Memories of the Heart (10 page)

In answer Mary promptly gave the peddler a simple greeting to eventually be delivered as he made his endless rounds.

“Bid Lady Blanche all good fortune and give her my gratitude for the kind thoughts sent to me through you.” Mary's gentle smile appeared. “Assure her that I am happy with both my marriage and my new position here in Westbourne although I cannot but fear for my husband while he daily rides patrol with Earl Taliesan on the Bendale border.”

Knowing Lady Blanche had once had her sights set on Lord Tal for spouse, Mary's smile deepened to a shy grin along with the addition of one small tidbit that she believed her former lady would find interesting.

“Tell the lady of Bendale that gossip hereabouts would have it that Lord Taliesan will soon be allied to Farleith through bonds of marriage.”

*   *   *

Threatening clouds had gathered to block the bright sunlight of late afternoon as Vevina descended the castle's exterior stairway to hasten across the courtyard on an errand for her lady.

With grey eyes darkened by the weight of an aching heart, Lloyd watched from the shadows of the stable where he'd slept nightly since his arrival. When Vevina passed, unaware of his presence, he stepped forward to catch her hand.

Vevina knew without looking behind just who had taken her fingers in this gentle yet firm grasp. She turned at a slow, deliberate pace and spoke before Lloyd could.

“Why did my mother urge you to bring Ceridwen to Westbourne?”

“Because Ceri insisted on coming.” Lloyd gazed steadily into Vevina's wary eyes, earnestly wishing he could roll back the years to claim this tender woman hurt pride had stolen from him. “Indeed Ceri threatened to make the journey alone.”

Vevina was horrified by the thought of Ceri taking such risks. “There are far too many perils for a woman to travel the route unaccompanied.”

Everyone was aware that since the struggle for the English throne had erupted into open conflict, no road was safe. Even during King Henry's more peaceful reign desperate people had lurked in woodland shadows to take by force what elsewise could never be theirs. Now with anarchy spreading its murky fingers across the land such dastardly deeds went unpunished and their numbers had increased manyfold making it foolhardy to journey anywhere without an armed guard.

“Mab perceives the risks full well.” Lloyd was quick to defend his part in the mission. “That's why she pressured me to escort Ceri safely here.”

“But
why
did Ceri insist on coming here?” Vevina persisted, anxious to understand the determined deed. “Why
now?
”

Gray daylight caught at the silver strands in dark curls as Lloyd shook his head. “I truly don't have that answer though at Mab's bidding she spent a deal of time caring for the wounded Normans.”

Vevina recognized in his belittling use of the term
Normans
a refusal to acknowledge Tal as lord and was uneasy with the heat of his disavowal.

“Ceri could've been
our
daughter,” Lloyd said, gazing directly into his beloved's doubtful face. “If you had returned with me when I came to fetch you home, she would've been.”

Vevina cringed under this verbal assault but promptly responded with a counterattack even more fervent. “Aye, Ceridwen would have been ours … had you waited for
me
and not rushed into my sister's arms to give her the baby that should have been
ours!
”

Anguished remorse turned Lloyd's eyes so dark they were nearly black. “'Tis a wrong I've regretted every day, every hour for almost two decades.” He gently tugged her fully around to stand facing him. “It wouldn't have happened if your
precious
Lady Angwen hadn't entreated you to remain at Westbourne and help raise her fatherless son rather than return to Llechu and bear children of your own.”

“You blame Lady Angwen and Lord Tal for the troubles between us?” Vevina was honestly surprised—not surprised that Lloyd blamed their Norman masters but by the depth of his resentment. It raised an ugly suspicion in her mind, one she struggled to suppress. Surely Lloyd couldn't, wouldn't have assaulted his own feudal lord in the forests of Llechu?

Vevina turned and walked away to enter the metalsmith's shop leaving Lloyd to watch while despair descended over him in deepening waves of gloom. Feeling utterly defeated he remained standing amid the courtyard as rain began to fall like the tears he refused to let flow.

