Her men watched her with complete trust. He’d learned in the short time he’d been with these people that they were fair and honest. After seeing the destruction at the hill fort, Wulfgar couldn’t blame the Welsh for distrusting the Normans. Even though they considered him a slave, they’d treated him fairly. They had fought side-by-side, something he never thought he’d do. If he could regain Cynan, there would be peace along the border.
Wulfgar spitted the fowl and set them over the fire to roast. He watched quietly as Ariana sprinkled chamomile leaves into a small pot of hot water and left it to steep. Her faith in God impressed him. His own mother trusted the Lord, but look how that had turned out. She was now penniless, her husband and son’s taken from her. If there was a God, Wulfgar prayed He was looking after his mother.
“What will you do with those?” Raulf queried as Ariana reached for the rest of the onions.
A breathtaking smile curved her soft lips. “We’ll eat them, of course.”
She proceeded to lance the onions with a long, sharp stick, and braced it over the fire to roast with the meat. Soon, the air was filled with tantalizing aromas. Ariana was adaptable and courageous. A true princess in every way.
After a time, she dipped a cup of chamomile out for Cwrig, who was well enough to eat on his own. Then she wrapped the hem of her dress around her hand and pulled a hot cup of the brew away from the fire to let it cool. Wulfgar aided her as she brought the tea to Gaston and slowly worked to get every drop down his throat. The man mumbled incoherently. Twice, his eyes fluttered and he opened them to give her a weak smile.
“Thank you, my lady.” His voice was a dry whisper.
She smoothed the hair away from his forehead and placed a cooling rag on his brow.
Wulfgar sighed with regret. Gaston was a good friend and Wulfgar didn’t wish to lose him. Wulfgar hoped Ariana’s remedies worked. He followed her back to the fire, away from Gaston’s hearing. “Will he die?”
As she mixed a rich broth with some of the pheasant and onions, she shook her head and lifted one hand, her gaze moving to the tent where Gaston lay. “I believe we have caught the poisons soon enough to stop them from taking his life. Within a day or two, he should feel better.”
She fed Gaston the broth and he seemed to rest more easily. Ariana nodded her head with satisfaction.
Relief clogged Wulfgar’s throat as he crouched before the fire, turning the meat, his gaze fixed on her.
He wished to speak with King Rhys and ask him to renew his betrothal to Ariana. When he’d told Jenkin this, it had been false bravado. Wulfgar had nothing to offer her. Nor would she accept him.
Would she wed Jenkin?
The thought brought a heavy weight to Wulfgar’s heart. He’d never felt this way about a woman and wondered why he did so now.
The night shadows gathered around the camp, the bright glow of the fire inviting and warm. The air was filled with the scent of wood smoke and roasting meat. Ariana’s stomach rumbled hungrily as she came to stand beside Wulfgar just as Austin and Evan returned to camp.
“We’ll set up a night watch,” Jenkin advised the group. “The meat isn’t done, yet. We can eat as our shifts end.”
“Do you fear an attack?” Wulfgar queried.
Jenkin’s jaw hardened and he barely glanced at the Norman as he spoke in a gruff tone. “Not from your Normans. But I know of other clans who range these mountains and they would be pleased to catch us unaware. I don’t want to endanger the princess. I think it’s wise to have some of my men on watch throughout the night. We know these mountains well while you Normans do not.”
Wulfgar tensed but nodded his head. “Your reasoning is sound.”
The Normans watched Jenkin sketch a crude map in the dirt and explain their surroundings. As long as Wulfgar agreed, they would follow Jenkin without question. Likewise, the Welsh would answer to Jenkin. Wulfgar didn’t like this. Multiple leaders posed a danger that could make the situation volatile. That wouldn’t achieve any of their desires. For the time being, it’d be best for him to cooperate with Jenkin.
“I’ll take the first watch. You can take the second.” Jenkin met Wulfgar’s eyes with steely disdain.
