He knew. He…knew.
“Gareth,” She recognized Alwyn’s voice from the shadows. “We cannot bring her back with us. Let’s be off now. Madoc knows his duty. He’ll not let harm come to her.”
Tanon took a step back as her value to Gareth and to Wales came flooding back to her. She meant nothing to him. Fool! She blinked back the stinging tears clouding her vision. She’d known why he married her. She was a fool to believe she’d ever mean anything more to him than a way to secure peace. Still, the blow cut deep.
“I see.” It took her a moment to speak, for the relief of finding Gareth here, the joy at being safe in his arms again, was difficult to extinguish.
She didn’t protest when he pulled her forward, ignoring Alwyn’s muffled oath, and led her toward the fortress.
She didn’t speak, even after they entered his stronghold and he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the chambers above stairs. She told herself that he hadn’t truly betrayed her. She had known her worth to him from the beginning. But the way he had looked at her, the way he kissed her, touched her… Was none of it real? How easily he had tricked her. But then, he wasWyfyrnafter all. The serpent dragon whose renowned finesse and stealth to breach any stronghold, including Winchester, and her father’s protection, was known throughout England. The dragon, whose mouth breathed a fire that had consumed her whole. He’d seduced her mind, her body, and her heart. How skillfully he’d caressed the part of her she had forgotten existed. The girl who didn’t care about the rules of proper etiquette while she played in the pigpen with Petunia. The woman who wanted to love as fiercely as her mother loved her father, and who had given up that hope before it became too empty to bear.
She remained still while he kissed her head, whispering across her forehead, her cheekbone, words of thanks that all had not been lost. It seemed, she thought, coldly, there was yet a purpose for her to serve. When he left her at the insistence of Alwyn and Tomas to make haste, for there was much to be done before morn, he did not leave her alone.
Seeing Hereward the Wake was all the betrayal Tanon could endure. She turned her gaze away from his and wept.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Morning came findingTanon slumped in her chair, her ebony curls dotted with grass, swept to the floor. Poor girl, Hereward thought regarding her from across the room. What could he tell her that her heart didn’t already know beneath all those layers of pain and anger? Aye, he knew why her sobs lingered on into the morn. Her husband and her friends had aided him in a dangerous scheme to outwit their enemy, even at the cost of her life. Hereward sighed at the weight of her sorrow. He was one of her friends.
A knock at the door ushered Hereward to his feet. He looked at Tanon one more time before he allowed entry to one of the king’s guards.
“Let no one enter,” he charged as he left the room. He would help her understand later. Right now, he had more pressing concerns to tend with.
The troubadours were coming, a bit less confident mayhap now that they no longer possessed the Norman king’s promise of peace, but still just as dangerous. Perhaps, even more so.
He threaded his way toward the great hall, passing beneath canopied corridors, draped in sheer wool. The fortress was ominously quiet. The vassals who had scurried about their duties last eve had been sent back to their homes. Guardsmen had been ordered to desert their positions throughout the fortress and stay out of sight unless they were needed.
Hereward peered over the second landing and spotted Prince Gareth sitting at a long trestle table of polished oak, speaking quietly with the king of South Wales.
The Saxon grunted. He didn’t care how the Welsh conducted their affairs. He thought it mad that a king would allow himself to appear so vulnerable. Were he Cedric or Dafydd, the absence of the king’s royal guard would alert him to danger. But Alwyn had assured him that Rhys often met his vassals in private. He was well loved in the south. That may well be, but men from the north were coming today.
Scanning the hall from above, Hereward noted the slight flutter of curtains sectioning off two long corridors beneath him. Gareth’sTeuluwere here hidden, waiting.
Would they be enough to stop Cedric and Dafydd’s men? Hereward drew his long sword from its sheath and stepped into the shadows. They would have to be.
Moments passed into quarters while Gareth and Rhys’ voices drifted up to Hereward’s ears. They spoke of Rhys’ children, Nest and Gruffudd, safely hidden leagues away. They discussed Tanon, and peace with the Normans without a thread of anticipation marring the casualty in their tones.
The angered screech of the fortress doors heralded the entry of King Rhys’ chief steward, Baddon. Dry rushes cracked beneath his feet as he turned to the two men sitting at the table.
“A traveling band of bards and jugglers beg audience with you, Your Majesty.”
“How many?”
“Twenty.”
“Send them in.”
Hereward flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword and readied himself for a fight.
*
Gareth watched theentertainers file into the great hall. His brain signaled him to inhale. Breathe, and stop thinking of Tanon. When he’d left her upstairs, he’d accredited her trembling to the elements. She was wet and cold, probably terrified. But the expressionless shield that dulled her eyes alarmed him. She hadn’t spoken a word to him. She hadn’t looked at him.
He fought the urge to race up the stairs and speak to her, comfort her. Assure her that she was safe now. That she had been safe all along.
His arms ached to hold her.
He inhaled. He had to focus on the situation at hand.