He smiled himself as he hurried through the tavern and climbed the stairs to the rooms above. Reaching the door to bedchamber, he knocked and waited. And waited. After a few moments, he decided to go in. Perhaps she was sleeping and had not heard the door.
He walked into the room and his stomach fell with disappointment. Rhosyn was not there. Perhaps she had gone to get food, or even decided to visit her friend again. Then he glanced around and realized her pack and other possessions were gone. She had not only left, it looked as if she had no intention of coming back.
*
Rhosyn felt almost faint with dread. It was unnerving to walk blindfolded. A man held her arm on either side. She could not tell where they were taking her, but she feared the worst. Who else would send men to seize her but Bellame?
But there were things that puzzled her. She’d barely had a glimpse of the men when they burst into her room, grabbed her and put on the blindfold, but everything about them made her think they were Cymry. It seemed odd Bellame would not send his own knights to seize her. Maybe he thought it would be easier for her countrymen to move through the settlement unnoticed.
But why blindfold her? If they were taking her to the castle, there seemed no point to obscuring her vision. The only explanation she could think of was that Bellame had ordered her abducted in this manner to make her feel even more helpless and vulnerable. Thinking of that steadied her. She could not let Bellame see how much she feared him. She would not give him that satisfaction.
But how had Bellame found out she was here? She had kept the hood of her cloak up when they first arrived in Cardiff and when she went out to see Orla. No one should have suspected she was the woman traveling with the troupe of English knights. The only way Bellame could know was if he had spies along the way. Had someone at Llanternam sent word to him? Or maybe Bellame had connections to Cynan ap Ifan’s warband. That seemed unlikely, but not impossible.
Her escort halted. There was the creak of a door opening. They were entering some sort of building. Yet they had not gone far or climbed uphill. She wasn’t being taken to the castle. That didn’t mean much. Bellame might be taking her to a secret place to be put to death. Except Bellame wasn’t known for discretion. He’d executed her mother in very public fashion. Why would he have her killed on the quiet?
Her mind whirled with questions. And she could not stop thinking about Fitzhugh. He would assume she had left the room of her own free will. If she disappeared forever, would he mourn her? Or, would he think she had decided to return to her own people? Would he think everything that passed between them was a lie?
The thought pained her more than the dread of dying. Somehow she had to get word to Fitzhugh and make him understand she loved him. Maybe she could get these men to carry a message to Fitzhugh. If she begged them. Or offered them sexual favors. If she was going to die, it didn’t matter what she did. The important thing was getting a message to Fitzhugh.
The air in the building smelled of many different scents: some musky, some acrid, some almost sweet. She could not truly place any of them, which made her think she was in one of the warehouses along the wharf. The thought eased some of her dread. They were not that far from the tavern. If she could escape, there was a chance she could get back there.
They went a short distance into the structure. Then she was turned around and pushed down on a bench. Her captors had refused to respond her questions so far, but she decided to try again. “Please tell me what is to become of me. Not knowing is torture. I know you are Cymry. Please take pity on your fellow countrywoman. Where am I? Why have you brought me here?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” someone answered in Welsh.
She was right; they were Cymry, which meant she might be able to barter or reason with her captors. She wished she knew how wealthy Fitzhugh was and whether he would be willing to pay a ransom. Did he care for her beyond the sexual pleasure they shared? There were many things he had done for her that seemed to express genuine affection. It was possible his warmth and kindness had all been a pretense to entice her, but she did not think so. Her instincts made her believe he truly cared for her. There was hope he would be willing to pay for her freedom.
She could see below the blindfold and caught the glow of lamplight. If they were going to leave her here alone, it seemed unlikely they would bother lighting a lamp. She might be on the verge of meeting the man behind her capture.
Rough hands pulled off the blindfold. Rhosyn stared in started recognition. “Owen?”
Her cousin gazed at her with intense blue eyes. “I’ve taken over from my father, Rhodri, who is ailing.”
