by Troy A Hill
When the red glow stained the eastern sky and morning fog seeped across the countryside, I made for the keep to find Lord Mechain and report that I was taking my leave. The main hall here at Nant Bywyd was smaller than that at Caer Penllyn, and made all the tighter by the onslaught of refugees from the Penllyn villages. The people laughed and joked despite the horrific experience in the days before. A calm night had settled nerves better than any tonic could. I nudged and slid my way through the crowded hall to find Lord Mechain.
“Lady Mair,” Einion said when he spied me. “Any disturbance during the night?”
I shook my head.
Dylis, Lady Mechain, rose and gave me a hug. “Please see that Seren is cared for,” she said. She was still her plump, cheery self, despite the haunted look in her eyes. “And that Lord Penllyn is wise and swift with his punishment to the filth who harmed her.” She stepped back but kept her hands on my arms, her eyes locked on mine. Those two sentences were as much as I’d heard her speak the day of the wedding. She was always quiet, listening instead of speaking.
“You have my word that I will stand for the severest punishment on those guilders, milady,” I said. “I pray that this is the end of the guild’s time in Penllyn.”
“They are no longer welcome in Mechain,” Einion proclaimed.
Dylis touched my arm in invitation. “Will you break your fast with us?”
I waved off their suggestion. “I must return to Caer Penllyn,” I said. “I thank you for your hospitality, milord and milady.” I bowed and turned to make my way back through the crowd.
On the way out, a long, dark blue cloak caught my eye. Afon stood at the tables filling a plate. He extended his arm in greeting as I passed. I gripped his forearm, and he pulled me in so we could slap each other’s back. His greeting was one warrior to another. No matter if I wanted the status or not, I was part of the teulu’s circle.
“Did you thank Llinos for her gift?” I asked, tugging on his brilliant cloak.
He smiled and fingered the edge. “She’s a nice little bird,” he said, a twinkle to his eye. “You were right about the flowers. I told her I’d take her on a walk to see more once I’m back from this duty.”
I chuckled. He grinned, but his eyes went cold as another thought crossed his mind.
“I saw what you did to the guilders,” he said. “Sawyl and I heard a woman scream then a door crash open. By the time we got there, Pedr was steps behind you, and you had taken four men out by yourself—including the infamous Osbert.” Afon’s expression was full of awe and respect.
“He was occupied with the screws,” I said, shrugging. “He only tried to draw steel after I had the others down.”
“However you managed it,” he said, “you have my commendation. I am sworn to Penllyn and will follow Lord Penllyn and Lord Emlyn into whatever battle lies before us.” He stood straight and looked me in the eye. “But you have shown character as good as theirs, and skill above any man’s in this teulu. If Hell comes to Penllyn, Lady Mair, know that I and the men will stand by your side no matter what the cost. You have more than earned the respect of our teulu.”
“Unfortunately, Afon,” I said, “I suspect you’ll get that opportunity all too soon. I doubt the dead will rest for long.”
His gaze didn’t waver from my eyes. He held out his arm again. I grabbed it.
“Even at the gates of hell, Lady Mair,” he said. “We will have your back.”
6
Home
Gwen came to fetch me and led me back to Caer Penllyn through the mist. As we left the grove within the walls of the fort, I spied a lone figure on the keep’s porch.
Rhian was waiting for us atop the stairs. Tears threatened to leak from her misty eyes as she reached towards me. At first I thought she would take my hands, but she pulled me in for a hug. Her embrace wasn't just a welcome. She clung to me, her grasp tight.
She wasn’t the Lady Penllyn right then. She was Seren’s mother. One sob escaped her. Then she pulled Lady Penllyn back together. She leaned back, her hands still on my arms. A tear ran down each of her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
That was all she said. It was enough.
“I protect my friends,” I replied.
“Welcome home, my sister.”
She guided me to the bench on the porch and knelt beside me. She pulled forward a basin of water and washed the mud from my shoes. That was how one welcomed a guest in Cymry lands. But the Lady Penllyn herself washed my shoes. The honour of her act spoke volumes of her gratitude. I had to fight back my own tears at her gesture. This wasn’t the type of homecoming I wanted. I didn’t want to be a hero. I wanted to be a friend. And what I did yesterday was what friends do for one another.
