The Silken Cord (14 page)

She wiped her chin and gave him an
affectionate smile. “I’m touched by your loyalty. Truly I am. But
you don’t love me, Jenkin. Not as a man should love a woman.”

A frown creased his features. “I do love
you, Ariana. More than I can say.”

And she would break his heart. A knife
thrust to her own heart would have been less painful. She hated
hurting this good man. He’d always been beside her since they were
children. Protecting, defending her. Seeing to her needs before his
own. But she could never give him false hope. She didn’t love him.
Not romantically. Not the way she loved Wulfgar. And her cheeks
burned with regret.

Jenkin’s eyes crinkled with misery. It had
taken a lot for him to bare his heart to her. She could only
imagine the damage she would do his pride by refusing him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Jenkin. But what
you ask is impossible. I’m a Christian. Our fathers were brothers
and we are first cousins. Already you stand to inherit my father’s
kingdom should Dafydd die or fail to provide an heir. You…you’re
like a brother to me.”

His eyebrows shot up. “A brother?”

His long body unfolded and he hopped down to
stand beside her. She stepped back, hoping he didn’t try to kiss
her again. This was Jenkin. Kind, dependable Jenkin. She could
never think of him as her husband. He was a friend, her cousin
only.

“Wed me and our son will rule Powys,” he
said. “Together we’ll beat the Normans back and regain the lands
they’ve stolen from our people.”

A blaze of anger flashed through her. “No,
it’s Dafydd’s right to rule, not yours or mine.”

His expression changed to contrition. “I’m
sorry, Ariana. Truly I meant no offense. But we must plan for the
worst. If Edwin kills Dafydd, we must go on living.”

“Stop. I won’t hear such talk. You speak of
treason toward our king.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing
in his throat. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I mean no harm to
Dafydd.”

His voice sounded adamant, his gaze intense.
Always, he had been devoted to her. Always, he had seen to her
welfare. For these reasons, she wouldn’t lie to him.

“I can’t love you the way you want me to. My
father’s throne belongs to Dafydd. And I’ll do everything within my
power to keep it for him until he can take his rightful place at
Powys. Neither you nor I have the right to take that from him. I’ve
already lost four brothers, Jenkin. Dafydd is the last and I’ll see
that he lives to rule our people.”

Jenkin’s jaw tensed and she heard the
grinding of his teeth. “I also am determined to see Dafydd placed
on the throne. But what if we fail, Ariana? Our people must have
someone to lead them.”

Ariana flinched. For the first time she
doubted him. Would he conspire to kill Dafydd and take the throne
for himself? She couldn’t contemplate such a cruel fate for her
brother. “Don’t say such things. We must trust in God. Dafydd will
live. We’ll get him back.”

She backed away, shaking her head, her eyes
burning with tears.

Jenkin’s gaze softened. “You’re right. We’ll
find the boy. But what of us? What of our future?”

An invisible knife sliced her heart. “I love
you as a brother, Jenkin. My father loved and raised you as his son
when your own father died in his prime. But I will never wed you.
Don’t ask it of me, I beseech you.”

“Who will you wed, then?” he asked, a sneer
curling his lips. “The Norman?”

Yes! Her mind screamed. Wulfgar was her
betrothed, but she knew it could never be. Not now. Not ever.

“Wulfgar is our enemy. We can never marry,
now.”

With one hand raised in supplication, Jenkin
took a step toward her, and Ariana took two steps back. She wanted
to scream with misery. To shriek her pain from the highest hilltop.
Why, oh, why had he said these things to her? Now, she would always
be on guard with Jenkin. They could never go back to being just
friends.

“It isn’t important that you love me.” His
tone sounded ragged with pain. “If you wed me, I will need no
love.”

A large tear rolled down her cheek and she
brushed it away. “Oh, you’re so wrong, Jenkin. Love is the most
important thing. Without it, nothing else matters. You deserve that
kind of love from the woman you marry. One day, you’ll find someone
who deserves your devotion.”

Grief clouded his eyes. His mouth softened
and his shoulders slumped in dejection. He’d always been so strong,
so determined. Now he was weakened.

Because of her.