Rhodri ailing? That was distressing. Her uncle had always been so strong and capable. And unlike many of his countrymen, he had never been greedy for power. His son Owen might be very different. “I am sorry to hear that. Branwyn is treating him, is she not?”
“She says there is naught she can do.”
Owen’s fierce demeanor wavered. ’Twas clear he cared about his father. That thought heartened her. This was her cousin whom she’d known since childhood. She could not imagine him working for Bellame. Owen had always been fiercely proud and independent.
“Can you untie my hands? I feel like a trussed pig on the way to market.”
Owen motioned to one of his men and they came and cut the leather strips securing her wrists. Rhosyn shook out her hands. “Why did you see fit to blindfold and tie me up? Could you not simply talk to me in the tavern room?”
“I didn’t want to be seen at the tavern. Besides…” Owen’s eyes glittered mischievously. “I wanted to make sure you had no choice but to listen to me.”
Rhosyn stretched her arms again. “And what is it you wish to say to me? Why have you brought me here, Owen?”
Owen’s expression turned serious. “Tell me about this William Fitzhugh… your lover.”
She met his look with a stubborn, defiant one of her own. “You have no authority over me. Who I choose to dally with is of no concern of yours.”
“’Tis my concern if the man is a powerful Saesnaeg lord.”
“Why? What do you want of me? What do you want of him?”
“We’ve heard tales about this Fitzhugh. That he is a favorite of King John.”
“’Tis his father who has found favor with the king. John awarded Higham to Fitzhugh’s father and Fitzhugh the elder sent his son there to rule it.”
“But the younger Fitzhugh is still in a position to petition the king for certain things… like the right to wed.”
She was becoming even more confused. What was her cousin plotting? “What are you up to, Owen? Tell me!”
“A few years ago, Llywelyn ap Ioworth of Gwynedd married King John’s by-blow, Lady Joan. Through that alliance, Llywelyn has successfully amassed much power.”
“I still don’t understand. What does this have to do with me? With Fitzhugh.”
“If you were to wed Fitzhugh, that would give me a connection to a powerful Marcher lord. I need allies, Rhosyn. Powerful allies.”
“And you think Fitzhugh could fill that need?”
“Aye.”
“But who exactly do you seek allies against?”
“My plan is to take control of all of Morgannwg, including Cardiff.”
“You intend to go up against Bellame?”
“If I had sufficient forces, it could be done.”
“Sufficient forces? You mean Fitzhugh’s knights.”
“Aye.”
“What about Ifan ap Cynan? Or his sons? We encountered the warriors of one of his sons on the way to Cardiff. If Fitzhugh’s men were not so well-trained and well-armed, they would have taken Fitzhugh prisoner.”
“The very reason we need Fitzhugh as an ally. Another of Ifan’s sons, Eurig, has allied himself with me. His brother Cynan is allied with Richard Roscales. Cynan is the one leading raids on Higham.”
“How do you know about those?”
“I have a spy at Higham.” Owen’s mout
h quirked. “As does Cynan. I imagine he’d made some sort of offer to Roscales as soon as he knew he had lost Higham.”
“You believe Roscales intends to try to win back Higham? But even if this Cynan ap Ifan helps him regain possession of the castle, Roscales can’t hold it lawfully.”
“Unless it’s proven Fitzhugh is too weak to hold it. Then Roscales might have another chance.”
“’Tis more likely King John would give Higham to another of his favorites.”
“Or, he might give it to a Saeson who is already in the area—Bellame.”
The thought of Bellame controlling Higham horrified Rhosyn. Not only would she have to leave her position as healer there, she feared for the people of Higham, especially the women, if that monster gained power.
“I see that outcome doesn’t please you. Then perhaps you should consider my plan.”
Rhosyn shot her cousin a resentful look. She’d sought to avoid becoming involved in the conflicts between her countrymen, and she hoped William could do the same. But it seemed neither of them had a choice. “Will you let me go now, so I can discuss these things with Fitzhugh?”