It was time to leave Westbourne. Now when to stay would only deepen his sorrow, increase his pain. Aye, on the morrow he would depart for home—with a brief detour to meet with Simeon one last time, this time on the eastern border of Lord Tal's fiefdom.

Lloyd drew in a deep breath, squared beefy shoulders, and moved to reenter the castle. There was one more duty that must be performed to honorably clear his way for the morn's outset on a long journey. He must bid Ceridwen farewell. To do else would be an unjustified slight against her.

From inside the great hall's entrance he caught sight of Ceri entering the corner stairwell. Lloyd deemed himself fortunate for so quickly locating his goal—mayhap it was fate's boon to in some small way mitigate the loss of his beloved.

“Ceri—” Lloyd called out as within a few long strides he reached the arched opening into a busy stairway.

The voice summoning her attention was a muffled burr but one Ceri instantly recognized. Without hesitation she turned and greeted Lloyd with a smile even while stepping deep into the shadows on one side of the landing, thus clearing the way for others bearing overladen platters and heavy pitchers. After delivering an assortment of meats into the great hall for the day's last meal, Ceri had been on her way back to the kitchens to fetch another load.

“Is there something you would have of me, Lloyd?”

Lloyd gave a gentle grin to the young beauty far more important to him than she knew. “Only a moment of your time to bid farewell.”

“Farewell?” As Ceri tilted her head in question light from the shallow bowl of flame behind lent it a bright halo.

“I mean to depart with the dawn.” Lloyd slowly nodded his sincere regret for their parting.

Honestly fond of her ever-hearty and always loyal friend, Ceri was saddened by the thought of his leave-taking and rued this imminent loss of her only firm contact with home.

“Although I'll be sorry to lose your company, I do understand the desire to return to your own abode.”

Ceri stepped forward to give the burly man an affectionate hug and press a kiss to the curls on his bearded cheek.

Neither of them noticed that among the many expected figures moving up and down the stairway between kitchen and great hall was one who should've been comfortably seated on the dais.

Lord Tal heard nothing said between Lloyd and Ceri but viewed their embrace while he weaved upward through lines of servants both ascending and descending steep stairs. His moment of uneasy surprise was calmed by the fact that, after all, the Welshman was from her home village and had cared enough to protect the angel on her journey to Westbourne.

*   *   *

The evening meal was long done when Ceri hastened across the near deserted kitchen and into the corner stairwell. The seneschal had summoned her to the great hall.

Ceri had been only moments from retiring for the night but promptly answered the call wondering what duties remained to be done. Perhaps she was to strew fresh herbs into rushes disturbed in the disassembling of the trestle tables whose pieces were kept ever ready for use leaning against outer walls. And yet at this late hour with so many already seeking benches or open areas of floor space to spend the night, that task would surely be too difficult to even attempt.

Though she'd grown accustomed to navigating steep steps, Ceri was still uncomfortable with the chill, stone stairwell's gloom. To make matters worse, the gale force winds of a storm howling outside invaded through arrowslits on floors above ground level and swirled downward. Under those violent gusts the never strong flames kept lit along descending walls dangerously flickered. More than one was blown completely out, leaving Ceri to negotiate deserted steps in total darkness.

Leaning into the solid wall and away from the core open to a hazardous plunge, with the toe of her shoe Ceri tentatively probed for the next step and then the next and the next. Relief washed over her at the first glimmer of a light above, and she climbed with more assurance. She'd nearly reached the faint gleam's source when a powerful arm grabbed from behind to roughly jerk her back against a solid body.

The immediate fear of falling to her death set Ceri's pulse madly throbbing in her throat. She glanced up into the face of the one who held her safe.

Safe? Hah!

“Let me go!” Ceri stiffly demanded. She had plainly been tricked. The message delivered by a guardsmen on his way to the garrison's vast chamber for a night's peace had come not from the seneschal as claimed but from the guard captain.

“Release what I've plotted to secure? Never.…” Ulrich's offensive sneer was an insult but even more repulsive was the obscene heat of his too intimate gaze and the repugnant invasion of far too familiar hands moving over her captive body.