Turning her back on him, she wiped her own
eyes. “I’ll return to camp and rest, now.”

He let her go. As she moved off into the
night, she ran, grateful he didn’t stop her. Through the trees, the
bright glow of their campfire winked at her. Heading in that
direction, she lifted her skirts and hurried faster.

Fate could be so cruel. Jenkin loved her,
and she could never return his affection. Instead, she loved a man
she could never have. Their situation was impossible.

Life could be so cruel.

They resumed their journey early in the
morning. Moving at a slow pace, very few words were shared. Each of
them were subdued and quiet, lost in their own thoughts.

Climbing through the mountains, Jenkin had
them stay within the stands of trees, to shelter them from prying
eyes. They wished not to reveal themselves to enemies.

The sun gleamed bright in the eastern sky.
Drafts of golden light filtered through the forest. The cloying
heat of Ariana’s cloak weighted her down and she removed it,
draping it in front of her over the saddle. She didn’t begrudge the
warmth. It could be raining instead, which would make their travels
more miserable.

Neither Jenkin nor Wulfgar spoke to her.
Both men kept their distance, avoiding company. When she looked up,
Ariana always found one of them watching her. Their heavy stares
felt like leaden weights. Gnawing on her lower lip, she tried to
ignore them both.

The men constructed a litter made of tree
limbs and animal hides to move Gaston. The litter had been strapped
to Ariana’s horse, and she looked back to see that he was well. As
she predicted, Gaston had a fever but he was lucid and Ariana
thought him out of danger. The flesh of his wound was red and hot
to the touch but she thought it would heal well enough. Likewise,
Cwrig’s wound was also healing.

By the time they arrived at their
destination, Ariana was ready to collapse with exhaustion. From her
high vantage point, she looked down on Elan Valley. Rugged
mountains surrounded the gorge. In the center rested Lake Elan, a
lovely centerpiece for the lavish beauty of the moors, oakwoods,
and abundant wildlife.

When she heard the shout of welcome from the
lookouts, she almost cried with joy. They could rest now and eat a
hot meal. She could find solace away from the penetrating looks of
Wulfgar and Jenkin. Being with her people would restore her
spirits.

Wood smoke rose from the dense foliage of
the forest where campfires burned. They were not visible from this
vantage point, but Ariana knew tents and shelters were secluded
back within the privacy of the trees where her people rested and
waited.

“Your father chose his hiding place wisely,”
Wulfgar spoke beside her. “We’re close to Radnor Forest and no more
than a day’s ride from Glyndwr.”

Elation filled his voice. His eyes sparkled
with delight and she could tell from the satisfied smile on his
handsome face that he was excited by the prospect. She couldn’t
blame him. It’d been some time since last he’d seen his home and he
must miss it terribly.

Turning, she descended into the valley. The
air filled with the low thrum of bullhorns being blown to herald
their arrival. People came out of the forest to see who the
newcomers were. The Welsh called happy greetings and came running
toward her.

“Princess,” one woman cried. “We thought you
dead and came here to join those who had fled Trallwm.”

“Oh, princess,” another said. “I’m so glad
that you’re okay.”

Some of them sobbed, with relief or joy,
Ariana couldn’t tell. They bowed before her, then rose to pat and
caress her lovingly. Several embraced her openly as they told her
in tearful tones about the raid at Aberystwyth. Ariana couldn’t
stop the flow of tears as she listened to their sad story. They’d
suffered so much.

* * *

Wulfgar watched Ariana’s reunion with
detached interest. He noted how her people clung to their princess,
recounting for her all the horror of Edwin’s army as they walked
with her to the main camp. Trust filled their eyes as they looked
to her for wisdom and guidance. Such an awesome responsibility for
such a small woman.

The people stared at Wulfgar and the other
Normans with curiosity. They noticed the slave collar around
Wulfgar’s neck. Little children stared at him with open mouths and
gave him wide berth. Since the Normans had come in with Princess
Ariana, the people didn’t question their presence. Obviously they
didn’t realize who he was. Wulgar stilled his nerves, not knowing
what his reception might be once the Welsh discovered they were
Normans.

At the main camp, a large fire burned
cheerily. People sat around it. Lean from hunger, their shattered
looks told the misery they had endured.

