‘No doubt he was about the business of the king…’
‘And is it the king’s wish that old women and small children be slaughtered? Is your liege in the business ofslitting the throats of babes and stopping the hearts of peaceful old men?’
‘King William is not in the habit of conversing with murderers!’
‘Then I pity him, for in these brutal times he must be sorely short of conversation.’
The functionary opened his mouth to argue further but there came a voice from inside the hall. It was rich, strong, and clear.
‘Godfrey! Let her enter.’
At his master’s command, Godfrey stood aside. One of the guards insisted on Owain handing over his sword. Rhiannon thought how easily men were duped, always assuming themselves to be the greatest danger to each other. For all his strength and swordsmanship, Owain was not as great a threat as she herself was to anyone who might challenge them. Together, they went through the door and into the hall.
The space inside was filled almost to capacity with men and women of the court. A quick glance told her that most present were loyal subjects of the king, many of them nobles, judging by their finery. Then there were more lowly mortals, petitioners come to put their cases to the king. Perhaps there was a dispute over land, or an unpaid debt, or some wrong-doing only the king himself could put right. As she moved through theroom she felt all eyes turn to her. She was a stranger, and a striking one at that, a woman without a husband or father, with only a battle-worn liegeman to protect her. Evidently her conversation had been overheard by everyone, so now they knew she was Welsh, and they knew she was capable of killing a nobleman. If they had come to the king’s palace in search of excitement and gossip, she was certainly supplying it.
People stepped aside as she walked so that soon she was at the front of the crowd. King William sat upon an ornately carved chair that was not quite a throne. She had heard of his preference for practical things, his lack of ostentation. She could never like the man who had been the architect of so much death and heartbreak, but she could at least respect him for his better qualities. A knight, finely arrayed, stood at his king’s side. For a moment she was reminded with a jolt of Tudor and the pain of his loss stabbed her anew. She stopped, bowing before the king. When she looked up the first thing she noticed about him was his frailty. It might not have been obvious to all, for he was neither thin nor old, but she detected a fragility in his very soul. She knew with absolute certainty he would not see another spring.
‘So,’ he kept his eyes on hers while he spoke, ‘you killed Hubert de Chapelle?’
‘I did, Your Majesty. Had I not, he would be the one standing before you now, having left my bones to be picked clean by the mountain buzzards.’
‘De Chapelle was a foolish man, but he wasmyfoolish man. You may, if what you say is true, have had good cause to do what you did. But, alas, I cannot sanction maids killing my Barons now, can I? Where would such a thing end?’
‘Why, with more clever maids and fewer foolish Barons, your Majesty.’
There was a collective gasp as everyone in the room, shocked by her outspokenness, waited to see how the king would react.
Rhiannon held his gaze and saw the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. He mastered his laughter, but it was there, nonetheless. He was thoughtful for a moment before speaking again.
‘You risk much coming here, daughter of Llewelyn ap Iorath. Is this a grand gesture from one with nothing left to lose? Would you have me make a martyr of you?’
‘I have a great deal left to lose, and I would have you make me your vassal.’
‘Oh? How so?’
‘The villagers wish only to return to their homes. Under my father’s lordship they lived in peace. He keptthat peace, not only in his domain, but beyond. For our valley lies as a buffer between the warring princes of the west and the avaricious lords of the north, with your own forces sitting east. Let me continue that peaceful protection, for all sides. Return to me my birthright and I will guarantee it.’
He smiled then, and there were sounds of derisive laughter from the company.
‘You make a bold claim for a maid. And one lacking an army, at that,’ he said, with a pointed look in Owain’s direction. ‘The Welsh princes I have had dealings with would not be so easily quelled. Why would they dance to the tune of an orphan with neither husband nor title?’
‘My father’s name is still held in high esteem. Why would I change it for that of a husband? As for a title, it is within your gift to bestow one upon me, my lord.’
The king stroked his beard and was silent. Rhiannon could well imagine the conflict within him at that moment. It was clear to her he was a reasonable man and that her plight had touched him, but he had a reputation and a position to keep. How could he allow himself to be so easily manipulated by a nobody? A nobody from an enemy bloodline. At last he shifted in his chair, sitting straighter, his face more stern.
‘For the loss of your family, you have my sympathy. These… sadnesses are unavoidable when a country is at war. You have indeed suffered, that I do not dispute. However, my aim is to bring a stability that will allow all to prosper, and for that there must be consistency and strength. It would serve neither purpose to not only overlook the killing of one of my nobles, but to reward that act. No. It cannot be allowed to stand.’
From the corner of her eye, Rhiannon saw one of the king’s guards step forwards and take hold of Owain’s arm. She had discussed this possibility with him and Rufus carefully. He knew he must not react. She prayed his pride and his understandable fear for their safety would not cause him to forget their discussion now.
‘Before you make your decision, your majesty, allow me at least to hand you the gift I brought. It is a small thing, a token.’ She held up the wrapped package she had so carefully carried all the way from their mountain home.
The king looked at first as if he might refuse, but when she smiled at him he was moved by the warmth of that smile. He did not know that he was also being swayed by the words she was now whispering under her breath. The ancient, powerful words Mamgi had taught her. Quickly, she untied the ribbon so that thecloth fell open to reveal the contents of the package. The assembled company leaned this way and that, craning their necks to see what it was a Welsh maid would bring to set at the feet of a king. There were low murmurs of surprise and confusion when they all saw what she held in her hands
‘This honeysuckle began its life in the garden of my father’s house in Cwmdu,’ she explained, moving towards him. ‘It has been warmed by the Welsh sun, clambered over the ancient stones dug from the land of that valley, watered by the gentle spring rains, and tended by first my mother and then myself. It weathers both drought and flood, winter snows and summer heat. Though storms assail it and sheep seek to feed on it, the plant thrives, its scent sweetening the air, its golden blooms a joy to see.’ She stood but an arm’s length in front of him now, lifting the little plant so that he could smell its perfume, all the while holding him in her gentle but powerful gaze. ‘Let it be forever a symbol of friendship between our two houses. A sign that all past enmity is forgiven, and that the future holds better times for Cymru, Norman and Saxon alike.’
‘It is… sweet indeed,’ the king mumbled, his voice low, his manner calm.
Rhiannon took a sprig of the plant and slowly reached towards the king. The fact that none of his aidesreacted to this close contact told her what she needed to know: that all were affected by the enchantment. Everyone present was experiencing a lifting of their spirits and a gentling of their mood. With great care, she tucked the stem of the flower into the pin on King William’s cape. She arranged the leaves and blooms to sit in a pleasing manner and as she did so the tendrils of the plant grew and coiled this way and that, burrowing beneath the brooch and over the edge of the cape and under it so that they touched the bare skin of his chest. Rhiannon held her hand on the flower as long as she dared, using that vital contact with the king to strengthen the spell, looking deep into his eyes as she finished the last words of the incantation.
