A Moment in Time (56 page)

And the horrifying answer came.
"Wynne."

"You cannot!"
Eadgyth burst out as the others gasped in total shock, but Wynne rose to her feet, white with her fury.

"I am not some serf to be disposed of, Caddaric Aethelmaere!" she shouted at him. "I am your father's widow! Is this how you honor Eadwine Aethelhard's memory? By giving his widow to a low-bred half-wit?"

"I am the master of Aelfdene now, not my father!" he shouted back. "You will do as I tell you and go where I send you!"

"When Eadwine died, I wanted to take my children and return home to Gwernach, but you would not give me your help. 'Twas you who insisted I remain here that you might have free rein to attempt your rape of me; and afterward when you failed, you sought to demean me by making me the whore of the hall. You failed in that as well, Caddaric Aethelmaere! And you will fail in this shameful attempt too!" Stepping down from the high board, she called out, "Ealdraed! Fetch my children to me. I leave Aelfdene this night!"

Caddaric stood up and the muscles in his neck bulged darkly with his rage. "Aye, you Welsh witch, you have defied me at every turn,
but not in this
! I swore to myself that the first man who would agree to take you upon this board in my full view would have you for his own! The peddler has said that his son will have you for a wife, and that he will meet my conditions.
So be it!"
Then looking to Boda and Tovi, he told them, "She is yours."

Not even bothering to look back, Wynne turned away from her tormentor and walked swiftly down the hall. Suddenly the half-wit was before her, prancing foolishly and giggling. He repelled her totally, and she drew back as he reached out to grasp at her.

"Pretty lady," he chortled. "Father says you are now my wife."

Wynne slapped out at Tovi. "Get away from me!" she said in a low, tight voice.

It was like striking out at a persistent insect. Tovi moved agilely aside, and his surprisingly strong fingers closed about her slender wrist. Yanking her close, he grabbed at one of Wynne's breasts and squeezed it, repeating, "Pretty lady." He was drooling slightly.

Wynne struck out at him, but again he ducked her and began dragging her down the hall back toward the dais. She struggled fiercely, hitting out futilely at him. "Let me go, you idiot! Release me this instant! Caddaric, I will kill you for this! Do not doubt that I will wreak a vengeance upon you so terrible that you will live to regret your actions this night!" Standing stock-still, she managed to momentarily halt their progress and kicked Tovi quite hard on his bony shin. He grunted, but then quite easily yanked her up before the high board.

"My wife nasty," he whined at Boda. "Tovi no like, Father."

"There, my son, do not be distressed," Boda answered him smoothly. "What have I taught you makes a lady happy? You must fuck her. The good lord who has given you this pretty wife wants to see you fuck her."

"Caddaric, in the name of the blessed Jesu and his sainted mother, I beg you not to allow this thing," Eadgyth cried, and falling to her knees by his side, she took his hand. "Take back the work box and the other things, my lord. I do not want them if you will but substitute another for Wynne. Anyone, but not Wynne! What will Aelfdene do for a healer, my husband?" she attempted to reason with him.

"Aye, my lord," Berangari and the others said, and with little sighs they placed their own gifts upon the table. "Please spare Wynne."

"Aelfdene did without a healer for many years before the Welsh woman came," Caddaric said coldly. "We will survive without her. It is my wish she be given to the peddler's son. Boda, can your son do his duty by this woman? If so, then let him!
Here!
Upon my table before us all, because you, my dear wife Eadgyth, my lesser woman, will remain to see what happens to those who defy and displease me."

Caddaric snapped his fingers in a prearranged signal, and several serving men ran forward to roughly tear the clothing from Wynne's body. They held her firmly as they ripped away at her tunic dress, her under tunic, and finally her delicate chemise. Wynne struggled against them wildly, then, fear overcoming her, she began to scream as a mindless terror engulfed her. Her limbs became frozen, unable to move. They bore her up onto the dais, still resisting, but weakly, and placed her upon the high board. The half-wit, seeing her naked form, began to chortle and fondle himself lewdly. The servants held her arms and spread her legs wide as Tovi clambered up onto his victim, cackling with salacious excitement. Eadgyth and the others shrieked, horrified as the half-wit displayed a large and engorged manhood.

Wynne struggled uselessly against her captors. Her heart was pumping violently and she shrank back futilely as Tovi's body covered hers; unable to breathe properly, her head spinning, but totally capable of realizing what was happening to her. Tovi began to grunt like an animal as he settled himself atop her. She felt him begin to insert himself in her body, his hand guiding his great rod, pushing it slowly into her passage. Wynne began to scream helplessly beneath his assault, feebly trying to buck him off her. Tovi's mouth came wetly down on hers, but she quickly turned her head away in disgust. Then she heard a familiar voice whispering urgently in her ear. "Keep fighting me, dearling, else I cannot bring this deception off!"

It could not be!
After almost three years?
It could not be!
Her fear subsiding somewhat, even though she howled like a scalded cat beneath the man atop her, Wynne focused her eyes and looked into the deep blue eyes of Madoc of Powys! She was going mad! That was it! She was going mad. Her head rolled about, and into her sight came the face of Caddaric Aethelmaere. It was filled with lust and sadistic pleasure. He almost slavered with his excitement, believing Wynne finally broken.

"That's it, half-wit!" he encouraged Tovi. "Hump her! Give her your all!" and he laughed even as he envied the fool the conquest he had so desperately desired.

Wynne's head rolled back to face her attacker.
"Madoc?"
she mouthed.

"Aye, dearling," he whispered in her ear as, to her shock, she recognized with absolute certainty the man violating her.

