Dark and Bright (2 page)

The Earl turned to the page. “Send a guard to the cells to have them brought here.”

***

Rhys paced, waiting impatiently for his brothers to arrive. The redheaded twins were firebrands who could easily upset the plans he’d carefully laid out. The Earl still hadn’t offered him a seat, which he was glad of. Pacing eased his nervousness.

When the pair entered they looked nervous, suspicious of what was afoot. The tension left their shoulders when they caught sight of Rhys, but they didn’t smile in greeting. They eyed the Earl, still overflowing his grand chair. Rhys embraced them. They were dirty, dishevelled and wild eyed, but all their limbs were intact.

“Rhys!” Rhun ventured, embracing his brother. “What are you doing here? What’s happening?”

Rhys kept his voice calm. “You’re free. Both of you.”

“Free?” Rhydderch said loudly, extricating himself from his brother’s embrace. “On what conditions? What have you given up for us?”

Myself!

“You’re the dowry of my newly betrothed bride.”

Rhun put his hands on his hips and snarled. “Bride?”

Rhydderch mimicked his brother’s stance. “Dowry?”

Rhys opened his arms in an expansive gesture. “Be happy for me. I’m to wed the Earl’s niece. And you’re to swear that you’ll never again attack the lands of the Earl of Chester.”

His brothers spluttered, shaking their heads. Rhys raised his hand in a barely perceptible gesture learned from his father, Rhodri. “I’ve given my word you’ll agree to this. It’s not negotiable. You will swear.”

Turning to the Earl he said, “My lord, your sword.”

The Earl beckoned to the page to fetch his sword. He shuffled to the edge of his chair and held the weapon before him, point down, his hand on the hilt. The twins would never agree to kneel before the Norman. Rhys took Rhun’s right hand and placed it over the Earl’s, then did the same with Rhydderch, and the two men made their oath through gritted teeth. He suspected they were wishing all the while they could wipe the smug look off the Earl’s fat face, take the sword and cut off his arrogant head.

True to Norman form, the Earl offered the hospitality of his castle to the twins, but they refused. Rhys was disappointed, but not surprised. “Will you not stay for my betrothal on the morrow?”

“We won’t watch you betrothed to a Norman,” Rhydderch whispered between clenched teeth. “It’s bad enough Carys is married to a Norman.”

Rhys stood between his brothers and stretched his arms across their shoulders. They walked to the door together. Speaking in Welsh, he said, “It’s the only way to peace for Wales. One day I pray you’ll see that. It’s unfortunate you didn’t take the Earl up on his offer. You both need a bath.”

Rhun snorted. “You’d need one too if you’d spent days in the cells of Hugh the Fat.”

It was as well the Earl didn’t speak Welsh. When he was certain the Norman could no longer see them, Rhys kneed his brothers in the backside. “Go now,” he commanded.

The twins looked at each other, then at Rhys. Would they retaliate? Their faces told him they were considering it. Then they shrugged, gave him a mock punch in the arm and strode off, their arms around each other’s shoulder.

Rhys smiled at Rhun’s parting remark. “Imagine, poor Rhys, married.”

Rhydderch’s howl of laughter echoed through the halls as they made their escape.

Annalise was nervous. Her uncle was apprehensive about whatever it was he had to tell her. He fidgeted with his sleeves and coughed several times. She suspected it concerned a betrothal, fully aware her uncle would be busy arranging one. She was of marriageable age and couldn’t expect to live forever as a burden to her relatives.

However, she was taken aback when he summoned her to his sitting room and explained her betrothal to the Prince of Powwydd. A knot tightened in her belly. “A Welshman,
oncle
?” she sighed in disbelief, her hopes and dreams of marrying a handsome Norman noble slipping away.

