‘I do not think Guyon will stand in your way,’ Judith said slowly after a pause for consideration.
‘Neither do I.’ Rhosyn blinked. ‘It has run its course, for him at least. We never had enough in common to make of it more than a dry grass fire. I wish …’ Rhosyn shook her head and turned away, her chin wobbling.
Judith had imagined Guyon’s mistress to be dark and mysterious and beautiful with all the wiles at her fingertips. Only the first was true. The reality was a straightforward practical woman with a generous, gentle spirit. She could see why Guyon had held on to the bond for more than four years and also why it must now be severed. And Rhosyn saw too, or else she would not be crying here beside her on the battlements.
Rhosyn sniffed and, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, gave Judith a watery smile. ‘I am sorry, I was being foolish. Will you and Guyon come to the wedding?’
Judith looked doubtful. ‘Will it not cause trouble?’
Rhosyn shook her head. ‘Prys knows my past. You will be most welcome.’
Judith inclined her head. ‘Then gladly we will come, circumstances permitting.’ She watched the drawbridge being drawn up for the night. One of the men on watch shouted a cheerful insult across to the guards at the winch and was answered in kind.
‘I hope Guyon will still see her on occasion,’ Rhosyn added. ‘She is his daughter.
‘She will always be his firstborn,’ Judith agreed with a judicious nod. ‘It would be wrong to try and prevent him. Thatfar I will permit you to tread on my territory because I cannot change it, but seek further at your peril.’
From the inner bailey, the dinner horn sounded and someone cheered with irony.
Rhosyn stared at Judith. The challenge was there in Judith’s strange, stone-coloured eyes, but leavened by a twinkle of humour. ‘I do not think you will see me at Ravenstow again,’ she replied.
* * *
Rhosyn rode out the next morning on to a sun-polished road with an escort of eight serjeants and her manservant, Twm. The pony hooves echoed on the dusty drawbridge planks. She looked beyond the rise and fall of their loaded backs to where Judith stood between the bridge and portcullis, one arm shading her eyes, the other raised in farewell. Rhosyn returned the salute briefly and turned in the saddle so that, like her mount, she faced Wales.
At noon they stopped to water the horses and eat a cold repast of bread, cheese and roasted fowl. Heulwen, as usual, ate the cheese, spat out the bread and made a thorough mess. Eluned in contrast, nibbling as daintily as a deer, considered her mother, swallowed and said, ‘He was forced to marry her, wasn’t he, Mam?’
Rhosyn looked at her daughter in concern. Eluned had been very quiet since yestereve’s rudeness, a brooding kind of quiet that would not yield to cozening. ‘At the outset, yes,’ she answered cautiously.
‘He does not love her.’ Eluned fingered her amber necklace.
Rhosyn bit her lip. The child’s eyes were her own – hazel green-gold and full of pain. You grew up and learned to hide it, that was the only difference. ‘You cannot say that, Eluned,’ shesaid. ‘It is what you would like to be true, not truth itself. You should wish them joy in each other, not strife.’
‘She’s ugly!’ Eluned thrust out her lower lip.
‘Eluned!’
Heulwen choked and Rhosyn unthinkingly rescued the half-chewed piece of chicken wing from the back of the infant’s throat, her attention all focused on her elder daughter.
‘I hate her, she’s a Norman slut. Guyon belongs to us, not her!’
Rhosyn’s hand shot out and cracked across Eluned’s cheek. Eluned gasped. The men of the escort looked round from their oatcakes and ale. Eluned put her hand to her face, stared at her mother with aghast, brimming eyes as the mark of the slap began to redden. Whirling round, she fled beyond the startled men into the thickness of the brambles and trees.
‘No, Mam, let her go.’ Rhys caught Rhosyn’s arm as she made to pursue. ‘She’s leaving a trail a blind man could follow. I don’t think she’ll go very far.’
Rhosyn subsided with a sigh. ‘It is my fault. I did not realise it ran so deeply. She used to say that she was going to marry Guyon. I thought it was a child’s game.’
‘So did she,’ Rhys said with a wisdom beyond his years.
Rhosyn reseated herself upon the spread skins to finish her meal, but her eyes kept flickering towards the trees.
Rhys considered her for a moment and then gave an adolescent sigh, heavy with impatience, and hitched his belt.
‘All right, Mam, I’ll go and find her.’
Rhosyn gave him a grateful smile. She wondered how to go about dealing with Eluned when she returned. Diplomatic silence as if it had never happened? Detailed, careful explanations? A scolding? Sympathetic affection?
Heulwen was rubbing her eyes and whining. Rhosyn bent her mind away from the problem of her elder daughter to persuade her younger one to take a nap beneath one of the skins.