Sympathy melted Wulfgar’s heart. He vowed
silently to do something for them once he was again Lord of
Glyndwr.

“Where is King Rhys?” Wulfgar asked Evan,
who stood close beside him. “Why hasn’t he come to greet his
daughter?”

Evan shifted his feet and ignored the
question. Instead, he took that moment to greet his kinfolk.

Raulf came to stand beside Wulfgar and asked
the same question. “Have you seen the king, yet?”

“No,” Wulfgar replied.

“Don’t you think that’s odd?”

Wulfgar’s gaze remained on Ariana and he
thought her quite lovely as she spoke to her people. “Something’s
wrong.”

“What do you intend to do about it?” Raulf
asked.

Wulfgar folded his arms. “As soon as I’m
able, I’ll ask Ariana where her father is. I think it’s time we
met.”

As the throng cheered their princess, she
was carried away and he didn’t have a chance to speak with her.
Wulfgar and his men were swept up in a joyous celebration. Though
the portions were small, there was a feast and they dined on wild
boar, venison, and roast rabbit.

Wulfgar ate only enough to slake his hunger.
There were others who were worse off than him and he wouldn’t take
food from a child.

Setting his ale aside, he clapped his hands
in rhythm to the beat of the drum and flutes. He was watching a
particularly comely Welsh girl dance when Jenkin approached.
Accompanied by a broad-shouldered man with burly biceps, Jenkin
carried a pile of clean clothing and a cake of lye soap. With
barely a nod, Jenkin thrust the bundle at Wulfgar. “The princess
sent these for you. They belonged to her father and, since he was
tall and large, she thought they’d fit your frame. John is a smithy
and will remove the slave collar from your neck. The princess has
ordered it.”

“Where is King Rhys? I wish to speak with
him,” Wulfgar said.

Without response, Jenkin turned and walked
away. Wulfgar stared after him, feeling angry by his rude
silence.

Wulfgar held perfectly still while John
removed the pins from the collar and tossed it aside. Breathing
with relief, Wulfgar rubbed his neck where the metal had chafed his
skin. With his sharp knife in hand, he headed for the lake, intent
upon shaving his beard. His questions would have to wait.

* * *

Ariana dipped her bare toes into the water
of Lake Elan. Sitting on the embankment, she closed her eyes and
relaxed. It was dark and she was sheltered from view by the thick
willows and sedges growing around the pool of water. She had
scrubbed her hair earlier and fanned it out about her shoulders,
threading the damp curls through her fingers.

Memories haunted her. She’d learned to swim
here when she was no more than four years old. John, her eldest
brother, had taught her. Now he was dead, and also her other
brothers. How she missed Hugh’s boisterous laugh, Llwyd’s teasing
smile, and Edmund’s shrewd outlook on life.

Thinking of her brothers stole her moment of
solace and she opened her eyes, looking up at the twinkling stars
above. The singing and laughter of her people reached her ears. How
she loved them all. The burden she carried for their welfare rested
heavily on her shoulders. They’d been through so much. No longer
could they return to their homes without fear of being hunted and
killed by the Normans. Nor did they dare retaliate for fear Edwin
might harm Dafydd. Until the boy was returned, the Welsh were in a
precarious predicament. They must return home soon or there would
be no crops to harvest for the cold winter ahead. They’d starve.
Ariana couldn’t bear the thought of hearing the hungry cries of
their little children.

Loath to leave her private world before she
must, she stood, planning to seek out Jenkin to make plans for the
morrow. Her toes dug into the soft mud of the lake bottom. She
rinsed each foot, dried it with a linen towel, then pulled on her
socks and shoes. Standing, she stopped short.

Wulfgar! He stood before her in the shadows,
his hair cut short in the Norman style, his beard shaved from his
lean cheeks.

An aura of danger surrounded him. He looked
beguiling and terrifying at the same time. He stared at her and she
was mesmerized, unable to move. He walked to her, dressed in her
father’s clothes. They fit his muscular shoulders to
perfection.

“You shaved your beard and cut your hair.”
She reached up and touched his smooth face, then threaded her
fingers through his shorn hair.