Allegiance

by Markland, Anna

  Allegiance

  Anna Markland

  ALLEGIANCE

  The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition

  Book VII

  by

  Anna Markland

  Copyright ©Anna Markland 2012, 2018

  Cover Art by Dar Albert

  Contents

  What Readers Are Saying

  More Anna Markland

  Negotiations

  Traded For Brigands

  Betrothal

  Careful

  Wedding

  Bedding

  Powwydd

  Cadair Berwyn

  Domestic Squabbles

  Glad Tidings

  Into The Abyss

  Caught In A Web

  Rescue

  The Bonesetter

  Isolda

  Waiting Game

  Who's Who?

  Journey Home

  Healing Touch

  Tit For Tat

  Separation

  Don't Leave Me

  Bring More Light

  Diplomatic Efforts

  Fulfilling The Prophecy

  Come To Bed

  You Never Left

  Epilogue

  About Anna

  “We must become bigger than we have been: more courageous, greater in spirit, larger in outlook. We must become members of a new race, overcoming petty prejudice, owing our ultimate allegiance not to nations but to our fellow men within the human community.”

  ~Haile Selassie

  For Nancy

  ~my daughter and my biggest fan

  Allegiance by Anna Markland

  Book VII, The Montbryce Legacy, Anniversary Edition

  © 2012, 2018 Anna Markland

  www.annamarkland.com

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  For permissions contact: anna@annamarkland.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Portions of this story were previously published under the titles Dark and Bright and Winds of The Heavens.

  What Readers Are Saying

  “Great for all lovers of historical romance and anyone who enjoys authentic historical fiction.”

  Helen Scott Taylor, author of Unbreak My Heart

  “I love books that allow you to catch up with characters that you've fallen in love with several years down the road. You really get to see how everything turned out.”

  Meg@ABookishAffair

  “Obviously Ms. Markland put a lot of effort into the research and we gain the benefit of her work with a clear look at diplomacy medieval style. I felt so sorry for the poor girl, just given away in marriage and not a thing she could do about it.” Dorothy St. James, author of Lady Iona’s Rebellion.

  More Anna Markland

  The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018)

  I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen

  II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla

  III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta

  IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni

  V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina

  VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys

  VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise

  The Montbryce Legacy First Edition (2011-2014)

  Conquering Passion—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen (audiobook available)

  If Love Dares Enough—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla

  Defiant Passion-Rhodri & Rhonwen

  A Man of Value—Caedmon & Agneta

  Dark Irish Knight—Ronan & Rhoni

  Haunted Knights—Adam & Rosamunda

  Passion in the Blood—Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys

  Dark and Bright—Rhys & Annalise

  The Winds of the Heavens—Rhun & Glain, Rhydderch & Isolda

  Dance of Love—Izzy & Farah

  Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter

  Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana

  Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider

  Hearts and Crowns—Gallien & Peridotte

  Fatal Truths—Alex & Elayne

  Sinful Passions—Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan

  Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families

  The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn

  The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja

  The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith

  Novellas

  Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby

  Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine

  Banished—Sigmar & Audra

  Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne

  Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine

  Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)

  Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret

  Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte

  Book 2.5 Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora

  Book III Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea

  The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)

  Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt

  Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca

  Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara

  Myth & Mystery

  The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn

  The Pendray Papers

  Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)

  Clash of the Tartans

  Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona

  Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel

  Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla

  Link to Amazon page

  Negotiations

  Powwydd, Wales, 1106

  Rhys ap Rhodri put down his eating dagger and got to his feet when Cadfael hurried into the hall of Powwydd Castle and bowed. His steward’s normally inscrutable face betrayed consternation. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Forgive the intrusion, but a messenger has brought dire tidings. Your brothers are prisoners of Henry Beaumont, Earl of Warwick.”

  Rhys had dreaded this. Granted overlordship of Gower in South Wales by royal decree, Beaumont was building a castle at Abertawe. Rhun and Rhydderch had talked of nothing else but thwarting the Norman’s plans. Rhys had tried to dissuade them. “It would appear my red-headed twin brothers ignored our father’s advice—and mine.”

  “They were apparently caught interfering with the construction and are to be hanged at Warwick Castle in a few days.”

  “Do my parents know?”

  Cadfael shook his head. “I thought you should be told first, given Prince Rhodri’s ill health.”

  Rhys understood. His father was failing and both his parents would be devastated by news of the impending loss of two sons. “My brothers don’t consider me a warrior,” he lamented, “therefore they never listen to my advice.”

