A Dishonorable Knight (12 page)

"I am amazed how quickly you've
learned our language," Enid said ten days after Elena and Gareth had arrived
at Eyri Keep.

Elena laughed and put down her
embroidery. "I told you, I used to visit south Wales with my parents every
summer when I was a child."

"I know, but 'twas a long time
ago. Surely you could not remember all you learned. Most English--" Enid
laughed--"and Normans and French, and everyone else, think that Welsh is a
horribly complicated language to learn and complain most bitterly about it.
They say they cannot keep straight our pronunciations or words."

"'Tis no different than keeping
household lines straight, I think. For some reason I can keep straight the
lineages of most royal families. I just see this neat order in my mind of who
married whom and the children they had.
'Tis the same for me
for languages.
I just seem to see the language in my mind. It becomes
quite easy after that."

"You can read, then, can
you?"

"I can. As an only child I
quickly found I could bend my father's will to nearly anything I wanted. I
decided I wanted to learn to read when I was six and he was unable to
refuse."

"'Tis amazing. I think Cynan
would give me most anything I asked, but he would draw the line at teaching me
things like reading or politics." Over Elena's shoulder, Enid saw Gareth
enter the room.

"I suppose I am a bit spoiled as
a result of my father's indulgence," Elena explained, unaware anyone but
Enid was listening, "but what else have women to look forward to? I'll not
accept being told what to do and where to go. If that makes me spoiled and
spiteful, so be it," she finished with a shrug.

"Don't let Earl Brackley, hear
you talking so," said Gareth with a laugh as he crossed the room and
leaned against the empty fireplace. "He'll be calling off the wedding if
he finds out you're not as sweet and biddable as you look. He'll--" Gareth
froze at Elena’s expression. It had been days since she’d thought of the crude
earl…her fiancée. Caught off guard as she was, she was unable to school her
features into careful nonchalance and she felt her eyes widen, physically felt
the blood drain from her cheeks. As she stared at Gareth, she saw him chew his
upper lip, watched his
brows
draw together as he
realized that his teasing comment had been a terrible reminder. He glanced to
Enid for help, but she was glaring at him, undoubtedly cursing him for his
stupidity. Despite the jolt his words had caused her, Elena felt a small smile
curve her lips at Enid’s scowl and Gareth’s obvious worry. Clearly hoping to
distract Elena from his faux pas, he said, "I've come to ask if you ladies
would care to go for a ride. 'Tis a beautiful day and the mountains are full of
wild flowers."

"I've got to finish this tunic
before Morgan travels to Aberystwyth next week. But do take Elena. 'Tis not
right that we work our guest so. Look at the beautiful stitching she has done
on the cuffs."

Gareth complimented Elena's handiwork
as he took her limp hand in his and pulled her to her feet. "You could
definitely use some fresh air," he said.

Once they were outside on horses,
Elena turned to Gareth and said, "I must get back to England as soon as possible.
I cannot marry that man! I have to convince King Richard of that fact. But
everyday I am away from court is one more day preparations will be made!"

"Perhaps you should stay away
from Richard's court indefinitely. He's had no word from you since the attack
on the journey to Nottingham. Perhaps he'll think you're dead and the fat earl
will marry someone else."

"And what will I do instead?
Live in an isolated Welsh keep wearing borrowed gowns? I think not."

"There are worse things that
could happen," Gareth said tightly, refusing to meet her gaze.

"No, I must return to Richard's
court."

"If there is a court to return
to," Gareth said in Welsh.

"Why would there not be?"
Elena asked, also in Welsh.

"Since when do you speak our
language?"

"Since I was a child. Enid has
been refreshing my memory."

“Did you not think it something you
should mention before now?”

Gareth gnawed his upper lip and Elena
knew he thought of all the conversations Elena had heard at dinner between he
and his father concerning Henry Tudor.

“I only remembered a few words until
Enid and I began talking. It didn’t seem important,” she lied, though she was
not sure why.

Suddenly loathe
to
turn
his thoughts to worrisome matters of state on such a beautiful day,
she cast about for a topic that might distract him.