As she finished, she raised her eyes to mine. I pulled her face close and kissed her forehead.
“It’s good to be home.”
Rhian stood and pulled me to my feet. “Come, we have much to discuss.”
She led me into the keep’s main hall. It was packed to overflowing, but the people were quiet. Waiting.
Confused, I glanced to the chair by the fire, where Bleddyn sat. Next to him was Abbot Heilyn, carrying his Bishop’s staff and looking uncharacteristically serious.
Leaning on his walking stick for balance, Bleddyn pulled himself to his feet. Those seated in the great hall rose as well. He bowed towards me. Everyone in the hall followed his lead, bending or curtseying my way. My cheeks warmed and a lump settled in my throat.
“Lady Mair,” the bishop proclaimed, “you have been a blessing to this land. Lord and Lady Penllyn have asked me to grant official recognition of our church that you are now their kin. They wish to proclaim you to be sister to them. Do you agree with their request?”
Gwen's eyes danced in their happiest light blue colour.
“I accept their gift humbly, your grace,” I said. “They honour me beyond all measure.” My knees held me upright, but I wasn’t sure if they would for long. Everyone was so serious. All I wanted was to hug my friends. But now I had a family. Oh, crap! I was going to cry. I blinked hard to keep the tears under control. I didn’t need red blood-tears streaking my face.
“No, Mair,” Bleddyn said. He leaned on his stick, still recovering from the attack of the shape-shifting bear. “You have honoured and graced all of Penllyn with your love. We return the favour.”
The people erupted with cheers.
The bishop rapped his staff on the floor until the crowd quieted. He held out his hands. “Allow me to be the first to welcome Lady Mair ferch Penllyn.”
I liked the sound of that. Lady Mair, daughter of Penllyn. Abbot Heilyn grasped my hands between his. The jovial smile returned to his face. “Welcome home, Lady Mair.”
Rhian stepped forward and hugged me. Cadoc and Enid were close by and extended their arms with a large smile. When they had all released me from their embraces, I spied a young lady with a bandaged hand standing, waiting. Seren stood tall though she seemed on the verge of tears. I hugged her.
“Thank you, sister,” she whispered and kissed my cheek before stepping back.
The townsfolk pressed in to take my hand or hug me in congratulations. Llinos, the weaver, smiled with shy eyes. Haf, the kitchen girl who was seeing Sawyl, squeezed me hard and promised to bring me sweetbread. Parry the groom bounced his head, nod after nod and wished me well.
Eventually, the people of the hilltop faded away. Emlyn had been hanging back, watching from a dim corner. He drifted in at the end, offered a brief smile, and led me to my usual chair across from Bleddyn’s. Instead of sitting, I stood on my toes and reached to kiss his lips. In public or not, I was now part of his family, and I would enjoy every reminder I got to give him. He returned my kiss briefly.
Bleddyn still stood, waiting.
“All right, all right, but when do I get some attention?” he asked.
I laughed and hugged him on the side away from his wounds. He gripped me firmly back.
Haf brought a
large plate of sweetbread and set it on a table in front of Bleddyn.
“Now make sure you get some bread, Lady Mair,” she scolded. “His Lordship said you’d want sweetbread when you arrived, but we know he’s the one who likes it best.”
We laughed while Bleddyn shrugged innocently. Then Gwen and I took our seats with the head family of Penllyn, along with Abbot Heilyn and Brother Ruadh. Seren was careful of her bandaged hand, her fingers splinted to keep them from bending. Bruised fingertips peeked out from the ends of the wrappings. But with a smile on her face, she appeared much better than she had the day before.
“Have you any more battles planned?” Emlyn chided me.
“Battle?” I said. “There were only four, and I left one for Pedr. But he was slow.”
“He’s always been a better politician than a fighter,” Emlyn said. "I’m not surprised he didn’t rush into battle. But I’m not Penteulu of Mechain to decide who Einion’s first sword should be.”
