An hour afterBrand left the solar with Brynna, he returned alone, finding the king where he’d left him, sprawled out in a chair facing the hearth fire. Brand acknowledged the man sitting beside William with a brief glance as he crossed the room to pour himself a drink. Though almost fourteen years had passed since Hereward the Wake had led a mighty rebellion against the Normans, Brand still found it inconceivable that the beefy Saxon had laid down his sword and had not only sworn fealty to William, but had become one of the king’s emissaries and good friend.
“I fear your wife will never forgive me.” William stared into the cup clutched within his thick fingers. With one swift motion, he guzzled its contents and then tossed the cup into the crackling flames.“Je suis désolé, mon ami.”
Brand closed his eyes for a moment. The king should not be sorry for doing what was needed to bring peace to his land. Brand had had a part in this decision that they all hoped would end the fighting between the Normans and the Welsh. At William’s request, he had agreed to let his eldest daughter be taken away from him, to live among England’s enemy as a symbol, a gesture that the Normans desired peace.
There is one more—the sun. She will be promised to a dragon and subdue a king.
By now, Brand knew Tanon was the ‘sun’ that the old man of the forest had spoken of when he and Dante were children. The dragon was Wales, the dark, faraway place she’d be taken. What had he meant by her subduing a king? Was it William?
Brand clenched his jaw, regretting his decision for the thousandth time since he’d made it. Many daughters were given over for land, title, or peace. His own wife had been forced to marry him to avoid bloodshed between the Saxons and the Normans. But this was his daughter, William’s goddaughter, and Brand was glad that his best friend shared his grief.
“Brynna understands the sacrifices required for peace. Tanon will come to understand them, as well.” Brand clenched his teeth together as he carried his cup to the hearth and leaned his shoulder against the arched mantle. “What do we know about Prince Gareth ab Owain? I remember Cedric, but I’ve never given his younger brother much thought.”
“We know a fair amount,” William told him, looking up. “Remember, Hereward spent a full winter with King Rhys and Gareth before his capture.”
Brand flicked his gaze to the red-haired Saxon. “Tell me.”
Crossing his booted ankle over his thigh, Hereward settled more comfortably in his seat. “Prince Gareth rules part of the northern region of Ystrad Towi in regent for King Rhys’ son.”
“I know.” Brand exhaled a frustrated sigh. “And he fought against one of the princes of the north and was believed to be dead. Hereward, tell me about him, this man who is to be my daughter’s husband. Is he even-tempered? Fair to his people?”
“From what I observed of him during my visit with him, he is even-tempered and compassionate. His prior rebellion against the Normans was to protect his people. His people respect him and obey his word as law. He earned their esteem by holding back a regiment of Lord Fitzgerald’s army when the Normans tried to move farther into the west, not once, but three times. As a leader, he possesses great finesse and charm that have won him the hearts of even some of King Gruffudd’s people in the Gwynedd, but he won’t hesitate to slice the head from anyone who tries to bring harm to his people. I’ve seen him do it.” The glint in Hereward’s pale green eyes reminded Brand that this softly spoken Saxon had once impaled the heads of fifty Normans in the courtyard of his father’s castle. “The twenty men he arrived with are part of hisTeulu, or personal guardsmen, elite in their skill.” Hereward continued. “Four of those men are his closest friends, sworn to give their lives in defense of his. Though he doesn’t require their protection. He’s a confident warrior. He wields a sword as if he were born with one.”
Brand ran his hand over his jaw, trying desperately to accept the inevitable; he’d given up his daughter to the Welsh.
“He will keep her safe.” Hereward said as if reading Brand’s thoughts. Hereward liked the Risandes, had respected them even during the years the brothers had hunted him for the killing of their sister, which he had naught to do with. He harbored no ill will toward Lord Brand, even though the woman he loved was in love with the duke. Hereward doubted Brand was even aware of Tanon’s nurse, Rebecca. His eyes were on his wife and family.
“Prince Gareth is not a barbarian, Brand,” Hereward told him. “He’s intelligent, and his first choice is always diplomacy, not force. In truth, your daughter will do far better with him than she would have done with his brother.”
