“Gareth,” William called out before they left. The Welsh prince stopped and turned to face him. “Prince Dafydd has a loose tongue. You should have killed him instead of just cutting off his fingers.”
“Aye,” Gareth agreed. “My mercy was wasted on a fool.” He smiled with genuine affection for the shrewd Norman king. “Yours, I vow to you, is not.”
William watched them leave and then turned to Brand. “Wyfyrnor not, I like that Welshman. Mayhap King Rhys would agree to a union between your babe, Andrea, and his young son, Prince Gruffydd.”
Brand tossed him an angelic grin. “I’d kill you first.”
William’s hearty laughter drifted to the hall, outside the solar, where Cian and Madoc stood watching Gareth as he bent to kiss his wife’s swollen belly.
“The dragon’s breath he did impart
Upon the maiden’s unsullied heart
What ’ere he sought by peace to gain
The beast, the lady’s love has slain.”
Madoc turned to his younger brother and tossed his arm over his shoulder. “That was quite good,” he said leading Cian toward the great hall for a drink.
“My thanks. I’m easily inspired.” Cian grinned at him. “I love them both.”
Madoc looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Aye, little brother, so do I.”
Epilogue
Ystrad Towi
Autumn, 1087
Madoc stood betweenand just behind Gareth and his wife’s chairs in the great hall, placed there by his prince when Madoc refused to leave Gareth’s side so that he could keep his wife safe first. Madoc stood because he preferred not to sit when there were so many men from the north in attendance. With one ear he listened to Gareth propose peace between the kingdoms. “A country divided cannot stand,” the prince regent told the princes of the north sitting around the table. Madoc agreed, but these fools wouldn’t listen. Gareth was wasting his breath and the afternoon. And why did Tanon have to be here with these wild men instead of basking in the sun with her daughter in the gardens of Swansea Castle? It was why Gareth had added it to the castle King Rhys had given him, wasn’t it? Because she deserved private things, like gardens, and a “garderobe”, and a separate place to sleep on a fine bed—all the luxuries of a princess. When Eynon of Caernarfon insisted she be present to represent the Normans, Madoc wanted to run him through, but Gareth hadn’t allowed it.
While Gareth spoke, Madoc stared at him, remembering their days as children, before they were sent off to fight, days playing along the banks of the River Towi, days after Gareth had returned from his summer in Winchester, where he met little Lady Tanon Risande, his brother’s betrothed. Madoc was the only person who knew that it wasn’t battle and blood that changed Gareth. It was her. Tanon Risande and her sweet, dulcet laughter that broke through language barriers and spread sunlight and waves of warmth over those who heard it. Gareth loved her. Madoc had heard so much about her, he felt as if he’d spent the summer with her too. Oddly enough, thoughts of things Gareth had told him about her helped Madoc forget the pain of losing his parents.
He would be forever grateful to Prince Rhys for taking pity on him and his two brothers at the time. They were placed into the prince’s care as pages, to be trained later as soldiers. It wasn’t long after that Prince Rhys took in his sister’s seven sons. That was when Madoc met Gareth and the two became friends. After Gareth saved him on the battlefield six different times when they were children, Madoc pledged his life to him. He’d never gone back on it. He would protect Gareth with his own life. They’d grown up together and had taken Tomas, Cian, and Alwyn into their fold.
One of Gareth’s guests, Kenneric of Wrexham shifted in his seat and Madoc caught the glint of metal. A dagger.
To prevent a massacre, all weapons were supposed to be left outside. Madoc snapped to attention and took a step around the table toward prince of Wrexham’s emissary.
Before he took his second step, Kenneric pulled his cloak away and released his dagger. His eyes weren’t on Gareth, but on his wife. Madoc wouldn’t make it to the bastard in time to stop him, for the bastard was already about to fling the dagger at Tanon.
Madoc had no other choice. But even as he leaped over the table to push her out of the way of the flying dagger, he cursed Kenneric to Hades. Madoc landed on her, knocking her out of her chair and onto the floor, under him. He swallowed and tried to breathe, but she was so close, so beautiful. “Were you hit?” he whispered over her mouth, staring into her eyes for a moment…just a moment as the great hall came alive around him.
“I don’t think so,” she gasped out. “You can get up now.”
He closed his eyes.Get up. She’s his wife. She’s Gareth’s beloved wife. Get up before they both hate you.He tried and pain lanced through him until things almost went dark.
“I wish I could, my lady,” he groaned out. “Please, call for Alwyn’s assistance.”
“What?”
Hell, why did her big green eyes shine even now as alarm widened them?
“What’s the matter with you? Alwyn!” she shouted. Instantly, there were half a dozen sets of hands on him pulling him up. He cringed at the pain in his side and looked down at the dagger in his flesh. He turned and raked his gaze over the guests.
Gareth appeared at his side to help his wife to her feet. After assurances that she was unharmed, he turned to Madoc. “Thank you.”
“Where’s Kenneric?”