The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 56
“But how did you know she was betrothed to Ellesmere?” he asked. “And why not make your presence known before now? It all seems rather strange.”
Nesta shook her head. “Not strange when you know that Lord Ellesmere’s mother was a member of my husband’s family,” she said. “I have lived near Conwy, with his family, since we were married. Through marriage, the House of de Shera is allied with my husband’s family, and we have communication with them. That is how I knew.”
“Lord Ellesmere told you about her?”
“Indeed, he did. And we determined that his betrothed was my Cadelyn.”
Kress thought on something that William Marshal had told him, about how the entire betrothal was arranged – Tatius asked if I knew of the child of Owain Dant y Draig, having heard of her existence from the warlords of Gwynedd. It was he who suggested the betrothal and I agreed.
So… Tatius knew of Cadelyn’s existence, but was it truly just because of rumor? The Marshal had said, too, that men knew of Cadelyn’s birth because men talk. But how did Tatius know to ask William Marshal about the girl unless someone had told him that The Marshal was Cadelyn’s guardian?
Something wasn’t adding up as far as Kress was concerned. This entire situation seemed very odd to him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. And by the look on Alexander’s face, Kress was fairly certain that the man was thinking the very same thing.
Something’s not right.
“May we see my daughter, please?”
Nesta was asking politely. Alexander looked right at Kress, who simply left the table without another word. He’d been brave about sending Bric up to see to Cadelyn, but now, he wasn’t feeling so brave. He wanted to see her for himself because this entire situation wasn’t sitting well with him. More than that, he needed to speak to Cadelyn before she went downstairs and was blindsided with an introduction to her mother.
He needed to prepare her.
At the top of the stairs was a small corridor and, immediately, he could see Bric standing at Cadelyn’s open door, speaking to someone. Kress assumed it was Cadelyn, his suspicion confirmed when he walked up to the door and saw her standing there. Their eyes met and that was all he needed to feel weak and emotional.
His heart started to pound.
She was dressed like an angel, in a dark blue brocade that was rich and lush. There was embroidery around the plunging neckline and around her elbows, a line of fine gold thread from which long, trailing sleeves were born. Since they’d been able to retrieve the Summerlin carriage and her baggage along with it, she had all of her clothing and toiletry things at her disposal and she had made good use of them. She looked rested and fine and beautiful, and Kress’ composure was hanging on by a thread. He tore his eyes away long enough to look at Bric.
“I need to speak with the lady, alone,” he said quietly. “Take Susanna with you.”
Bric didn’t say a word. He motioned to Susanna, who was seated in the chamber, and she immediately vacated. The two of them departed quickly and headed back down to the common room as Kress pushed his way into Cadelyn’s chamber. The dog, over by the hearth, lifted his head when he saw Kress, his tail thumping against the floor. Kress almost smiled when he realized the dog had grown fatter even in just the few days he’d been with Cadelyn. When the door was finally closed and bolted, Kress looked at Cadelyn hesitantly, fearful of how he was going to react to her after having not seen her for two days. Fearful that he would lose control now that they were alone.
He took a deep breath.
“Bric told you that de Shera has arrived,” he said.
Cadelyn was looking at him eagerly. “He did,” she said. “How are you, Kress? I… I have thought of you on occasion and wondered… God’s Bones, I am only lying to us both. I have done nothing but think of you and dream of you since we last parted. My misery at our separation has eaten great holes into my gut. I can feel them there, empty and bleeding, and I…”
Kress didn’t listen to anything more. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into a crushing embrace against him. Cadelyn gasped at his surprising move, but delight and joy overwhelmed her as she wrapped her arms around his trim torso and held him tightly, even when he loosened his grip and tried to move away. Realizing she was holding on to him with a grip of iron, Kress stopped trying to pull away. He simply stood there and held her.
Perhaps it was better this way.
“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he murmured into her hair. “Can you do that?”
She nodded. “I can do anything so long as you hold me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Good girl,” he said. “I have missed you, too. Do not think for one moment that this has not been torture for me, as well.”
“It has been hellish.”
“Indeed.”
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Not all of it,” he said. He paused before continuing. “Cadie, do you remember what you told me about your mother?”
“That she is dead?”
“That you assumed she was dead, but that you did not know.”
Cadelyn didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, she pulled her head away from his chest, gazing up at him. “From the way you say that, I will guess that you have news on my mother.”
He nodded. “She is not dead,” he said. “Nesta ferch Madog is down in the common room. She came with the de Shera party and she is asking to see you.”
Surprisingly, Cadelyn didn’t seem all that shocked by it. Surprised, indeed, but not shocked. She looked at Kress, her mouth open slightly in astonishment, but there was no stronger reaction other than that.
“She is?” she said. “But… but how do you know that it is truly her?”
His lips twitched, a wry gesture. “Because she looks just like you,” he said. “She says that her husband took you away as an infant because they feared for your safety. An English king would have considered you a prime commodity because of your royal blood, so your father sought to hide you. Still…”
“Still what?”
