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Chapter Eleven
“The sacred Three
to save, to shield, to surround, the hearth, the house, the household, this
eve, this night, O this eve, this night, and every night, each single night.
Amen."
The prayer echoed
throughout the castle as the fire was ceremoniously dampened in the hearth of
the great hall.
Outside, the
bonfire burned brightly, and according to tradition, come morning, its embers
would be used to relight the fire of the great hall, symbolizing rebirth.
Dwynwen watched as
the anticipation and the merriment grew among the guests encircling the
impressive glowing tower of fire. Her own pulse quickened when Prince Maelon
wended through the crowd, making his way toward her.
As he approached
his eyes shifted to Dwynwen’s oldest brother Nectan standing beside her. He
nodded to him then stood before Dwynwen and took her hand in his.
“Princess.” He bowed,
kissing the back of her hand, brushing his moist lips against her soft skin.
Dwynwen breathed
in his intoxicating musky scent as he lifted his head and their eyes met. An
exhilarating sensation coursed through her body.
She bowed to him
and then he turned, continuing to round the great fire, determination in his
step. Dwynwen stood trembling as she watched the man she loved approach her
father standing twenty paces before him.
After witnessing
his fond regard for Maelon, Dwynwen was certain her father would consider the
prince a worthy match for her.
Prince Maelon
bowed before her father. He inclined his head and Dwynwen saw him request a
private audience. Her father looked over at her. Dwynwen was startled when she
saw the flash of anger cross his face.
“What have you done?” Nectan whispered when he
noticed his father’s reaction.
“I did nothing,” she
replied. “Is there fault in finding true love, brother?”
“There is when one
is already promised, sister,” he hissed. “You are not at liberty to avail
yourself to another. Do not think your actions over these past days have gone
unnoticed. Father reigns over this land. Do you not understand he sees and
knows everything?”
Speaking with
Nectan was like hearing her father’s voice. The heir to the throne shared the
same mind as their father. Surely if he knew of Prince Maelon’s intentions, so
did her father. King Brychan was just and honourable. Although good-natured and
loving, making him angry could be deadly.
“I must go to
them!” Dwynwen fled from the feast fires
to join Maelon where she would defend their love and intentions.
As she entered the
hall, the sound of raised voices came from her father’s council room. Both men
were adamantly making their point.
“Father,” Dwynwen
stood in the doorway. “Please forgive us.”
The shouting
ceased when she entered the room. Her father whirled around, his face flushed, a sure sign he was furious. Her heart was
heavy at the sight of him looking so upset.
“What is betwixt
us, our love for each other, although sudden, is a gift from above.” She tried
to be strong while she defended their love, but as she traveled across the
room, tears streamed down her face.
“Please father… Allow me to tell you what is
in my heart.” She reached out for him but he didn’t take her hand.
“In this matter,
what is in your heart is of no importance. You are promised to a man who is, at
this moment, sailing the oceans securing your future kingdom.” Her father could
not look at her, his disappointment too great.
“Father, I beg
you, please listen to me. I do not love the man of whom you speak. He is a
stranger to me, someone who could very well be dead.”
Dwynwen tried to
picture the man she had met the day her father announced her betrothal. The
very day he had set sail for a voyage on the stormy seas eighteen moons ago.
Gone so long, surely she was the furthest thing from his mind.
Their betrothal
was the furthest thing from her heart.
“I love the man who stands before you.” Dwynwen
kneeled before her father pleading with him.
The Prince could
not believe his ears. The thought he would not win the hand of this young woman
made something dark surface in his consciousness. Accustomed to taking what he
wanted, none dared refuse him.
“Your majesty,
although the man you speak of may be great,” he growled, controlling the
rage building in his chest. “I assure you there is none greater than the wealth
of my family and the prestige attached to our name.” His silky voice held venom
in its tone.
In two steps the
King stood nose to nose with Maelon.
“You may be
representing your father here among us, but you by no means are the same man.”
He glared at the young prince.
“Based on his honour, I extended leniency when
you were bestowing attentions upon my daughter. I trusted no harm would come
from them. A passing fancy. How you have proved me wrong.” He spat. “You do not
know your place. Your arrogance astounds me.”
