A Moment in Time Read online

  "Let us hope the Irish keep him busy for several months," Wynne muttered. "The last thing I need about Gwernach right now is a suitor. The corn and the hay must be planted if I am to feed the cattle next winter. It is hard enough, as you well know, to wrest grain from this soil."

  "Four more cows calved today," Dewi said coming up to his sisters. "Old Blodwen had twins again, and one of them is a wee bull, Wynne."

  She smiled down at him, pulling the straw from his. black hair and ruffling it affectionately. "A wee bull," she repeated. "Well, if he's half the stud his sire is, he'll prove valuable to us."

  Dewi grinned, pleased, but Caitlin glowered darkly.

  "Cows and bulls!" she said irritably. "Is that all you can think about, Wynne?"

  "One of us must think about such things if this estate is to survive- if your dowry is to survive-until I can marry you and Dilys off," Wynne told her.

  "My dowry is my dowry," Caitlin said firmly.

  "Your dowry," her sister replied, "is part of this estate, and Gwernach comes first."

  "And there's another reason that you should marry Rhys of St. Bride's if he asks you," Caitlin insisted stubbornly. "No woman is competent to manage an estate. I don't even understand why you won't do it. Better you wed and let Rhys handle Gwernach before you lose everything for us!"

  "Wynne doesn't have to marry anyone she doesn't want to, you selfish cow!" Dewi told his older sister, his blue eyes flashing at Caitlin in his defense of Wynne. "I am lord of Gwernach, and I have spoken!"

  "Lord of Gwernach! Lord of Gwernach!" mocked Dilys, for she and Caitlin were close. "You're nought but a little runt!"

  "I'm as big as you are," Dewi replied spiritedly, reaching out to yank at one of Dilys's long braids and grinning with satisfaction at her shriek of pain.

  Caitlin smacked at her brother in an effort to defend Dilys, but he eluded her hard hand and aimed a well-placed kick at her shin. Caitlin howled with outrage as his foot successfully met its mark.

  "Missed me! Missed me!" he laughed at her, capering about Caitlin who was bending to rub her sore leg.

  Wynne grasped her little brother by the scruff of his neck and held him fast. "Apologize to your sisters," she said sternly to the wiggling boy.

  "I'm sorry," Dewi said in sugary, repentant tones, but his eyes were dancing devilishly. If Wynne could not see his look, Caitlin and Dilys could.

  Caitlin's cold blue eyes warned her little brother that he would fare badly should she catch him alone in the near future. Caitlin respected but two things: gold and power. As far as she was concerned, Dewi had neither of these at this point and, consequently, was vulnerable to her vengeance. Dewi, however, could count on Dilys's forgetful nature. Though selfish and self-absorbed, Dilys rarely held a grudge, unlike Caitlin.

  Outside the wind was beginning to pick up and the rain was beating strongly against the shuttered windows. A gust blew down the chimney hole, sending a shower of sparks into the air, but they fell harmlessly back into the round stone fire pit.

  "Come," Enid said firmly, "the evening meal is getting cold while we stand here arguing a matter about which we have not all the facts. Perhaps Rhys of St. Bride's but wishes to purchase cattle from us."

  "It is well known that we do not sell our cattle," Caitlin said impatiently.

  At the table, Father Drew sat patiently awaiting the family. He was a gentle little man with twinkling brown eyes who was their only near male relation, but as a man of the cloth, he was exempted from inheriting Gwernach. He had lived there his entire life but for the years he spent in an English monastery, returning several months after Wynne was born, when Gwernach's former priest, another cousin, had died. His stomach rumbled hungrily, but he held his peace until his relations had seated themselves. Then he quickly mumbled a blessing upon the bounty they were about to receive, reaching for his cup even as the "Amen" died upon the others' lips.

  Enid restrained a chuckle, nodding to the servants to serve the meal. No one, she knew, appreciated his food like Drew, and yet he was but a wisp of a man. A stew of mutton, onions, carrots, and cabbage was ladled onto the individual trenchers of bread. It was a tasty dish, well-flavored with sea salt and peppercorns, for Enid, in charge of the kitchens, had a sophisticated palate and disliked bland food. The sea salt was easily obtainable, but the peppercorns were a luxury imported from some far place, she knew not where. There was cheese and bread baked this morning upon the table as well as a pitcher of ale, the sides of the vessel frosted.