“We should discuss the matter of the trial,” Heilyn said.
“Why a trial?” Dewi growled. He sat next his wife, but leaned on the arm furthest from her. “They threatened and tortured the future Lady Mechain. I will not tolerate that.” Funny that he gave her eventual title instead of referring to her as his wife, or even using her name.
Rhian's lips were tight. Even now, Seren and Dewi’s body language spoke volumes. Seren sat angled towards her husband. Her uninjured hand, closest to him, was open, almost reaching. But he sat with hands clasped across his lap, oblivious to the distance between them.
“In Penllyn, every man accused deserves a fair trial,” Bleddyn said. He looked to me. “Will you describe at the trial what you observed and how you corrected the situation?” As he awaited my answer, he glanced with concern at Seren. Evidently, he didn’t want to force her to testify.
“Of course,” I said. “Pedr was close behind. He can also stand witness.”
“Plus Sawyl,” Cadoc added. He too looked at Seren. She sat silent, but gave him a thin smile.
“That should be enough witnesses,” Heilyn said. “Can you think of anything the Guilders might say to prove their innocence?”
“Just that they’re Guilders,” I replied. “The Witch Hunter’s Guild is part of the Roman church. They’ll try to show they’re outside anyone's authority except that of the church.”
“Well, my dear,” Heilyn beamed at me, “that is why my favourite Bishop will be there to remand them to Lord Penllyn’s authority.” He hooked his thumbs in his tunic and drummed his fingers proudly on his spacious chest.
We all laughed. Except Bleddyn. Deep in thought, he sat with his elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers interlaced, chin leaning on his knuckles.
“Unless they pull off a miracle of their own,” Bleddyn said, “Penllyn’s justice must be severe enough to dissuade this Guild from repeating any such actions. What say you about the punishment of those men, Mair? You caught them in the act. What do their actions warrant?”
“They killed no one,” I noted.
“Not that we know of,” Bleddyn replied.
“That’s why I didn’t kill them there,” I said. “Though Osbert tempted me.”
“The one with the thumbscrews?” Heilyn asked. I gave him a nod and he lifted an eyebrow. “No one would have faulted you if you had run him through, my dear.”
I gave the abbot my I’m a nice girl and wouldn’t do that, would I? smile. Rhian and Gwen both chuckled.
“They did purposely cause harm to another,” I continued. “Their punishment should be physical.”
“Agreed,” said the Abbot.
“Is flogging the method used here?” I asked.
“It may be,” Bleddyn says. “Each lord decides. Unless one of the accused requests a trial by combat.” He glanced at Emlyn. “Which does not often happen in these parts.”
“Then lashes for causing harm to another," I said. "Perhaps a fine to compensate Seren for her distress.”
“We get little use for coin in this part of Britannia,” Bleddyn said. “Such a penalty would be servitude. Usually a year or three.”
Deodamnatus! I didn’t want Guilders anywhere near the cantref. Perhaps they’d ask for trials by combat and Emlyn could run them through and we’d be done with the lot.
Seren cleared her throat. “Lady Mair speaks wisdom,” she said, her voice firm.
“We have discussed punishment,” her uncle said, “and have forgotten to ask the one who suffered most.”
“I have been silent on the matter till now,” Seren offered, “because I did not want my experience to cloud my suggestions.” She glanced at her bandaged hand then straightened her shoulders. “As much as I could desire the severest of punishments for them, I ask instead that the Lord Penllyn be just in his ruling. You must let neither kin nor desire for revenge cloud your judgement.”
Rhian leaned towards her daughter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Bleddyn nodded soberly. “You have my word, Seren. No more than they deserve.” He took a slice of sweetbread from the plate on the table, turned it in his hands, then tore it in half. He looked at his daughter pointedly and smiled. “But also no less.”
I looked to Emlyn. “How far is it,” I asked, “from Nant Bywyd to Caer Penllyn?”
“I sent a rider to meet up with Sawyl, to get an estimate,” he said. “Walking is slow, and that Osbert is making things slower. They should arrive tomorrow around midday.”