"No! No! No!"
Wynne moaned, horrified by her own sudden reaction to him. It was simply too much to bear.

"Pretend to faint, dearling," he instructed her, but Wynne already had. Madoc forced himself to a quick conclusion. Then in his identity as the slack-mouthed Tovi, he climbed off the unconscious Wynne, chortling and wiping his limp weapon on his tunic as he pulled it down. "Lady nice now, Father," he said. "Tovi fuck her good."

Eadgyth and the others were weeping wildly. Little Aelf had vomited her dinner onto the floor. Rising, the women stumbled from the hall, supporting each other in their grief and their shame. Their continued sobs could be heard from above in the Great Chamber.

"Wine!" Caddaric called to his servants. "I would drink a toast to the bride," and he laughed uproariously.

The wine was brought and poured. The three men drank it down quickly. Wynne slowly began to regain consciousness, remembering at once what had happened and wondering if she had indeed heard Madoc's voice coming from the idiot's mouth.

"Take the bitch then," Caddaric said, slamming his heavy goblet down on the tabletop by her ear. "She's yours and good riddance!"

Wynne pulled herself up into a half-seated position and said bitterly to him, "
I
want
my
children!
I'll not go without my children, Caddaric! If you try and keep them from me, I will somehow find a way to return to Aelfdene and kill you!
Give me
my
children!"

"I got rid of the boy several days ago," he said with a cruel smile, and grasping one of her breasts in his hand, he squeezed it hard. "Did the half-wit service you well?" He leered at her.

"Arvel!" she shrieked. "You have killed Arvel!" Scrambling to her knees, she lunged at him, her nails going for his eyes, her teeth bared in almost feral fashion.

"I do not kill children," he said scornfully, pushing her away. "Ruari Ban, the slaver, came through here several days ago. You were out as usual, gathering your damned roots and berries. He said the man from whom he purchased you wanted your son. I sold the brat to him!" Caddaric laughed again. "I made a pretty penny too. Ruari Ban was very anxious to have the boy and made no secret of it."

"Arvel, my son." Wynne wept for a moment and then she snarled, "I will find my son, but you will not have my Averel, you devil!"

"Take the wench," he told her. "I won't have to provide for her or give her a dowry if you do. I owe my father nought, for had he not stolen you from me in the first place, you would have given me my children, and I would be a happy man. To hell with my promise!"

"Come, wife," Tovi said, and he lifted her off the table to carry her, protesting, from the hall.

"Where's the child?" Boda asked. "I don't want the Welsh woman unhappy."

"In the Great Chamber with her nursemaid. Willa will bring her to you at dawn before you go. You don't want the little wench in the way tonight, do you? I don't doubt that your son will be more than happy to share his bride with you," and Caddaric laughed nastily. Then he said sharply, "Get out! Our dealings are done. You will not be welcome at Aelfdene again. Do not come back."

"You need not fear, my lord," Boda said quietly. "There will be no need for us to come this way again." He bowed politely and then departed the hall, leaving Caddaric Aethelmaere to his wine.

In the courtyard the peddler's wagon stood silent. Boda climbed into the back of it, pulling at his dirty grey-white hair as he quickly clambered into the vehicle. Wynne lay, now clothed in a clean chemise, upon a narrow bench that served as a sleeping place. Her eyes widened at his entry, the wig in his hand, his red hair bright in the lamplight.

"Einion!"
she half sobbed. "Oh, Einion!" and she sat up, relief pouring through her bruised body.

The big man enfolded her in his bearlike embrace and hugged her hard. "Lady! My lady Wynne. Thank God we have found you at last!"

"But you do not look like yourself," Wynne said, peering hard at him, "and yet I should know that fiery head of yours and your dear voice anywhere."

Einion chuckled. "My lord Madoc is a master of disguises, my lady Wynne. You did not recognize him in the repulsive Tovi, did you?"

"Nay," said Wynne softly, "I did not."

"My skin has been painted with bark and berry juices to resemble that of an older man, a man who spends half his year in a large town," Einion explained. "The shape of my nose has been altered by the use of clay. I hunch and I learned to modify my walk. I even changed my voice. It is a good disguise, my lady Wynne, is it not?"

"Very good, Einion," she replied, and then she looked at the other man in the wagon. "Is it
really
you, Madoc? I cannot see you through this deception. Yet for a moment in the hall, I thought I saw your eyes." She was beginning to shiver.

Madoc reached up, and drawing down a small length of soft wool, wrapped it about her shoulders. " ‘Tis I, dearling, truly. I dare not remove my camouflage and restore myself to my own identity until we are well away from this place. This Saxon thegn would not be pleased to learn he has restored you to your own people. He seems to gain great pleasure in shaming you."

"This place is Aelfdene, my lord. It has been my home for three years now," Wynne said, and he immediately caught the reproving tone in her voice. "I have lived here longer than I did at Raven's Rock." Then she looked at Einion. "Where is my daughter?"

"With her nursemaid in the Great Chamber. He says he will give her to me in the morning."

"I will not leave here without Averel," Wynne said firmly.

"Averel, "
Madoc said. "I thought we had agreed to call a daughter Angharad."

"Averel is not your daughter, my lord," Wynne answered him, and wondered why it was she felt a small bitter satisfaction in telling him this. His arrival here was certainly more than fortuitous, but the timing was all wrong and it rankled her.

Madoc's eyes darkened. "Is she the daughter of that animal who calls himself the lord of this place?"

"Nay," Wynne told him scornfully, "she is not. Her father was Eadwine Aethelhard; he was Aelfdene's former master. He died ten months ago in a hunting accident. He sacrificed himself to save the life of his eldest son, that pig who now rules in this hall."