Rhuddlan (78 page)

Teleri, in the process of placing her meat
knife on the table, stared coolly back at him.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing
here?”

“I came down to speak with you,” she said,
“but when I saw you were eating supper, I decided not to disturb
you until you were through. And then I thought, why make someone
carry a tray all the way up to my chamber tonight when I’m already
here?”

He couldn’t stop looking at her, his shock
quickly replaced by a growing anger. How dare she sit there so
calmly, as if nothing were wrong, and speak to him so flippantly?
It was an insult! He got to his feet so violently that his chair
tumbled backwards. Teleri also stood up, albeit less noisily.

“You want to speak with me?” he demanded.

She nodded.

He reached out suddenly and grabbed her arm,
making her gasp. “Let’s talk now!”

He pulled her away from the table and towards
the council chamber. He could feel her stumbling along behind him,
barely able to match his pace and stride. It was hardly dignified
and there was a hall full of men and servants to witness her
humiliation but he didn’t care. In fact, he was grimly pleased.

The door was open as he’d left it, and he
swung her around and into the room, stepped across the threshold
himself and kicked the door shut. He stood with his hands on his
hips and his back against the door, wanting her to see there was no
escape, that she’d thrown herself into the lion’s den uninvited and
wasn’t about to be let out until he’d finished with her.

She stood in the very middle
of the room. He stared at her without blinking, thinking how much
he loathed her, that she had never even pretended to like him, had
never hidden her disgust for him—and he was certain it was
only
him
, not
Delamere or fitz Maurice or the rest of them, only him—had
conspired against him by getting rid of Gladys and flirting with
Chester, had probably gone with Rhirid ap Maelgwn quite cheerfully,
despite her servants’ protestations; he stared at her, unmoving,
seeing in her the sum of his experiences in Wales, which was
failure: failure to best Rhirid, to keep Gwalaes, to find happiness
in his situation at Rhuddlan because she had gone out of her way to
deny it to him…she’d never done anything for him, as a wife must
do, only against him.

He stared at her. She watched him, quiet and
still. He heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing inside
his ears. She was dressed very simply, in a dark blue gown belted
at the waist. Her head was uncovered and her hair was gathered into
one long braid which reached halfway down her back. Her shoes were
plain leather slippers. She wore no jewelry or other adornment. It
looked to him as if she were in mourning and he was startled to
discover that the effect was vaguely comforting. What nonsense! He
shook himself, crossed his arms over his chest and demanded
abruptly, “Well? You have something to say?”

She did not look as confident in the small
room alone with him as she had in the hall with dozens of potential
interlopers but her voice was firm. “Yes, my lord; it concerns
Gladys—”

He dropped his arms. “I don’t want to hear
this!”

“But I—”

“No!” he interrupted. “Don’t
say it!” Agitated, he pushed himself away from the door and took a
few steps forward but he didn’t know what he wanted to do or where
he was going and he stopped and glanced back at the door.
Now
he
felt like a
person trapped. He glared at her. “I swear to God I don’t know how
you have the nerve to stand before me like this!” he said angrily.
“Are you insane? I know it isn’t stupidity…Did you imagine I would
be rational in my response? Be able to control myself?” He started
walking towards her, slowly and deliberately. “From the moment you
arrived, you set yourself against me, Teleri! The only good days
I’ve had at Rhuddlan are the ones I’ve managed to escape seeing
your disapproving, arrogant face. And now this! Am I supposed to
just take it?”

At first she hadn’t budged, standing rigid
under the weight of his tirade and against his predatory creep in
her direction, but now he was crowding her and she was forced to
back up or be run over. There was an expression of apprehension on
her face which satisfied him and made him feel more in control.

“Did you think you could simply walk up to me
and apologize and I would forgive you?” he demanded, still
advancing. “I will never forgive you, Teleri! I don’t even have to
think about that one!”

She bumped up against the far wall of the
chamber. She looked nervous but met his eyes without blinking. “I
didn’t come here to apologize,” she said.