“It seems to me it would be safer for Fitzhugh to come here.”
“But will he come?”
“If we get word to him you are here, then he will come.”
Rhosyn wasn’t so convinced. Despite the passionate lovemaking they’d shared, she wasn’t certain William trusted her. He might believe he was being enticed into a trap. In a sense, he would be right.
Chapter Twenty-One
William hurried down the wharf. This was his last chance, the last place he could think of that Rhosyn might be. He thought uneasily of what he had learned from Baldwin, that when William’s men were on their way to the stables with the trade goods, they’d seen several Welsh warriors entering the tavern. If Rhosyn had left with them, she might no longer be in the settlement. But surely she wouldn’t go without saying goodbye to him, or leaving him some sort of message.
Unless she had been taken against her will. He knew she feared Bellame. Perhaps the English lord had hired some Welshmen to kidnap her. The thought chilled his blood.
He halted and looked around. Rhosyn had said her friend Orla’s father had a wool warehouse at the east end of the wharf. He must be near.
The wool warehouse had an open area in front where traders could barter and arrange payment after they had examined the wool merchant’s goods. He asked that man there, a tall rangy fellow with reddish hair going gray, if he had a daughter named Orla. The man regarded him with narrowed blue eyes. “What do you want with my daughter?”
“She is friends with a woman I know named Rhosyn, a healer. I am looking for Rhosyn. I thought she might have come here to see Orla.”
The man nodded curtly and went into the warehouse. A short while later, he returned with a woman who was clearly his daughter, as she was also tall and slender with curly, vivid red hair, although her eyes were dark brown instead of blue.
The young woman regarded him intently. “You must be Lord Fitzhugh.”
“If Rhosyn has spoken to you about me, then you must be aware that I care for her.” Orla raised her auburn brows and didn’t respond. William plunged on. “Rhosyn has vanished. I fear something has happened to her. Do you know where she might be?”
Orla immediately looked alarmed. “You think Rhosyn has been abducted?”
William nodded. He could ignore his deepest fear no longer.
“Were any knights seen in the area? Other than your own, of course.”
“Knights? Nay. Although some Welsh warriors were said to have come to the tavern. Do you think Rhosyn was taken by men under the orders of Randolph Bellame, who holds Cardiff Castle?”
“Bellame would send his own men. Not Welshmen.”
“But why would any Welshmen want to abduct her?”
“I can think of no reason. More likely they sought her aid in helping someone who is sick or injured.”
“But if Rhosyn left because someone needed her healing skills, I’m certain she would have found a way to get word for me. We are supposed to leave tomorrow to return to Higham. She would know I would worry if I came back and she was gone.”
“And you are very worried. I can see that.”
“I am.” He was more than worried. He was panicked. Orla smiled at him. William glared back. “You look pleased? Why is that?”
“I’m glad you are so concerned for Rhosyn. Truly, I don’t think you should worry so much. I can think of no Cymro who bears a grudge against Rhosyn. If she left with her countrymen, I believe she is safe. She was probably in a hurry and did not have time to leave you a message.”
A reasonable explanation for Rhosyn’s disappearance. And Orla was Rhosyn’s friend, who knew her well. Why could he not accept what she suggested? Why could he not quell the fear building inside him?
“Tell me about this Bellame. Why does Rhosyn fear him? What is between them?”
Orla’s expression turned grim. “You should come inside and sit down.”
She led the way to the back of the warehouse where an area was partitioned off from the rest of the building. This was where Orla and her father clearly dwelled. William seated himself on a bench at a solid oak table. Orla brought a ewer and cups and poured him some wine. It was excellent, much better than any wine he’d had since leaving London.
Orla sat and took a sip from her own cup. “When Bellame seized power, Rhosyn’s mother was the healer here in Cardiff. All was well for a time, then Rhosyn went to the castle by herself when her mother was attending a birth elsewhere. She and her mother had often gone to the castle. But this time Bellame enticed her to his bedchamber and tried to rape her. Rhosyn was able to get free and flee the castle. Bellame was outraged she had attacked him and determined Rhosyn should face punishment. Hywela, Rhosyn’s mother, refused to surrender her daughter and sent Rhosyn to stay with her uncle, Hywela’s brother, Rhodri.
