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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T he first face Elle saw upon entering the great hall of Brython was that of her brother. Gruffydd was near the dais, in conversation with Christopher, and, for a moment, she was surprised to see him.

Beyond that, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

So many feelings were swirling within her chest as she watched her brother. He was the mild-mannered sort, so there was no animation as he spoke to Hereford. He was calm, as he always was. But it occurred to Elle that Curtis must have known that Gruffydd was coming, because he had clearly invited the man, yet never said a word about it.

She felt strangely betrayed by that.

“There you are,” Curtis said, coming up behind her and taking her hand. Still holding her hand, he stood back to look at her. “God, you’re beautiful. The dress is magnificent. Did my mother amend it?”

Elle nodded. “She was able to,” she said. “I like your mother. She is very kind.”

Curtis nodded, kissing her hand. “She is,” he said. “She will be very helpful to you if you will allow, but you will have to ask her. She would never do anything you did not ask her to do.”

“Like fix a dress.”

“Exactly. She’s not one to push herself onto others.”

Elle smiled weakly. “I hope she and your father remain after the feasting is finished,” she said. “I would like to spend more time with your mother and come to know her better.”

Curtis smiled, kissing her hand again. “I am certain they can be persuaded,” he said. “Were you able to speak with Rebecca and Livvy?”

“You mean that child with the long name, Olivia Charlotte?” Elle said, grinning when Curtis laughed softly. “Your mother told me that she and your father could not agree on names for her, so they call her by both.”

Curtis nodded. “They are both stubborn people,” he said. “I hope we will not have the same trouble with ours.”

Elle shook her head. “We will not,” she said. “I will make a bargain with you.”

“What is that?”

“You will name the boys and I will name the girls.”

His face lit up. “I love that suggestion,” he said. “I accept.”

“I thought you might.”

“The truth is that I already have a name in mind if the child is a boy.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “It is no wonder you agreed to my suggestion so easily,” she said. “Well? What is it? We are not going to name him after a king, are we? Because I do not like the names John or Henry.”

Curtis chuckled. “I would not name my son after those two,” he said. “But if it is a lad… I would like to name him after my father.”

They both turned to look at Christopher, in conversation with Gruffydd, and Elle moved closer to Curtis, putting an arm around his waist. “I like that name,” she whispered. “I cannot think of a more pleasing name.”

His expression turned adoring. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I mean that from the bottom of my heart. It means a great deal to me.”

“I know,” she said. “And I agree—if it is a lad, he should be named for a man you love very much.”

“You’re sweet,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “But if it is a lass, what will you name her?”

Elle cocked her head thoughtfully. “I do not know,” she said. “If we are naming children after parents, I do not want to name her after mine. What was the name of your mother’s mother?”

“Mary.”

“Then we will name her Mary.”

He grinned, giving her a quick squeeze, but as he did so, he noticed that guests were beginning to come in through the hall entry.

“Our guests are arriving, Lady Leominster,” he said. “We should go to the door and greet them.”

Elle could see them, too. “Of course,” she said. “But before we go, I assume you deliberately did not tell me that Gruffydd was going to be here. Am I correct?”

Curtis didn’t hesitate. “You are,” he said, his features softening as he looked at her. “I know you have a long history with him, Ellie. I know it has been fraught with tension and unhappiness. But you are a great lady now, with great responsibility. You are a woman of substance. I am wondering if it is possible for you to peacefully coexist with your brother, who is a valuable ally. If you would at least be civil to him, for my sake, I would be grateful.”

She pursed her lips wryly. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

He gave her his best smile, laughing softly when she rolled her eyes. “You cannot,” he said, before kissing her swiftly and then pulling her toward the entry door. “You are the best of me, Ellie. Let us show everyone that, including your brother.”

His words hit her. You are the best of me . Only a crazy man would say such a thing, but Curtis wasn’t crazy. He was bright and brilliant and patient and loving, and she believed he was the greatest creature God had ever created. She never imagined she would think such a thing about any man, especially an Englishman, but she thought that about him.