  The room was quiet as they ate, Wynne silently admonishing Dewi with a severe waggle of her eyebrows to use his spoon and not his fingers. Though there was more than enough to eat for everyone in the household, it was a simple meal, for they were but country folk. When they had at last finished and the servants had cleared away the last remnants of their supper, a bowl of wizened apples was brought. In cold storage all winter long, these last of the past year's harvest had seen better days.

  "Take them away," Enid commanded, "and stew them for our breakfast."

  "Do not forget to sweeten them," Caitlin called after the departing servant.

  "If she ate all the honey in the world it wouldn't help her disposition," Dewi muttered beneath his breath.

  Wynne shot her brother a warning look, but she was unable to restrain her mouth from turning up slightly at the corners, and he grinned mischievously back at her.

  "What did he say?" Caitlin demanded.

  "Nothing that concerns you," Wynne said with finality, firmly blocking the avenue to additional discord.

  "I wonder when Rhys of St. Bride's will come courting Wynne," Dilys said.

  "Must we speak of the lord of St. Bride's?" Wynne replied irritably.

  "What is the matter with you?" Caitlin snapped at her eldest sister. "You act as if the devil himself is coming to woo you. Rhys of St. Bride's is said to be a fine figure of a man, not much past thirty. He's still young and vigorous. He's only had one wife, and there are no children from that marriage. It would be your son who would inherit St. Bride's! A rich and powerful man is coming to pay you suit, Wynne! By the blessed Christ, I wish it were me he were coming to see!"

  "So do I," Wynne said quietly. "I have no wish for a husband at this time."

  "Then you're a fool!" Caitlin raged at her. "You're fifteen, sister, and not getting any younger!"

  "If you feel that strongly," Wynne replied, "I shall suggest a match between you and Rhys of St. Bride's, if it is indeed a wife that he comes seeking here."

  "He won't have me," Caitlin said matter-of-factly and sounding extremely irritated by her own honest assessment of the situation.

  "Nay, he will not," her sister answered, "and we both know why, don't we, Caitlin? It is for that reason that I will not wed any man until Dewi is grown and a father himself."

  "But what about us?" Caitlin wailed. "Are we to be condemned to be old maids because you choose that path for yourself? That is selfish!"

  "Enough!" Enid interjected sternly. "For shame, Caitlin! When have you ever known Wynne to be selfish? You are the selfish one in this family, and selfish enough for all of us, I might add. Between us, Wynne and myself, and our fine young lord of Gwernach, you and Dilys shall have good husbands."

  "I do not want a good husband," Caitlin told her grandmother stubbornly. "I want a rich and powerful one!"

  Wynne burst out laughing. "By the blessed rood, Caitlin, you are blunt."

  "Good men are usually dull," Caitlin noted.

  "But if he were a rich, good man," Wynne teased her, "would it make him more palatable for you?"

  "She'd probably drive him to an early grave," Dewi noted sagely.

  "Ahhh," Wynne chuckled, "then she would be a rich widow and could do just what she pleased. Would that not make you happy, Caitlin?"

  "Only if I might take a lover," Caitlin said.

  "What?!" Enid looked shocked. "What talk is this, granddaughter? What mischief have you been up to, my girl?"

  "Oh, Grandmothe
r, do not fret," Caitlin replied in bored tones. "I shall not throw my virginity away for a mere moment's passion when I can sell it to the highest bidder. Nonetheless, I am certain I shall very much appreciate the carnal relationship enjoyed by a husband and a wife. So much so that if I am widowed I shall not want to do without it. I am not like Wynne. All cool and distant. I am a creature of fire!"

  "You are a bold baggage," Enid said, and she slapped Caitlin sharply on her cheek, but the girl just laughed mockingly at her grandmother as she rubbed the sting from her pretty, petulant face.

  Dilys giggled foolishly at the exchange and was also slapped for her trouble. Her great blue eyes filled with tears that spilled down her pink cheeks.

  "Go to your beds," Enid said wearily to the two girls. "You also, my precious boy," she told Dewi.

