Rhuddlan (57 page)

Dylan was a garrulous man
and due to circumstance, Teleri was a captive audience. Most of the
time she didn’t mind, for she learned quite a bit about Rhirid; for
instance, that he had been furious when informed that his father
was dead and the role of chief had passed to his cousin. “The very
moment we were released from service, we flew back here,” Dylan
told her. “I don’t think I’d ever seen Rhirid so angry, even when
Maelgwn wouldn’t take action against William fitz Henry after he
refused to pay the
galanas
owing on that poor shepherd his men killed.
Challenged his cousin before he’d even gotten off his horse and
dispatched him almost as quickly.”

Teleri was thrilled. “Was there a lot of
blood?”

“Oh, sure!” Dylan nodded vigorously. Then his
tone became sheepish. “To tell you the truth of it, Lady Teleri, I
didn’t actually witness the contest. I would never have heard the
end of it if my wife had discovered I’d come back and not gone
straight to greet her.”

Teleri laughed. She could scarcely imagine
the size and temper of the person who might strike fear into the
heart of such a formidable-looking man as Dylan ab Owain. “I
suppose your release means my uncle has forgiven Lord Rhirid for
firing the abbey,” she said to him.

“I doubt the prince even knows about it yet,”
he answered cheerfully.

“What do you mean?” she asked, startled. “You
said you were released. You didn’t—” but she had to leave the
question unspoken because she didn’t know how to make running away
sound noble.

“We were! Only not by Dafydd but by the earl
of Chester.”

There was a pause. “I’m a little confused,”
Teleri said. “I thought Rhirid had gone to the Perfeddwlad…”

“We had. But then the prince sent us to the
earl, who was having a bit of trouble with Gruffudd ap Madog of
Powys. But we soon sent him back over the border.” Although she was
sitting behind him, Teleri could sense Dylan’s chest expanding with
pride. “The earl was very grateful for our help,” he added, “and
paid us handsomely.”

Teleri thought to herself that it was strange
Hugh hadn’t mentioned knowing Rhirid, even though she must have
referred to him a dozen times. “The earl never spoke of you…”

“No? Well, he told us all
about
you
.” He
twisted his head around and grinned at her.

She felt herself blush. “Did he?” And hadn’t
she been thinking that Hugh seemed to have completely forgotten
her? “I’m flattered he remembered me…”

“You shouldn’t be so modest, Lady Teleri,”
Dylan said, laughing. “Who could meet you even once and not
remember your beauty?”

But flattery was no comfort when Rhirid
finally halted his men and they prepared a rough camp for the
night. Teleri was used to a mattress stuffed with feathers and
sweet grass, placed on a rope-slung bedframe, but she had to
content herself with a fitful sleep on the ground with several
donated cloaks for cushioning and covering. In the morning there
was no woman to help her with her toilet. Her body was stiff from
lying on the hard ground and ached from the brutal exercise of the
day before. She felt unclean and unkempt. The hair she’d left loose
to impress the chief was tangled and windblown, and somewhere she’d
lost her veil. Her clothing was streaked with dust and grass stains
and she was embarrassingly aware that she reeked of horse.

Her mood was no better than her appearance.
When Dylan, greeting her in a loud, friendly voice, came to hoist
her up onto his horse, she instead demanded to see Rhirid, who had
already started off with Guri and a half dozen other men. More
familiar with unpleasant female moods than he wished to be, Dylan
dropped the smile and hesitantly suggested the fastest way to see
the chief was to mount up and follow him at a quick pace but before
the last word passed his lips, Teleri indicated her displeasure
with this proposal by turning her back on him.

A man was dispatched to overtake Rhirid.

Rhirid’s expression, when he returned to the
campsite, was neutral. He jumped off his horse, walked up to Teleri
and fixed unblinking grey eyes on her. “Lady Teleri?”

She was encouraged by his apparent deference.
“Lord Rhirid, I am sorry to make you come back but as the niece of
a prince and the wife of the son of the king of England, I’m sure
I’m entitled to ride with the chief of Llanlleyn and not merely one
of his warriors,” she said imperiously.

“Is that so?” Rhirid said. “Despite the other
considerations?”

She frowned. “What other considerations?”