“Agreed.”
With rapid succession, Jenkin pointed to the men, pairing each Norman with a Welshman so the Normans wouldn’t become lost in the mountains. All but Cwrig, Evan, Wulfgar, and Raulf departed into the trees. They would guard the camp, eat and rest for now. Later in the night, they would take their turn at watch as the other men came in to eat and sleep.
Wulfgar turned the meat as it sizzled over the open fire. Ariana tended Gaston, mopping his brow with a damp rag, until Raulf came to relieve her.
“I can do that,” he offered.
“Thank you,” she murmured, handing him the cloth.
She stood watching him for a moment as he bathed Gaston’s face and neck.
“You do that well,” she observed.
Raulf smiled. “I learned from my wife. She was a healer of sorts, though not as skilled as you.”
She snorted. “I’m no healer. What happened to your wife?”
Pain filled Raulf’s eyes and he frowned. “She died a year ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Ariana offered. “You must miss her a great deal.”
He nodded. “I do. She was a good woman.”
Gathering up her antler comb, Ariana went to sit before the fire. She undid her heavy braid and combed the mass until it glimmered like golden threads. Wulfgar’s fingers itched to touch her hair, to twine his fingers at the back of her head and pull her to him for a kiss. He remembered her scent, her warmth.
“Is the meat done, yet?” he asked Evan, trying to distract his wayward mind.
“To perfection.” The Welshman ripped off a succulent drumstick and placed it on a wooden plate before presenting it to Ariana. He then did likewise and handed the meat to Wulfgar.
Turning away, Wulfgar ate ravenously, chewing so furiously his jaw ached. The discomfort didn’t take his mind off Ariana.
Two men returned from their watch and Wulfgar breathed with relief. Anything to get away from her, to get away from his own thoughts.
It was futile. He couldn’t run away from himself. His mind tormented him as he took his sword and left the camp with Evan to take their turn on watch.
* * *
Staring after Wulfgar, Ariana frowned, hoping there was no danger. Worry nibbled at the edges of her mind. What if Wulfgar were injured or killed? It was a danger they faced every day.
Wrapped in her warm cloak, she curled up on the ground near Gaston. She wanted to be close should he stir in the night.
Her eyelids drooped wearily and she finally slept. In the wee hours of the morning, she jerked awake. She looked about and saw Cwrig, Arnulf and Ifor bedded down before the fire. The rest of the men must be out taking their turn on watch.
Ifor raised his head and looked at her. “Is anything wrong, princess?”
“No, where is Jenkin?”
Ifor shrugged. “He hasn’t returned to camp but has taken a double shift.”
Ariana frowned. Jenkin hadn’t eaten. How odd. Something must be bothering him.
Rising, she dusted off her cloak and pulled it snugly about her. Ifor made as if to stand but she motioned him back down. “Stay and seek your rest.”
Making her way to the fire where the remains of their meal sat warming, she picked up a wooden plate and placed a goodly portion of food on it.
Glancing briefly at the few occupants of the camp, she quickly slipped behind a bush. She peered into the shadowed trees, seeking
Jenkin. She found him quickly enough, knowing he wouldn’t go far from camp. He’d given his word to her father that he’d die to protect her and he’d always been loyal.
His eyes glowed in the darkness as she approached, his long body shrouded in shadow. His sword lay close beside him, but he didn’t pick it up as he would have done if she were an enemy. No doubt he’d heard her coming and had known it was her.
Sitting on a large rock overlooking the valley below, his voice sounded harsh when he spoke. “You should be resting.”
He had braced his left foot against the boulder, his hand dangling over his bent knee.
“I came to bring you food.” She handed him the plate and climbed up to sit beside him.
Taking the food, he set it aside, not touching it. Nor did he look at her. His gaze centered on the dark valley, awash in moonlight. A breeze teased the tops of the trees and they swayed like hulking beasts. Shivering, Ariana pulled her cloak tighter around her and breathed deeply of the fresh, chill air. Except for the hum of insects, silence reigned.
