A Moment in Time (36 page)

"Poor Gwladys," Barris said sadly. "She were only fifteen."

"You knew her," Wynne said quietly. "Who was she and why did Brys beat her to death?"

"She was my youngest sister, lady," Barris answered. "She caught his grace's eye. He ordered her brought to him, and he forced her. Gwladys fought him, foolish lass, for she was to be married soon. It made no difference. His grace had his way with her. She told me he made her do terrible, unnatural things, and finally she couldn't stand it no more. She tried to run away, but she was caught. His grace said he was going to make an example of her so no one else would think they could disobey him. God assoil her sweet soul." He turned away again, saying almost to himself, "I must get permission to bury her, but not right away. His grace is still angry. He'd hang her from the battlements for the crows to pick at." Barris disappeared around the corner and was gone from her sight.

Wynne stood by the door grate for several long minutes and then she sank back down upon her pile of straw. She looked about, but other than Gwladys's body, there was nothing else in the cell. Not a bucket for a necessary, not a pitcher of water. She was below ground and so there was not even a scrap of window. She had absolutely no idea how long she had lain unconscious or what time it was. It certainly could not have been long. What was she going to do? Brys was obviously mad to believe he could keep her a prisoner. Aye. Brys was indeed mad.

Bronwyn.
Once again the name burst into her consciousness. Wynne began to think. The look in Brys's eyes at one point had been familiar, but she had been unable to place it. Now she could. It was the same look Bronwyn of the White Breast had angrily cast upon Rhiannon of the Fair Folk on any number of occasions. It couldn't be! Yet why could it not be? If the soul inhabiting her body now had once belonged to Rhiannon; and Madoc's soul to Pwyll; and Nesta's soul to Angharad; why could not Brys's soul have once belonged to Bronwyn? It would certainly explain a number of things, including Brys's unreasonable hatred of them all, and his seemingly passionate desire to destroy their happiness. She had thought that the past didn't matter anymore, but oh, how wrong she had been! And what was she to do? In her own foolishness and pride she had put both herself and her unborn child in dangerous jeopardy. She struggled to keep from weeping, but could not. Finally exhausted, she fell into a troubled sleep.

Wynne awoke at the sound of a key turning in the rusty lock of the cell door. She struggled quickly to her feet, not wishing to be at any more of a disadvantage than she already was. The door swung open and a rough-looking woman entered.

"I'll take yer tunic dress and chemise," she said. "You can keep the under tunic, his grace says, and gimme yer shoes too."

"Why?" Wynne demanded haughtily.

"Because his grace says so, wench! I don't ask no questions. I do what I'm told, and if you knows what's good for you, you will too," came the harsh reply. "Now hurry it up!"

Wynne pulled her soft leather shoes off her narrow feet and threw them at the woman, diverting her long enough so that she could thrust her gold chain beneath her under tunic neckline. Then she quickly divested herself of her tunic dress and flung it in the same direction, turning her back angrily on the woman as she removed her under tunic and chemise and kicked the chemise across the floor. She heard the door creak shut as she drew her under tunic back on, the key turning in the old lock once more. Only then did it dawn on her that she still had no water, but she was too proud to call after the hag. Brys wouldn't let her starve . . . but perhaps he would.

She sat down. What on earth did they want with her tunic dress? She heard footsteps in the corridor again and scrambled to her feet once more. The door opened. Barris and another man entered the cell. For a minute the two looked down on the dead Gwladys, and Barris said, "This be Gwladys's intended, Tam, lady. We both thank you for trying to help our lass."

Wynne nodded and, as they began to remove the unfortunate girl's body from the cell, Wynne said, "I have no water, Barris, nor a necessary."

He nodded, but said nothing. The cell door was closed and locked. Wynne wondered if she would remain forgotten, but shortly Barris returned. He had with him a small wooden bucket, a flacon of water, and a wooden bowl which he wordlessly pushed at her. "Thank you, Barris," she said softly, but he was as quickly gone as he had come. Wynne put the bucket in a far corner, realizing she needed to use it very soon. She set the flacon in another corner so it could not be kicked over accidentally. She stared down into the bowl, which was filled with a hot potage of some kind that didn't smell particularly appetizing, and a heel of brown bread. With a wry grimace she ate the mess. She didn't know when she would see food again, and she had the babe to consider. The bread was stale, but she stuffed it in the pocket of her under tunic. She didn't need it now, but she might later. As an afterthought she removed the gold chain about her neck and her wedding band, stuffing them in her pocket as well. Then taking a drink from the flacon, she used the bucket to relieve herself and lay down to sleep.

"Lady! Lady!"

Wynne awoke, confused at first as to where she was. Reality quickly set in, and Barris was gently shaking her. "How long have I been sleeping?" she asked him.

"The night through, lady. His grace wants you in the hall now. You must come with me."

"Give me a moment's privacy, Barris, and I will be with you," Wynne said.

He nodded and drew the door shut behind him, but did not lock it. She could see the back of his head through the grating in the door. Quickly Wynne relieved herself once more in the bucket in the corner. Then taking a drink and rinsing her mouth, she used the rest of the water to clean her face and hands. Smoothing back her hair with her damp hands, she was able to bring some order to it.

"I am ready, Barris," she said, and he pushed open the door for her to exit. She followed him through a dimly lit corridor, up a flight of stairs and into the Great Hall of Castle Cai.

"Did you sleep well, belle soeur?" Brys inquired pleasantly as she made her way up to the foot of the high board.

"As well as I might, considering the poor accommodations, my lord," she replied sweetly. "If you would have my mare brought, I think it is past time for me to return to Raven's Rock." It was a bold bluff.