“For one, the fact that Dylan’s horse is the
largest, making the ride most comfortable for you and him and even
the beast. For another, the fact that Dylan isn’t merely one of my
warriors but my champion and if by misfortune we’re attacked, he’s
more than able to protect you. For another, he’s friendly and likes
the company.” Rhirid moved closer towards Teleri with every
sentence, his voice growing sharper and more ominous, until she was
so crowded that she had to take a step backward. “And finally, the
most important consideration: because that’s the way I ordered
it!”

The on-lookers maintained an awkward silence.
But Teleri wasn’t easily intimidated. “I’m asking you to reconsider
your order,” she said in a less offensive tone, her only concession
to his anger. “Obviously you know better than I do our chances of
being attacked but I’m willing to take the risk. And while I found
Dylan ab Owain a genial companion, I would like to speak to you
regarding your plans for Rhuddlan and Lord William.”

He stared at her in amazement. “I don’t
discuss my plans with my hostages, Lady Teleri!”

“I hardly consider myself your hostage, Lord
Rhirid,” she retorted. “I came quite willingly. I hate the Normans
as much as you do.”

“Really?” His eyebrows shot up. “I heard
there’s only one Norman you truly hate. Your husband.”

Now Teleri was angry. “Who told you
that?”

“The earl of Chester. He
told us a lot about you.” He gave her a sly look. “He said you
didn’t seem to despise
him
very much.”

Chuckles rippled through the line of Rhirid’s
warriors. Teleri flushed but lifted her chin. “Men tend to have an
exaggerated opinion of their appeal to the opposite sex,” she said
coolly. “Now, may I ride with you? If you don’t wish to discuss
your plans, perhaps you’d rather tell me what other gossip you
picked up from the earl.”

This time when his men laughed, it was
directed at him. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of sympathy
for Longsword.

They traveled into the hills. Dylan had told
her that after the destruction of Maelgwn’s fortress, a new
stronghold was erected in higher country, hopefully out of the
reach of the Normans, who hated to pass through the wooded areas
which made them so vulnerable to Welsh attacks. He’d told her that
her kidnapping would put that theory to a stronger test.

Teleri hadn’t dared tell Dylan that he
shouldn’t hold his breath waiting for Longsword to come to her
rescue.

Traversing the rolling terrain was worse than
the never-ending circle they’d made the day before. Rhirid’s
revenge for forcing the change of plan was to not speak a word to
her on any subject, claiming the noise of the clomping horses and
the breezy winds made conversation difficult, but as the day wore
on, Teleri cared less and less. By late afternoon she was so sore
and tired that she was tempted to simply let go of his belt, slide
off the horse and die. It was at that point that he half-turned his
head and despite the phantom noise told her the fortress wasn’t
much farther. But he also warned her not to expect anything as
large and grand as Rhuddlan or her uncle’s court. “My father’s men
did what they could but we’re still building…”

“I understand,” she answered gravely. What
did it matter? As long as there was a bed for her somewhere
inside.

Finally, they burst out of the shadowy canopy
of the trees and into a sunlit meadow. Teleri was glad of the sun;
its heat soothed a bit of the ache in her shoulders and legs and
she felt somewhat revived. She craned her neck to get a look around
Rhirid’s broad back but all she could see were a dozen or so cattle
grazing in the near distance, unaffected by the sudden intrusion of
horsemen into their domain.

Not for long. “Hold tight!” Rhirid instructed
and without further warning kicked his mount into a fast trot and
then a gallop. He stood up in his stirrups and let out a long,
exultant shout which was promptly echoed by every one of his
warriors until the air was filled with the deafening din of
thundering hooves and jubilant voices. All her pain forgotten,
Teleri felt a rush of excitement as the wind blew by her face. The
Llanlleyn men shouted to celebrate their victory over the Normans
and the thrill was infectious. She was proud of her people; at last
they had beaten the foreigners.

