Bertrice Small - A Moment in Time

The raven observed her curiously and, catching the pathos of her mood, cawed softly as if in sympathy.

Wynne felt its eyes upon her, and looking up, saw just a large, black bird, its head cocked to one side. She laughed aloud, but the sound held no mirth. Rather it echoed the despair in her heart. "Poor Dhu," she said. "How can you possibly understand? You are nought but a bird. Birds fly free as I would do. They choose their own mates as I would do." She sighed again. "There is no other road open to me. I must marry Rhys of St. Bride's though I love him not. I must wed him that my sisters Caitlin and Dilys may obtain rich husbands. So my brother and grandmother may live in peace and safety while I hold Rhys at bay. That little Mair may someday be provided for in a more generous manner than I can provide for her."

Then Wynne began to weep bitter tears. "How will I bear it? Oh, how will I bear it?" she sobbed. "Yet I have no other choice. I do not believe the religious life is for me, and if I fled Rhys to a convent, who would care for my brother and sisters? Who would keep Gwernach safe for Dewi? Not Caitlin or Dilys! I must marry the lord of St. Bride's. And, I must learn to accept my fate before he comes again. The moon already waxes, and in another few days it will be full. He will come for his answer, even knowing what it must be, and I dare not greet him with tears, but rather with smiles."

Wynne brushed her tears away and reached for a piece of cheese. What good were her tears? Tears accomplished nothing. Mechanically she chewed on the cheese and a small piece of her bread. The food was tasteless and stuck momentarily in her throat before finally sliding down into her stomach, where it seemed to lay in a sodden and undigested lump. She crumbled the remaining bread and cheese and spread it beneath the tree for the birds and small animals to have, for she had no appetite of her own left. She felt exhausted, almost drained of all emotion, and before she realized it, she was dozing beneath her tree by the rushing stream.

From the vantage point of his perch the raven watched her silently. She dreamed. The same confused dream she had always had from earliest childhood. Colors and images, none of them distinct, surrounded and enveloped her, yet they did not threaten her. Rather there was a feeling of great and deep sadness. A melancholy despondency so deep that when she inevitably awoke, sensing the sound of a name she could not quite distinguish being frantically called, her face was always wet with tears. Wynne's eyes flew open and for a moment she thought a large, dark man stood before her, but then as she focused she could see it was just the tree facing her, and her friend, old Dhu, patiently waiting in its branches.

With a shaky little laugh, she scrambled to her feet, noting by the position of the sun that it was late afternoon. Then remembering the watercress, she knelt by the stream and picked a fat bunch which she added to her basket before arising and moving off through the forest. Despite her nap, she did not feel rested, nor was she really comfortable with her decision, but she could see no other way out of her dilemma than to marry the lord of St. Bride's. She would spend the next few days before the full moon adjusting herself to that hard fact. Rhys's motives for wanting her as his wife might not be as flattering as a man in love's might have been; but he would have no cause to feel cheated by his choice. She would be a good wife to him even if she did intend seeing her brother grow safely to manhood that Rhys not inherit Gwernach through her.

Stepping from the forest, she saw her home and a soft smile lit her features. It was not a castle, but she loved it with all her heart. The old stone and worn timbers with its green ivy mantle spoke to her of the love and fidelity of several generations. It had always been a happy house upon which the sun showed no hesitation about shining. That she would miss it she had not a doubt, but she had always known in that part of her brain which was sensible that she would one day leave Gwernach. As long as her brother lived to father another generation, she would be content to do so.

She had paused to consider it all a final moment, and looking for Dhu, she found him now sitting amid the tangle of a nearby bush. "Well, old friend, as I have no choice but to accept the lord of St. Bride's offer of marriage, I will," she told him.

"Caw!" answered the bird.

"I know, I know!" Wynne smiled ruefully. "But you have no other answer to give me, my friend. I would wed for love of a man, but it is not the way of the world in which I live. How my sisters mock me for my beliefs, and who is to say they are not right? I should be selfish to refuse Rhys. He will see to my sisters' well-being, and I think Grandmother and I are clever enough to keep Dewi safe from Rhys's greed. And if we are not, I still have not the luxury of a choice; but oh, if I did! I should refuse Rhys of St. Bride's! I would!"

"Caw!" the raven replied, and then he flew off, circling the house once before heading into the nearby hills.

"Farewell, Dhu!" Wynne called after him, and feeling a bit sad that he had forsaken her company, she entered the house, handing her basket to a house serf as she did.

"Where have you been?" demanded Caidin, her pale cheeks flushed with her irritation. "You have been gone the whole day long!" She glared at Wynne from her place near the fire pit, even as she combed her long dark brown hair with an ivory comb.

"Did you have need of me then?" was Wynne's reply. "I was in the forest. Grandmother knew."

"How can you bear to wander about those dank and dreadful woods?" Caitlin shuddered delicately and, putting her comb aside, braided her hair in two neat plaits.

"Someone must gather the herbs for the poultices, the tonics, and the medicines needed here," Wynne told her sister. "You will be expected to do such things in your husband's house, Caitlin. I have tried to teach you, but you show no interest. A good chatelaine knows how to care for her people."

"My husband will be rich," Caitlin replied. "I will have serfs to gather the herbs and serfs to make these concoctions you are always babbling about."

"I will too!" Dilys piped up.

Wynne sighed. There was no arguing with either of her sisters. Their thoughts did not extend beyond their own needs.

"Have you made up your mind then to accept Rhys's generous offer and cease behaving like a fool?" Caitlin asked. "Not that he will not have you if he wishes it; but if you fight with him, he may not give us our husbands."

"I will accept the lord of St. Bride's with as good a grace as possible, Caitlin, though if I had another choice, I should take it," Wynne told her sister bluntly. Caitlin's preoccupation with herself was particularly irritating today.

"Then perhaps, my child, that is the answer you sought for," said Enid, overhearing Wynne as she entered the hall.

"There seems to be no other," Wynne agreed, "but I had hoped to marry for love, Grandmother."

"You are incorrigible," Caitlin told her elder sister, and her tone was decidedly unsympathetic. "You do have, however, a saving grace in that you are sensible to a fault in the end. Now that you have finally come to terms with yourself, having given us all a most difficult time, be certain that you gain the marriage contracts for Dilys and for me from Rhys before you wed him, lest he try to cheat us out of our due."

"Yes, Wynne," Dilys added. "You must not sell yourself cheaply, but gain the best price for us all from Rhys."

"I will do better than you desire," Wynne told her sisters. "I will insist you are both wed first and well-established in your husbands' households before I marry Rhys. Does that not please you?" she said, and her tone was slightly mocking, but Caitlin and Dilys did not notice it.