A Memory of Love (16 page)

“You will stay the night,” Edward de Beaulie said.

“We will,” Prince Edward said. “Can you feed this lot of mine? There are twenty of them, and they carry oatcakes if you cannot.”

“There is more than enough food at Haven for your men, my lord Edward,” Rhonwyn said quickly. “I usually have the cook prepare too much, to be honest with you, but then the poor who come to our door are more easily fed. We had at least a half an hour's warning of your arrival,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

The prince burst out laughing. “You are nothing like your father, lady,” he said jovially.

“You could not have given me a greater compliment, my lord Edward,” she replied. “Ap Gruffydd is not a man whom I would emulate.”

“You speak harshly of him, lady,” the prince remarked.

“I mean him no disrespect, my lord Edward,” rhonwyn said. “He is a difficult man, but he did me a service when he arranged my marriage with my own Edward.”

The prince nodded, and then his wife said to Rhonwyn, “Have you children yet, Lady Rhonwyn? We have had four, although we lost our daughter Joan shortly after her birth. Still, Eleanor, John, and Henry are fair children, and I am grateful to God for them.”

“We were only wed in April,” Rhonwyn answered the prince's wife.

“And you are not yet with child? You must pray to Saint Anne, lady, for she will not fail you.” The princess smiled warmly at Rhonwyn. “I can see you care for your husband. The children will come. They always come from love.”

The castle cook had worked a miracle, and when the dinner hour came, the food began to appear upon the tables above and below the salt with great rapidity. Bread and fruit had already been set upon them earlier along with small wheels of cheese. Now came roasted venison, enough for all. There were platters with capons in lemon sauce, and trout broiled in wine upon beds of cress, lampreys in Galytyne, a large dish of mortrews—a meat dish made with eggs and bread crumbs—and Rhonwyn's favorite, blankmanger. There was lettuce braised in wine and boiled peas; loaves of freshly baked bread and sweet butter. Apple beer was served, but at the high board where the prince and princess sat with Edward de Beaulie and his wife, there was wine.

“You have no priest?” the prince asked.

“He has gone to Shrewsbury to visit friends at the abbey,” his host said smoothly.

“I wished him to be here when I spoke with you on a certain matter,” the prince said. “King Louis of France is preparing another crusade for next year. My wife and I intend to go. I have spent the summer traveling about, visiting various lords to ask who would go with me. Will you, Edward de Beaulie?”

“Is it safe for you to leave England, my lord Edward?” his host asked, concerned.

“With my uncle de Montfort dead and buried, there is none who would oppose my father,
or me.
Once I become king, may it be many years hence, I cannot indulge myself. I am not my great-uncle, Richard Coeur de Lion. To rule England, I must be in England. Now is my chance to help retake the Holy Land and drive the infidel to hell and beyond. Will you come with me, Edward de Beaulie?”

“I will go with you, my lord Edward” came the reply.

“And I, too!” Rhonwyn said enthusiastically.

The lord of Haven laughed softly. “My wife has a war-rior's heart,” he explained.

“But I would go with the prince!” Rhonwyn said earnestly, and before her husband might speak further, the princess spoke.

“I am going with my husband, my lord. If your lady wishes to go, I see no reason why she cannot come,
unless,
my lord, you do not wish her to come.”

“Oh, Edward, please!” Rhonwyn begged him. “I do not wish to be separated from you now.”

The emerald eyes were shining with excitement, and he suddenly realized that he did not wish to be separated from her either. “It will be a hard life, wife,” he said.

“I have lived a hard life, my lord,” she replied.

He sighed. “You must swear to me that you will obey me implicitly if I let you come with me,” he warned her.

“I promise,” she swore.

“I will be happy to have the lady Rhonwyn and her servant as part of my train,” the princess said graciously, “
if,
of course, you let her come with us,” she quickly amended.

“She may come, my lady Eleanor, and I thank you for your most gracious invitation to include my wife among your women.”

“Thank you both!” Rhonwyn said excitedly.

