by C. C. Wiley
Terrwyn reached behind her back to hold Adain steady. Her breath caught as she searched for answers. Surely if her vision were a gift, now would be a time she should actually have the ability to avoid this. Nay, the curse brought her nothing. Nothing but ugly black swans. Black swans. A sign of bad tidings.
Adain shivered against her back and Terrwyn’s own body began to tremble. It mattered little that she’d set loose all her arrows in quick succession. Now, in this close range, nothing short of hand-to-hand combat would gain them survival. Even with the villagers coming to their rescue, given their match of size, she and her sister had little chance of escape.
“Adain,” Terrwyn hissed, “when I tell you, I want you to run as if your life depends upon it.”
Adain wrapped her arms around Terrwyn’s waist. “I won’t leave you to them English dogs! Better to be dead than be their bone to chew on.”
“No arguments.” She pried Adain’s fingers away. “Go!”
She hoped the men would turn from them and confront the villagers. It appeared she was wrong. They did not intend to leave their prey or lose a battle. The soldier some had called Thomas moved quickly for his size. He hooked an arm around Terrwyn’s neck and pulled her to his side.
Wide-eyed, Terrwyn turned to look behind her. Adain was gone. Although brief, the small victory warmed her soul.
“Not to worry, boys!” Thomas crowed. “Let the little bird go. This one will serve us fine when we are through with this piss-puddle village.”
He drew back as if to strike. His fist froze. His arm dropped to his side and he released her as if discovering she carried disease.
A rock struck her head. The sudden jolt whipped her neck back. The ground shifted under her feet. She heard her name and could not help wondering why she did not hit the ground.
Terrwyn awoke to find she sat high upon a destrier’s back, cradled in James’s arms. She swallowed deeply. Mindful to keep the light from searing her eyes, she squinted to see his face. Concern marred his blue eyes. His lips pressed together, forming a stern line.
“Adain,” she whispered through the pain in her head.
“She is fine,” James answered gruffly. “Though very afraid.”
Terrwyn struggled to sit up. The horizon began to tilt.
“Easy, Zeus is not used to having another on his back.”
“Zeus?”
“Aye, you’ll never know a better horseflesh than this destrier. ’Tis an honor he allows you to sit upon his back. Normally he tosses women into the nearest thorny bush he finds.”
Terrwyn blinked and settled into James’s arms. “You sound mystified by that fact.”
“That I am.” He chuckled softly. “Good to see you’ve the sense to keep yourself still.” He let his gaze slide over her face. “No need to worry. Young Adain is safe. At this very moment, the captain of our troop is working on your sister’s aim. When he is assured she will not harm anyone or anything unless she intends to, then he will bring her home.”
“Her aim?”
“Aye. Not counting the lump on your noggin, the little bird hit three of our horses. Which,” he said, “then had to be tracked and caught. And as you know she nearly instigated a riot.”
Incredulous, Terrwyn pulled away again. “’Tis certain Adain has apologized.”
James pressed her shoulder back as easily as if she were a wee babe. “She refuses to apologize to me or to my men. In this she gives no quarter.”
Air puffed through her clenched teeth before she spoke. “Where is my father? ’Tis his right to give punishment. Not yours.”
“This is not punishment.” He shook his head in dismay. “She vows that if she must do it again, she wishes to ensure she hits the men and not the animals.”
Terrwyn heard the humor in his voice. She smiled weakly. “That does sound like my little wren.”
“Your little wren has the manners of a hawk. If not for her terrible aim, I would almost think she is the archer we have been waiting for.”
Terrwyn stiffened, then prayed he did not notice. Of course, she reasoned, it would make perfect sense for her to be incensed that he would even consider taking a young girl into battle. “You may let me down. I am well enough to find my way home.”
James shifted his knee and the horse turned toward Terrwyn’s family cottage. They rode slowly to her home. She knew full well she would be the talk of the village. Her reputation, what was left of it, would be shredded. Thankfully, her father was still lord and looked to when there was a crisis.
