The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (41 page)

“Rhys?”
His mother asked, her voice trembling. “Rhys, is that you?”

“Mother!”
Rhys stepped into the murky darkness, hands outstretched. His mother made a
sound suspiciously akin to a sob, clutched his hands, then fell into his
embrace. She was smaller than him, still soft and perfumed as always she had
been.

But
she was shaking, shaking to her very marrow, and she wept as he had never heard
or seen her weep before. Rhys held her tightly and said nothing, for there was
little reassurance he could grant.

Rhys
knew this cell well enough to know that there was no escape from it, that the
sole way out was through the portal, that the lock was doughty. He knew that
they would remain here until it pleased their captor to release them, and he
understood enough of people to guess that any release would not be a merry
event for himself and his mother.

The
door would be unlocked because they were dead, or because they were to face
their execution. His sole consolation was that Madeline had been spared this
fate.

Perhaps
she would be happy with James.

Perhaps
he should not torment himself with such thoughts in what were likely to be his
final hours.

His
mother, however, had other ideas. She straightened finally, sniffled, then
poked him in the chest with an imperious finger. “You were married! And I had
to learn the truth of it from my sister!” Adele made a sound of disgust in her
throat. “How could you have done this to me? You know how she loves to know all
about everyone, how she savors holding some morsel of news that others have not
yet heard. How could you have failed to send me a missive yourself?”

“The
matter was complicated,” Rhys said. “And it may not be of import, after all.”

“What
do you mean?”

“Madeline
seeks an annulment.” He felt his mother’s shock, could imagine her expression
as she pulled back slightly.

“This
cannot be true! My son has not consummated his match?” Adele shook her head
with such vigor that Rhys felt her gesture. “You are hale enough, Rhys, and you
like women well enough. Surely there can be no reason for her to find fault.”

“I
suspect she is the daughter of Dafydd’s daughter, Madeline Arundel. That was
why I wed her.”

“You
wed her to secure Caerwyn,” his mother guessed. “That was why I had no warning
of it! You did not even tell me the nature of your quest when you left. Hmmm,
Miriam does not know that detail.”

“But
if it is true, my Madeline and I are too closely related to be wed by the
consanguinity laws of Rome.” Before his mother could scoff that such laws had
no sway in Wales, Rhys laid a finger upon her shoulder. “We were wed in Miriam’s
abbey, by a priest answerable to Canterbury and thence to Rome. She will gain
this annulment with ease. I erred in forgetting the difference in
ecclesiastical law, and now I will lose my wife.”

“You
must indeed have been blinded by love to have made such an error in your
determination to be wed with haste. It is unlike you, Rhys, to omit any detail
from a scheme.”

Rhys
felt his neck heat, for he had been a fool and could have done without his
mother’s agreement on that point.

Adele
made a sound of disgust. “What use of you is a wife who does not see your
merit?” She patted his shoulder. “Is the girl blind? Is she witless? You are a
valiant warrior, you are easy to look upon, and you possess a holding that will
see her fed...”

“Mother,
we are in the dungeon of that holding,” Rhys felt obliged to note. “It seems
unlikely that I will ever be its lord in truth.”

“It
is unfair!”

Rhys
could feel his mother fuming at the injustice served to her only son. Indeed,
her protectiveness made him smile, for it was not all bad to have some soul
think well of him.

“It
is all the fault of that witch Nelwyna,” she said with vigor.

“Father’s
wife?” Rhys frowned. “She is responsible for this? I always thought her most
amiable.”

“Hardly
that! Every soul in this keep thought her so sweet and kind, but I oft saw her
looking at me with malice in her gaze. I never liked her, but I was polite for
your father’s sake. He seemed to think her deserving of compassion, and here we
stand, reaping the fruits of that compassion! He should have spurned her when
she granted only daughters, he should have cast her out when my first two sons
died...”

“What
first two sons?”

“You
had two older brothers, but they died young. One came dead from my womb,
strangled by the cord. At the time, the midwife said something foul about
Nelwyna being of no aid, but Henry bade her bite her tongue. And then the
second boy died, while Nelwyna held him, just moments after he had come
screaming from my womb. Even Henry could make no argument then, and he ensured
she was not in the chamber when you were born.”

“I
had no knowledge of this,” Rhys said in astonishment.

“No
one was certain, no one but the midwife. Henry was cautious, and protective of
you. I only believed the truth years later.” That finger rapped him on the
chest again. “Do you recall when you were injured as a boy, when you fell from
the saddle?”

“Of
course. It was of no import.”

“Ha!
That was what she wished all to think! There was a thorn beneath the saddle of
the horse chosen for you to ride.” His mother tapped his chest again. “Do you
recall being ill after we celebrated the victory of Owain and Dafydd, when
first we gathered at Caerwyn and made it our home?”

“I
was young to drink so much ale,” Rhys noted. “Of course, I was ill.”

“You
were ill because you were given tainted ale! We discovered the truth only when
you slept overlong and a woman in the kitchen confessed her part to Henry. She
had thought she partook in a jest, and feared she would be party to a murder.
She named Nelwyna, but Nelwyna denied all.”

Adele
fairly growled in her vexation. “And Dafydd said he could not act upon the
testimony of a serving wench who had probably sampled too much of the ale
herself. Nelwyna was known to be unkind to the women in the kitchens, and
Dafydd thought this indictment an attempt at feminine vengeance.” She shook his
tabard. “But again, you almost died! Praise be to God that you have the vigor
of my family!”

“Again,
I knew nothing of this.”