How the hell did ap Gruffydd sire such a daughter? the prince wondered to himself. Fair of face and obviously good of heart. There would appear to be no guile in her. She seems content with de Beaulie, and I am glad, now having met her.

He was pleased his host had agreed to come with him. It proved that Edward de Beaulie was loyal to Edward Plantagenet. While he spoke as if his father would live a great deal longer, the prince knew it wasn't so. His father was over sixty now, and there were things his mother had told him that others did not know. But if the worst happened and his father died while he was on crusade, his mother, Queen Eleanor, was strong enough to hold the country together until his return. And if he died on crusade, he had two young sons in England whom his mother would protect with her own life. The dynasty would continue. He was content knowing that.

The prince and his wife departed the following morning, their business at Haven completed successfully. The two Edwards had discussed when and where they would meet. The lord of Haven had promised to bring with him one hundred soldiers whom he would feed, equip, and house at his own expense. He would also attempt to raise a group of ten mounted knights, but he quite honestly told the prince he could not guarantee it.

“Do your best,” the prince said. “Every man who comes will be guaranteed forgiveness of all his sins by the church when we return to England. I have this on the authority of the archbishop of Canterbury himself, de Beaulie. Those who die on this crusade will be guaranteed entry directly into heaven and will not have to go to purgatory. The pope has promised it.”

The royal couple then rode from Haven Castle, taking the Shrewsbury Road.

When they had gone, Rhonwyn said enthusiastically, “I must begin more serious practice with my weapons if I am to be ready when we go on crusade.”

The prince and his wife were scarcely gone when another visitor arrived at Haven. Rafe de Beaulie had not been happy to learn of his cousin's marriage. Now as he entered the great hall he was greeted by the sight of Edward kissing the hand of a beautiful young girl. Surely this couldn't be the bride.

“Cousin,” he said loudly, grinning as the couple broke apart. “And who is this pretty wench? Are you already bored with your wee Welsh wife, Edward? And where did you find this glorious creature?”

“Greetings, cousin, and as always you jump to wrong conclusions,” Edward said. “This is my wife, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn. Sweeting, my nearest kin, Rafe de Beaulie.”

Rafe was stunned, but quickly recovering, he bowed to Rhonwyn, and taking up her small hand, kissed it. “Lady, my cousin's good fortune overwhelms me. All the Welsh I have ever known are dark.” Jesu! She was absolutely magnificent. Poor sweet Kate was but a faint star to this girl's brilliant sun. For a moment he was angry that his sister should have been so cheated, but then the lady Rhonwyn wasn't responsible. She was only a woman and must do the bidding of her menfolk.

“You are welcome to Haven, my lord Rafe,” Rhonwyn told him, thinking that he was arrogant. How dare he enter her home and assume ap Gruffydd's daughter was some tiny dark creature, and she was a woman of loose morals who was Edward's leman?

He could see the anger in her eyes at his assumptions, and he knew he couldn't blame her if she hated him. “I have come to pay my respects and bring you Katherine's good wishes, cousin,” he said.

“Your sister is well?” Edward asked, and then he suddenly thought that Katherine de Beaulie must surely be hurt by his apparent rejection of her. Kate had always been such a gentle and soft-spoken girl.

“She is well. She would have come but it is cider season, and Kate's cider is known throughout the region. She will allow no one else to oversee its making,” he chuckled. “She is a good chatelaine. I shall be hard-pressed to find a wife who can oversee Ardley as our Kate does.”

Rafe de Beaulie was a tall, slender man with Edward's light brown hair and light blue eyes. He and his sister were Edward's only living relations. They were the children of his father's younger brother. They lived on a small manor near the town of Shrewsbury, two days' ride from Haven.

“You will stay,” Edward said, knowing full well the answer.

“Aye, just for the night. I must leave tomorrow,” Rafe answered.

“Then you came out of curiosity?” Rhonwyn said sharply.

“Aye, lady, I did,” he admitted with a grin, wondering silently how it was his cousin, Edward, was so damned fortunate.

