That was how the ambitious de Shera brothers knew where to find her.
Being so young, however, Antoninus’ opinion for peace was dismissed by Atilius and Fabius. But Tatius agreed with him, yet he was too weak to stand against his warmongering brothers.
That was the truth of it.
“So we shall be linked to the Rhos rebellion,” Tatius finally said. “Until I meet this Cadelyn and see her for myself, I am not going to get excited about anything.”
Atilius was clearly perturbed. “Why not?”
Tatius shrugged and turned for the ever-present wine pitcher that was on the feasting table. The servants knew very well to keep it full, for Tatius drained it by the hour. He had to in order to deal with his ambitious brothers who intimidated and belittled him.
“Did either of you stop to think about this situation?” he asked as he poured himself a cup. “My mother’s lineage can be traced to Rhos. That is no secret. She married our father and it was a proud moment for the Welsh as well as for the House of de Shera. But she has been gone, lo, these many years, and then we were suddenly approached by this woman, Nesta, and her rebels. They want me to marry Cadelyn, Nesta’s daughter, who was taken from her at birth. They want to join us in marriage and then the House of de Shera is supposed to feed this great rebellion in Wales, led by Nesta and my new wife. Does this not seemstrangeto you?”
Atilius wasn’t following him. He was only growing more frustrated. “The only thing that seems strange to me is your inability to understand what this will mean for us,” he said. “We shall have lands in Wales, Tatius, rich lands. We will probably command half of northern Wales because of your wife. She is the child of two ancient kingdoms, kingdoms that are now ready to rebel against not only their Gwynedd overlords, but against English rule.”
Tatius cast his brother a look that suggested the man was losing his grasp on reality. “We are English,” he said. “Youare English, Atilius. Do you intend to rebel against your own king?”
“Aye!” Atilius nearly shouted. He jabbed a finger at his brother. “And I am not the only one. John has his share of enemies, Tatius. You know this. We can gain control of part of Northern Wales as well as our lands here in England. Once we have such power, no one save John and his armies can challenge us. And if he does, we will destroy him.”
Tatius was always intimidated when Atilius spoke of such supreme domination. He didn’t like it; it frightened him. But it wasn’t as if he had any choice. As was usual in situations like this, he backed down.
“I do not think this will be as glorious as you think,” he said, turning back to his wine. “I think Nesta and her rebellion merely wants to use our military might. I think it will be the rebels who control us, not the other way around.”
“That will not happen,” Fabius said. He tended to be the emotional one in the group. “We have twenty men to every Welsh rebel, Tatius. We outnumber them greatly. They cannot control us. For once in your life, have some courage.”
Tatius cast his brother a long glance. “For once in yours, have some sense,” he said. “All I am saying is that we do not hear from any of my mother’s distant relatives for twenty years and, suddenly, they come to us with a betrothal suggestion and plans for a great rebellion. Why did they wait so long? And why do we need Cadelyn of Vendotia for a rebellion?”
“Because she is the last great Welsh princess,” Atilius hissed. “She is their inspiration, their leader. Christ has his disciples; Cadelyn of Vendotia has an army of men whose ancestors lived and died for Rhos. If you do not understand this, I cannot explain it any better.”
Tatius understood it. He just wasn’t certain he believed any of it, nor did he like any of it. Taking a gulp of wine, he licked his lips, thinking on the turn his future was taking thanks to his brothers.
It wasn’t as if he’d had a choice.
“We will break all ties with William Marshal when we do this,” he said. “The man has armies bigger than anything the king has. He controls most of southern Wales and the Marches. We will have to deal with his anger, you know.”
Atilius shook his head. “With the Welsh on our side, we can manage,” he said. “Enough talk, Tatius. The matter is settled. When Cadelyn of Vendotia arrives, we will escort the two of you to Mountain Dark, where Nesta and her people will be waiting for the marriage to take place. That is where it will all start. Infact, I will send Nesta word today that her daughter will soon be arriving.”
Tatius didn’t have anything to say to that. He drained his cup of wine and poured himself more. As he began to drink, heavily, Atilius rolled his eyes at the man and quit the hall, disgusted at the weakling he had for an elder brother. Fabius paused before turning to follow him.
“You worry too much, Tatius,” he said. “We will be rich and powerful, all of us. And with your Welsh heritage, I would think you would be more sympathetic to the plight of your own people.”
Tatius didn’t reply. Fabius waited a few seconds, but realizing Tatius had no intention of answering, he simply turned and left the hall, following Atilius’ path out. That left Tatius and Antoninus in the hall, alone, as the servants began to filter in, stoking the hearth and lighting the fat tapers to give the chamber some illumination. From his position over near the door, where he’d been listening to every word, Antoninus went to his eldest brother.
Wise, kind, and compassionate Antoninus. He was a godsend to his eldest brother, but too young to take a stand against the middle brothers at this point. He’d only get himself killed. Tatius knew this; he pitied his youngest brother greatly for being born into such a house.
“You cannot stop them, Tatius,” Antoninus said quietly, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “They are ruthless and ambitious, both of them. All they see is the opportunity for lands of their own. They resent you for what you have and they will use any opportunity to gain possessions for themselves.”
Tatius turned to his youngest brother; powerfully built, even at his age, he was handsome, with green eyes and dark blond hair. He was a man of good character and Tatius loved him dearly. He lifted a hand, putting it against Antoninus’ cheek.
“How is it that we have such a strong, noble lion amidst a den of vipers?” he asked, a smile on his lips. “You are my guiding light, Antoninus. I do not know what I would do without you.”
Antoninus returned his smile. “I fear for you, Tatius. I fear what will happen to you once they have what they want. They envy everything you have.”
Tatius shook his head, dropping his hand from his brother’s face to pour himself more wine. “They can have it,” he muttered. “If I could simply give it over to them, I would, but something stops me.”
“What?”
He glanced at his brother. “The fear of what they would do to you if they did not have me to focus their venom on.”