The King swung
around and addressed his daughter. “You are promised to Liam apRhys.” He saw
the anguish in her eyes.
It almost broke
him.
“I have given him
my word upon his arrival, you will be wed.” His tone assured Dwynwen these were
his final words on the matter.
He turned his
attention to the Prince. “A betrothal has previously been made, you understand
my situation.” Diplomacy rang clear in the room. “It would be greatly appreciated if you would
leave the festivities, immediately.”
All things
considered, the Prince was extremely fortunate—graced by God and by the king’s
love for his favourite daughter—the verbal exchange with the King had ended as
it had.
Although arrogant,
the Prince was not daft, so with a bow to both Dwynwen and the King, he left
the council chamber.
Unlike his
entrance upon his arrival that first day in the great hall, his exit went
unnoticed as he disappeared into the night.
Overcome by sadness
and with a heart wrenching cry of despair, Dwynwen crumbled to the floor. The
King could not console his beloved daughter and so he sent for a servant to aide
her in retiring to her private chamber.
“Anwylyd, my
darling child…” he uttered the endearment as he gathered her in his arms. “Liam
is a good man and he will care for you. Yours will be a most joyous marriage,
this I promise you.”
He helped Dwynwen
to her feet when the servant arrived, then he returned to the festivities, his
expression void of any happiness. The laughter and music rising from the castle
grounds ensured him the guests were oblivious to what had taken place within
his council chamber.
He exchanged a
knowing look with his eldest son as he took his place at the fire. Nectan
nodded, trusting his father had everything well in hand.
The king stared
into the feast fires and prayed what he promised to his daughter was the truth.
# # #
Dwynwen obediently
went to her chamber accompanied by the servant. A kind and gentle woman, she had
tended to her and her sisters, since they were young girls.
“All will be well
in the morning.” Idelle promised as Dwynwen wrapped herself in the woollen
cover she gave her upon entering the room.
She lay down on
her bed and willed herself to stop crying. Idelle sat beside her on a stool by
the bed. Dwynwen settled and her breathing calmed.
“I thank you
Idelle for staying with me,” she said, laying a hand on the woman’s knee. “I
wish to rest now,”
“I will stay until
you have fallen asleep,” she replied, stroking Dwynwen’s hair, the sensation
causing her to close her eyes and lay still.
After a time,
Idelle, convinced Dwynwen was asleep, finally left the chamber.
With the door
closed and the sound of Idelle’s steps fading, Dwynwen ran to the window overlooking
the garden, longing to be in her prince’s arms once again.
She listened for
footsteps outside her door and peered out into the corridor. Confident, the
festivities had lured everyone outside, she left her chamber, slipping out of the
castle by the rear entrance leading into the garden. It had grown quite dark
and with no light to guide her way, she carefully searched the paths she and
Maelon had walked earlier this afternoon.
Behind the wall
surrounding the garden a dense forest loomed. It was the one which Maelon had
told her he had crossed to arrive at the castle. Knowing she must find him and
convince him she would change her father’s mind she entered the dark woods, spurred
by her fear of losing Maelon forever.
Successfully
averting the guards’ attention, Dwynwen slipped out into the garden. Moving as
quickly and as far from the castle as she could, she called out Maelon’s name.
Deeper into the
forest she ran, no longer aware of the shadows around her, only desperate to
find her love.
As the moments
raced by, she began to feel a pain in her breast and slowed her pace to catch
her breath. The snap of a twig coming from behind her spun her around. Someone
stood amid the dark shapes looming through the trees. It moved closer and Maelon
came into view. Dwynwen’s heart fluttered and she darted toward him.
“Did you not think
to tell me of the arrangement you had with this, this, Liam apRhys?” he spat
the name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.
His angry voice
halted her steps. “I could think only of you,” she replied.
“Do you play games
at the expense of my honour?” Maelon
circled Dwynwen. A streak of moonlight across his face, his eyes flashed
furious.
“I do not love
Prince Liam. I swear to you. I love you Maelon, from the moment I saw you. I wish to be yours.” Dwynwen reached out but
the prince did not take her into his arms as she had hoped. He grimaced at her
as though she was scarred by disease.
