"You did well," Wynne told him, remembering the family. "They have a strong strain of milk cows. Your Gwenhwyvar will be bringing cattle as part of her dowry, I trust."

"Aye," he said with a grin. " 'Twas her greatest attraction for me."

"Villain!" his grandmother said, half laughing. "Do not tell me her soft brown eyes did not attract you. She is a lovely child with yellow hair. Her grandmother, on her father's side, was Saxon, I am told." Then Enid smacked him lightly. "Have you no word of welcome for your sister who has returned after three years of captivity among the Mercians? Where are your manners, Dewi?" She sighed and explained to Madoc, "They are all alike. Gwernach first before all else."

"I'm glad you're home safe, Wynne," Dewi said, and then he replied to his grandmother, "If I did not put Gwernach first as Wynne taught me, where would we all be?" He wore a slightly outraged look upon his handsome young face.

"He's right," Wynne agreed. "Dewi, I am so proud of you!"

"Who is the child?" her brother asked, his gaze moving to Wynne's daughter.

"Your niece, Averel," came the answer.

"She's a Saxon whelp," he replied, and Wynne explained once more Averel's parentage. Dewi took the little girl from Enid and smiled at her. "Hello, bunny," he said softly, and stroked her hair. "She's like a little brown bunny," he chuckled, "with that soft hair and those suspicious eyes."

Mair came into the hall, and again Wynne was astounded. Her littlest sister had grown taller, and had an almost coltish young woman's look to her. Madoc had been right. Mair was fast becoming a beauty. Her long brown hair was filled with golden lights, and her green eyes were like a forest lake, all dappled and mysterious. Shyly she greeted her sister, welcoming her home; but it was Averel who brought a smile to her lovely face. Mair immediately took her niece in hand, and Averel reciprocated, pleased to find someone young enough to understand her.

They sat down to the evening meal and, as they ate, Madoc explained to his in-laws that Wynne had borne him a son in her captivity; of how his brother had recently sent the slaver, Ruari Ban, for the child; and of how Caddaric Aethelmaere had sold the little boy to him. "I want Wynne to stay at Gwernach while I go to Cai to retrieve our son from my brother, and afterward we will all go home to Raven's Rock," he concluded. Then he added, "but no one must know that she is here. I have no wish for Brys to try another of his tricks."

"I have been thinking these past days as we rode," Wynne said. "I have already told you that I must go to Cai with you, Madoc. You cannot force Brys to give up our son, but I think I can. The one thing he will never expect is for me to beard him in his own hall once more. Besides, Arvel does not know you and will be frightened. I have thought hard on it. At first I thought we could do this ourselves. I did not want to involve others, but now I think you should go to St. Bride's and obtain Rhys's aid. With an army at our back, and me in Brys's hall, he will not dare refuse to return Arvel to us. He will simply have no choice in the matter."

"He could barricade himself within Cai with both you and your son as hostages," Dewi said to his eldest sister. "Have you thought of that, Wynne? I am not so certain that your idea will succeed."

"Nor I, dearling," Madoc agreed with his brother-in-law.

"Brys could indeed withstand a siege at Cai," Wynne said honestly, "but for how long? Cai is not Raven's Rock, for it can be approached quite easily from one side. Does it have an interior source of water, as does Raven's Rock? I know for a fact it does not, for when I was last there I saw servants bringing water in buckets across the drawbridge."

"Aye," Madoc said thoughtfully, "its water source is a spring which is located outside the castle, but still, I do not think it wise for you to go to Cai, my love."

"Think on it, Madoc!" Wynne persisted. "Can you not imagine Brys's surprise and shock when I come before him dressed in my finest clothing, bejeweled and exuding confidence? When I come before him to demand the return of my son, the heir to Powys-Wenwynwyn?"

"Aye, he will be surprised, but knowing my brother, he will quickly recover and order your imprisonment," Madoc told her. "No, Wynne, 'tis impossible!"

"It is not!" she shouted at him, and those about the table began to shift nervously in their seats. It was rare that Wynne lost her temper, but when she did… "Let Brys know that I have come not alone this time, but with an army at my back. He will understand he has no choice but to release Arvel to me. Oh, he may at first decide to withstand a siege, but he will quickly realize upon reflection that he has no other option, Madoc. Think about your brother, my lord. He never commits a crime openly. Secrecy is a part of him. He is like a creature one finds beneath a rock who cannot stand the light of day. Appearance is important to Brys. He delights in his ability to look charming and innocent, even as he delights in his own wickedness."

"That is true," Madoc admitted, "but it frightens me to think of you inside Cai again. There must be no more separations between us."

"Madoc, my own dear lord," Wynne said, "we have made our peace with each other. Somehow, I suspect, we will always be together."

"I am still not totally convinced of the wisdom of your suggestion," Madoc told her honestly, "but I will go to St. Bride's seeking my brother-in-law's help. We will return to Gwernach and discuss this again. Will you accept whatever decision Rhys and I make in this matter?"

"I will," Wynne agreed.

"And you will swear to me that you will not go tearing off to Cai while I am at St. Bride's? You will wait for us?" His deep blue eyes were half serious, half amused, for his request was clever, and the look upon Wynne's face one of a child found out in some anticipated mischief-making. "Promise me, my lady of Raven's Rock, or I shall instruct your brother to lock you in a cow byre until I return," he threatened her.

"Oh, very well!" she said with ill-concealed grace, and her family laughed with relief.

Madoc rode out the next morning for St. Bride's alone. He trusted his wife, but at the same time he realized her impatience to rescue their son might lead her to dishonor her promise to him. Einion remained behind to watch over his lady, as he had always watched over her, and if Wynne had had any thought to slipping away from Gwernach, she was not given the opportunity, for Einion's eyes were on her constantly.