And he clearly thought that about her.

You are the best of me.

He was the best of her, too.

With Curtis by her side, and eventually Christopher and Dustin, Elle met men with names like Bretton and Caius and Sean. Big, scarred, older knights who had seen much action in the course of their lives. Curtis would introduce her and then whisper in her ear about who the men were and what made them so special, summarizing their careers for her.

It was a parade of legends.

Spies and assassins and agents passed into the great hall, as well as the Earl of Wrexham and the Earl of Wolverhampton. Great, powerful lords who had shaped the history of England and even Wales and Scotland, and in the middle of it was Christopher, whom everyone revered greatly. Peter and Alexander and their wives had arrived, and Elle was introduced to Liora de Lohr and Christin de Sherrington. Beautiful, graceful women who were more than happy to hug her and tell her how happy they were to meet her.

Acceptance.

Kindness.

Elle was overwhelmed by all of it.

Myles had arranged for musicians to play for the evening, having lured them over from a tavern in a village south of Brython, so music filled the stale warmth of the hall as everyone mingled and drank. There was a party atmosphere. Elle had been commandeered by Christin and Dustin and Liora, who took her to the dais and sat at the end of the table, conversing over the noise of the men and music. Other wives were in attendance, like the Countess of Wolverhampton, Giselle, who had come with her husband. The two of them had Christopher cornered. Still other wives—de Lara, d’Avignon, and Wrexham—had been unable to come due to sick children or pregnancies.

Truthfully, Elle was glad. She was already overwhelmed with so many people and, in particular, so many women. Melusine, who had been mostly in the kitchens while Elle led a gay social whirl in the hall, finally joined the ladies and sat next to her cousin, holding her hand, and somewhat fearful of all of the Englishwomen around them.

But Elle wasn’t afraid.

She’d never in her life known such kind and curious women.

They weren’t her bitter grandmother. They weren’t her mother who had run out after she’d been born, never to be heard from again. These were women who knew and loved one another, who shared similar experiences, and who spoke to Elle as if she was part of them. She’d never been part of anything in her life.

The overwhelming feeling began to turn into gratitude.

The tears began to come.

Before Elle realized it, they were streaming down her cheeks and she’d had to lower her head, discreetly trying to wipe them away, when she heard a soft voice in her right ear.

“Are you weary, sweetheart?” Dustin asked softly. “Would you like to lie down for a while? Everyone will still be here when you return.”

Elle lifted her head, trying to smile. “Nay,” she said. “I… I am not weary. It’s just… It’s just that…”

She couldn’t finish. The other women were concerned that she was weeping, and she was trying to smile and assure them that nothing was terribly wrong. But she couldn’t quite get the message across, and they were growing more concerned.

“It is nothing, truly,” she finally said, wiping furiously at her eyes. “It’s simply that… that other than Melusine, my cousin, I’ve never had any women to speak to. My mother left after I was born, and the only other woman I’ve spent time with was my grandmother, who was resentful and hateful. I have come to realize that. Now, I’m sitting with you lovely women, and to experience this… this kindness and camaraderie… It is simply overwhelming. I’ve never known anything like it.”

They understood. Dustin put her arm around Elle’s shoulders and gave her a gentle hug, knowing that the woman’s upbringing and background was far rougher and more brutal than she let on.

“You are one of us now,” Dustin said. “We will come to know you, and we will value you very much, I promise.”

Elle laughed softly, a nervous sort of laugh, as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I am being silly,” she said. “Forgive me.”

Dustin kissed her cheek. “There is nothing to forgive, my love,” she said. “But if you are feeling poorly, I will take you back to your chamber. You should lie down for a time and rest. This gathering will still be going on when you return, I promise.”

Elle shook her head. “Not before we eat,” she said, looking to Melusine. “Are we ready to bring the food out?”