Terrwyn moved to sit up again. “My father…”
“Has been led safely back to your home. By now, he will have slept off most of the spirits.” James stopped Zeus in front of her home. “Tell Dafydd ap Hew I carry a message for him.”
Terrwyn ignored his hand and slid down from the horse’s back. Regret flooded through her body as soon as her feet absorbed the jolt. She craned her neck to look him in the eyes, her head aching abominably. “What might your message be, Sir James?”
Leaning his forearm on the high rim of the saddle, he said, “My men and I leave on the morrow. Will you miss me just a bit?”
“’Tis certain my father will miss your stories.”
“And you?”
“I cannot tell you a lie, Sir James. I will be glad to see you and your men on your way. However, that would mean the young men of our village would have to leave their families. Are you aware Erin ap Owen’s wife is soon to have their child? Who will ensure the fields are planted so they have food for the winter?”
“They are given wages as good if not better than any English soldier.”
“And how does he pay his widow and children when he does not return?”
James flicked the reins. “Their future is not my concern. Tell your father we will return in a fortnight. Have the men prepared to go with England’s army. Make certain the archer who attacked my men today is with them.”
The earth under her feet began to tilt. She forced the words through the haze inside her head. “And if he is not?”
James’s face took on a grim countenance. “I’ve heard talk that orders will be given to burn the fields, leaving this village as nothing more than a memory.”
Chapter Six
That evening Dafydd sat outside their cottage, shut off from his family. Twice now, Catrin had come out to draw him in. And twice he had turned her efforts away.
Terrwyn moved close, Sir James’s message echoing in her head. Soon she would have to pass it on to her father. Even now, the villagers whispered of the day’s events. It would not bode well for anyone if he heard the tale from lips other than her own. But not tonight. Tonight he needed rest.
She placed her hand upon his shoulder. “’Tis getting cold, Father. Come inside and warm yourself by the hearth.”
His haunted eyes met hers. His mouth wobbled as he tipped the mug of strong ale to his lips, emptying the contents in one gulp.
“I won’t let you sit here catching your chill,” she scolded.
Dafydd wiped his mouth with his knuckles. “I cannot bring these feet of mine to cross this here doorframe.” He slapped his knees with a heavy hand. “Appears they’ve a mind of their own.”
“Adain and Glynis worry for you. They need you to tuck them in as you always have.”
Dafydd shook his head. “Ah, can you not see, Terrwyn? If I go in there, I’ll not see me Gwennie.” His chin jerked as he struggled to form his words. “When that happens, what am I to do then, Terrwyn? What am I to do then?”
Impatience began to shift to panic. How dare he expect me to have an answer for him? He was the one they trusted to lead them in the right direction.
“You’ll remember the goodness Mam brought to your heart. Then you’ll pick yourself up by your bootstraps and make yourself go forward.” She smiled to soften her words and held out her hand. “Your son waits for your attention. Would you not care to spell Catrin and hold Padrig for a while?”
“That one took my Gwe
nnie,” Dafydd growled.
Terrwyn’s anger lit. “For shame! You mock Mam when you deny Padrig your love.”
“My only son is Drem. And he is dead.”
“You do not know that for certain!”
Dafydd struggled to straighten his legs and stand up. “You will not speak to me with that tone.”
She shook her head and opened the door to their cottage. “Open your eyes, Father. Turn them away from yourself and see what you still have.”
Terrwyn lifted her heel, then pointed the tip of her toe. Her rocking chair rhythmically tilted back and pushed forward. She held Padrig close and watched the flutter of shadows on his smooth skin. He wriggled and nuzzled while he slept.
Weary from the weight of caring for the younger children, Catrin had eagerly stepped out with Bran, the midwife’s son, when he came calling. Father had mumbled something about needing to find a spot at the alehouse. Even the twins had scampered off as soon as their daily chores were finished.