Confused by his
hostility, Dwynwen began to back away. No longer the gentle, charming man she
had given her heart to, a dark and dangerous man stood before her. Fear crept
into her heart.
“I will not be
made a fool, Dwynwen,” he spat, his words like venom.
An innocent soul,
Dwynwen could not know how well her handsome prince hid the demons deep inside
his black heart. She would soon find out as she met them face-to-face.
Determined no
other would have her, Maelon lunged at Dwynwen, first shredding her garments,
and then ripping the innocence from her body. Repeatedly he thrust into her, pounding
her tiny body into the damp forest floor as he crushed her will, her heart, and
finally charring her soul.
On the
long-awaited night of rebirth, love turned to hate, joyous beginnings turned to
violent endings, and hope turned to despair. Denying her the tenderness of his
promised true love, he committed a violent and savage act upon her.
Her cries went
unheard, her prayers unanswered. Prince Maelon left Dwynwen Brycheiniog broken,
her virtue lost in the dark forest of giant oaks. Alone, under the stars in the
darkness of the ancient woodlands, she hung on to life by a tiny silver thread.
Chapter
Twelve
Angel’s Cove
1935
Gwen didn’t know
what to say. Staring into Liam’s eyes, afraid her feelings might be written all
over her face, she turned away.
Should she tell
him of the dream where he reached for her? Where they reached for each other?
“What’s wrong,
Gwen?” Liam’s voice sent a shiver though
her.
“Nothing,” she replied,
stepping away from the tree. She cast her eyes over the brook, watching the
water trickle over the smooth pebbles at the bottom of its bed.
“Gwen, I have to
go and see the chapel,” he said. “I need
to know why it’s been haunting my dreams.”
“So, you think it
exists?”
“I know it does.”
He bent down, picking up a dark grey stone out of the water.
“How can you be so
sure?”
“Sometimes, we
just have to have faith.” He studied the stone, rubbing his thumb against a
white vein running down the middle of its smooth surface.
“My mother used to
say the same thing,” Gwen mused.
“What about you?” He
threw the stone back into the brook. It left a ripple in the water. “Do you
have faith, Gwen?”
“I’d like to think
I do.”
“Then come with me.”
‘You must follow your heart…’ Her
mother’s voice resounded, the words from her letter echoing in her head. Could this
be what her mother meant? Was it
possible she could have known she’d need a little push somewhere down the road?
Gwen looked into
Liam’s warm brown eyes, searching for reasons to doubt.
Follow your heart.
“When do we
leave?”
* *
* *
The next few hours passed in a
flurry of activity. When she awoke this morning, she never would have believed
how the events of the previous day would so drastically change her life.
A knock sounded at
the front door.
“You’re back already?”
she said, opening the door. “Lia-”
“Where have you
been? I’ve been worried sick!” Anne flew
into the house, her fair skin flushed as she brushed past Gwen. She whirled
around, her hands fisted on her hips with her toes tapping an angry rhythm on
the hallway floor. Her temper reared its dark Irish head, staring out at her
from deep emerald eyes.
“I’m so sorry Anne.
I meant to call you. I had to go out this morning. I took a ride to Placentia Wales
“Placentia
“I’m sorry. You
have every reason to be upset with me. I should have called.” Gwen followed her
into the kitchen.
“Yes, you should
have.”
“I had some things
to take care of, is all.”
“What things?” Anne filled the kettle and set it on the stove.
“I would have gone with you.”
“I’ve got some of
Mrs. McNally’s soda bread in the pantry.” Gwen said, trying to avoid having to
explain. She placed the soda bread on the cutting board and began cutting thick
slices for each of them.
“Hmm. Distracting
me with food.” A hint of a smile sat on her lips. “All right. I’m just happy you got some fresh
air.”
Gwen wondered how
long Anne’s smile was going to last, once she found out about Wales. “Yes, the
fresh air was good.”
Gwen felt Anne’s
eyes on her.
“What?” she asked.
“You look nice,” Anne replied. “There’s
something, I don’t know, different about you.”
“No there isn’t,”
Gwen turned and placed the soda bread on the table, avoided Anne’s inquisitive
regard.