“Henry
did not wish to poison your thoughts. It was the sole matter upon which we
argued, for I felt you should be warned.” She tapped him on the chest once
again. “Then there was the accident during your training, when that marshal
used a real sword against you while yours was only wooden.”

“I
thought it a test.”

“He
had been bought,” Adele spat. “Though I dare not say with what. Dafydd forbade
him to return to Caerwyn and had a discussion with Nelwyna. He also sent you
away to fight with Owain Glyn Dwr, for finally the threat she posed was
understood.”

Rhys
was astonished, for he had never guessed the peril that had faced him in his
youth. “And Nelwyna is also responsible for our imprisonment?”

“I
thought her improved since Henry’s death, for always I believed that jealousy
of my time with him was at root. But then Miriam sent her letter, and when I
awakened from my afternoon sleep, it was not where I had left it. I guessed
that she had read it, for she shares Miriam’s love of gossip.”

Adele
sighed. “I did not guess that there was greater import than that, not until
Robert Herbert and his knights arrived at our gates.” Adele swallowed. “And she
welcomed him, with open arms and open thighs.” She spat into the corner of the
cell. “And she calls me the whore!”

Rhys
mused over this revelation. “It makes some sense. Herbert has always desired
Caerwyn. She must have told him that if he acted in haste, it could be his
own.”

“And
she has always wished to be Lady of Caerwyn, so she told me when I was
imprisoned here. They have made a bargain, those two villains, and to see their
ambition achieved, you must die.” Adele clutched Rhys’ tabard again, and her
fear echoed in her voice. “But we will not die, will we, Rhys?”

Rhys
held his mother more tightly, for he dared not lie to her. He could not see how
they could avoid dying, not without aid, and he could not guess who might aid
them now.

His
mother understood the import of his silence, and he whispered nonsense to her
as she began to weep anew. Never had he felt so powerless before. Never had he
faced such despair.

The
sole consolation was that Madeline had not been captured, as well. By spurning
him, she had saved her own hide from Nelwyna’s ambition, and for the first
time, Rhys was glad that Madeline had chosen to pursue that annulment.

It
seemed he would not have long to mourn her absence, after all.

* * *

“What care have we of these people’s woes?” James said with sudden impatience,
then claimed Madeline’s hand. “Caerwyn and Rhys FitzHenry are not our concern,
not any longer.”

“Rhys
is Madeline’s husband!” Vivienne reminded the other man with impatience.

“I
am her betrothed.” Curiously, James' claim awakened no response in Madeline.

Cradoc
snorted, there obviously being no doubt in his thinking which role had superior
claim.

“You
never contacted Madeline to tell her that you were yet alive,” Elizabeth said,
then put her nose in the air. “I cannot even see your ribbon and Darg has just
spat upon you. You are fortunate that my manners are rather better.”

James
gave the girl an odd glance, then smiled at Madeline. “You are rid of a husband
this way, Madeline. Our fate lies north, in my father’s abode.”

“In
your father’s abode?”

“He
has promised me a stipend, upon wedding you.” James winked. “He likes you well,
and I like the notion of an annual stipend even better.” He laughed, but no one
shared his jest.

“But
what will you do?” Madeline asked with care.

“I
will create music.” James smiled a winning smile.

Madeline
considered him, recalling Rhys’ assertion that every man must fight one day to
protect what is his own. She was beginning to understand the impulse of her
heart, to see clearly what she should have guessed long ago. “Surely you
learned to do battle in France, and have some hunger to continue to do so?” she
asked politely.

James
laughed merrily. “Me? I managed to evade my father’s men, at the earliest
opportunity. I spent my time in France in the churches, listening to their
heavenly music.”

“Then
you were not even at Rougemont,” Alexander said, his voice cold with
accusation.

“Why
else do you imagine that I yet breathe?” James asked, his manner scathing. “I
am not in such haste to die for coin and land.”

“Though
you welcome the assets brought by both,” Madeline said quietly. James granted
her a sharp glance and she straightened. “And what shall I do in your father’s
abode? Your mother has enough ladies-in-waiting and daughters underfoot.”

James
seized her hand as if he would lead her into a dance. “You shall sit and be
beauteous. You shall smile upon the company, and all shall bask in the splendor
of your beauty. You shall inspire me. You shall receive odes and poems from me,
and if you feel such necessity, you will embroider some frippery or another.”
He waved his hand dismissively, then smiled anew. “You, Madeline, will be my
muse.”

It
seemed a rather thin prospect, compared to Rhys’ dream of building prosperity
for those beneath his hand, for ensuring that all had justice and sufficient
food in their bellies. Madeline was certain that his wife would have greater
responsibilities than choosing a piece of cloth for embroidery.

“We
could have a child,” James suggested, apparently seeing Madeline’s lack of
enthusiasm. “After all, I am certain that you are still a maiden, are you not,
my beloved?” His manner became more anxious. “There will be no doubt as to the
paternity of any child you bear, will there? Will there?”

“I
am no longer a maiden,” Madeline said calmly, watching James all the while.

He
averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “But surely you cannot have conceived
a child already? It has been only a few days.” He seemed reassured by his own
reasoning. “Why, you must have only met abed the once! All know that a maiden
cannot conceive when first she is sampled.”

“Of
course she can,” Rosamunde said with a laugh. Cradoc and Padraig covered their
smiles with their hands and looked across the hills with feigned fascination.

James
colored and his lips set. His gaze was hostile now. “How many times have you
coupled with the wretch?”

Vivienne
and Elizabeth listened avidly, their eyes wide as if they knew they should not
heed Madeline’s words but could not bring themselves to do as they should.
Madeline felt her own color rise, for this was not a matter that should have
been discussed before so many souls.