Melusine nodded and stood up. “I will see to it,” she said. “It will only be a moment.”

The ladies watched her scurry off as Elle spoke softly. “I have given her the task of managing the kitchens,” she said. “Everyone has tasks here at Brython, and the kitchens are hers, although I help her. She has been doing very well. She likes standing in those hot kitchens more than I do.”

“You are fortunate to have the help,” Christin said from across the table. “And she is content with her role?”

Elle nodded. “She is,” she said. “Melusine has more experience in managing kitchens than I do, so it is something that comes easily for her. She, too, has come to see that living with the English is not such a bad thing. It helps that she is fond of one of the warriors.”

The ladies grinned at each other, knowing how the distraction of a man could change a woman’s life because they had all experienced the very same thing. “And you, my lady?” Liora asked, seated next to Christin. “What tasks do you have here?”

Elle smiled, perhaps in embarrassment. “Truthfully, I have never been good with things women are expected to tend to,” she said. “I have no training, not the way all of you have. If Curtis has told you anything about me, then you know I was in command of Brython when Hereford and his army came.”

Dustin nodded proudly. “She held Chris off for an entire month,” she said to the group. “She is to be commended.”

The women giggled, knowing what a blow that must have been to Christopher and his pride. “Then you are helping Curt with his army?” Christin asked.

Elle shrugged. “A little,” she said. “I know the warlords of these lands, so we discuss that a good deal. I give him my opinion on their strengths and loyalties. When I am not doing that, I tend to the keep and the kitchen stores. But Curt and his knights have been very generous in teaching me what they know about managing a house and hold, at least as much as they are able. I have been keeping the ledger of accounts for Curt, of what we spend and how much money we have. I make suggestions on income that do not include taxing his vassals.”

“Oh?” Dustin said, interested. “What have you suggested?”

Elle was reluctant to answer, given that she was so new to the concept of finding income for a castle. She didn’t want to sound foolish in front of these women who had been doing it all their lives, but she figured that saying something would be better than avoiding the question. She didn’t want to appear rude when the truth was that she was simply uncertain.

“It is not really my idea,” she said timidly. “But Curt told me that Lord Hereford has herds of cattle for income. I… Well, I have suggested that we buy some and have our own herd. You see, in the life I led before my marriage, I never had enough money to buy cattle or anything else, but now, we have the money to purchase what we need to make Brython thrive, and it seems logical that we must create income not dependent on taxation.”

Dustin smiled broadly. “Well done, my lady,” she said. “You are clearly brilliant. My son is very fortunate to have married such a bright mind.”

Elle smiled modestly. “The past two months have been quite an education for me,” she said. “I have had to learn quickly. I have had to change my way of thinking, with many things. And… and I think I like it.”

As Dustin and Christin continued to congratulate her and discuss other ideas worthy of making money for a castle and its inhabitants, Elle caught sight of Gruffydd. He was standing by himself as Christopher and Curtis were off speaking with other lords and their wives.

I’ve had to change my way of thinking.

That meant with her brother. All Curtis had asked her was to be civil to him. Perhaps they would never been the best of friends, but he was her only living sibling. As she gazed at him, he could feel herself easing when it came to Gruffydd. Had he ever wronged her? She honestly couldn’t think of a time he had. If she thought very hard, she remembered a time in her life, when she’d been very young, that he’d sung her a song or tried to help her catch a fish. Little things.

But things she remembered as being… pleasant.

But she’d grown older, and he went away. She went to live with her grandmother. And when she came back from her grandmother, Gruffydd was on a different path than she was. His was diplomacy; hers was fighting. The never agreed on anything, and her animosity toward him grew to the point where she’d given him a sleeping potion and thrown him in the vault.

And now, they were here. At a crossroads. Did she want to hate the man for the rest of her life because he chose to ally with the English and she didn’t agree? Now, she found herself married to an Englishman. Her life was changing for the better.

Perhaps she needed to rethink her attitude toward Gruffydd.

