Medieval Master Swordsmen(67)

David wasn’t following him. “What are you saying?”

Christopher stared at Esgarraida, his mind working, before replying. “I am thinking that perhaps we have overlooked the obvious. Certainly John wants Lady Elizabeau dead; that is no secret. But what of Eleanor? What if she not only abducted Arthur but killed him as well? She would think nothing of murdering another relation, and particularly an illegitimate one, who is a threat to her son.”

David caught on with a look of disgust. “You are right. We have been foolish not to worry about her, also.”

Christopher nodded with reluctant resignation. “I fear we’ve been blind not to realize that she was more a threat than John. And we must get word to Rhys. He would not know otherwise if Eleanor sent assassins poised as envoys. We have him focused on avoiding the king, not the king’s mother.”

David sighed heavily. “Jesus,” he hissed. “Then someone needs to ride back for Whitebrook and warn him.”

“If he’s even still there. He should be on his way here.”

Christopher shrugged his big shoulders decisively. “Send someone to find him, and do it quickly. There is no time to waste if Eleanor is sincerely after the lady.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN



Carys stood in the yard behind the manse, feeding the great flock of fowl that had seemed to intimidate Elizabeau so much. But Carys had been raised around the animals and was very comfortable with them. As she fed them, Dylan and Maddoc would run through the flock and scatter the birds, laughing with delight as they did so. Carys would frown at them and resume her feeding only to have the boys do it again. But the birds were resilient and would return to gobble down feed every time.

“Mama!” she turned to call towards the house. “Tell Dylan to behave. He’s frightening the birds!”

“Dylan?” Orlaith dutifully yelled from the house. “If those birds stop laying eggs because you’ve frightened them too badly, your father will have something to say about it.”

Dylan made a face at his mother, who couldn’t see it, and to his sister who could. Carys stuck her tongue out at him and resumed feeding. With the birds to no longer harass, Dylan took Maddoc and went in search of bigger game to harry, more than likely Renard. Dylan’s father was in the shed to the north of the manse cleaning some of Rod’s armor and the younger boys headed straight for him. He was their next target.

Carys was only glad that they left her alone. Renard was bigger and could swat them if they became too annoying, where she could not. Moreover, she wanted to finish her chores so that she could beg her father to take her into town. She had heard there was a new vendor from Ireland with the most marvelous materials and she wanted to go and see them before all of the women in the area bought them up. She was nearing the end of her grain when a shadow suddenly fell across her path. Looking up, she saw that it was Conrad.

Immediately, her cheeks flushed scarlet. Conrad smiled timidly; he had been watching her over the past two days, a pretty slip of a girl with glorious hair. He was infatuated with her hair. He was not very good at speaking her language but he had been practicing. He hoped it was enough.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said in his very heavy accent. “It is a fine day.”

She was blushing so hard that she was beginning to sweat. “Aye, it is,” she nodded, keeping her focus on the birds.

Conrad could see she was either embarrassed or wanted nothing to do with him. But he would not give up so easily. “This country… it is not like mine.”

Carys looked up at him, then. “Oh? What is so different?”

He shrugged, looking around the landscape. “Where I come from, there are great mountains. I see only hills here.”

Carys pointed to the north. “There are great mountains that way. And snow, too. Do you have snow?”

He nodded. “We do. Do you like snow?”

She nodded, gradually becoming more at ease. “I love it. We play in it in the winter. My father lashes boards together and we use it to slide down the hills.”

Conrad grinned. “Me, too,” he said and the conversation died. He kicked at the ground nervously, thinking of something more to say. “Your brother… the big man? Have you heard any word from him?”

Carys shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Rod has not sent word if he has found Rhys and the lady. And if you think Rod is big, wait until you see Rhys. He’s enormous!”

“I see,” Conrad looked out over the lush Welsh landscape but his gaze kept coming back to Carys. “Do you think it will be long before Rod sends word?”

By now, the entire family knew about the ruse. It had been impossible not to tell them once Conrad and his men arrived, although it had been something of a shock to Orlaith. Being a woman, she had been very intuitive about how Rhys was behaving around his wife. She had been thrilled for her son after his horrific first marriage. But knowing the lady, with whom he seemed to share such a bond with, was not truly his wife, had thoroughly depressed her. And then there was Carys; she had been immediately attracted to Conrad until she had learned his true purpose. Now she was dejected and discouraged knowing he was meant for the woman her brother had called his wife. Therefore, Conrad’s attention had her nervous because she did not know how to react.