She’d grown up with her father and older brother, Charles, neither of whom had any time for her. Her father blamed her for her mother’s death and drank enough ale every day to render himself into oblivion. His resentment rubbed off on his son who, as soon as he was old enough, was sent to be fostered with another noble family to learn the art of war. Annalise longed for love. Now she was to be given to a man whose tortuous language she couldn’t speak, a barbarian. She’d heard it said that people who spoke the Celtic languages were agents of the devil.

Her father’s excesses and inefficient management had impoverished their small estate in Normandie. Her brother was only too happy to hand over responsibility for her to their uncle. He would be hard pressed to restore the estate to anything close to what it once was. Annalise didn’t envy her brother that task and hoped he would prove equal to it. She hadn’t wanted to stay to help him. He’d grown into an embittered man not known for his patience.

She wanted to argue with her uncle, to complain and rant, but there would be no point. Her fate was sealed. She had no choice but to agree. “What of my dowry,
milord
oncle
?” she murmured, aware that anything he provided for her would be more than she could hope.

The Earl hesitated. He beckoned to his page who helped him rise and walk over to the hearth. It was the first time she’d seen him on his feet since her arrival. He stared into the cold ashes of yestereve’s fire, leaning heavily on the page. She was worried. Her uncle was a decisive man, not known for reticence. He didn’t turn to look at her when he spoke. “Your dowry doesn’t entail any lands or titles, Annalise, but is something your future betrothed wanted very much.”

She was puzzled. “I don’t understand. What of value am I bringing to the marriage?”

The Earl coughed, deep in his throat. “He asked only for the freedom of his two brothers.”

She frowned, suddenly feeling very cold. Had she heard correctly? “Freedom?”

Her uncle averted his eyes. “They were awaiting execution in my cells.”

Annalise was stunned. She swallowed a gasp and coughed. Her eyes watered. A dagger had been plunged into her heart. “I was traded for barbarian brigands?” she murmured. “He’s a brother to outlaws?”

Her uncle beckoned. She went to him and he put his heavy arm around her shoulders. It should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. He stank of sweat and decay. “Annalise, your marriage to the Prince of Powwydd will bring me strategic advantages. His sister is the wife of the Earl of Ellesmere. I’ve secured a pledge of freedom from attack for my territory. Since Alain’s death, my heir is yet a boy and I’m not long for this world. Rhys ap Rhodri is a noble, upright man. I’ve learned in my years in the Marches that the Welsh are not barbaric. Your future husband does you honour in his choice. To be blunt there are not many among the nobility who would wish to wed the daughter of an impoverished and disgraced Norman baron.”

Annalise fought the urge to cry, though tears welled and her throat was dry. The Earl had unburdened himself of responsibility for her and feathered his own nest at the same time. She clutched the folds of her dress. “As you say,
milord
, I have no choice. I’ll obey your command and sign the betrothal documents on the morrow. May I take my leave now?”

The Earl took her hand. “My dear niece, Rhys ap Rhodri is a good man. He’ll treat you well. You need not fear him. I wouldn’t betroth you to him if he wasn’t worthy.”

“I know,” she said resignedly. “It’s evident love is not his motive, since he’s never met me. I suppose every maid dreams of a loving husband.”

He patted her hand. “You’ll be safe with him, child.”

She clenched her fists, the nails digging into her palms. She didn’t want to be
safe
. She wanted to be treasured, and loved passionately, to be the most important thing in her husband’s life.

Rhys was surprised the next morning when his brother-by-marriage, Baudoin de Montbryce, the Earl of Ellesmere, rode into Chester Castle. He’d come on the matter of Rhun and Rhydderch’s incarceration. Rhys greeted him warmly, impressed that Baudoin would try to use his influence to gain freedom for his wife’s brothers. He and his mount looked tired. He must have ridden hard from Normandie where he’d been fighting in King Henry’s victorious war against Duke Curthose of Normandie. Rhys invited him to share food in the Great Hall. They helped themselves to the freshly baked bread and wedges of crumbly cheese, a tankard of ale and slices of cold mutton.