“I don’t know that,” Brand said, the worry in his eyes remaining, despite Hereward’s assurances. “I want to travel to Wales with her.” Brand turned back to the king. “I need to see for myself that she will be accepted in her new home.”
“You cannot,” William answered, a sharp barb of regret jabbing deep into his heart as he watched Brand ready himself for a fight. The king stopped him before it began. “You are my highest commander,mon ami. Everyone in Scotland, Wales, and France knows who you are. The moment you step foot on Welsh land, they’ll suspect you’re there for war. Your life, and our agreement for peace, will mean naught. Give Gareth and his uncle some time to convince their people of our sincerity. Then, you may visit her. In the meantime, Prince Gareth will secure her well-being.”
“’Tis as if I’m setting her off alone in the dark!” Brand lamented. “The prince barely knows her!” His soft voice suddenly erupted into a roar. “All you have convinced me of tonight is that the people come first to the prince. Who will protect Tanon if his people turn on her?”
“I will.”
Brand turned to point his stare at Hereward as the Saxon, who had once been William’s most powerful enemy, offered him a faint smile and repeated his vow.
“I will travel with her and guard her with my sword, and with my life.”
Brand didn’t want to send Tanon off with Hereward any more than he wanted to send her off with Prince Gareth. This was the man whose followers had killed his sister, Katherine, seventeen years ago. It had taken almost that many years before Brand believed Hereward had nothing to do with her death. But that didn’t mean he trusted the Saxon with his daughter.
Hereward stood to his feet and placed a large hand on Brand’s shoulder. “I will let no harm come to her. You have my word.”
Brand gritted his teeth, and then left the solar.
Chapter Three
Gareth followed theking’s steward down the long, dimly lit corridor. It had taken him over a quarter of an hour to find out who the hell Hubert was. But, Gareth considered, since there had to be over three hundred guests roaming the castle, a hundred of them bastard Normans named Hubert, a quarter of an hour wasn’t really all that long to find the right one. What really irked him though was that when he finally found the steward, he discovered that Hubert only spoke French. Gareth tried to remain patient while he repeated his request for rooms and the steward shook his head and repeated a string of words Gareth didn’t understand. Finally, Gareth had to haul the man to a door, give it a hard whack with his fist, and shout, “Rooms for us! Now!” before Hubert began moving.
Hell, he was tired, Gareth thought as he followed Hubert along the maze of cavernous corridors that made up Winchester’s third landing. He and his men had traveled on horseback for over a fortnight, sleeping on pallets on the hard ground. His body ached for a soft bed. He guessed his weariness was the reason he’d allowed Brand Risande to rattle his resolve when they’d met in the great hall just prior to finding the steward. Whatever the reason, Gareth now understood fully why his uncle had warned him on several occasions to use caution around the duke’s daughter. He remembered Tanon’s father from his childhood, though they had barely spoken.
Every warrior inCymruknew of Lord Brand and Dante Risande. They were King William’s best, most lethal commanders, but Gareth had no idea that facing the duke of Scarborough off the battlefield might be as deadly as facing him on it. Gareth had trained hard under King Rhys’ stringent instruction since he was a boy. Oft times, he was so physically exhausted after a lesson that he fell into bed without supper. He’d grown up fighting merciless princes, and Normans armed with sword, axe, and spear. But no one had ever threatened to gut him wide open while smiling at him like an angel. Gareth had to spend another ten long breaths assuring Tanon’s father that he would see to her happiness and protection. God’s fury, the man still growled at him. Madoc, Gareth’s first in command, insisted on having a go with the Norman duke, but Gareth refused his request. It wouldn’t do to kill his betrothed’s father or lose his best friend two days before the wedding.
His wedding! He thought as he turned left behind Hubert. He was truly going through with it. Tomorrow he would fight to be bound forever to a Norman in order to give his countrymen along the borders the promise of a better life. Of course,Cymruwould still suffer the sorrows of war brought about by the other rival princes who ruled in Gwynedd and Powys, but that was another matter to be dealt with in another way.
What the hell did he know of marriage anyway? He was a warrior, fighting since he was ten, with no time to coddle such demanding beings as wives. He had villages to oversee, men to train, and people who depended on him to keep them safe. He had enough to keep his mind occupied without worrying about the comfort of a woman.