He caught his breath. Her audacity, her
temerity were outrageous! And she refused to drop her eyes; she
stared at him steadily and he knew he was beaten. There was nothing
he could ever say to which she wouldn’t have some insolent or
stubborn retort. He felt his heart throb hard and fast, and he shut
his eyes. “Teleri,” he said hoarsely, “you’d better get out of here
before I strangle you.”

A moment passed before he realized he hadn’t
heard her move. Had he been so deep in misery he’d missed her
leaving? But when he opened his eyes, she was still there, still
watching him.

“I haven’t come to apologize
because I realize that mere words would be inadequate,” she said in
a voice low and rapid, her body poised for escape. “You probably
wouldn’t believe the sincerity of my apology, anyway. And although
I’m very sorry for what happened—deeply sorry—I’m not asking your
forgiveness because I understand that you can’t forgive me…” She
paused. “But I
am
sorry. I know it meant everything to you…”

She stopped, but he said nothing; he was
stunned. His mind churned. He wanted to believe her. She had spoken
words he’d waited for someone else—anyone in his entourage—to say
to him but in vain. Even Delamere, his closest friend, had avoided
the subject…

He wanted to believe her but three years of
enmity cautioned him against a zealous outrush of emotion. After a
moment, he stepped back. “You’ve changed your tune,” he said slowly
and not without suspicion.

“Please believe me, my lord, not for a moment
did I imagine she would lose the baby—”

“No? Isn’t that what you wanted from the
moment you informed me she was pregnant and I should send her
away?”

She looked bewildered. “I know it might
appear that way to you…I never thought…”

“I don’t believe you,” he answered tersely
and walked away to a sidetable. There was a pitcher on the table
but when he picked it up, he found it was empty. He had finished
the wine before the meal, he remembered and cursed underbreath. He
turned back. “What do you want, Teleri?”

“I want to be your wife.”

He frowned. “You
are
my wife.”

Her voice was steady. “In all things, my
lord.” And then, in the silence which followed because he was
staring at her in speechless disbelief, she rapidly added, “I’m not
the same person who left with Rhirid ap Maelgwn, my lord. I
realized it all at once, when I was trapped at Hawarden. Years ago,
before we set off for the wedding feast at Rhuddlan, my uncle
warned me to try to be agreeable—for my own benefit, he said, but I
was so angry at being forced to marry against my will that I didn’t
listen.” She paused to take a breath. “My life has been like
quicksand these past three years, my lord; I’ve been struggling to
free myself but now I see I’ve only succeeded in sinking deeper. I
would like another chance. I want to start our marriage over—”

But he was shaking his head. “It’s too late
for that, Teleri.”

“It might seem so, but if you give me a
second chance I’ll do everything I can to make you change your
mind.”

“I don’t think that’s possible…”

She approached him then, pale and as
fine-boned as a bird; he wondered that he hadn’t broken her arm
when he’d dragged her through the hall. Her expression was earnest
and her eyes never blinked. He stepped back nervously. “Your answer
implies uncertainty, my lord,” she said softly. “Can we make a
deal? Give me a year to give you what I caused Gladys to lose…”

He didn’t know what to say. He was confused.
Only a moment before she had been an enemy more vehement than even
Rhirid ap Maelgwn and now she was proposing a truce and
continuation of their disastrous marriage. What was he supposed to
say?

He took refuge in bluster. “I suppose,” he
said, with the barest hint of resentment in his voice, “Rhirid
wasn’t quite the man you thought he was.”

He had intended to provoke a
flush of embarrassment but was disappointed. Teleri’s head came up
and the familiar, disdainful expression showed plainly in the curl
of her lips. “Rhirid,” she sniffed, “is a petty chief.
You
are the son of a
king…”

Her second entrance into Llanlleyn was much
happier than her first. Then, she had been forced in against her
will, kidnapped and frightened, with two young children in tow.
Now, it was as if she were coming home. All the faces she saw were
known to her and even the small buildings looked reassuringly
familiar. Most comforting, however, was the friendliness of her
reception. People smiled at her as she and Rhirid rode in through
the gate on his horse; they shouted out greetings to her. It was
enough excitement to fluster her. She felt like a queen.