  Without another word Caitlin arose and stalked proudly from the hall, Dilys hurrying in her wake. Dewi, however, arose from his place and kissed his eldest sister and his grandmother lovingly before taking his departure.

  "She will come to a bad end," Enid predicted darkly of Caitlin.

  "Nay, Grandmother," Wynne said gently. "It is just that she has suddenly discovered she has a woman's feelings within her. She wants to be her own mistress in her own home."

  "But you do not," Enid said. "Why is that, my child?"

  Wynne shook her head. "I dare not marry lest I endanger my brother," she said.

  "You may fool the others with that tale," Enid said, "but you do not fool me. What is it? What is it that keeps you from seeking a husband, Wynne? I will not deny you that Rhys of St. Bride's motives in courting you are perhaps not as honest as we would have them; but there are others who would wed you for yourself and not Gwernach. Before my son died in that foolish accident, there were two who sought your hand in marriage, yet you would not have them. Why?"

  Wynne sighed deeply, her long fingers worrying at the fabric of her tunic dress. "Am I a fool, Grandmother, to believe in true love in a world that makes marriage contracts based on rank, and wealth and expediency?" she said softly. "I cannot, it seems, be comfortable with the idea of giving myself to a man I do not love or respect; and yet that is not how things are done in our world, is it? Caitlin chides me with good reason, but I cannot change how I feel, and I do not believe I should have to, for marriage is a sacrament between God and man. It should be taken seriously, but how can I take it seriously if I marry simply to marry, and I am unhappy in my decision?"

  Enid nodded understandingly. "I have had two husbands. The first one my father chose. Your grandfather was a wonderful man and I loved him. When he died I thought my world had ended. I remarried that your own father and mother not be burdened by me. That marriage was a mistake, and had Howel ap Merredydd not died of natural causes, I think I would have hastened his departure from this earth. He was a cruel man. You will get no argument from me, my child. If you would wed but for love alone, then follow your heart, say I!"

  Wynne slipped from her chair to hug her grandmother, and the old woman stroked her hair lovingly. "You always understand me, Grandmother. You always have. Better than anyone else. Why is that?"

  Enid chuckled. "You are like me, child. I see myself in you each day in so many ways." A small bubble of laughter escaped her. "You but see me as a white-haired old lady, but once I was young as you are young; and filled with the same fiery juices that you are filled with, though you are not yet aware of such things."

  "Caitlin is, though she be younger than me," Wynne noted.

  Enid made an impatient little noise. "Hummmph," she said. "Caitlin was born all-knowing. There are some women like that though they be few in number. They seem to understand certain things without even being told. Do not change! You, my child, are a true innocent and pure of heart."

  Her grandmother's wise words pleased Wynne, although she did not really understand why. Still, they comforted her in the following weeks when the unceasing rains made it almost impossible to plant the grain; and then washed the first planting away entirely, making it necessary to replant.

  "You see," Caitlin carped. "We need a man to run Gwernach."

  "Do you think a man could force the rains to stop?" Wynne mocked her sister. "Do not be a fool! If you would be helpful, Caitlin, I suggest that you pray that the good weather holds until the grain has grown enough to withstand a heavy downpour."

  Caitlin sent her sister a scathing look. "Better I pray that Rhys of St. Bride's makes his appearance soon," she retorted.

  "Perhaps we should pray he doesn't find a more suitable bride," Dilys said fatuously.

  "Or that he breaks his bloody neck before he can come to bother our sister," Dewi said wickedly, and Wynne burst out laughing.

  "You stupid little toad," Caitlin said angrily, "can you not understand the value to us if Rhys of St. Bride's weds our eldest sister?"

  "I understand the value to you," Dewi replied, "but if Rhys gains Wynne, there is no certainty that he will help you or Dilys. There is no need for our sister to marry if she does not choose to marry. I will not force her to it, and I will not allow you to do so, Caitlin."

  "What if she falls in love with him?" Caitlin demanded.

  "Then she will have my blessing," the boy answered. "I would have my sisters happy in their marriages."

  "I shall be happy with a rich and powerful husband only," Caitlin told them.