Perhaps it was time to put the hostilities aside.

“Will you excuse me a moment?” she said to Dustin and the others. “I see my brother. I should like to greet him now that Curt is not taking all of his attention.”

The ladies waved her off as they continued their conversation about revenue and running a castle. Elle stood up from the table, making her way around it and toward the hearth, where Gruffydd was nursing a cup of wine. It was warmer over here because the hearth was blazing like mad, spitting sparks and smoke into the hall. Most people were congregating away from it, in the center of the room, and Elle came up behind Gruffydd as the man swallowed a big gulp of wine and then burped.

“Is the wine to your liking?” she asked.

Startled that she’d snuck up on him, Gruffydd turned to her quickly. “It is very good,” he said, eyeing her warily. “Your husband told me that it was from Burgundy.”

Elle nodded. “Aye,” she said. “He had it brought from Lioncross. It seems that the family buys it by the shipload.”

“The English do indeed like their fine wines,” Gruffydd agreed, but he quickly moved to the meat of the situation between them. There was no use in avoiding it. “I know you were not told that I was invited, but I did not realize that until I arrived. Had I known, I might not have come. If my presence here is upsetting, know that I had nothing to do with it.”

Elle could see that he was gearing up for what he thought was going to be a fight. “I know,” she said evenly. “Be at ease, Gruffydd. I come in peace. I know this was my husband’s doing.”

That seemed to relieve him but also confuse him, as if he weren’t certain how to act now. “Right,” he said, a bit nervous. “Then try not to be too hard on him. He wanted all of his allies here. If that displeases you, then I am sorry.”

Elle could hear the same old Gruffydd in his tone, in his words. The man was a diplomat. He’d never been much of a fighter. That had fallen to her. She cocked her head as she gazed at him, perhaps through new eyes. Or perhaps she was trying to see him through new eyes. Marriage to Curtis was causing her to see many things differently.

Even Gruffydd.

“I never did understand you,” she said. “It occurs to me that much of it stems from the fact that you were never a soldier, Gruffydd. Always the diplomat, the peacemaker. Our father taught you that, didn’t he?”

Gruffydd wasn’t sure he wanted to speak on this subject, the root of every wrong between them, but he answered. “Aye,” he said. “Elle… I have said this before and I will say it again. I am sorry that our father did not treat you well. I am sorry he ignored you. Do you remember when you were very small and I would come to you and tell you stories? And sometimes I would even take you with me when I went to be with Papa?”

Elle nodded. “I remember,” she said. Then she snorted ironically. “In fact, I was just thinking about that. I remember all of that, but one day, you simply stopped coming to me.”

“Do you know why?”

“Nay.”

Gruffydd grew serious. “Then mayhap it is time for you to know,” he said. “It wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because I needed to.”

“ Needed to? Explain.”

He lowered his voice. “Because Papa had grown… senile,” he said. “There was some kind of madness in his mind. He was already an old man when I was born, and even older when you were born. There is eleven years between our births, Elle. You were, and always will be, my baby sister. But I stopped coming to you because Papa developed this madness and a real hatred toward our mother. Even the mere mention of you would cause him to rage. I stopped coming because he needed to be managed. And I needed to keep that rage away from you.”

Elle looked at him in shock. “But… no one ever said anything about madness,” she said. “I never heard anything at all.”

“I know,” Gruffydd said, somewhat agitated. “There were only a few of us who knew, and we tried to keep it very quiet. There was no knowing what would happen if it got around that Gwenwynwyn ap Owain suffered from madness. It would have destroyed his rule, his control over his own vassals, and it would have given Llywelyn a great opportunity to seize Powys. But I never had a chance to tell you, for you were sent away to our grandmother, and when you returned, you reflected all of the bitterness and love for Llywelyn that she had. Certainly, I would not have told you then.”

Elle was feeling a good deal of astonishment at the revelation. “Of course not,” she said. “It would have gone straight to Llywelyn.”

