Part 24 (1/2)

She stood quivering within his arms, torn between doubt and doubt. s.h.i.+eld or blindfold, she dreaded to make the decision. He was adept with words, fas.h.i.+oning them to his needs, could convince her black was white if only given the opportunity. 'What do I do if you betray that trust?' she responded and slid her hand over the fine black hairs of his braced forearm, denuded by the ridge of scar tissue where the boar had tushed him, and on up to the smooth curve of his bicep.

'Prove me wrong.'

'How?' he asked bleakly. 'If I fulfil your trust I break another.'

She refused to relent. 'And which is more important?'

Leaving her, he sat down on the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. 'I don't know.

Neither. The edge is so finely balanced I dare not tip the scale. All I can swear to you again is that I was not involved in any plot to murder Rufus.' He looked across at her where she stood braced as if waiting to receive a blow and let out his breath on a heavy sigh. 'It's late. Are you going to come to bed or stand there glaring at me all night?' He held out his hand.

She looked at his outstretched graceful fingers, knew how they would feel gliding over her body, trailing fever in their wake, knew how they looked holding reins or a sword, knew their tensile strength and of what they were capable.

'Neither,' she said, and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER 20.

Rhosyn looked at the crocks of brawn on the trestle, product of a long morning's work. She sealed the last one with a thick layer of melted lard.

'All done?' queried Heulwen, beaming up at her.

Rhosyn smiled and lifted her younger daughter to sit on the trestle. Heulwen was a chubby bundle of energy with a bright crop of red-gold curls and green-blue eyes, the legacy of her Norman great-grandfather, so Madoc, who had known him, had said. The legacy of her Norman father was her ability to cozen warm approval and adulation from smitten members of the opposite s.e.x.

Rhosyn had not seen Guyon since immediately after Heulwen's birth. Messages pa.s.sed with Madoc. The trading bond remained strong, but the gossamer ties that had bound herself and Guyon for four years had dissolved into the wind, saving this one living, finespun thread.

'All done,' she confirmed and, straddling the infant on her hip, left the kitchen quarters and set off across the small , withy-enclosed compound towards the hall . After ten strides she stopped short as if she had been poled with an ox-mall et.

Eluned was jumping up and down at Guyon's stirrup and his chestnut courser was sidling restlessly and rolling a white eye. Beyond, she saw Eric and the men of the guard. Guyon leaned over the pommel, one hand on his thigh, the other drawn tight on the reins as he spoke to Eluned.

She tossed her head mutinously, but after a moment stepped aside from the horse. Rhosyn's heart began to thud. As if it did not matter, as if she had only seen him last week, she went forward with a cordial greeting on her lips.

Guyon dismounted and took hold of the chestnut's bridle. Rhosyn saw that his clothes were powdered with dust and that the points of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose had caught the burn of the late summer sun. 'May we claim the hospitality of a drink?' he asked. 'And water for the horses?'

'You know you are always welcome,' she responded and her face grew warm beneath his stare. The luminous brown gaze flickered to Heulwen, who struggled against her mother's confining arms.

'I did not know,' he said, giving the horse to one of his men. 'It has been a long time. Where's Madoc?'

'Away with Rhys and my second cousin Prys to Bristol, but we expect him home any day now. Did you especially want to see him?'

'I've a few commissions for him. How's his health?'

'He works too hard, but I might as well try b.u.t.ting down a stone wall with my head as try to stop him.

He struggles to breathe sometimes and he gets a pain in his arm, but he won't give up.' She turned to lead him into the hafod. 'I hear he spoke to your wife recently.'

'Yes.'

Rhosyn did not miss the lack of inflection and looked at him curiously. Her father said that Lady Judith had been glowing with the contentment of being well loved and secure. Guyon had not come here in over a year. She had begun to a.s.sume he would not come again and that the contentment must be mutual.

'You are growing tall , cariad,' Guyon said to Eluned as he sat down. The amber bead he had given her gleamed against the dark wool of her gown. 'And pretty as your mother.'

'Am I prettier than your wife?' she challenged him.

'Is an apple prettier than a pear?' he countered and drew her down to him, lightly kissing her cheek, his eyes meeting Rhosyn's troubled stare over the child's narrow shoulder. 'No one can answer that.'

'Not even you?' Rhosyn mocked before calling one of the serving women. 'Do you want my father to visit?'

'No, I've instructions for him here.' Guyon produced a roll of parchment and took the cup of mead that was given to him. 'Payment in raw wool as usual, unless I hear otherwise.'

She nodded briskly. Their eyes met again, examining, searching. Heulwen, released from her mother's grasp, wobbled towards him, lost her balance and plonked down squarely on her bottom. Undeterred, she struggled up again, grasping Guyon's cross-garter for support.

' Da,' she said, and smiled disarmingly at him. It was the Welsh word for father.

'She says that to everyone,' Rhosyn muttered quickly, her colour high.

Guyon looked from the engaging fire-haired child to her mother who was obviously struggling to retain her equanimity in his presence. It had been a mistake to come, he thought, born of his own pain, and he stirred restlessly as if he would rise and leave.

Rhosyn was on her feet before he could make the thought a fact. 'I want to show you something,' she said with forced brightness. 'Can you spare a moment?'

He looked slightly taken aback. 'Of course.'

'Eluned, look after Heulwen for me.'

Eluned made a face but was not so foolish as to refuse.

Guyon raised a brow as she led him into her private chamber, but forbore to utter the ambiguous remark that came first to mind.

Matters had changed since then. Whether or not for the better, he no longer knew. Rhosyn selected a key from the bunch upon the ring at her waist and looked over her shoulder at him. 'We hear you are pus.h.i.+ng into Wales now. A new keep, no less.'

'To protect the border against Lord Gruffyd's raiding. It's no use breeding good raw wool only to have it disappear into the mountains.'

'I sometimes think that you Normans would eat the world if you could.'

'A nibble here and there,' he answered, refusing to be drawn, for there was no heart in him to argue. 'What did you want to show me?'

She unlocked a stout oak coffer and withdrew from its depths a bolt of fabric. 'What do you think of this? My father bought it in Flanders on the last trip, from an Italian merchant who owed him a favour.'

The cloth flowed on to the bed. It held the rich amber and russet tones of autumn leaves and where the light was trapped by the pile, it s.h.i.+mmered like a sunlit pool. To the touch it was soft and thick and springy, like sun-warmed moss or cat's fur. Having never set eyes on the like before and being thoroughly curious, Guyon sat down on the bed and sought to discover everything that Rhosyn knew.

'So all this is done with shears,' he murmured, smoothing the pile.

She looked at his slender fingers on the nap of the cloth. Heulwen's were chubby little stars, formless as yet. 'It is a detailed skill and not many have it. My father thought of selling it in Winchester at the next court gathering.'

'Next court gathering's in London in November,'