“I shall see a chamber is prepared for you,” Rhonwyn said, and with a smile at her husband and a cursory nod at Rafe, she hurried from the great hall of the castle. Their visitor, she decided, was an irritating fellow, and she was glad he lived two days' ride from Haven. She was not unhappy to see her husband's cousin depart the next morning.

Edward had said nothing to Rafe about the crusade. While he intended to ask him to steward Haven in his absence, he wasn't certain yet whether they would really go. He doubted King Henry would be happy to have his heir gone so far from England, and it was the king who held the purse strings the prince needed loosened to finance this great adventure. Rhonwyn, however, had no doubts that they were going, and no sooner had Rafe gone his way home she began to worry about her brother. “Oh, Edward! What are we to do with Glynn? ap Gruffydd will never allow us to take him with us, and you cannot leave him alone here at Haven. For some reason that I have never fathomed, Glynn adores the prince of the Welsh. He would not mean to betray us, but he could very well be persuaded by that wily man who sired us both. We cannot send him back to Cythraul. It would be too cruel, although Morgan ap Owen would care for him.” Rhonwyn's face was concerned.

We. Us.
His heart soared. She was beginning to think of them as one, even if she still held his passion at bay. “Perhaps we might send Glynn to the abbey school in Shrewsbury,” he suggested. “They could teach him far more than Father John can. I will pay his fees myself, and he will be safe there from your father.”

“But what of his identity?” she fretted.

“Glynn of Thorley,” he reminded her. “He will be thought to be my get. I shall tell the father abbott that he is my relative, that his mother is deceased, and that his pater is not to be discussed. That is enough to give truth to the idea that I sired him. But Glynn must remain silent, Rhonwyn, regarding his true parentage. Can he do it?”

She nodded. “He can. He will be disappointed not to go with us on crusade, but he will be equally excited about going to the abbey school. Now that he has been exposed to learning, it would seem he has a great capacity for it. I think he might be a priest or a scholar.”

That evening she curled herself in his lap again, and he stroked her silken head in a leisurely fashion. This time she had come to him. “We shall have little time once we begin the crusade to cohabit as man and wife,” he told her meaningfully.

“We do not go for many months,” she said softly, thinking that she must ask Enit's mother what could be done to prevent conception. If she was to yield herself to her husband's passions once again, she did not intend to conceive a child and thus be prevented from going with him on crusade. “Oh!”

His hand was gently fondling her breasts. “They are like the perfect round apples in our orchards,” he told her.

Rhonwyn could feel her breath tight in her chest. His hand was very exciting, teasing tenderly at her bosom. She neither forbade him nor stopped him from his love play.

“I know it is too soon,” he said, “but I cannot wait for the night when we lie naked, side by side, and I may cover those precious little orbs with kisses, wife.”

“I am less afraid and repelled than I have been in the past,” she admitted shyly.

“We are getting to know one another,” he said. His hand removed itself from her breasts and tilted her face to his. He touched her lips softly at first, and then as her budding passion began to overcome them both, his lips took possession of hers with a deeper fierceness. She did-n't resist, indeed her lips moved beneath his with a girlish innocence that enchanted him. Before she might grow fearful, before he might allow his desire for her to gain a mastery over them, he broke off the kiss, and looking down at her, said, “You are so lovely, Rhonwyn. I am in love with you, and I would have you be in love with me, wife.”

“Give me time, Edward,” she said to him. “I am only beginning to understand this thing you call passion, and I do thank you for your gentle patience with me.”

“You are a prize very worth having, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn. How much sweeter our coming together again will be for the waiting we must endure.” His gray eyes smiled down at her.

Reaching up, she touched his cheek. “I will try very hard not to keep you waiting too much longer,” she promised him. Her slender fingers caressed his face.

Catching her hand in his, he kissed each of those fingers with fervor. “It shall be in your time, my love, for I want more than anything else for you to be happy.”

“I am happy now, safe in your strong arms,” she replied.

“On the night you tell me our waiting is over, Rhonwyn, I shall make you happier than you have ever known!” he vowed passionately.