The Prince of Powys (14 page)

here?”

“He was not pleased with my service during your escape. I

have been shoveling horse dung ever since. I doubt if Ethelbald

knows I am gone.”

“Saxon, how did you manage to get so far, especialy in that

disguise? You are the ugliest woman I have ever seen.” Elisedd

waved his hand in the air. “Take that dress off and speak to me

like a man as I cal for your death.”

“Father, it may wel be a waste of a good blade to behead this

one.” Gods help him, he ruined Branda’s life. He needed to find

some way to save Scan, the innocent dolt.

Scan puled his arms from the gown, pushed it to his ankles

and stepped out of it. “I have come to save Princess Branda

from harm with no care for what fate befals me.”

“Wel, that is brave of you,” Elisedd said. “Take him to the

dungeon.”

Branda flew into the hal. “Stop it; release Scan. Let him go!”

“Release Scan? He is a Mercian hearth guard who gained

entrance to Dinas Bran. I cannot thwart the King’s command.”

Blaise wanted to smile. She was her feisty, commanding self, no

longer meek and sad.

“So, are you going to send me to the dungeons?” Branda

tilted her head upward in a chalenge.

“Princess, you are not a prisoner.” Elisedd leaned forward.

“You are a hostage and are afforded ful hospitality.”

“You hold me like a prisoner.” She folded her arms across her

chest. “You put a guard at my door. You mean to send me

against my wil to Cuthred.”

“That is your father’s doing, girl.” Elisedd turned to his sons

and shrugged. “How did she get past her guard?”

“I wil find out, Father,” Brochfael said with a tilt of his firm

chin.

“Where is my sire?” Branda puffed out her chest.

“What?” Blaise was baffled.

“Do not play the fool with me.” She glared at him hatefuly. “If

Scan is here, then my father and his army must be near.”

Blaise stepped down from the dais, grasped her by the

shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Your father has refused

your ransom. He thinks you are ruined.”

“No.” She pushed him away. “I know now that it is a lie.

When you first told me of this I believed it, but I now know that

just as your god Bran lied, so do you. My sire has come to

rescue me. He wants me but he just didn’t want to pay the

ransom. I know it.”

“Oh, Princess, how I wish it were so, but your father has cast

you from Mercia. I came to rescue you and take you to your

you from Mercia. I came to rescue you and take you to your

sister Judith,” Scan said softly.

“Oh.” She cast her gaze downward. “So, it is true. He has

disowned me.” She tilted her body to one side as if she was

going to faint.

“Come; let me help you to your bower.” Blaise wrapped his

arm around her shoulder and escorted her out of the hal.

She was silent as they walked into the sunroom. She dropped

down on her bed face down and wept.

Blaise sat on the corner of the bed and eased next to her.

“Branda, I wil do what I can. I promise I wil get Scan out of the

dungeon tomorrow. This is not a good day to speak with

Elisedd, but on the morrow I wil convince him Scan is

harmless.” He stroked her silky hair. “Don’t cry. We wil free

Scan then we wil wait for Brochfael to return.” What could he

say? He babbled on, “Cuthred may refuse the ransom. If so,

then you can stay here. I believe Carthann has an idea on what

we can do next, but we wil talk of that later.”

Her weeping stopped but she didn’t look up. She lay face

down, too sad to speak.

“Rest now. We wil speak of this later.” He rose and slowly

walked out of the bower.

Leri came up behind him. “I heard.”

He gazed into her soft blue eyes. “She needs you.”

She nodded and stepped into the sunroom.

Blaise leaned against the wal.
What have I done? I brought

her to Dinas Bran as a hostage to please my father. I should

have left her in Mercia, but then I would not have known

her.

He strode to his chamber, took off his clothes and sank into

the cold bed.
Carthann does not know how much I would

like to wed the Princess, take her as my bride. Elisedd would

never allow it. If Cuthred wants her then I shall have to take
her to him. May that day never come.
With that thought, he drifted to sleep.