  “But you don’t lack courage,” Cadfael protested. “As a youth, you accompanied your legendary father on forays against Norman holdings, both in England and Wales.”

  Rhys paced, searching for a way to save his brothers. “My longing for Welsh independence from foreign control is no less than the other men in my family, but my passion is not
for rebellion.”

  “You’ve inherited your mother’s love of peace.”

  Rhys was proud to be his mother’s son. “I believe diplomacy and strategic alliances are more likely to achieve what we all seek.”

  He knew he could speak freely. Cadfael had known him for all his six and twenty years. “You already have a reputation as a peacemaker in the contentious Marches between England and Wales. The Norman Earls of Ellesmere, father and now son, recognized your talents.”

  “We were lucky that the first earl favored negotiation over confrontation and I like to think I earned the powerful Ram de Montbryce’s respect.”

  “And you foresaw the power it would bring when your sister asked to marry Baudoin de Montbryce.”

  “Indeed, I encouraged it, unlike Rhun and Rhydderch. And now Carys is a countess.”

  The pacing helped. Gradually, a plan formed in his mind. Perhaps this disaster was an opportunity to build another alliance. His father was aging and in poor health. As his eldest son, Rhys would become prince of the commote of Powwydd on his father’s death. He would be expected to marry and provide heirs for the principality.

  “I learned recently,” he said at length, “that the Earl of Warwick has become guardian of his late sister’s daughter. Annalise de Vymont is of marriageable age and the earl will thus be expected to provide her dowry, since his brother-by-marriage died penniless several months ago.”

  Cadfael raised an eyebrow. “You’re considering marriage?”

  Rhys shrugged. “I have no desire to marry. I enjoy my bachelor life. Like everyone else in Powwydd, I am more than familiar with the story of my parents’ meeting and falling in love at first sight, and of Baudoin and Carys’s passion for each other.”

  Cadfael smiled.

  Rhys swallowed the twinge of envy that rose in his throat. “It’s unlikely the same will happen for me. Better to spend my life working towards the freedom of Wales through my efforts as a diplomat than to be distracted by a wife.”

  “However, duty requires you to marry.”

  Rhys regained his seat at the table, his mind made up. “Send a scrivener. I’ll request a meeting with the earl and make an offer for his niece. She’ll give me sons and I’ll provide a secure home for her here at Powwydd.”

  Cadfael seemed about to offer a reply, but then rolled his eyes and left.

  Rhys despatched a messenger to Warwick, but set off before receiving a reply. The earl no doubt expected him to come. They had negotiated before.

  The journey gave him a chance to refine his strategy. If things went well, he would acquire a wife and Rhun and Rhydderch would be set free.

  At length, the imposing castle came in sight, perched atop a sandstone bluff around which the River Avon swept in a gradual curve. Rhys never ceased to be amazed at the arrogance of William the Conqueror who had demolished four houses belonging to the Abbot of Coventry to build it.

  He and his escort camped overnight within sight of the castle so Rhys could arrive the following morning refreshed and dressed in his finest clothes, as befitted his status. He chose the bright red, woollen tunic that came down to his shins. His mother always said red became him and it was his father’s favorite color. The slits in the sides revealed a black under-tunic. His knee-length hose were also black, tied with embroidered ribbon, a gift from Carys. He wore them for luck. His tasseled boots were of the softest leather. “I hope my appearance will emphasize the seriousness of my overtures,” he told his valet. He felt comfortable, but it would not be a good idea to underestimate Henry Beaumont. Like all powerful Normans, the earl was wily, though he had become so obese, he could barely walk.

  Rhys had no expectation of a warm greeting as he was ushered into the private sitting room. He was confident the earl respected his abilities, but a Norman would always consider a Welshman his inferior. He was given a polite welcome, as nobility obliged. Rhys thanked his host, then came straight to the point. “Milord Earl, I request the honor of becoming betrothed to your niece, Annalise de Vymont.”

  The earl, clad all in black from his boots to the jaunty hat perched precariously atop his bald head, arched his brows, the folds of his fat forehead doubling. “Hmph! I thought you’d come to discuss your outlaw brothers. I won’t free them.”

  Rhys waited. The earl had not invited him to be seated. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword in an effort to control the urge to shift his stance. Better to be still. He inclined his head a smidgen as a sign of respect, but not defeat. He had shot the first bolt—had it hit its target?

