Tanon looked around. Gareth was talking to an older man far enough away to make calling him difficult, never mind mortifying. Hereward began the task of untying the trunks. He must not have been doing it to Rebecca’s liking because she hurried to him, abandoning Tanon altogether.
“Are you coming?”
Tanon looked up and thought she would never feel so relieved to see Madoc standing beside her. She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Diolch,”he corrected her woodenly and walked away. When she didn’t follow him directly, he turned and flicked his wrist at her. When they reached Gareth’s side, Madoc left her and continued on his way toward the tavern.
Tanon took a step after him, not sure where she was supposed to go, or what she was supposed to do. Gareth caught her wrist and riled her when he cast her a cool look.
“What? You left me alone in the carriage!” she charged, mindless of the utter silence that had descended on the growing crowd facing her. “How was I to…” her words faded as she looked around and found dozens of faces staring back at her. She took a step closer to Gareth.
“She’s wrinkly!” a child called out and another giggled only to be silenced by a swift slap to his shoulder.
Tanon’s face grew flush. She lifted her fingers to her cheek. “Wrinkly? Why I am only ten and nine.” Her eyes found a young woman in the crowd. She had minky braids and huge dark eyes, and a belly as huge and as round as Tanon’s mother’s had been when she’d carried Anne and Ellie. The woman giggled and pointed to Tanon’s gown. The fabric was a maze of wrinkles from hem to waist. Tanon lowered her hand aching to smooth the fabric, but then realized the effort would be fruitless. It would take her a se’nnight to get all the creases out.
“This is Lady Tanon,” Gareth’s voice boomed so loud in her ear, she nearly toppled over. “As you all know, she’s a Norman—”
“Norman and Saxon,” Tanon called out, correcting him with a smile. When no one smiled back, she cleared her throat and moved further behind her husband. He turned and gave her an exhaustive sigh.
“You will not interrupt me again, aye?”
She nodded and lowered her head, more in defense of the crowd than of him.
“The Saxons,” he told her in a lowered voice, “were the ones who first drove them out of Briton—their countryand called them “Welsh” or “Foreigners.” So it’s best if you keep that to yourself.”
He didn’t wait for her reply but returned his attention to the crowd.
“Since you all—”
“It was very rude, forgive me.”
She watched him close his eyes. Was he praying? she wondered when he didn’t open them for another moment. Suddenly they opened again. “Since you all speak the language of the Saxons, you will use those words when addressing my wife until she learnsCymraeg. You’ll show her kindness and respect and offer her aid should she request it.” He reached behind him and took her hand. “I care for her, and it would please me if my people do as well.”
Tanon gazed up at his profile and felt her knees buckle at his declaration. He cared for her? What did that mean exactly? Her head reeled. She hadn’t expected to hear such words come from him, but she couldn’t deny how pleasing they were.
The women in the crowd whispered amongst themselves and sized her up, gauging whether or not she was fit to be wed to their prince. The wolves suddenly fidgeted nervously and smiled at her more politely. Hereward, Cian, and Tomas, who stood now with his arm tossed around the pretty pregnant woman, all smiled at her.
“Did you have to take her by force?” someone called out.
“Aye, did you fight any Normans, lord?” called another man from the crowd.
Gareth nodded and offered his people what they wanted, a victorious smile. “Aye. I fought her betrothed at the king’s tourney and won.”
“Her betrothed,” Cian added with a shout, “and eight of his men.”
After a chorus of cheers the crowd dispersed. Gareth shackled his fingers around her wrist and gave her a slight tug. “Come, let’s go home.” He paused when she called to Rebecca to join them.
When Tanon glared at him, waiting to hear what he had to say and why he paused when she called to her nurse, he said nothing but looked over his shoulder and motioned to Hereward and two other men to follow with the women’s trunks. Rebecca eyed the Saxon while he lifted the largest trunk to his shoulder. The other two men shared the weight of one trunk between them.
“Where’s your castle?” Tanon asked a few minutes later when her legs began to ache from trying to keep up with Gareth’s long strides. They had left the main village and were crossing a wide, open glen dotted with more cottages and a rich harvest of barley, wheat, and various vegetables. To her right, a small group of villagers, both men and women, returned to a grassy field. They picked up wooden lances that had been discarded upon Gareth’s return and waited while minstrels began plucking their instruments once again.
Gareth pointed to a cottage, slightly bigger than the ones his people occupied. It was ringed on two sides by a low stone wall that separated it from the harvest. The walls of the cottage were washed white beneath a thick thatched roof and stone chimney. There were windows along the wall facing east, and in the center, a small wooden door with a bronze handle. Tall columns of trees swept upward behind the cottage, their rustling crowns adding more music to the air.
“You live there?” Tanon didn’t realize she had stopped walking until she noticed that Gareth had stopped as well. He was staring at her with a slight scowl marring his golden brow.
“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it will have to suit you.”
“It’s…” Goodness, it was small. There wasn’t even a second landing! She swallowed and tried to smile. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “…cozy.” She blinked at Rebecca. “Isn’t it, Rebecca?”