Ariana peered at his face. “You seem troubled.”
“Aye.”
“Will you tell me your thoughts?” she prodded.
He spoke without looking at her. “I don’t like this plan of yours. It’s too dangerous.”
Ariana heaved a weary sigh. “We have no choice. It’s the only way to free Dafydd. Our people will only follow me for so long. They need their king.”
Jenkin looked at her, his dark eyes filled with turmoil she didn’t understand. She flinched when he covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry. We’ll have him back soon. We can besiege the castle if necessary. We don’t need these filthy Normans.”
Ariana snorted and withdrew her hand. “We’ve been over this many times, Jenkin. You know as well as I that our army is no match against Edwin’s. A siege would take months and Edwin would most certainly kill Dafydd. In the meantime, King William would send reinforcements. Our people would be slaughtered.”
Jenkin’s brow knitted in a frown. “The Norman slave thinks to make you his own.”
She went very still. “Has he told you that?”
“I can see it in his eyes. He wants you.”
But wanting did none of them any good. Not right now. “You worry needlessly.”
“You must not trust him.”
“We have too much at stake not to trust him a little.”
Jenkin clasped her arms. His intense gaze locked with hers, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Don’t give him your heart, princess. He’ll only hurt you. Beware of his smooth tongue. He’ll betray you in the end.”
Jenkin’s passion startled her, his touch uncomfortable. There was such vehemence in his tone. His grip on her arms tightened painfully and she twisted to be free. His hold lessened, but he didn’t release her. She placed her hand against his chest and tried to smile kindly. He’d never acted this way before. What was wrong with him?
“Be at ease, Jenkin. I’m aware of the Norman’s weaknesses and strengths.”
In the dark shadows, his forehead deepened in a scowl. His eyes glittered with warmth. Again, that unnamed emotion filled his eyes as he looked at her. A longing for something he could not have. Surely she was mistaken.
“I must return to camp, now.” Even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. She’d always loved Wulfgar. But she wouldn’t jeopardize her brother or her people. No matter what her heart’s desire, she would never sacrifice her duty.
Jenkin became very quiet, but he didn’t let her go. Even in the darkness, his face flushed with color. She inhaled sharply when he pulled her to him and held her tightly against his chest, her cheek squashed against his leather jerkin. She could feel the beating of his heart and hear his breathing become harsher. She stiffened.
“Let me go. Please.” She squirmed to be free.
He bent his head and gave her a stilted kiss. His damp mouth landed halfway on her chin and slid up to her lips. A bumbling, embarrassing kiss.
She resisted a shudder.
He released her and she scurried away, lifting a hand to wipe her mouth.
“I love you, Ariana. I wish for you to wed me. Say you’ll be mine.”
He loved her. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now.
She squelched a repulsive shiver. Angling her shoulders, she wondered what she should say. Glancing at him, she found her fears realized. Sincerity filled his eyes. He was dead serious.
How had this happened? No wonder he’d acted strangely with Wulfgar. He was jealous. Of the Norman.
“Jenkin, I…I can’t. You know we can never wed.” She chose her words carefully, trying not to injure his pride any more than necessary.
“Why?” he asked fiercely. “I’ve been loyal to your father since I was no more than a puling lad. I would gladly lay down my life for you.”
She wiped her chin and gave him an affectionate smile. “I’m touched by your loyalty. Truly I am. But you don’t love me, Jenkin. Not as a man should love a woman.”
A frown creased his features. “I do love you, Ariana. More than I can say.”
And she would break his heart. A knife thrust to her own heart would have been less painful. She hated hurting this good man. He’d always been beside her since they were children. Protecting, defending her. Seeing to her needs before his own. But she could never give him false hope. She didn’t love him. Not romantically. Not the way she loved Wulfgar. And her cheeks burned with regret.
