Winds of Time (9 page)

“
Or worse.” My expression
darkened.

“
A lot worse!” Anna said.
“Imagine if the English had captured us!”

More settled, at least for the moment, we
walked back to the horses. David mounted his horse and pulled me up
behind him. “So, how did you get from Hadrian’s Wall to Wales?”
David turned the horse’s head and headed south, towards Rhuddlan.
“Planes, trains, automobiles?”

“
Try feet and horses,” I
said. “And then, of course, the ship.”

“
I’m sorry, Mom.” David
said. “How bad was the seasickness?”

“
That’s how I made friends
with Aaron,” I said. “He gave me a concoction to settle my stomach,
which helped, and then he kept me distracted from my stomach by
stories of his family. In the end, though, it didn’t make any
difference since the storm broke up the boat and dumped us into the
sea.”

Within half an hour, we approached the
castle. Every yard made me feel more sick to my stomach than I’d
been on the boat. As we rode under the gatehouse, I glanced up to
see a familiar figure standing at the top of one of the towers.
Llywelyn looked down at me—and it felt like the whole world paused
and took a breath.

“
It’s Llywelyn.” I gripped
the back of David’s cloak. “I look terrible! My hair, my clothes
are full of salt. I don’t even have shoes. He can’t see me like
this.”

David ignored me, not dignifying my concerns
with a response. Llywelyn left the battlements and reappeared at
ground level. He crossed the bailey with his characteristic long
stride, his head steady and his eyes fixed on me, and then halted
at my knee. He reached for me. My heart breaking and healing in the
same instant, I slid into his arms.

“
I never meant to leave you,
Llywelyn. I didn’t want to keep your son from you.”

Llywelyn slipped one arm around my waist and
brought me close to him while threading his other hand through my
hair. “I never for a moment thought you did,” he said. And kissed
me.

* * * * *

Later that evening, after all the hubbub had
died down and Llywelyn and I were alone, I sat on a stool by his
chair in front of the fire, resting my head against his knee. We’d
sat this way so many times when I was pregnant with David, it felt
like I’d fallen through time—not just to Wales—but to when I was a
girl.

But I wasn’t that girl—or
even
a
girl—and the
world was a different place now. Not just my world either, but his
too. Neither of us were the same people who’d parted sixteen years
ago, and that would take some getting used to.

Llywelyn rested his hand on my hair. He’d
kissed me long and hard, not just the once but many times. He was
determined, however, to abide by the Church’s restrictions for as
long as it took to organize our wedding. In our hearts, we’d been
married all along—and even been married legally if Llywelyn had
been a commoner. All it took to be married in Wales in the Middle
Ages was for both parties to claim it and consummate it. But to say
so would have nullified his marriage to Elinor (who had died in
1282 giving birth to his daughter). Neither of us wanted to do
that.

“
Something is troubling
you,” he said. I looked up at him, noting his serious tone. He
smiled down at me. “More than you might be troubled by this change
in your fortunes for a second time.”

“
I don’t quite know where to
begin,” I said. “We have so much to catch up on, and you have so
many pressing cares.”

“
None that are more
important than you right now,” he said. “I missed you every day we
were apart. Is that what is bothering you? Have you left someone
behind?”

By someone, he meant
someone
male
. “No,
Llywelyn. I didn’t marry again. I couldn’t.”

“
I imagine you had suitors
…” his voice trailed off and I smiled. He didn’t want to ask but I
saw no reason not to tell him the truth.

“
You would be disappointed
in the men of the twenty-first century if they hadn’t chased after
me, wouldn’t you?”

I had him there. “I would.”

“
None could compare to you,”
I said, “and so none lasted. I had my work and my
children.”

“
And that was
enough?”

“
It was never enough.” I
sighed. “But that’s not what you asked about.” I pushed to my feet
and pulled a stool closer to him so my face was more level with
his. “And that’s not what I need to tell you about.”

“
Did something …
happen
to you on your
journey here?”

Fear resounded in his voice, but I put a
hand on his knee, anxious to reassure him that he was far off the
mark. “No, Llywelyn. But I did have an encounter with a man, one
who used to serve your brother, Dafydd.”

This was not what he’d been expecting. “What
was his name?”

“
Marc,” I said. “He and the
prioress at the convent shared a father, Evan, who served you once
upon a time, during a fight with Roger Mortimer in
Powys.”

Llywelyn shook his head. “I have no memory
of the man.”

“
Well, the son was in your
brother’s
teulu
,
and you probably remember him. He was at Dafydd’s right hand all
through the year I was with you, and in all the years since. Dafydd
dismissed him only this spring.”

Llywelyn gazed into the fire, his eyes
narrowing as he thought. “I do know of this man—of course I do. And
it was in the spring that I noticed that Marc was no longer in
attendance on Dafydd. Why does this concern you?”

“
Because Marc spoke of a
plot against you—or perhaps against our son.” I then related the
whole story of my meeting with Marc, what he’d said to me about his
dismissal being
my
fault, and the exchange on the road with Henry. “Marc used the
words
, the Prince
,
when he was speaking about the failed plot. At the time, I didn’t
know David was here so I assumed he meant you. Marc fled in its
aftermath and your brother was concerned enough that he might talk
about it—betray him—that he sent men to track him down. I was with
Marc when Henry found him.”

Llywelyn rubbed his chin with his right
hand. “Did you say Henry?”

I nodded.

“
That man is a
snake.”

“
So it seemed to me,” I
said. “He certainly was out for Marc’s blood, and all the worse
because they’re brothers too.”

“
Do you know any more
details of what they planned than this?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, my lord. I
don’t.”

Llywelyn took in a deep breath and let it
out. “I know of no plot against me or against our son. I don’t
trust my brother, of course, but he has been loyal—almost to a
fault—of late.”

“
That’s what I understood,”
I said. “But I had to tell you.”

“
What I don’t understand is
why Marc blamed you for his downfall.”

“
He never made that clear.
Thinking back, I’d guess your brother’s plot was against David, and
I would have to agree that David’s existence is my fault. Your
brother must feel enormous resentment against our son for taking
his place as your heir. By extension, he must resent
me.”

Llywelyn laughed. “Did I ever tell you what
Dafydd said about you, right before we swept through
Caerphilly?”

I shook my head.

“
He said that you had quite
a mouth on you.”

I smiled, as I knew he wanted.

Llywelyn laughed again. “He’s never had any
real idea of what love is, or why you are so important to me.” He
turned serious again, gazing into my eyes. And then he leaned
forward and cupped my face in his hands. “I missed you. Your
honesty, your uprightness, your beauty. I see you in our precious
children. Thank you for them. Thank you for returning to me.”

I felt myself falling into him, falling in
love with him all over again, as if the years we’d lost had never
happened. His arms came around me.

“
I spent sixteen years
trying to find my way back to you,” I said.

“
I know. I looked for you
every day, everywhere I went. We need to make sure that none of you
lose your way in time again.”

“
I don’t know how to do
that, Llywelyn. I don’t know
why
I ever came here in the first place.”

“
I do.” Llywelyn eased back
so he could look into my face. “You came to save me. And you
have.”

________________________

Thank you for reading The
Winds of Time. All of the books in the
After Cilmeri
series are available at
any bookstore. For more information about dark age and medieval
Wales, please see my web page:
www.sarahwoodbury.com