Terrwyn’s loneliness deepened. She pushed at it, trying to fill the empty space with good thoughts. Her efforts were in vain. Sir James’s absence set her adrift in uncharted waters. She knew not how to reclaim her direction.
The English soldiers had left the village a few days ago, as promised. Their shouts and songs could no longer be heard from the glen. She missed the thrill of catching a glimpse of Sir James as he wielded his sword and shield. More than once, she had sneaked a peek at the play of his brawny back while he practiced with his men.
With their absence, the village shrank in size and lost its beauty. Life returned to mundane routine. Up at daybreak. Tend to the livestock and fields. Feed their families. Prepare for the start of a new day.
Tension swooped through her veins. She itched to race off to hide in the thicket of brambles like a frightened hare. Time sifted past and would not be slowed. With each day that she did not speak of James’s warning, her silence dug the hole a little deeper.
Catrin burst through the doorway, snatching Terrwyn from her worries. Padrig awoke with a start and began to whimper before she teased the rag teat into his mouth.
“Here now, Catrin, take young Padrig,” Terrwyn urged. “He must know your smell. He has fussed since the moment you left. Took one of your shawls for him to nuzzle before he quieted.”
Anger flushed Catrin’s cheeks, mottling her skin with a reddish hue. “How could you? Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I know ’tis one of your favorites, but I didn’t think you would mind.”
“Did you stop to think what your actions would do?”
Terrwyn’s eyes dropped to the soft woven material wadded next to Padrig’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Catrin. I never knew you cared that much for it.”
“Not the shawl, goose! I’m not talking about the shawl.”
The pit of Terrwyn’s stomach began to deepen. “Father?”
Catrin’s eyes glittered back at her. “Bran, you idiot! I speak of Bran. Any day now, the English will return for the archer. The archer.” She took a shuddering breath. “When they don’t find him, they’ll take my Bran instead.”
Terrwyn pursed her lips and studied Catrin’s face. “Oh, well then. Not to worry. He isn’t much of a shot. They’ll only want those with steady hands and keen eyes.”
“And when they don’t find who they’re searching for,” Catrin pressed, “they’ll burn us out.”
The pit in her belly widened even more. She did not know how her sister knew, but know she did. “Don’t worry yourself, Catrin. I won’t let them harm the village.”
Catrin nearly choked on the air she sucked in through her gaping mouth. “And how do you intend to stop them?”
Terrwyn calmly tapped her heel on the floor. She rocked her foot forward until only her toe touched the hard-packed earth. Slowly, she rolled it back, only to start over again. The soothing motion swirled and floated as the answer settled around her bones. She tried to hide the grin that began to form, and failed. “We shall give Sir James his archer.”
Catrin collapsed with an ungraceful thump to the floor. “You cannot do this. I will not let you go on with this crazed plan.”
A flash of impatience sparked in Terrwyn’s eyes. “I will. And you won’t stop me. You gave your word to Mam to protect the children and I vowed to find Drem.”
Catrin touched Terrwyn’s cheek. “You’ve had another dream?”
Terrwyn glanced away from the hope glimmering from her face. “Mam stored Drem’s clothing for when her next son was born.”
“But won’t they notice you aren’t a lad?”
“Once the soldiers have the archer in tow, their impatience to return to England will outweigh the need to look closely.” Terrwyn gripped her sister’s fingers. “I have to do this. ’Tis the only way to take care of our promises.”
Catrin wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Do you think your plan will work? Truly?”
Excitement building in her bones, Terrwyn widened her grin. “Of course. Who else do you know in the village whose aim is better than mine? Now go,” she said with a flutter of her hands. “Rest while Padrig is content. I’ve much to think about. But, Catrin—”
Her sister paused at the door.
“Be sure you don’t speak of this with anyone. ’Tis our secret to keep.”
Though worry gleamed in Catrin’s eyes, a weak smile began to form. “Of course not. ’Tis certain anyone would think I’m a madwoman for dreaming up such a scheme.”