“Bellame vowed he would make Hywela pay for defying him. He started to spread rumors about her. Implied she was using her skills to hurt people. That she was using witchcraft and putting curses on people and that is why they were falling sick. During this time, yellow fever arrived on one of the ships and passed through the settlement. Most people recovered, but several children and two old people succumbed. Bellame claimed Hywela had caused the fever, and accused her of being a witch.”
Orla paused and met William’s gaze. He felt that she was assessing him, trying to decide whether she could trust him. “Go on,” he said gently.
“Hywela was unusual for a woman, as she could read and cipher. She had apparently learned the skill from her mother, who was also a healer. Many of the treatments she used were written down in a book, called a grimoire. Although I don’t think anyone in Cardiff had seen the book, they had heard of it. It seemed to support Bellame’s claim that Hywela was a witch and dabbled in the black arts, because everyone knows no one but priests and holy brothers could read. And so…” Orla’s expression grew bitter and her brown eyes turned hard as flint. “Hywela was burned to death.”
His stomach grew queasy with horror. Burning was a terrible death. “Was Rhosyn… did she…”
“Nay. Rhosyn was at Rhodri’s fortress when Hywela was murdered. She only learned of her death later. She blamed herself, believing if she had not rejected Bellame’s advances, her mother would still be alive. Bellame, being the evil beast he is, was not satisfied with Hywela’s death. He wanted vengeance on Rhosyn. To protect her, Rhodri sent her to Higham, to take Branwyn’s place. Rhosyn was very reluctant to go. She did not want to serve another Englishman. And she did not want to leave her homeland. But she had no choice.”
“I am curious. What did Rhosyn do to Bellame? How did she escape him?”
“She struck him with a candlestick. I doubt it hurt him badly. But the burning candle fell on his bed and caught fire. It was enough of a distraction that Rhosyn was able to flee.”
Brave, bold Rhosyn.
Of course she would do something like that. Knowing of this clash with Bellame, it made her actions in the cottage when they first met seem reasonable. She had assumed he was like Bellame and was going to rape her. And it was no wonder she had initially been reluctant to travel to Cardiff. She must have felt she was risking her life by coming here.
He met Orla’s gaze. “This tale does not reassure me. What if Bellame found out Rhosyn was here and sent Welshmen to seize her because he thought it would be easier for her countrymen to get close to her?”
“Bellame is that not that clever, nor that subtle.”
“You’re certain? Rhosyn’s life might depend on your assessment of him.”
“I have worked nearly my whole life as a trader, assisting my father, and I have good instincts about people. If Bellame found out Rhosyn was here, he would not have quietly had her seized and executed. He would try to destroy her as he did her mother. He would want to gloat publicly that he had captured the other witch, which is how he refers to her.”
“Even if you convince me Bellame is not involved, I still can’t leave Cardiff without knowing Rhosyn is safe.”
“Then wait a while. I’m certain she will return or send word.”
It was hard to be patient, but in this instance, he had no choice. He let out a sigh.
Orla touched his arm. “You love her, don’t you?”
“I do. Although I worry she doesn’t return my feelings. I can’t change that I am English.” He paused and searched Orla’s brown eyes, so striking with her fair, freckled skin and vivid hair. “Has she spoken to you about what she feels for me?”
Orla smiled again. “I have an inkling. But that is for her to tell you.”
William rose to leave. Then he halted. “One more question. This book… the grimoire. What happened to it? Did Bellame burn it with Hywela?”
Orla seemed to stiffen. “Why do you want to know?”
“I am curious.”
“I’m certain the book is hidden somewhere. Hywela would not have let it fall into Bellame’s hands. I’m certain Rhosyn knows where it is.”
Lord of Secrets Page 20