Bertrice Small - A Memory of Love

She gave herself over to the passion of the moment, and when they were both most thoroughly sated they stumbled to their bedchamber, where Enit was awaiting them in the solar with a large bath ready and steaming.

"Wonderful!" Rhonwyn enthused. "We shall not see such luxury for many a day, my lord. We must take advantage of it while we may." She began to pull her garments off, as did he.

Enit, not in the least disturbed, picked up the clothing as it was tossed, clucking and scolding them both at their haste.

"We'll wash each other, Enit," Rhonwyn said, and taking up the boar's-bristle brush, she began to scrub her husband's back vigorously.

"Then I'll take these wretched garments you have both worn to death to the laundress," Enit said.

"Take your time," Rafe called to her as the door shut.

They heard Enit laugh as she hurried down the stairs.

"How long do you think we have?" he asked Rhonwyn.

"At least half an hour," she chuckled.

"Good!" He turned and cupped her full breasts in his two big hands. "Ah, I love these sweet fruits," he purred in her ear as he fondled them gently. He pressed his body against her suggestively. "I'm as randy as a billy goat tonight, wife," he warned.

She wiggled her bottom into his groin. "Then we shall be randy together, Rafe, my husband. The tiny interlude in the hallway was but a taste of what I want from you tonight. Oh, yes!"

"So you like that," he whispered in her ear as he rubbed his stiffening lance between the twin moons of her bottom.

"Ummmm," she answered him. "You are so quickly roused, husband."

"Because you are so damnably tempting, wife," he responded.

She turned about and kissed him slowly. "What a nice compliment, husband," she purred. Then she began licking his face and throat with broad, hot sweeps of her little tongue. "You are salty," she said.

"You are sweet," he countered, his tongue licking at her face, her chest, and, after he lifted her slightly, her full breasts.

They coupled once again, the water sloshing about them as their passion rose. When they had pleasured each other, they washed and exited the tub, Rhonwyn shaking her head at the puddles.

"Thank heavens the floor is stone," she remarked as she first dried him with a rough cloth, and then herself. "What will Enit think?"

"That her master and her mistress were as randy as two billy goats tonight," he chuckled, and took her hand. "Come, wife, to bed with you lest we both catch a chill. We are off on serious business come the morrow. Pray God my sister is yet safe."

"She will be safe, Rafe," Rhonwyn assured him. "Even if they learned she was not ap Gruffydd's child, they will ransom her to Edward. The Welsh have been called many things by you English, but never have we been called foolish. We know how to make a groat. Kate will be safe."

They climbed naked into their bed, and he cradled her in his arms. "I trust you, wife," he told her.

"I know," Rhonwyn said with a small smile. "That is one of the reasons I love you, Rafe de Beaulieu. You really do trust me."

"I love you," he said simply. "Now sleep, wife."

Rhonwyn smiled again to herself and closed her eyes.

It had been many years since Lady Katherine de Beaulieu had heard the Welsh tongue spoken. Now, however, she silently thanked God for her old Welsh nurse and her own linguistic abilities. At first it was all garble, but then gradually her mind focused, and she understood. The men who held her captive believed she was Rhonwyn. Her first instinct was to tell them they were wrong, but then she thought that they might kill her as they had so many in Ainslea village. Reaching out, she gently tugged the skirt of her servant Mab. The woman turned a frightened face to her mistress, and Kate put a finger to her lips, warning Mab to silence.

"They believe," she whispered softly, "that I am Rhonwyn. Address me as such else they kill us for their own error."

"What is it you say in that barbaric tongue, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn?" one of her captors asked roughly.

"I am calming my servant," Kate replied. "She is frightened by you and by what she has seen this day. These English are not strong."

"Strong enough when they choose," the man laughed.

"Who are you, and why have you done this?" Kate asked him.

"In time, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn" was the answer.

Almost all the male inhabitants of Ainslea had been slaughtered, but for those who had managed to flee. The women and the children, however, were herded together to be driven into Wales where they would be sold as slaves. One old man was left to tell the tale to any who came seeking the lady of Haven Castle. The village was then fired, and the Welsh rode off with their captives and their loot-for they had sacked whatever had value including several milk cows, the poultry, a team of oxen, and a small herd of sheep.

Late in the afternoon Kate and her servant were taken in a separate direction by four of their captors. Mab began to whimper again with fright, moaning that they were going to be ravaged and killed for certain.

"Be silent!" Kate said sharply. "If they intended such villainy they would not have brought us this distance. It is something else, and I am interested to learn what."

"They will kill us when they learn the truth," Mab sobbed. "You should have told them back in Ainslea, and surely they would have released us, lady."

"Nay," Kate said. "They would have killed us then for they could not allow me to alert my sister-in-law to their perfidy, whatever it may be. I must maintain this masquerade for the time being until I can learn what is afoot. Then perhaps I may speak the truth. Or mayhap not, Mab. Now, pull yourself together, lass. We will not show these Welsh that we are afraid."

"Are you, lady?" Mab quavered.

"Aye, I am," Kate replied. "I should be a fool not to be fearful, Mab." Then she reached out and patted her servant's hand in a gesture of comfort, giving her a small smile.

"My name is Ifan ap Daffydd," the leader of her captors said. "We will overnight at a small convent, lady. If you attempt to escape or try to tell the nuns who you are or that you are captive, my men and I will kill the holy women. Do you understand me?"

"Aye," Kate said, "I do."

"Tell your servant what I have said, and tell her if she continues to whimper and whine as she has been, I will personally slit her throat. There are good Welsh women at my brother's castle who can serve you. You do not need this English cow."

"Nonetheless, Ifan ap Daffydd, I will have her," Kate answered him. "She has been loyal to me since I arrived at Haven. Perhaps you do not value such traits in a servant, but I do. She is not used to seeing such slaughter as she has viewed this day. You will leave her be, for she is my responsibility."

"Your Welsh is odd," he said to her.

"I have been living among the English for several years now and have not spoken my own tongue. I am surprised that I can recall it at all," Kate told him blithely. "Besides, each end of Wales speaks a different dialect, Ifan ap Daffydd, yet we all manage to understand each other."

"Aye, we do, especially when it comes to your tad, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn," he replied, and then he laughed.

When he had ridden ahead again Kate explained to Mab what had been said, couching the Welshman's threats in gentler language. "You must not carry on any longer, Mab, for you are irritating these men, and they could punish us both for your behavior."

"I will try," Mab said.

"You must succeed," Kate said firmly.

"Where are they taking us?"

"To the castle of Ifan ap Daffydd's brother, whoever he may be," Kate said. "From what this Ifan has said, I suspect it has something to do with the Welsh prince, but what, I do not yet know."