"You could have gone with him," Wynne grumbled at Einion.

"He will travel faster alone," was the bland reply, "and time is important to us in this matter. We must lay siege to Castle Cai before the winter snows come."

Wynne nodded. "Let us hope the winter will be delayed, or at least a mild one, should it come early," she told him, and looked to the greying skies with their lowering moisture-laden clouds.

"The weather is still warm with false summer," Einion said. "There is time."

A week passed. A week in which Wynne renewed her ties with her family. Without Madoc she was free to speak of Eadwine, and she did.

"You loved him well, my child," Enid said. "I can tell it from the tender way in which you recall him. What happened to him?"

"Almost a year ago," Wynne began, "Eadwine went hunting for boar. A large one had been spotted rooting in his wood, and 'twas near the feast of Christ's Mass. He wanted a boar's head for the celebration. His eldest son, a discontented and unhappy man, rode with him. When the boar was finally run to ground, Caddaric leapt from his horse, eager to make the kill and shine in his father's eyes. The beast moved faster than they had anticipated. Eadwine put himself between his son and the creature, killing it, but being mortally wounded in the process. He saved Caddaric's life, but then toward the following dawn as my Eadwine lay near death, Caddaric refused his father's dying request to care for me. My poor lord died knowing he left me in danger."

Wynne then went on to explain to her grandmother Caddaric's obsession with her, and his unswerving belief that Wynne could give him the children that Eadgyth and the others had not been able to give him. Her brother and sister had now joined them and listened wide-eyed as she wove her tale. They all laughed when Wynne elaborated upon the scheme the other women concocted to protect her from the attentions of other men once Caddaric had condemned her to become the whore of the hall, of how finally, in anger and frustration, Caddaric vowed to give Wynne to the first man who would take her upon his high board in his presence; of Boda and his half-wit son Tovi.

"How wonderful that you were able to escape this horrible Saxon," Mair said earnestly, and she hugged Averel, who was comfortably settled in her lap. "How I should like to find a man someday who would love me as Prince Madoc loves you, dearest sister." Her green eyes grew dreamy with her secret thoughts and hopes for her future.

"He will be there at the right time, Mair," Wynne told her little sister. "You have but to wait, and Dewi, I know, will grant you the same grace and favor he granted me. You will only marry the man you love."

"Aye," Dewi agreed. "If he is suitable, and if he is available, Mair, he will be yours, I swear it!"

With a little smile, Mair took her niece and wandered off humming to herself. Dewi shrugged with amusement and, excusing himself, went back out into his fields to oversee his servants.


"And what of Madoc?" Enid asked her granddaughter. "Can you love him again, Wynne?"

"I never stopped loving him, Grandmother," came the answer. "I find it odd myself, but there it is, and though I puzzle about it over and over, I find no explanation as to how I can love two men at the same time. Each is different, and now, having lost one, I can love the other fully."

"What if your Saxon had not been killed?" Enid wondered aloud.

Wynne shook her head. "I do not know," she said. "Had I been faced with such a situation, I think I might have had to flee them both and live alone where neither could find me. It frightens me to even think about it. How could I possibly choose? Each has given me a child."

"Hmmmmm," Enid sighed, and her expression was a grave one. She had no answers to such a possible problem either. God was a far better architect than man in arranging such matters.

Chapter 20

Madoc returned eight days after he had left them, bringing not only Rhys, but his sister Nesta as well. The two young women threw themselves into each other's arms, weeping happily.

"I never knew how much I missed you until now!" Wynne cried.

"Nor I, you," Nesta reciprocated. "Now let me see your daughter! Madoc tells me she is absolutely adorable."

"He said that?" Wynne was completely surprised. Madoc had not seemed too anxious to engender a relationship of any kind with little Averel. His attitude had pained her, especially when she remembered Eadwine Aethelhard's loving fosterage of Arvel.

Nesta immediately understood Wynne's thoughts. "He did indeed say Averel was adorable. He is quite taken with the child, Wynne. It is simply difficult for him to reconcile his feelings for her with his knowledge that she was conceived by another man upon his wife's body."

“ 'Tis yet another wicked wound that Brys has done Madoc," Wynne said.

"Aye," Nesta replied, "but do not fear, dearest sister. Madoc will eventually reconcile himself to your lost years. The important thing is that we are now all reunited once more."

"Madoc must destroy Brys for all time," Wynne said suddenly.

"Aye," Nesta rejoined. "I agree with you. The defeat we are about to give Brys will embitter him far more than anything he has ever suffered before now. He is not a man to take such a defeat lightly. Left alive, he will seek new means of hurting us all. There is no choice but to destroy him first. Destroy him completely."

"Now you see, brother Madoc," Rhys of St. Bride's deep voice boomed out, "why I am not afraid to leave Nesta in charge of St. Bride's or Pendragon. She is the perfect mate for me." He chuckled, and took his wife's dainty hand as if to lead her forth. "Look at her. She looks like a fairy princess, but she is as bloodthirsty as any berserker I have ever encountered!"

"Am I wrong in my assessment, my lord?" Nesta demanded of her husband, and she pierced him with a sharp look.

"Nay, my love, you are not. We must defang that snake who calls himself Brys of Cai once and for all." Rhys then smiled at Wynne. "Welcome home, Wynne of Gwernach!" he said, and enveloped her in a quick bear hug. Setting her back on her feet, he said admiringly, "I think you are equally as strong as my wife, lady, to have survived your captivity. Women of the Cymri race are, it seems, like well-tempered sword blades: both beautiful and strong."