Tanon’s father and uncle were among the first to spring from their seats, their faces, the same shade of ghostly white as they turned to look at each other.
“What is the meaning of this?” King William bellowed over the sound of benches being pushed away from tables, as the rest of his men, including Roger, stood up, ready for a fight.
Tanon looked up at the banner. Her eyes opened wide, recognizing the ruby dragon. Wales! When she met the stranger’s rueful glance, she stumbled backward. Dear God, what were Welshmen doing in Winchester? She felt fingers shackle her wrist. Her father pulled her farther away and moved in front of her.
From her vantage point behind her father, Tanon lowered her gaze to the daggers protruding from the cuffs of the Welshman’s boots, the thick belt around his slim waist. He stood arrow straight. His tightly honed legs were encased in tan leather trousers. His trim body coiled taut with leashed energy. He looked as fierce as his countrymen were reported to be.
The man carrying the banner stepped forward and cleared his throat. “His Highness, Lord Gareth ab Owain of Deheubarth, Prince Regent of Ystrad Towi.”
Tanon’s heart lurched. Gareth? She took an involuntary step forward as an old longing to reunite with her friend returned to her and warmed her gaze on him. But just for a moment.Non, this couldn’t be the little boy who had gallantly rescued her from Roger so many years ago. And Gareth died while fighting in northern Wales. She groped for her father’s hand to steady her.
“Your Majesty,” the prince turned to face the king. “Forgive my uncle for not sending word of my arrival.”
“Gareth?” the king ventured as if he could not believe his own eyes. “I was told you were killed over a year ago.” The king fell back into his seat. “This is quite a shock.”
“Aye, it was for my uncle as well when he finally saw me,” Gareth said, his voice calm despite the hundreds of well-trained knights standing ready to kill him if he made one move toward the king. “One of my men betrayed me in battle, and I was imprisoned in Prince Dafydd’s holding in the north for near a dozen months.” The hint of a smile crept over his lips. “I have his daughter to thank for my life.”
Tanon stared at him. Could this be the same soft-cheeked boy who had become her best friend that summer so long ago?Oui, it was him. His silky hair had darkened a shade or two with the years, and his face was no longer soft but carved to rugged perfection. But his eyes were still as vividly blue as she remembered. Why hadn’t he told her who he was earlier? Her eyes slid to the small group of men who had entered the castle with him and who now stood at the doors of the hall. All were armed, and each one looked more deadly than the next.
“How did you and your men cross the marches?” William cast the prince a pointed look. Like Offa’s Dyke, built centuries before to keep the warring Celts from entering England, so were the marches guarded by overlords.
“With careful planning, my lord.” When William raised an eyebrow, Gareth said what the king wanted to hear. “Without bloodshed on either side.”
William scowled, knowing there wasn’t a Welshman alive who wasn’t thirsty for Norman blood. He had made alliances with Rhys ap Tewdwr before the prince became king of Deheubarth, but their treaty for peace had never been sealed. “Your uncle should have sent a missive regarding your arrival. My writ would have assured you safe entrance into England. In any case, I’m pleased that you live, Prince Gareth.” William offered him a scant smile before his smoky gray gaze fell on Tanon, and then on her father.
“You remember the Duke of Scarborough, Earl of Avarloch Brand Risande”
The prince offered her father a casual nod, glancing briefly at the possessive hold he had on his daughter. “Duke, I’m happy to find you in good health. It has been many years since I last saw you.”
“Oui.” Her father’s hand closed even tighter around Tanon.
“Your family has grown,” Gareth said, smiling at the five smaller faces gaping at him from around the lord’s table. He turned his bold gaze on Tanon. “But you haven’t changed. You’re as beautiful as I remember, though I did find your missing tooth quite enchanting.”
Flashes of his boyish smile raced across Tanon’s memory and warmed her blood. She had dreamed of Gareth the entire winter of her sixth year. In her dreams they had played together as they had that summer when she told him stories of damsels and the knights who rescued them from mean dragons named Roger.
She looked at Roger now. He swayed on his feet from drinking, and his glassy gaze fixed hard on Gareth.
“Tell me,” King William’s commanding voice interrupted her thoughts. “What brings you back to Winchester? Is your uncle well? His family?”
“Aye, they are well. His son, Gruffydd, passed his third year in the spring. Fatherhood has strengthened my uncle’s resolve to bring peace toCymru.”
“Ah, good news, good news.” William held his cup aloft for a moment, toasting the peace Gareth spoke of.
Gareth smiled and folded his hands behind his back. “I’m glad you still desire peace, as well, Your Majesty.”
“Of course I do. We have lost many on both sides.”
“My people prefer not to be subjugated by yours, Sire,” Gareth answered in a nonthreatening tone to match his stance. Still, Roger stepped forward. William held up his hand and gestured for him to take his seat.
“I have no desire to conquer Wales.”
“And yet your noble barons have built castles along our borders—”
“For England’s protection against Welsh attacks,” William said without anger. He wasn’t opposed to any man who had the courage to stand up to him.
“They move farther intoCymrueach month, claiming more of our land without your disapproval.”
Finally, William’s gaze hardened on him. “And what does your uncle do to stop men likeWyfyrnfrom massacring England’s vassals along the entire length of Wales, from the southern marches to the north?”