“You and your brothers must be relieved Curthose was captured at Tinchebray,” Rhys offered. “Tell me about the battle.”

Baudoin nodded, chewing his food. He took a gulp of ale to wash it down. He recounted the story. “
Oui
, Robert can have closure now and hopefully get on with his life. He was one of the cohort that actually captured the Duke. I’m sure he wanted to run Curthose through with his sword, but he turned him over to King Henry. Robert’s recovery has been slow since his release from Curthose’s gaol in Caen. The conditions he was kept in were intolerable. It’s a relief for all of us. I had to tell Robert’s wife that it was my sword that slew her treacherous brother. To be honest, I’m so fatigued, I would have preferred to stay at home in Ellesmere and rest with Carys. However, it’s for her sake I’ve come, not for your hot tempered brothers.”

Rhys put his hand on Baudoin’s. “I hesitate to tell you this, but I’ve already secured their release. You can return home and take the good news to my sister.”

Baudoin looked at him in disbelief. “How did you manage that?”

Rhys explained.

Baudoin laughed. “I freely admit that’s a relief to me. I wasn’t sure how I was going to persuade the Earl to free them. Carys will be overjoyed you’re to be married.”

They sat in companionable silence, finishing their repast. Rhys stretched out his legs and rested his feet on the trestle support. “Actually, I’m happy to see you here. I would ask that you do me the honour of being my witness at the betrothal ceremony. I have no other family present, and you’re dear to my sister. You won’t have had a wasted journey after all.”

Baudoin smiled and nodded his assent. “I’ll do so gladly. You certainly are a manipulator. I can see the advantages to you and the Earl. I hope you can grow to love this woman you’ve chosen. Believe me, it’s a blessing beyond measure to have a wife one is in love with, and who returns that love. I speak not only for myself, but Robert will heal from his ordeal because of Dorianne’s love.”

Rhys smiled and slapped Baudoin on the back. “It gladdens my heart to be assured of your love for Carys. She’s worthy of nothing less. Unlike you, though, I’m not marrying for love. I’ve yet to meet my future bride. Let’s hope she’s at least somewhat attractive. We’ll soon know. Here comes the Earl.”

The Earl lumbered in, supported by two pages. He gave Baudoin, a fellow Norman, a hearty if breathless greeting. Baudoin wrinkled his nose, but was unfailingly polite to his host. One of the pages carried the document for Rhys to peruse before the ceremony. Rhys read it, then handed the parchment to Baudoin, who looked it over before returning it to the Earl.

“I believe all is in order, my lord,” Rhys said after seeing Baudoin’s nod of approval. “The lady is in agreement?”

The Earl grimaced. “I won’t mince words with you. She’s a girl who’s had a difficult life. Being married to a Welshman wasn’t what she envisaged for her future. But she’s compliant.”

Rhys didn’t like the look of pity on Baudoin’s face. His gut tightened when the Earl announced his niece was to meet them for the ceremony in the Map Room forthwith. He hoped he looked presentable.

***

Annalise made her dignified entrance on the arm of her uncle into the Map Room where he and Baudoin waited. The Wolf walked with the aid of a carved wooden staff, but he leaned heavily on his niece and their progress was slow. This gave Rhys a chance to watch her. Two things surprised him. Firstly, he was struck by the beauty of his future betrothed. She was soberly dressed, but he sensed generous breasts hidden beneath. Incredibly, her surcoat dress was almost the same shade of red as his own tunic, the slits revealing a dark blue underdress. Her golden hair peeked out from under her linen wimple and he caught a flash of blue eyes before she cast her glance to the floor.

The second unexpected occurrence was the strength of his arousal. Thanks be to the saints the cut of his tunic was sufficiently long to cover his obvious interest. Baudoin must have noticed his discomfort. His brother-by-marriage looked from Annalise to Rhys, arched his brows and smiled.

Rhys shifted his weight several times and tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. It was natural to be nervous. How did his father manage never to show his nervousness? Why could he not keep still?