The unfinished fortress occupied the highest
point of the undulating meadow and rushing up to it from below as
they were doing, she could see nothing of it but a long, wooden
palisade, the top end of each stake carved to a point, with a gate
in the center, flung open and full of people. She could feel the
powerful muscles of Rhirid’s horse straining as it tackled this
final rise until Rhirid finally reined in, slowing the animal to a
snorting, prancing walk as they reached the gate. The cheering
on-lookers moved aside to allow them to pass through. Teleri’s
heart thudded wildly and happily. The people waved and called out
to Rhirid. As they rode through the gate, her attention was
diverted by something fluttering above their heads, and she glanced
up to the top of one of the spikes. There she saw the greyish head
of a man, his long, black hair flapping in the breeze. She
gasped.

Rhirid heard her and turned his head. “My
cousin,” he said over his shoulder, in a voice hoarse from
shouting. “How will you like to see William fitz Henry next to
him?”

Dylan’s wife stood among a small group of
women and watched the parade of horsemen file one by one into the
fortress. First to enter was Rhirid and, without trying to appear
too obvious, she craned her neck slightly to catch a glimpse of the
woman sitting behind him, arms clasped around his waist. “So that’s
her,” she murmured to her nearest companion. “She looks very young.
Barely older than a child. And thin. She certainly isn’t the beauty
I’ve heard tell of, despite her fine clothes.”

“Her gown’s in a terrible state,” another
woman added. “And look at her hair! Tangled and snarled…”

“It’s lovely hair, though, when it’s combed
out and clean,” Goewyn’s companion said. “With the sunlight on it,
her head seems to glow as though on fire.”

The second woman giggled. “That must be
painful.”

“Look at her stand there,” Goewyn said with a
deprecating sniff. Rhirid had handed Teleri down to an eager pair
of arms which had grabbed her around the waist and swung her off
the horse and onto the ground in one graceful motion. “Her nose in
the air and the unfriendly mouth. She must be thinking we’re all
peasants and herders!”

“No, I’m sure she must be terrified,” her
companion ventured. “She’s used to only her uncle’s court and her
husband’s castle. You ought to have heard the noise she made when
the prince told her she was to marry the Norman and leave the
Perfeddwlad. He had to practically pry her fingers from the
bedposts to get her outside and onto a horse for the journey to
Rhuddlan and she hasn’t left since.”

Goewyn smirked. “My husband said the earl of
Chester told Rhirid that Lady Teleri hates Lord William fitz Henry
so much she would jump at the chance to leave him. She isn’t
terrified, unless it’s to imagine that she’ll have to do without
her usual luxuries for a while.”

The woman next to Goewyn didn’t answer. She
didn’t know why she was defending Teleri anyway. The baby in her
arms started fussing and she shifted him to her other hip,
quietening him with low, soothing noises.

“Goewyn, my love!” A loud, hearty voice
startled the watchful group, intent on Teleri’s smallest
movement.

“Shhh!” Goewyn hissed. She glared at her
husband, whose arrival had caught her off guard. His outstretched
arms dropped slowly to his sides.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, bewildered.

She turned an appraising eye on him. “I hope,
Dylan, that you did not offer your services as a means of transport
to the prince’s niece…” she said.

He laughed nervously. “Oh—of course not,
Goewyn! Didn’t you see her with Rhirid?”

“How did she travel, Dylan?” the second woman
asked. “Did she complain about every bump along the way?”

“No, no; not so bad as that!”

“How would you know she didn’t complain if
you weren’t riding with her?” his wife demanded.

“Because I heard her when we stopped for the
night! And I never said she didn’t complain at all; she made one or
two noises! Aches and pains and the like…”

Goewyn looked unconvinced but luckily for
Dylan, Rhirid chose that moment to approach the group, and Goewyn
switched her attention to him. She saw that although he was mindful
to greet everyone politely, his eyes lingered on her companion. The
change in him whenever he looked at the young, dark-haired woman
was remarkable. For months now, since the feud with Rhuddlan began,
Rhirid’s expression was invariably tense and unsmiling. His
father’s unexpected death and his new responsibilities as chief had
added years to his face. But he seemed to cast off these burdens
and relax into something like his former, calmer self when Olwen
stepped into his line of vision…

It was quite obvious to Goewyn that Rhirid
was infatuated with his hostage. She had mentioned as much to Dylan
but he had dismissed the idea with loud and unrestrained laughter.
It was probably the first time in their marriage that he’d had the
last word because he refused to be convinced.