"What of your mother?" she
asked.

"My mother?"

"Yes. Where is she?"

"She died giving birth to
me."

Elena frowned. That news was given to
expectant fathers near as much as "'Tis a healthy boy," or
"You've a beautiful girl."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"'Twas quite a while ago. I've
had as few years to get over it,” he joked lamely.

They did not speak for several
minutes as their horses climbed to a peak overlooking the shallow valley in
which Eyri Keep lay. Sheep dotted the green fields around the keep and the air
was filled with the sweet smell of evergreen trees and sun-warmed grass. Though
it was high summer, the tallest peaks to the north were still capped with snow
as white as the clouds which dotted the crisp, brilliant blue sky. The valley
below was lush with hundreds of shades of green from the palest yellow-green of
the birch trees, to the blue-green of spruce and the deepest emerald of the
mosses and ferns. At the mouth of the valley, rippling fields of wheat rippled
in the balmy breeze that came off the foothills.

Elena felt Gareth’s gaze on her. She
turned as he asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Wales is a strange place,"
she answered without thinking.

"What do you mean?" he
asked his voice sharpening in defensiveness.

"It affects me strangely. I've
never really cared about my surroundings but now I can't stand to be inside for
more than a few hours. I have to come outside and just look. It's like..."
Her voice faded and she shrugged. "I can't explain it."

"We call it
Cymrectod
."

Elena searched her mind for that
word. "I don't know what that means."

"It is the intense feeling all
Welsh have for this land. Are you sure you have no Welsh relatives? Perhaps you
are
Cymraes
, after all."

"A Welshwoman? No. I am
English."

"English by birth, perhaps, but
Welsh by spirit."

"How you do talk in
riddles," she said with edginess in her voice. She did in fact have a
grandmother who was Welsh--the reason she and her family had visited south
Wales for five summers as a child. But being Welsh was not something to boast
of in Richard's court and Elena had carefully forgotten her Welsh grandmother.
Nudging her horse, she led the way up the narrow path that zigzagged up the
mountain. Nearly an hour later, they reached a wide plateau at the peak. Gareth
dismounted and helped Elena down. He quickly removed the horses’ saddles and
let them graze freely.

"Shouldn't you tether
them?" Elena asked.

"Isrid will not go anywhere and
the other horse is too timid to go anywhere alone. She will stay with
Isrid."

Elena nodded as she raised her arms
over her head and stretched. The sun was warm on her face, but a cool breeze
kept it from becoming hot. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths of
the invigorating air. This is heavenly, she thought. I wish I could just live
on this mountain and sleep outside under the stars. Elena opened her eyes and
dropped her arms abruptly. Where on earth had that thought come from, she
wondered. What of her comfortable chamber at Eyri Keep? What of the glittering
beauty of Richard's court with men and women alike bedecked in rich velvets and
satins, jewels on every finger, entwined in ladies' hair. Music playing softly,
candles glowing. Turning to watch Gareth as he climbed atop a huge boulder, she
thought, perhaps my Welsh blood is awakening. The idea was vaguely
disconcerting. She did not wish to examine the feeling too deeply.

Seeking to distract herself, she
called him. "Gareth?"

Gareth smiled down at her from his
perch on the boulder where he had been reveling in the peace of the day. She
realized she had never called him by his given name, had, in fact, avoided
calling him anything at all. "Hmm?"

"Why do you support the Earl of
Richmond's claim to England?"

Gareth's smile faded. He jumped down
from the rock and approached her.

"Have you ever heard of Llewelyn
ab Iorweth or Owain Glyn Dwr?"

Elena frowned in concentration.
"They were rebels, were they not?"

Gareth rolled his eyes and sighed.
"That is the English version of history, I am sure. They were Welsh
princes who both sought to free Wales from foreign rule.
Llewelyn
in the early thirteenth century, Owain in the fourteenth.
Since the days
of the Norman Conqueror, William the Bastard, there is scarce a Welshman alive
who does not dream of a free Wales."