Outside, the sky was gray. Sunrise had broken an hour ago.

Blaise slid his booted feet into a warrior stance as he faced

Elisedd in the hal.

Elisedd in the hal.

The King looked down at him from his throne upon the dais.

A tal tankard brimmed with mead was set before Elisedd along

with a bowl of steaming porridge, which he pushed aside to cool.

Elisedd’s red hair swirled in curls about his weather-worn

face. His lips were hidden behind the thick, red moustache. A

Celtic tunic with tracery embroidered in fine gold thread by

Carthann’s hand strained against his broad chest. In addition, the gleaming crown, golden armlets and anklets adorned his aging,

yet wel-muscled, body.

Blaise cleared his throat and spoke. “Sire, I have come to ask

you to free the Saxon named Scan.”

“He meant to steal the Princess, thus the ransom Cuthred and

your brother are negotiating in Wessex.”

“Scan meant to save his friend for he and Branda are like

brother and sister.”

“Curse these Saxons. Curse them al. I have two now in my

keeping, and I know not what to do with either.” He took a swig

of mead. “I fear I have gone into the business of fostering

Saxons.”

Blaise stepped forward. “They were the only ones to befriend

me during my captivity in Mercia.”

He knew there was more to it than that. Scan was Branda’s

friend and Blaise would do anything for Branda. Anything except

tel Elisedd he loved the Saxon Princess. Nothing frightened him

more for Elisedd would see it as treason.

“There would be no joy in kiling him. After al, he is naught

but a mouse.” Elisedd tilted his head and let out a raspy chortle.

“If you free him, at least he can be of some use to us.”

“What say you? In truth he was no use to Ethelbald as a

guard.”

“Father, if you free Scan, I swear to you I wil be his guard

and keeper,” he said firmly. The guard was Branda’s friend and

that made him useful to Blaise.

Elisedd drummed his fingers on the arm of his oaken throne.

“So be it.” He took another gulp of mead. “Release him from the

dungeon, but—mind you—that fool is your responsibility.”

* * * *

Blaise bowed in reverence, exited the hal, and headed to the

cave they used for the dungeon. The entranceway was near the

outer wal of the fort. He had secured freedom for her friend.

Now al he had to do was find a way to keep Cuthred from

getting his hands on the Princess without letting anyone,

especialy Branda, know how much he cared for her. For if she

knew, she’d want to run off with him and then her life would be

one of misery and poverty, albeit with love. He felt an

unexpected twinge of sadness at the thought. He hung his head.

No, she was a Princess through and through; he could not bring

such hardship upon her.

He entered the dark, musky cave and nodded to the guard.

The man sat at a smal oaken table where two white candles

burned brightly. He held a skin of ale.

“Greetings, Brent. How fares the prisoner?”

“The rats haven’t gotten to him yet.” Brent took a swig from

his skin of ale and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“Good.” Blaise placed his hands on his hips. “Elisedd has

ordered him to be released to me.”

“Yes, my Prince.” Brent rubbed his face as if it itched, toddled

over to the wal and took a torch. The guard handed the

firebrand to Blaise then lifted a wooden ladder and lowered it

down. Brandishing the torch, he climbed into the dark hole.

When he reached the bottom he caled out to Scan, “Saxon,

how fare you?”

“Prince Blaise, is it you?”

“Yes, I’ve come to free you from the dungeon.”

A wide smile brightened Scan’s dirty face. “My thanks.”

They climbed up the ladder and out of the dark dungeon.

Brent folowed behind them with his ale skin in hand.

Blaise led Scan to his chamber to bathe and dress in Celtic

attire. In a red tunic and checkered braies, blonde-headed Scan

walked with him through the fort of Dinas Bran.

“I would serve you and be your man if you wil have me,

Prince Blaise.”

Blaise stared into his lucid blue eyes. “Would a Saxon of

Mercia serve a Prince of Powys?”