The rest of the day passed serenely for me, surrounded by the people in whom I found joy. Gwen and I indulged in a cuddle that evening in our cottage. As I lay with her, I realised I looked forward to the next day, and the ones after that, here in Caer Penllyn. Whatever troubles we faced, I wanted to be here with Gwen, as well as Emlyn. Rhian, Bleddyn, Cadoc, and Enid, too. Even Haf, Sawyl, Rhosyn, and Llinos. They were my friends. They were my family.
7
Theatrics
The next morning, I met Enid on the weapons field for our usual sword lesson. So far, her pregnancy wasn’t showing. When it did, I’d have to limit her meditations to more sedate ones. That meant she wouldn’t be advancing to the more complicated routines. Which was for the best. Sawyl didn’t have her natural talent. He struggled to learn each new set, while Enid picked them up quickly. The large guardsman was still fighting his tendency to just bull-rush his way through a task. He always wanted to use his size and strength to push.
Enid was the opposite and saw the benefit of being fast and nimble. And, she had innate talent. Give me a decade or more of daily lessons with her, and she’d be able to compete not only with Afon, but be close to Emlyn’s level. But, with her babies on the way, impending duties of both motherhood, and heir to two Ladies of their Cantrefi, she’d be hard pushed to keep her dedication to the blade work.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched with interest as Cadoc brought a work crew to the main yard of the keep. They dragged in two stout logs and set to work tying a crossbar across the top, then dug a pair of holes. I saw the plan. They’d stand the poles upright in the ground. I understood what they were building, but wasn’t sure why. We had agreed on lashes, perhaps servitude—not hanging.
“Father likes theatrics,” Cadoc explained when I asked him about it after my sword lesson. “And he wants to send a message to their leadership. We’ll send riders out later today. Father wants that Bechard fellow to come here to claim his men. They can all enjoy a good look at the nooses when Father tells them to never set foot in our lands again.”
“I like how he thinks,” I said.
“Unless Osbert presses his claim and demands trial by combat,” Cadoc said and eyed the gallows they were about to erect. “Did you get any sense how skilled he was?” the young lord asked.
“None,” I said. “His hands were on the device, not near his blades.”
“Still,” Cadoc said. “Osbert is untested on our soil. No one here has seen him fight. All we have are rumours of his reputation.”
“I didn’t believe that was possible,” he said, then looked at me. “But then The Holy Lady brought you to Penllyn.”
“We’ll have to wait and see what Osbert does,” I said. I leaned in and wrapped an arm around his waist for a hug. He returned it briefly, then grabbed a rope to help the men pull the logs upright. I headed back to our cottage to avoid breakfast and not have to pretend to eat mortal food.
Gwen was away, so I had the small cottage to myself. This was a good time to care for Soul. I retrieved my stone to work the nicks out of her edges, then oiled the blade well. I slid Soul in and out of its scabbard a few times to help coat the inside with oil. Emlyn had kept the weapon in good order—immaculate even. I intended to give it the same attention.
I wound my way along the path to the keep. Gwen and Rhian sat by Bleddyn. Someone had placed my sewing project on my favourite chair, awaiting my arrival. Bleddyn pointed at a small wooden plate with a single piece of sweetbread on it. A forlorn look settled on his face.
“Haf said I absolutely had to save the last slice for you.”
I lifted the plate. His eyes followed it like a puppy’s. I held it under my nose and breathed in the scent. It smelled wonderful.
“I’m just not hungry this morning,” I said. Bleddyn’s expression brightened, but I gave a cheerful smile to Gwen. “Would you like my bread?”
She grinned, then patted Bleddyn’s arm. “You’d better let him have it, dearest. You know how surly he gets when he doesn’t get his food.”
“Rhian told you two to pick on me this morning,” he said as his eyes shifted towards his wife. I handed him the plate.
“No,” I said. “We just enjoy doing so.”
“What had Cadoc so talkative?” Rhian asked as Bleddyn finished the slice and picked the last few crumbs off the plate.