"What has this to do with
Richmond? Surely you can't think he would give up Wales simply because you
would help him gain the throne?"

"Of course not. I said we dream
of a free Wales. But besides being dreamers, we Welsh are practical. We've not
the arms or soldiers to fight off England again. But since we cannot be free of
England, the next best thing is to have a Welsh king on the throne. Henry Tudor
is Welsh and we would have him rule us rather than Richard of York."

Elena pictured the line of Edward
III's descendants as she had described to Enid. Richmond was only distantly
related to the Lancasters through a succession of marriages, his mother being
great granddaughter to John of Gaunt, earl of Lancaster. “His claim to the
throne is shaky."

"And Richard's is not?"

Elena ran through the English line
again. "He can claim relation to Lionel, Edward III's second son, as well
as the Yorks."

"Henry Tudor is still
Welsh."

"And that's all that matters to
you?"

"It is the most important
quality of many. He is our
mab darogan--
our
son of prophecy. And he has sent a letter to those who support him here in
Wales assuring us that he will right the wrongs Richard has caused the Welsh.
My father showed me this letter and it has decided me."

Elena opened her mouth to defend
Richard, but quickly shut it again. There were too many arguments against King
Richard, not the least of which was the suspicion of his part in his nephew's
deaths. "Is that why you only refer to him by his Welsh last name instead
of his English title, Earl of Richmond?"

"I suppose so," Gareth
answered slowly. Changing the subject he said, "I wasn't aware that
Richard had begun tutoring the ladies of his court. I have met few English
women who were so interested in politics. How came you to be familiar with the
affairs surrounding the crown of England?"

"I'm actually not the least bit
interested in any of it. I simply have this annoying ability to remember in
detail little bits of history I've picked up since I was a child. I guess my
father thought it amusing that his six year old daughter could rattle off the
dates of every King of England's reign."

"And you're not the least bit
interested, eh?"

Elena smiled in spite of herself.
"Well perhaps, just a little interested. But only because it's such a
forbidden topic for women to discuss."

Gareth laughed. "And is the
forbidden fruit that much sweeter?"

"Not really. As I've discovered,
politics can be dreadfully boring. Now planning a new dress, that is
interesting."

Gareth laughed again. Suddenly he
leaned over and kissed her. For a brief moment she leaned into the kiss and her
lips opened softly. The next instant she pulled back abruptly.

"I told you once not to do that
to me," she said forcefully.

"Ah yes, I forgot,” he said, his
voice brusque with anger. “A mere Welsh knight should not reach so above
himself as to kiss the future wife of so threatening a man as the earl of
Brackley. Heaven knows
who
he'd blame or what his
punishment would be. Thank you for reminding me." Turning abruptly, he
quickly gathered their horses. Elena remained rooted in the same spot, staring
at an eagle as it circled the sky. After a few moments, he fetched their horses
and lifted her to the saddle.

While the ride up had been
accompanied by a comfortable, friendly silence, the trip back down the mountain
might have been that of a condemned man's march to his execution.

Elena sat limply in the saddle, once
again thinking of her fiancée, though in truth, her fear of her betrothed's
fists occupied her thoughts for a short time only. The majority of the return
trip, her mind was plagued with thoughts of Gareth. Though she'd pushed him
away two times, her lips had burned for his kisses. But how could this be?
she
asked herself. He was the exact opposite of everything
she looked for in a man. She doubted he had not a sheep to his name, much less
property or a title. Years before when she had accompanied her mother to Edward
IV's court, she had been amazed at the beauty of a formal court.
The elegant men and women, the beautiful clothes, the courtly
manners.
In particular, she was taken with a beautiful woman with rich
brown hair and sparkling jewels. Elena never learned who she was, but for two
days, she watched as the woman enchanted every man in Edward's court. Elena saw
her receive a ruby ring, a handkerchief of fine Venetian linen, a precious
crystal bottle of cologne, and more attention than anyone else. Still a child,
Elena had decided that she would someday lead that very life. She wanted the
prestige, the glamour. An only child, she had never lacked for attention, but
doting parents could hardly compare to gallant lords.