“Yes. Though you took Branda hostage, you have seen to it

she has been wel cared for. You freed me.” Scan inhaled. “I

know you to be brave and just.” He exhaled. “I would serve you

know you to be brave and just.” He exhaled. “I would serve you

to my death—this I swear.” He spoke in a tone of awe and

respect.

“I accept your service, Scan.” He patted him on the back.

“Might I ask how you and the Princess are fairing?” There

was a trace of amusement in Scan’s voice. “She is quite fond of

you. I thought love had sparked between you two.”

God’s teeth!
How is it Scan knows of this?
Blaise put his hand to his forehead for a fleeting minute then let it fal back

down to his side. “No! Branda is my hostage. Naught more.”

“In truth?” There was a glint of humor in Scan’s eyes.

“Yes. Branda is comely but, because of me, Ethelbald

banished her from Mercia.”

“He was not a good sire. A good King mayhap, but not a man

to raise a daughter alone. He never understood the Princess.”

“She can be a trial upon a man’s nerves.” Just thinking about

her brought a smile to Blaise’s lips.

“My Prince, am I wrong to think you have found her

pleasing?”

He swalowed. “I find the Princess charming and I take

pleasure in her company but she wil be turned over to Cuthred.

There is naught I can do.” However, he didn’t believe his own

words. Somehow he would find a way to stay with Branda.

As they walked on, Scan turned to Blaise. “My Prince, could

you not ask Elisedd to give Princess Branda to you as your

wife?”

“You are the second person to ask me this.”
I wish it were so

simple.

“If the Princess is angry, and I am sure she is, it is not because she is banished from Mercia but because you would give her to

Cuthred, her betrothed, instead of pledging your troth to her.”

“What madness, Scan!”
If only it were so. Elisedd will

never let me marry a Saxon.

“Very wel, my Prince, but I stil believe Branda is as fond of

you as you are of her.”

Scan’s pause was answered by Blaise’s silence.

“Wil you take me to her, my Prince?” Scan arched his

eyebrows.

He nodded his head. “That is where we are headed.” He

recaled the last time he’d seen her. She had lain face down on

the bed crying. “Branda is sad. She wil be happy to see you,

the bed crying. “Branda is sad. She wil be happy to see you,

Scan.”

“As I wil be to see her, my Prince.”

* * * *

lightly.

Leri greeted him. “Good day, Blaise.”

“Is the Princess in? I’ve brought her friend Scan.”

“Is it true? Is it Scan?” Branda yeled with glee as she ran to

the door.

“Princess!” Scan smiled and opened his arms to hug her.

Blaise stepped back, feeling a tinge of jealousy.
I got the fool
released. Where is my hug?

“I was so afraid when the guards took you,” Branda said as

she released Scan from her tight embrace.

“The Prince freed me.”

“Blaise!” she exclaimed and jumped into his arms.

She was warm and soft. He melted in her heat. Her

shimmering hair smeled of daffodils and sunshine.

He dropped his arms, easing out of the embrace. “Princess,”

he rasped, “it was naught.” He stepped back.

She stepped forward.” I want to thank you for freeing Scan.”

Was she mad? It was kiling him to be this close to her. His

pulse pounded. An unwelcome surge of excitement raced

through him. She stared with longing at him as she softened her

mouth.

When he cupped her face in his hand, his palm burned. Her

breath was warm against his face. She pressed her mouth to his.

Her trembling lips clung to him. His mouth tingled. He slid his

fingers down her face and released her.

The kiss was but a gentle whisper, yet it left his mouth burning

with fire. Long after, they stil held each other’s gaze. Scan

cleared his throat loudly and brought them out of the dreamy

daze.

There was a long pause before Blaise spoke. “Ah, Princess.”

He knew he wore a foolish grin upon his face. “I came only to

bring your friend to you. I shal leave you now.”

How he longed to stay there to simply look upon her. Feeling

the heat of embarrassment on his face, he left the sunroom. He

the heat of embarrassment on his face, he left the sunroom. He