He looked at her a moment, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “I am not certain,” he said. “Something seems odd. Your betrothed did not come; he awaits you at The Paladin, yet his two brothers have come with a heavily-armed escort and your mother. And what your mother said about how she knew of your betrothal with Ellesmere… it does not make any sense to me.”
Cadelyn was greatly distracted by the idea of her mother down in the common room, having trouble following what he was saying. “Why not?” she said. “Surely she heard of my betrothal and wanted to meet me.”
“But The Marshal said that Ellesmere came to him with the offer of a betrothal with you,” he said. “Your mother told me that Ellesmere told her about your location and existence. My question is how did Ellesmere know about you, specifically, in the first place?”
Cadelyn wasn’t quite seeing the same oddity that he was. “Clearly, someone who knew of me must have told him.”
“But you are known as Cadelyn d’Aubigney. Who would have known that you were Cadelyn of Vendotia?”
She didn’t seem to think it was too serious. “Mayhap you should simply ask,” she said. “I would like to meet my mother, Kress. I have a few questions for her myself.”
He studied her for a moment. “You do not seem distressed by her appearance.”
Cadelyn lifted her shoulders. “I was never told what happened to her,” she said. “You were correct when I assumed that she was dead, but I did not truly know. Knowing what I do about my heritage, I do not blame my parents for doing what they did to keep me safe, but I suppose I am simply curious more than anything. Curious to know what she has been doing all of these years when I was at Castle Rising and why she never tried to communicate with me.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Probably to keep you safe, as you have said. If she sent a missive to you and it was intercepted, then your identity might be revealed.”
That made sense. In fact, the situation was starting to make more sense and Kress was coming to think that perhaps he was overreacting to everything. Perhaps, he was imagining trouble where there wasn’t any because of the looming separation.
Perhaps, he was looking for some reason to prevent it.
“I will take you to her,” he finally said. “But before I do, you must realize that this may be the last moments we have together, alone. I… I thought when we parted the other day that I had said everything to you that I wanted to, but now I find that is not the case.”
She smiled at him, pulling him close and laying her head against his chest. She closed her eyes tightly. “I can hear your heart beating,” she murmured. “It mingles with mine. They are beating together, Kress. As one. They shall always beat as one. When you feel your heart beating, you will feel mine as well.”
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “I shall never overcome this,” he muttered into the top of her head. “This is my last moment of joy and the beginning of a lifetime of sorrow.”
She pulled back, gazing up at him. “I told you that I do not want you to do that,” she said, struggling not to tear up. “I want you to be happy. If you can love again, I hope you do. I could not bear it if you spent the rest of your life miserable because of me.”
He bent down and kissed her, sweetly and tenderly, feeling the heat of their contact flow through his veins. It would be so easy to succumb to it, to lose himself in her deliciousness, but there was a roomful of people waiting downstairs. If he thought he could jump through the window with her and get away with it, he might have tried in a moment of weakness.
But he couldn’t do that to her.
Or to himself.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “Until the end of all things, I will love you. Do not forget me in the years to come, Cadie. My dreams will be of you and only you.”
She broke down, then. “And I love you,” she murmured, holding his head between her hands and looking into his eyes. “We may not be together in this life, but we will in the next. When that moment comes and you pass through the veil between life and death, wait for me. When my time comes, I will be looking for you.”
He nodded, kissing her eyes, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “I swear it,” he rasped. “I will wait for you.”
With that, he peeled her hands from his face, kissing them both before letting go. Then he held out a hand to her, indicating for her not to follow him, as he headed to the door. Cadelyn didn’t move, but she quickly wiped at her face, quickly composing herself. He stood by the door, watching her.
“Are you ready?” he asked softly.
Cadelyn nodded. “I am.”
He smiled at her, an encouraging smile, and opened the door. Stepping through it first, he held it open for her so that she could pass through and precede him down the steps and into the common room.
It was the most difficult thing he’d ever had to do in his life.
Without Kress in her line of sight, Cadelyn was surprisingly composed, considering the emotional upheaval she’d just gone through. She didn’t look the worse for wear. She headed down the steps, seeing people she didn’t recognize gathered in the common room, including an older woman wrapped in a heavy, ratty cloak who rushed right to her the moment she hit the bottom of the stairs.
Shocked, Cadelyn found herself looking into a face very much like her own. She wasn’t even able to speak a word before the woman was practically throwing herself at her.
“Cadelyn,” the woman breathed in a heavy Welsh accent, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears as she looked her over. “Cariad, it is me. Do you know me?”
The woman was so close to her that she was crowding her and Cadelyn had to take a step back. The woman was overwhelming her already.
“I do not,” she said. “Are you… Nesta?”
The woman nodded eagerly, reaching out to grab Cadelyn’s hands. “I am your mother,” she said. “Were you told of me, plentyn? Was I remembered to you?”
Plentyn was the Welsh word for “child”. Very quickly, Cadelyn was feeling set upon by the woman. She knew the woman was eager, and Cadelyn could see the emotion in her eyes. But the reality was that she was a stranger who spoke strangely and dressed strangely. She also smelled like a pile of wet leaves. For every step Cadelyn would take back, the woman would take two forward.