Ceri took in a deep breath, intending to scream as loud and long as it took to bring others to investigate its source.

“Tch, tch!” One large hand crushed over delicate lips, stifling her efforts into muffled snarls no more effective than the protests of an irritated kitten. “If you make a sound, I'll simply drop you down this spiraling stairwell's central shaft.” Ulrich sounded spitefully pleased by the prospect. “You'll die, of course, and we will all mourn your unhappy accident—an unfortunate misstep in the darkness.”

“Should anything happen to Ceridwen, now or at any future time—” A deep velvet voice softly thundered from the darkness behind Ulrich. “I will know from whom to demand retribution.”

Tal's abrupt intervention startled Ulrich so badly that his hold loosened. Ceri pulled free, backed two steps up the stairway, and desperately pressed against the security of unmoving stone. At the same time, in some corridor of her mind, she realized that Tal had used her name … her full name.

“Milord—” A blustering Ulrich foolishly tried to recast his actions in a more favorable light. “I merely caught this graceless female, saving her from a nasty fall.”

“Ulrich, I will expect you in my solar an hour before the morrow's prime. There we'll discuss the proper …
payment
for your
generous rescue.
” By the contempt in Tal's words it was clear he'd heard far too much to be so easily misled. Moreover, Tal deemed it a personal insult that this man thought he was so undiscerning as to find the dainty damsel in any way lacking for grace.

Fuming, Ulrich stalked past his lord to reach the guardrooms below. The Welsh bitch had first shamed him before the guardsmen under his command and now, much worse, she had turned his lord's deep disapproval upon him.

She would pay! Nay, they both would!

While Ulrich retreated, Tal moved upward until his face was on a level with that of the beauty two steps higher.

“Did he harm you?” With the question Tal's fingertips gently brushed a soft cheek.

Only as Ceri shook her head did she become aware that in her struggle with the knight, an abundance of black ringlets had come loose from coiled braids to riot untamed about her face. In addition, her garb was stained and creased from the day's labors. All were foolish yet disconcerting details that she greatly regretted for making her appear so far less than her best before this incredible man.

“Come with me to the solar.” Tal recognized how deeply shaken Ceri was and couldn't bear to simply send the damsel back to her duties. Never mind the fact that, although he truly cared about the welfare of his people, at no earlier time had concern for a servant led him to issue such a personal invitation.

“You need time to recover and a goblet of mulled wine will help in restoring your composure.” With these words Tal firmly took Ceri's fingers into his own reassuring grip.

While Lord Taliesan claimed her hand to lead the way upward, Ceri marveled that an event so wretchedly foul as the knight's assault could bring an opportunity to be with the man she loved—and to move forward on a quest for lasting happiness.

Climbing narrow steps with Tal, Ceri was disconcerted when plaits loosened in her struggle with Sir Ulrich fell free, sending a disheveled mass of black hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.

The pair were so deeply aware of each other that neither spared a thought to notice the soft scuffling of slippers hastily climbing at a pace considerably faster than their own.

Having lost sight of her son after the evening meal's end, Angwen feared him caught in a snare cast by Vevina's niece. She had come searching for him with every intention of protecting him from the young witch. Instead she'd glimpsed Sir Ulrich's initial wrong and observed Tal's rescue of the damsel.

Angwen had also heard the regrettable offer of shared wine that would open the way for Tal to spend private and likely harmful time with the dangerous Welshwoman. Angwen was
not
pleased.

Hurrying to the castle's highest level, Angwen quickly entered her own bedchamber and noiselessly closed its door before Tal and his unfortunately invited guest could reach the same corridor.

By the scene just passed it was crystal clear to Angwen that the time had come for her to act. She must arrange for the one barrier most apt to dispel the young Welsh witch's enchantments.

In her bedchamber Angwen laid plans to protect her son while in the solar Tal settled Ceri into one of the tall chairs flanking the small table atop which rested a silver platter holding numerous candles. Their flames were reflected and intensified by the platter's polished surface to glow through the ruby wine already waiting for Lord Taliesan.