Padrig awoke with a startled cry when the door swung open and wind rushed through the cottage. Bran filled the doorway. Catrin stood behind him, peeking over his bicep.
“Dafydd isn’t here. You can find him at the Sheep’s Glen. I imagine he’s lifting another horn of ale.” Terrwyn gripped the edge of the door. “Come, Catrin, shove past him. The big oaf seems to have a hearing problem today. Ouch!”
Bran gripped her arm and hurled her toward the rocking chair. “Have you a bug in your head? You cannot go off by yourself.”
Terrwyn glared past Bran’s meaty body at Catrin. It took one look and she knew. “You told him. Who else did you tell?”
“Leave her be,” Bran said. “She’s the only one between you with any sense.”
“You broke your promise, Catrin. You lied to me.” Terrwyn’s nails dug into the rocker’s wooden arms. She could not help the pain of betrayal throbbing in her chest, but she would not let the burning tears fall. Her sister was weeping enough for the both of them.
Catrin leaned over Padrig’s cradle, soothing him back to sleep. “Terrwyn, I didn’t mean you harm,” she said through her tears.
“You will not come against your sister.” Bran stabbed a thick finger in Terrwyn’s face. “She desires only to protect you from your mad notions. You’ll stay put until we say you may move.”
Seething with indignation, Terrwyn turned and pretended not to notice the looks passing between her sister and Bran.
Catrin’s lips trembled. She swayed toward him as if pushed by an unseen hand. He let out a deep breath, wrapped his arms around Catrin and drew her in. He smoothed her head as she wept incoherently into his chest. When the sobs turned into hiccups, he lifted her chin and wiped a tear from her cheek.
Terrwyn shifted in the chair and examined Bran. What new value did Catrin see in him that she did not? He was not as tall as some men. Nor was he fair of face. Why, his straight hair was brown as a bog. Saints above! His eyes were the color of a dense moonless night, dull and dark, without the sparkle of stars. Even his own mother thought him too dull-witted to learn the skill of healing.
Certain that Isolde’s opinion of her son’s intelligence was more accurate than her love-struck sister’s, Terrwyn moved to make her escape.
She yelped when Bran grabbed and shook her arm. Thoughts of a corgi with a rat skittered into her head. The image dissipated as he marched her into the bedchamber.
“You’ll stay here until your father beats some sense into yo
u.” At that, he closed the door and braced the latch.
Furious, Terrwyn jiggled the door handle and found it locked. “I hope a dog is gnawing on your bones before nightfall,” she yelled.
Her ear pressed to the seams, she listened to Catrin and Bran form their own plans.
“Don’t weep so, Catrin. You will take ill.” There was a muffled sound, a murmuring, lingering silence. “There now, let me see your lovely smile,” Bran urged.
“Adain and Glynis—”
“I will ask one of the women to care for them a short while. Then I will search for your father.”
“I don’t understand, Bran. He wasn’t at the Sheep’s Glen. If not there, I don’t know where he could be.”
“I’ll find him. Never you fear.”
Terrwyn slumped against the door. There was no getting out of feeling her father’s wrath this time. Despite her efforts she would still have to deliver James’s message.
Terrwyn paced the bedchamber with determined steps. She had been foolish to think Bran and Catrin were too busy with each other to notice when she tried to slip away.
Her sister’s attraction to Bran made little sense. She supposed he would do if one had no other options. But if there ever came a day when she felt inclined to find love in a man’s arms, he would be tall and strong, gentle and caring, a fine sense of humor and a will to match. He would be a strong Welshman, for there were no other kind worthy of her notice. James’s name whispered in her head before she pushed the ridiculous thought away.
She rubbed the bruise beginning to form on her arm. And he would know how to handle a lady without leaving a mark upon her person. Aye, she supposed she did have to give Bran credit for coming on a run for Catrin. Although a hound would have served her just as well. Perhaps it would have arrived with fewer fleas.
Guilt nipped at her heels. She supposed the day would soon come when she was expected to accept him into the family.