“I… I did not even know of you until a few years ago when William Marshal told me of my true heritage,” she said. “Until that moment, I thought that I was an orphan of English parentage. I did not know that I was Welsh.”
Nesta had her by the hands, lifting them to her cheeks so she could feel her child’s flesh against her. “My sweet Cadelyn,” she murmured. “You were not an orphan. Your father sent you to William Marshal to protect you from… to protect you. But now that you are returned, you shall be an inspiration to your people. You are their tywysoges.”
Cadelyn had backed up so much that now she was against a table, watching the woman rub her face all over her hands. “What is that?”
Nesta stopped rubbing and looked at her. “It means princess,” she said. “Do you not know your mother’s tongue?”
“I know English because I was raised English. I am English.”
Something flashed in Nesta’s eyes then. It was perhaps anger, perhaps outrage, perhaps even a little fear.
“You are not Saesneg, plentyn,” she said patiently. “You are Welsh.”
Cadelyn didn’t like the way the woman said it. There was something hard behind those words, as if there was no room for any other consideration. She was telling Cadelyn what she was when, in fact, Cadelyn was telling her what she was – English. Cadelyn pulled her hands from the woman’s grip and slipped around her, moving for the knights.
“I appreciate that you have come, Mother, but let me make something clear,” she said. “I may have been born in Wales to Welsh parents, but I was raised by the English and English, I am. I am sorry if you thought you would find a woman who was eager to assume her Welsh heritage, but I am not. Wales is simply a faraway country with an odd language and big mountains, so I am told. It means nothing to me.”
Nesta looked at Cadelyn in astonishment that was more than likely fed by rage because her pale cheeks flushed. She blinked rapidly as if she could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“What is this you are saying to me?” she asked. “Did The Marshal not tell you of your heritage?”
Cadelyn could sense a confrontation coming but she wasn’t going to back down. She didn’t like the way this woman was trying to push her around when it came to who, and what, she was. Cadelyn knew exactly who she was and who she wanted to be, and assuming her Welsh heritage wasn’t part of that plan.
“He told me,” she said. “He told me that my father is the last of a line of Kings of Rhos and that my mother is the last of a line of the rulers of Pengwern.”
Nesta’s eyebrows lifted. “And this means nothing to you?”
Cadelyn shook her head. “Why should it?” she said. “Those kingdoms no longer exist and they have not for hundreds of years.”
Nesta put a hand to her chest as if Cadelyn’s words had physically injured her. “They are your people!”
“They are your people. They are not mine.”
Nesta’s eyes widened and she turned to Atilius and Fabius, who were standing several feet behind her. “Ai hyn mae’r Saeson wedi ei wneud?”
Atilius was watching her with great concern. He could see Nesta’s overeagerness, and her daughter’s standoffishness, and the two would not mix. He was afraid Nesta might say something in her emotional state that they would all come to regret.
“I cannot understand you,” he said to her. “I do not speak Welsh. My lady, surely you must understand that your daughter has been raised by the English, as she said. She simply does not know the richness of her heritage. That will come with time. Do you hear me? That will come with time.”
He said the last five words deliberately, as if trying to emphasize a point. But Nesta was so far gone with outrage that she wasn’t listening at all.
“I asked you if this is what the English have done to my child,” she said, pointing to Cadelyn, who was now standing between Kress and Susanna. “They have erased her true self from her memory? Does she have no sense of loyalty to those who are depending on her?”
Atilius was trying to regain some measure of control of the situation. “That is not a matter to discuss here,” he said firmly, hoping she would understand what he was saying and shut her mouth. “We will take the lady to The Paladin to my brother and then on to Mountain Dark for the wedding. Once she is in Wales, she will understand her heritage. She will understand the importance of it.”
Nesta heard him but her anger had not abated. She whirled to Cadelyn, pointing a finger at her. “Your people have waited eighteen years for your return,” she said. “You were born at Mynydd Tywyll, known as Mountian Dark in the Saesneg language. Mountain Dark is in your blood and in the blood of all men of Rhos. They must look to you for inspiration, for you are living proof that Rhos has not died. Your father lives on in you. Had you been a son, you would have been a great warrior to lead your people to victory!”
“Enough,” Atilius snapped softly. He had to take charge before Nesta said too much. He looked to the lady, practically hiding behind the knights, including a female warrior clad in protection. “We shall wait until the morrow for you to pack your things and prepare to leave. Then, we shall take you to my brother at The Paladin. He is eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
Alexander, who had been watching the entire situation with great interest, spoke up. “I told you that the lady has been ill,” he said. “If she feels well enough, then we shall muster the escort and take her to The Paladin to meet her betrothed. We welcome the addition of the de Shera soldiers.”
Atilius looked at Alexander. “There is no need for the escort from this point forward,” he said. “We shall take charge of her.”
Alexander stood his ground. “My orders from William Marshal are to deliver her into the hands of her betrothed,” he said. “That is exactly what I intend to do. Furthermore, we also have orders to escort her to Mountain Dark for the wedding and see proof of it with our own eyes. The Marshal has commanded this.”