  Warwick fidgeted, running his pudgy fingers over the intricately carved arms of his massive chair, eyeing Rhys.

  He wonders what I’m up to.

  He did not want to give the impression he was staring, though such obesity did tend to draw the eye. He let his gaze wander over the opulent solar. The llys at Powwydd was well appointed, but here he was surrounded by extravagant luxury. Rich tapestries softened the lime-washed wooden panelling. Two ornate oaken chests sat against the walls. Glass filled the frames of the decorative window slits. Wolf skins warmed the floor. The Norman had made life comfortable for himself.

  The earl coughed and shifted his considerable weight. The chair groaned. The pageboy squinted as a foul odor filled the air. “My niece? What do you know of her?”

  Despite the reek of flatulence, Rhys resisted the urge to grimace. He had gambled Warwick would not pass up an opportunity to hear more about the offer. “As you’re aware, I’ve never met her, milord, but she’s of marriageable age and I’m confident she will make a good wife. As the future Prince of Powwydd, I’m not without noble standing.”

  The caressing of the wood became a drumming of the fingers. Suddenly, the earl gripped the arms and struggled to haul himself out of the chair. The startled pageboy rushed to aid him but Warwick waved him away, eventually coming to his feet, albeit shakily. “She doesn’t speak Welsh, or English for that matter. She’s only recently arrived from Normandie after her father’s death.”

  Warwick was swaying, holding on to the arm of the chair with both hands. It was imperative for success that Rhys not betray his nervousness. “I’m aware of it. I’ve made it my business to learn Norman French. I believe in communication. I’ll teach her my language. I’m sure she can learn.”

  The earl slumped back into the chair as abruptly as he had risen. Rhys breathed a sigh of relief and hoped the sweat beading on his forehead wasn’t visible. The Norman’s leg twitched, but he looked directly at Rhys. “Annalise is a beautiful, intelligent girl. She’s also very independent—had to be, growing up in the household of my wastrel brother-by-marriage,” he explained, bitterness in his voice. “Her mother died when she was born eighteen years ago, and her father never got over his wife’s death. He didn’t give Annalise much tendresse.”

  Rhys squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I can’t offer love, but I can offer fidelity and honesty. You know me as a man of integrity.”

  The earl’s leg twitched faster, the fingers drummed incessantly. “She’s not a wealthy woman. I will have to provide her dowry. What would you expect?”

  Rhys did not hesitate. “The release and pardon of my brothers.”

  The drumming stopped. The earl narrowed his eyes.

  Rhys waited.

  At length, Beaumont said, “I can’t release two brigands bent on attacking my lands. What guarantee do I have they’ll cease their raids?”

  Rhys believed that if a man dallied in responding, his adversary doubted him. “You have my word. They will never again attack the lands of the Earl of Warwick.”

  He held his breath, expecting the earl to demand more—the cessation perhaps of all hostility against any Norman territory—but all he said was, “And the only thing you would get out of the bargain is a wife?”

  Rhys smiled inwardly, confident he had won. “A wife who is of your family, my lord. Surely, such proud Norman connections can’t harm my family and will only further the cause of peace? M
y sister is already married to the Earl of Ellesmere.”

  The Norman chuckled. “I see merit in the proposal. I’ll have my steward prepare a chamber for you to stay for a few days. On the morrow, we’ll draw up the betrothal contract and you’ll meet Annalise. Welcome to my family, Lord of Powwydd.”

  He held out his hand and Rhys strode forward to take it. The two men clasped hands to seal the bargain and Rhys inclined his head once more. “And I bid you welcome to mine, Lord Earl of Warwick. What of the arrangements for my brothers?”

  The earl turned to the pageboy. “Send a guard to the cells. Bring the Welsh rebels to me.”

  * * *

  Resisting the urge to pace, Rhys waited impatiently for his brothers to arrive. The redheaded firebrands might easily upset his careful planning. The earl still had not offered him a seat, for which he was grateful. He tended to think better on his feet.

  When the pair entered, they looked around warily. The tension left their shoulders when they caught sight of Rhys, but they did not smile in greeting. They glowered at the earl, still overflowing his grand chair. Rhys embraced them. They were dirty, disheveled and wild-eyed, but all their limbs were intact.

  “Rhys,” Rhun ventured, embracing his brother. “What are you doing here? What’s happening?”

  Rhys kept his voice calm. “You’re free. Both of you.”