Bertrice Small: A Moment in Time

"Refuse him? Why would you refuse him?" Caitlin shrieked. "You will ruin us all, you selfish creature, before you are through!"

Wynne sighed. "Caitlin, think a moment. Why would a powerful warlord with a great castle want me to wife? Oh, my dowry is good, but our name is not great. Rhys of St. Bride's can have both in a wife, so why would he want me?"

"Who cares why he wants you?" Caitlin said petulantly. "Don't you understand anything, Wynne? With Rhys for a brother-in-law, and our comfortable dowries, we shall have our pick of good husbands. Besides, we are related to the king."

"Our connection to Gruffydd ap Llywelyn is so slender as to be almost invisible," Wynne said matter-of-factly. "If Rhys of St. Bride's is to come courting me, it is because of our brother."

"What has Dewi got to do with it?" Dilys asked, her pretty forehead wrinkling with her puzzlement.

"Our brother is young. Should anything happen to him before he is grown, wed, and a father, Gwernach would be mine. We are fortunate we have no close male relations else they threaten Dewi for his inheritance. You can be certain that that is what is in the back of Rhys of St. Bride's mind as he comes courting me. Dewi's possible demise. I should not put it past him to hurry our brother into the next life that he might gain Gwernach through me. The line of descent in the matter of Gwernach is quite clear. It is first through the male line to the third degree, and then through the female line beginning with the eldest daughter. Rhys of St. Bride's has never even seen me. I might be bald and snaggle-toothed, but he would have me to have Gwernach."

"You're mad!" Caitlin said, but she could not look at her sister as she spoke.

"Nay," their grandmother said, joining them and entering into the conversation. "She's probably right, and yet I do not feel we should judge Rhys of St. Bride's harshly until we have heard him out. Perhaps his offer will be a genuine one. Wynne is a practical girl. She clearly sees her main attraction for a powerful lord is the fact that, though Dewi is Gwernach's lord, she is Gwernach's heiress until Dewi has fathered a son of his own. Still, my girl," Enid said, putting a comforting arm about her eldest grandchild, "Caitlin did the correct thing when she told the messenger that you will receive the lord of St. Bride's."

"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.