The crowd increased and grew more loud and
boisterous as Rhirid’s warriors filed in, one after the other. In a
blink of an eye, it seemed the area before the gate was jammed with
every last person who dwelled in the fortress. Dogs trotted around
the people, barking at the disruption in the day’s quiet
routine.

Rhirid leaned his head back and caught her
eye. She smiled at him. “How do you like this?” he asked, grinning.
“It’s all for you, you know. We went after the earl because he
dared to trespass and seize you.”

She knew he was exaggerating but her smile
slipped a bit anyway. “In that case, it’s a relief to me, lord,
that no one was killed and only a handful wounded.”

He laughed heartily. “It’s a relief to me as
well, Olwen! I wouldn’t have made it back here alive, otherwise. My
decision to go to Lord William wasn’t popular—”

“Olwen!”

She looked down. Goewyn was approaching as
quickly as she could manage it, carrying a squirming, squealing
load and maneuvering in and out of the gathering crowd. With an
excited gasp, Olwen slipped down from the chief’s horse and hurried
forward.

She reached out for the baby and took him in
both arms, laughing as she hugged and kissed him all over his face,
reveling in his familiar scent. She realized she’d missed him even
more than she had imagined and to see him again was beyond
wonderful. He cried and wriggled in protest against her heartfelt
embrace, but at length permitted himself to be calmed, and watched
her with solemn eyes.

“Oh, Goewyn, thank you, thank you for caring
for him!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy to be back!”

Goewyn looked pleased. “Are you? That’s good
to hear, Olwen.”

“Where’s William? Is he among the crowd or
hiding in the women’s house because all the noise frightened
him?”

“William?” Goewyn frowned. “I thought he’d be
with you.”

“With me? Why would I have him?”

“Well…he was at Rhuddlan, wasn’t he?”

“Rhuddlan?” She shifted Henry to her hip.
Goewyn’s expression was troubled and it made her apprehensive. “We
didn’t go to Rhuddlan. Why would you say he’s there?”

Goewyn looked intently at her. “Rhirid didn’t
tell you?”

“Tell me what? What’s going on, Goewyn?”

“Perhaps Rhirid—”

“Goewyn!”

“All right! He ought to have told you himself
before now.” She put her hand on Olwen’s arm. “He took William with
him to Rhuddlan when he sought Lord William’s aid. To show the
Normans there was no trickery in his visit. A gesture of good
faith…”

“No…” She suddenly couldn’t get enough air
into her lungs. Her chest heaved rapidly but she still felt as if
she were suffocating. Little Henry, sensing his mother’s
discomfort, began fussing in her arms. Absently, she clutched him
more tightly, which only succeeded in agitating him further.

“Olwen, let me take the baby.”

Goewyn’s voice sounded far away. She was
dizzy. There was a haze of noise surrounding her and she couldn’t
concentrate. She looked at the other woman uncomprehendingly but
Goewyn’s attention was no longer on her; she was staring at a point
over Olwen’s shoulder. Olwen turned around. Rhirid was approaching,
grinning broadly, his eyes on hers—

“No…” she said again and turned back. She
began to walk. She heard the chief call her name but ignored him
and continued walking, increasing her pace. Henry wailed loudly in
protest. She was dimly aware of rapid, even trotting, footfalls
behind her and then felt a firm grip on her arm, which had the
effect of stopping her.

Rhirid released her and stepped in front of
her. “Why are you running away from me?”

She was too upset to be polite. “Don’t you
know?”

His face was a mixture of genuine confusion
and concern. “Olwen, please…Is something wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me at Hawarden what
you’d done with my son, lord?” she demanded, furious that he
obviously thought so little of his action that he didn’t even
remember it—or imagine how important it might be to her.

“I—” He broke off and his expression cleared.
“Your other son. William.”

She felt on the verge of tears. “Goewyn told
me you took him to Rhuddlan.”

“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair and
glanced to his right and left. He reached out a tentative arm.
“Olwen, come inside. Please.”