“Exactly,” Gruffydd said. “After our father died, you were as angry as ever. I know you thought I was a traitor to our people for continuing Gwenwynwyn’s legacy, and mayhap I am, but he felt that an alliance with the English was something that would survive Llywelyn. He knew the English would defeat him, at some point, and our father’s hope was that we would be given his lands. It was all quite political, really. But you saw the opposite… You saw Llywelyn in command of our lands once I was ousted.”

Elle could see the very clear picture that Gruffydd was painting. “I did,” she said. “Up until I married Curt, that’s exactly what I saw.”

“Do you still see it?” Gruffydd asked. “God, Elle, if you still see that, does Leominster know? Because if you betray him, you will ruin it for all of us. You will not be giving Brython back to the Welsh, but you will be bringing all of England down on us. Powys will be ruined, and when Llywelyn is defeated, our people will be at the mercy of the English more than you can ever know.”

She could see that he was verging on panic, and she hastened to reassure him. “That is no longer my opinion, Gruffydd,” she said. “In fact, that was what I wanted to tell you. Growing up, all I knew was rejection and hardship. But since I married Curtis, I have discovered what it means to be valued and respected and loved. I have a husband who is madly in love with me, and I am madly in love with him. I would rather die than betray him, I swear it.”

Now, it was Gruffydd’s turn to be shocked. “Is this true?” he gasped. “You… you mean it?”

“Every word.”

He blinked in response, his mouth hanging open. “But… how ?” he finally asked. “Are you so easily swayed away from something you have believed your entire life?”

She smiled wryly. “What did I believe in?” she said. “I believed in Welsh rule for Welsh people. I believed in our way of life. But our way of life brought me starvation and cruelty and brutality. It brought me people who treated me poorly and ignored me. I believed in it because that was all I knew. But Curt has shown me a wonderful world of happiness and love and respect… I would much rather have that than what I had before, and if that means I have been swayed, then it is true—I have been. I’ve been swayed by love, Gruffydd. That is the greatest power of all.”

Gruffydd could hardly believe what he was hearing, but in the same breath, he’d never been so happy or relieved. His warring sister, who would rather use a sword than her words, had been changed by marriage. By love.

It was truly astonishing.

“But what about our people?” he asked. “You still believe in our cause?”

She nodded. “I do,” she said. “But as it was pointed out to me, I can do more good as a great lady than as a rebel. I have the money and the name to do great things, Gruffydd. I can feed the poor or educate children. I can make a difference in ways I could have never made it before. That is the cause I believe in—helping our people to thrive. Even if I am not changing a nation, I am doing what I can. I will make my mark. As for you… I misjudged you, Gruffydd, and I am sorry. I understand much more than I did before. I hope we can be at peace with one another in the future.”

Gruffydd smiled in delight and a little surprise. “I would like that,” he said. “In fact, I plan on marrying Hawise next month. I would like it if you and your husband could attend.”

Elle returned his smile, perhaps the first genuine gesture of peace between them in an entire lifetime together. “I would be honored to come,” she said. “I hope this is the beginning of something better between us, Gruffydd. I truly do.”

Gruffydd extended his hand to her, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Elle placed her hand in his. He gave it a squeeze.

“As do I,” he said. Then he chuckled. “I suppose I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“I once told Hereford that trying to make a good wife out of you was like trying to tame the wind,” he said. “I told him it could not be done. But I was wrong.”

Elle chuckled, somewhat embarrassed. “It was probably not the first time you were wrong,” she said. “Truthfully, I would not have believed it, either, had someone told me two months ago that I would be my happiest with an English warlord at my side.”

“But you are? Happy, I mean?”

Elle nodded sincerely. “Verily,” she said. “More than I could have dreamed.”

Gruffydd liked hearing that. In truth, the entire conversation with her had been a revelation to him, but a good one. And he’d never been happier to have been wrong.

Perhaps the English were wind tamers after all.