“Ah…yes.” Anne
placed her hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “There is.”
“All right. I have
something to tell you,” Gwen said, breathing in a breath of courage.. “First, I
want to say I’m not crazy…”
Anne turned to look
at Gwen, whose brow had narrowed.
“All right, I’m
listening”
“Let’s sit down.”
Gwen pulled Anne toward the table. “Should we wait for the tea?”
“It must be bad
news if you’re stalling.”
“No, it’s not bad
news. It’s rather good, actually.” Her mother always said there was nothing
better than the truth. “I’m taking a trip.”
“Really?” Anne’s eyes
widened. “Where to?”
“Well… this is
going to come as a surprise but I’m going to Wales
“Wales Wales
“There are some
friends, well no, more like relatives there.”
“Well, which is
it?”
“Both.” This was
going to be harder than she thought. Anne didn’t like wishy-washy answers. The
protective side of her wouldn’t like the idea of Gwen traveling with a stranger,
not one bit.
“I had a visit
from a friend of my mother’s family yesterday who invited me to visit. Seeing
as somebody told me to take some time
off to put my affairs in order.” She cocked her head in Anne’s direction. “I
thought it could be a great time to reconnect with my family.”
She’d rehearsed
her speech several times last night, knowing she’d have to.
“So, when are you going on this trip?”
“I
leave tomorrow morning.”
“That’s sudden.” Anne’s protective radar was on alert. “What’s
the rush?”
“Well Mr. Pryce
had his plans already booked and I decided to join him.”
“Mr. Pryce?” Anne jumped up out of her
chair, hands on her hips. “Who is he?”
“Liam Pryce. He’s
very nice. I think you’d approve of him; he’s a very sensible sort.” Anne was
making her nervous, her words sputtered out of her mouth with lightning speed. “He’s
Welsh. You’d like his accent.”
“So… let me get
this straight. A Welsh man with an accent came to visit you yesterday, invited
you to go back home to Wales
“When you say it
like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
“Well this is rather
impulsive of you, isn’t it?”
“I know this isn’t
like me, Anne. I don’t usually do things on a whim.”
“No you don’t.
Although in the past I have encouraged you to.”
“Well right now I can’t
tell if you approve of my spontaneity or not, but it's leaning toward…not. Can
you please sit down?”
Anne blew out a breath and shook her head as she
plopped down in the chair. “Is he good looking at least?”
Her question
surprised them both, making them snort out a laugh.
“Come to think of
it, he is good looking.” Gwen admitted. “Does it make you feel better about it?”
“Well, it helps”
Anne squeezed Gwen’s hand. “It sounds exciting, taking off and seeing a bit of
the world. You and your mother talked about travelling all the time.”
Gwen flinched a
little at the mention of her mother. “We did.”
“You know I’m overprotective. I can’t help
myself. I am like your older sister.”
“You’re only a few
months older.”
“True but I learned
a lot in those few months.” Anne chuckled as she lifted the whistling kettle
from the stove. “Gwen, you deserve to do something wonderful, something to take
your mind off things. What can I do to help?”
“I was about to
dig Mom’s suitcase out of her closet.”
“You go get
started and I’ll make us a tea,” she said. “I’m having strawberry jam on these
gorgeous slices of soda bread. How about you?
“Yes, please!”
* *
* *
Gwen found the
suitcase on the floor of her mother’s closet. A little dusty, it had been left
unused for a long while. It was in good condition and would do just fine.
A wave of grief
overcame her as she looked around her mother’s quiet room.
“I’m taking your
advice mum,” she whispered. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”
Gwen picked up the
leather-trimmed Eveleigh by the handle, swept her gaze around the room one last
time as she stood in the doorway, and then shut the door.
“Why don’t you bring the mugs up here?” Gwen
called down the stairway.
“Good idea, you’ll
need my help accessorizing.” Ann quipped from the kitchen.
After packing
Gwen’s bag, Anne agreed to a sleep-over, just like when they were little girls.
Their giggles drifted off a while later, both falling into a deep sleep.
The pendant
glinted in the moonlight atop Gwen’s jewellery box and she didn’t dream.
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