  "So you have said, my sister, on numerous occasions," Dewi returned. "I should not say it too loud, however, Caitlin, for a man would be desired, I think, for more than his name, his rank, or his wealth."

  "Even as a woman would," Wynne replied.

  "What a pair of fools you both are," Caitlin said. "A man seeks many things from a woman. More gold to fill his coffers. More power for his family. Sons. He cares not if a woman loves him if he has these things. We have little gold and no power to speak of, but we have beauty, which has a certain value, and our mother was a good breeder, which also has value. Couple this with a sister wed to a powerful coastal lord…" Her blue eyes glittered with pleasure at the thoughts she no longer voiced.

  Dewi shook his head. Though he was young, he understood Caitlin far better than she would have imagined, or even liked; and he knew as he had always known that he did not like her. He pitied the man that she would eventually entrap and marry. Caitlin had a heart of stone, if indeed she had any heart at all. There was nothing in her for anyone but herself. She was cold. "A man would be loved, Caitlin," he told her, knowing even as he said it that Caitlin was incapable of loving anyone, perhaps even herself.

  "I repeat, little brother, you are a fool!" came the harsh retort. "Men care not if women love them. Power! Gold! Those are their only goals. You will see that I am right one day when you grow up and stop believing in the fairy tales our grandmother and eldest sister so love telling."

  "I will marry for love alone, Caitlin," the boy told her quietly. "What good is a fat dowry in a house that is riven with discord between its master and its mistress? What kind of children do such poor souls breed? Gold can never ease a sore heart."

  Before Caitlin might argue with her brother further, Wynne held up her hand. "There can be no agreement between you on this subject," she said, "and so I would bid you both to cease your childish bickering. When Rhys of St. Bride's finally arrives, we will listen to him with courtesy, whatever he may have to say."

  The siblings nodded their agreement of Wynne's words, though each thought separate thoughts from hers. Caitlin believed that when Rhys of St. Bride's offered their sister a proposal of marriage, she would prevail upon Wynne to accept him, thus ensuring golden futures for herself and Dilys. She smiled a most smug smile at them all.

  Dewi's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he regarded her distastefully. Caitlin reminded him of a nasty cat eyeing a helpless mouse. She would not have her way if he had anything to say about it, and he would. His rights as the master of Gwernach would be upheld. He might be young, but Dewi knew if he did not begin to exert his influence now, h
e would have a hard time making those around him take him seriously later on in life. He would not exhibit any weakness, if only for Wynne's future happiness.

  "For your sake, sweet sister," Dewi told Wynne, and touched her cheek lovingly with his small hand.

  Caitlin glowered. She did not miss the significance of either his gesture or his words, but she held her peace. In the end it would be her words that prevailed in the matter and not some unfledged boy's.

  The weather improved, and within a short period of time the fields were green with new growth. Wynne, with Dewi at her side, rode out daily to inspect the estate. They were a familiar sight to the serfs and slaves belonging to Gwernach, the young master upon his fat dappled grey pony; his sister upon her gentle black mare. Though it frightened them to have a boy for a master, the people of Gwernach trusted the lady Wynne to make certain that all would be well. In the years before the old master had died so suddenly, the lady Wynne would accompany him upon his daily rounds. Even as a child they had known that there was something special about her, and indeed, as she grew, their collective instinct had been proven correct. Wynne of Gwernach was a healer, but it was not just her knowledge of medicines, herbs, potions, and poultices that made her so special. It was her healer's touch, a rare ability granted to few. So they trusted the young master's sister to keep them safe.

  It was a good spring. The cattle grew fat in meadows grown to lushness from the early rains. They lost no calves either in the birthing, or to illness, or to predators. The demand for their cheese was greater than ever before, not simply for its quality, but due to the fact they could only produce a certain amount which in turn drove up the price, filling Gwernach's coffers with new gold. As she rode over the estate early one afternoon with her brother, Wynne thought their life perfect.

  "Caitlin no longer complains that we need a man to run the estate," Dewi noted. "Allowing her her fill of cloth and small treasures from that passing peddler seems to have soothed her fretfulness." He chuckled.

  "Caitlin is merely distracted by her new acquisitions," Wynne told him wisely. "She considers everything she was permitted to purchase her rightful due."