"Your mare, I imagine, has long been back at Raven's Rock, belle soeur," came the reply. He smiled charmingly at her. "You, however, will not be returning to Raven's Rock, I fear. You see, my dear Wynne, in your innocence you have given me the perfect weapon for destroying my brother Madoc. I have waited all my life long for such an opportunity. An opportunity I frankly never dared dream that I would get, and yet I have! You, Madoc's treasured wife, have unwittingly given me the knife which I shall plunge deep into his chest!"

"I do not understand you, Brys," she told him, but his very enthusiasm had already set her pulse pounding throughout her entire body. Dear God, he was evil!
Madoc!
She cried in her heart.
Madoc!

"Madoc has always been too strong for me," Brys explained in reasonable tones. "He was invincible, for he had no weaknesses through which I might strike out at him. Now he does. You, Wynne. You and the child you carry are Madoc's weaknesses. I shall destroy him through you! Your horse was taken back last evening to a point where it could not fail to find its way home, and it did, I am told. Already a search party combs the forest for any sign of you. Soon they will have it. Your torn and bloodied tunic dress will be found. Perhaps your shoes and chemise. It will be obvious to all that you have been eaten by wolves. Your loss, and that of your child, will destroy my brother. The knowledge that he did not protect you well enough, that you undoubtedly died in terror and fear, will break him! He will never recover. I shall be revenged on you both!"

"Why, Brys? Why do you hate us so?" Wynne probed.

"Why?"
For a long moment Brys looked confused, and then he said, "Because I do! What difference does it make why? I simply do."

He did not know, Wynne thought. Instinct alone drove him. "You cannot get away with this, Brys," she told him. "What will you do with me? Kill me?" She felt far less brave than her strong words indicated.

"Kill you? Of course I will not kill you," he told her. "If I killed you, then your suffering would be over, belle soeur. No, no! I do not intend killing you. I want you to feel despair even as Madoc feels it. A broken man, he will grieve for you and the child that was to be, even as you live out your life in slavery somewhere with that child. A child who will be born into slavery and know no other life." Brys then began to laugh wildly as Wynne stared at him, transfixed.

"You cannot!" she cried. "I ask not for myself or for Madoc, Brys, but spare my child! I will do whatever you want me to do, but let my child be exonerated from whatever sin you believe Madoc and I have committed against you!" She fell to her knees pleading.

The laughter ceased abruptly, and Brys said, "It is useless to ask me for mercy. There is no mercy in me, Wynne.
None!
Now hear me well, for I will only say this once. If you want your child to live, you will keep your mouth shut while I do business with my friend, Ruari Ban. You see, belle soeur, there is always the slightest chance that if you are clever—and I believe you are—that one day you might escape the fate I have so carefully planned for you. If you attempt to interfere in my plans right now, however, I will personally rip the brat from your womb! Do you understand me?" His sky-blue eyes were cold, his voice uncharacteristically harsh.

Wynne rose to her feet and, looking defiantly at him, nodded. "I understand, Brys, and I damn you to Hell for what you are doing this day! Nesta once told me you were the Devil's own. I wish I had believed her when she said it, but to my discredit, I could not."

"Be silent now," he told her dispassionately, and turning to Barris, said, "Fetch in Ruari Ban."

Wynne watched as a tiny, wizened man entered the Great Hall. The top of his head was covered in a bristling thatch of bright red hair. His short legs almost danced their way up to the foot of the high board. His clothing was simple and dull, but there was an air of authority about him. His eyes were inquiring. They flicked quickly over Wynne and then turned themselves on Brys.

"Well, yer grace, and 'tis good to see ye again. I was just about to go over the hills into Mercia when yer message reached me. I hope 'tis worth my while, for I'd not intended to stop here." He gave Brys a brief little bow.

"When has it not been worth your while to visit me, Ruari Ban?" Brys demanded, laughing genially. "Come and join me. Wine for my guest!"

Ruari Ban clambered into a chair next to Brys and greedily quaffed down a goblet of wine. It was quickly refilled. "The roads are terrible dusty," he said, and then, "Well, yer grace? How may I be of service?"

"This wench," Brys said, his voice suddenly irritable, "I want to sell her to you, Ruari Ban. She was born right here at Cai, but she's been troublesome her whole life. There isn't a man-at-arms that takes her fancy she hasn't lain with, and now the wench has gone and gotten herself with child. And the lewd bitch doesn't even know who the father is! Unfortunately she is a beauty, as you can see, and the men persist in fighting over her. The few women slaves in the house dislike her for her proud ways. She's become more trouble to me than she's worth."

"Why not just marry her off to one of her men?" demanded Ruari Ban.

"And have her causing more trouble and cuckolding the poor fellow before she even gives birth? Nay! I want her gone from Cai. Make me a fair offer and she's yours. Surely you've some wealthy customer in Mercia or Brittany who'd have her."

"Well," the slaver considered, "let's see her wares, yer grace, and then I'll decide."

"Wynne! Remove your tunic!" Brys snapped.

She pierced him with a furious look, but the look Brys sent her back was ferocious. The child, she thought. I must put my own anger aside and remember my child. Wynne reached up, and loosening the neckline of the long under tunic, let it fall to the floor. Ruari Ban stared long at her naked form.

Finally he said, "I can sell her. What do ye want for her?"

"One copper," Brys said.

"Yer mad!" the slaver laughed.
"Sold!
Put yer gown back on, wench. Yer fate is sealed for this day." Then he turned to Brys. "Why so cheap, yer grace?"

"Because I want her gone from Cai immediately, my old friend, and because it pleases me to do you a great favor. You'll make a pretty penny on this piece of goods. One day I may want a favor from you. When that day comes, Ruari Ban, remember this day," Brys told the slaver.