Jenkin’s eyes crinkled with misery. It had taken a lot for him to bare his heart to her. She could only imagine the damage she would do his pride by refusing him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Jenkin. But what you ask is impossible. I’m a Christian. Our fathers were brothers and we are first cousins. Already you stand to inherit my father’s kingdom should Dafydd die or fail to provide an heir. You…you’re like a brother to me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “A brother?”
His long body unfolded and he hopped down to stand beside her. She stepped back, hoping he didn’t try to kiss her again. This was Jenkin. Kind, dependable Jenkin. She could never think of him as her husband. He was a friend, her cousin only.
“Wed me and our son will rule Powys,” he said. “Together we’ll beat the Normans back and regain the lands they’ve stolen from our people.”
A blaze of anger flashed through her. “No, it’s Dafydd’s right to rule, not yours or mine.”
His expression changed to contrition. “I’m sorry, Ariana. Truly I meant no offense. But we must plan for the worst. If Edwin kills Dafydd, we must go on living.”
“Stop. I won’t hear such talk. You speak of treason toward our king.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I mean no harm to Dafydd.”
His voice sounded adamant, his gaze intense. Always, he had been devoted to her. Always, he had seen to her welfare. For these reasons, she wouldn’t lie to him.
“I can’t love you the way you want me to. My father’s throne belongs to Dafydd. And I’ll do everything within my power to keep it for him until he can take his rightful place at Powys. Neither you nor I have the right to take that from him. I’ve already lost four brothers, Jenkin. Dafydd is the last and I’ll see that he lives to rule our people.”
Jenkin’s jaw tensed and she heard the grinding of his teeth. “I also am determined to see Dafydd placed on the throne. But what if we fail, Ariana? Our people must have someone to lead them.”
Ariana flinched. For the first time she doubted him. Would he conspire to kill Dafydd and take the throne for himself? She couldn’t contemplate such a cruel fate for her brother. “Don’t say such things. We must trust in God. Dafydd will live. We’ll get him back.”
She backed away, shaking her head, her eyes burning with tears.
Jenkin’s gaze softened. “You’re right. We’ll find the boy. But what of us? What of our future?”
An invisible knife s
liced her heart. “I love you as a brother, Jenkin. My father loved and raised you as his son when your own father died in his prime. But I will never wed you. Don’t ask it of me, I beseech you.”
“Who will you wed, then?” he asked, a sneer curling his lips. “The Norman?”
Yes! Her mind screamed. Wulfgar was her betrothed, but she knew it could never be. Not now. Not ever.
“Wulfgar is our enemy. We can never marry, now.”
With one hand raised in supplication, Jenkin took a step toward her, and Ariana took two steps back. She wanted to scream with misery. To shriek her pain from the highest hilltop. Why, oh, why had he said these things to her? Now, she would always be on guard with Jenkin. They could never go back to being just friends.
“It isn’t important that you love me.” His tone sounded ragged with pain. “If you wed me, I will need no love.”
A large tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away. “Oh, you’re so wrong, Jenkin. Love is the most important thing. Without it, nothing else matters. You deserve that kind of love from the woman you marry. One day, you’ll find someone who deserves your devotion.”
Grief clouded his eyes. His mouth softened and his shoulders slumped in dejection. He’d always been so strong, so determined. Now he was weakened.
Because of her.
Turning her back on him, she wiped her own eyes. “I’ll return to camp and rest, now.”
He let her go. As she moved off into the night, she ran, grateful he didn’t stop her. Through the trees, the bright glow of their campfire winked at her. Heading in that direction, she lifted her skirts and hurried faster.
Fate could be so cruel. Jenkin loved her, and she could never return his affection. Instead, she loved a man she could never have. Their situation was impossible.
Life could be so cruel.
Chapter Nine
They resumed their journey early in the morning. Moving at a slow pace, very few words were shared. Each of them were subdued and quiet, lost in their own thoughts.