‘And if I say no?’ Her tone was sharp, for she received the distinct impression that she was being manipulated in the direction he desired her to go.
‘I’ll have to think of something else, won’t I?’ he replied, still smiling.
CHAPTER13
It was fortunate for Guyon that the journey into Wales proved uneventful, for he felt as though his brains had swollen to twice their size and were thumping the cage of his skull in a vigorous attempt to escape. It was a long, long time since he had fallen victim to an overindulgence of wine. Since quitting the court, he had held to sobriety and his capacity to drink had thus diminished.
He knew he had not been considerate of Judith, but her sulky expression, her frown as he mounted up to ride out and his own malaise had not lent him the inclination to tug her braid or smile and bear with her. The guilt and the knowledge that he would have to make amends and somehow smooth their differences when he returned only made his headache worse, while his stomach churned like a dyer’s vat.
By the time they reached the hafod it was full noon, the sun shimmering the men’s mail to fish scales of light, dazzling the eye. Madoc, in his heavy woollen gown with coney trim was as red as clay, sweat dribbling down his face so that he looked as if he were melting.
Guyon tethered his grey to a post in the yard and then, his skull feeling as if it would split asunder, removed his helm and followed Madoc over the threshold.
Eluned ran to her grandfather and embraced him with enthusiasm. Tossing back her silky black hair, she saw Guyon and went to him. ‘Mam’s had the baby,’ she announced. Her eyes, bright hazel like Rhosyn’s, were anxious. ‘It’s a girl.’ She clung tightly to his arm.
‘I know,anwylyd.’ He kissed the top of her head.
The midwife paused in ladling a cup of broth into a wooden bowl and looked at Guyon. ‘Birth went easy enough,’ she said to him with a curt nod. ‘Babe’s small, but she’ll thrive.’
‘May I see them?’ he asked in Welsh, his tone deferential, for one did not trifle with the great respect in which these women were held. Other than the will of God, it was upon their skill that the life of a mother and child often depended.
‘Take this in to her, lord,’ she said, giving him the cup of broth. ‘But do not be too long; she is tired.’
Eluned made to follow, but her grandfather caught her back and asked her to find him a drink.
Guyon pushed aside the curtain that screened Rhosyn’s bed from the main room, and put down the bowl of broth on the coffer beside it. His movement stirred the air and Rhosyn raised her lids. For a moment she thought she was dreaming or that she had contracted the deadly childbed fever and was hallucinating. Then she rallied herself because Guyon was too travel worn and sweat-streaked to be an illusion. He was watching her with dark, pensive eyes as if he did not know how she would receive him. She sat up and softly spoke his name.
‘Beloved.’ He knelt beside her and took her hands in his.
He was wearing his mail shirt, the rivets glistening a sullen grey in the dim light. His business over the border this time was official.
‘I am glad you have come,’ she said and was annoyed by the betraying wobble in her voice.
‘Did you doubt I would?’
‘There was no obligation on you to do so.’
‘No obligation?’
She watched his gaze turn to the wooden crib at the bedside and the swaddled scrap of life it contained and she bit her lip, afraid, knowing she did not have the strength to fight him if he chose to make of his daughter a battleground.
Oblivous, the baby slept, a fluff of red-gold hair peeping from beneath its swaddling cap.
‘There will always be an obligation,cariad.’
‘Guy …’
‘No,’ he said softly, touching the baby’s fledging fuzz before giving Rhosyn a look filled with pain. ‘I am as leashed to your bidding as that hound out there … Just don’t kick me out of the door without giving me a chance. Does the little one have a name?’
Rhosyn shook her head.
‘Permit me?’
‘I … I do not know.’
He took her hand. ‘Why do I receive the impression that you do not trust me?’
‘Because I don’t. Naming is a kind of possession for life.’
