Page 60 of King’s Knight

“I have known you for many years, Merry. Your beginnings, whatever they were, do not matter to me. I doubt they would matter to my father or Rhodri, should they learn of them.” He chuckled. “Even knowing you were English did not matter when Rhodri invited you to train with his archers. You were family to my uncle and you are more to me.”

He paused, then continued, looking intently into her eyes. “Whatever may have happened since you left us has not changed you. You are still fy golau, my light, and I would take you back to Wales. Should you be willing, I would make you my wife.”

His words came as a shock and they changed everything. She had never considered Owain had such feelings for her. Would it be fair to him to allow him to see her to Wales? After all, she loved another and carried that man’s child. Mayhap if Owain knew, he might not want to marry her. A prince of Powys must have sons of his own, not those of another. But if he knew the truth and was still willing to take her to Wales, she and her babe might find a new life there. She needed to think of what she could say, how to tell him.

“I must have time, Owain.”

“You shall have it,” he said. “I will stay until the coming winter forces me to leave. After that, the snow in the mountain passes will make the journey unwise.”

“We will talk again before then,” she assured him. “But not today.”

Her head swiveled toward the river at the sound of beating wings. Hundreds of pink-footed geese rushed through the air to descend on the water. The beating of their wings and the incessant, high-pitched shrieks made conversation impossible.

Drawn from the serious discussion they had been pursuing to the glorious sight, she stared in wonder. The coming of the gray and brown geese with their unusual pink feet was always a magnificent sight. And it reminded her winter would soon be upon them.

“I do love the geese,” she shouted over their honking.

“We have them in Wales,” he shouted back.

She laughed as they turned to go. Once the geese had settled on the water and quieted, she said, “You may yet persuade me to return to Wales.”

That evening, with so many knights and men-at-arms away, Owain was the object of every young woman’s attention. The tall Welsh archer with his noble bearing and unusual clothing looked very much the prince he was, handsome in both form and face, but also a warrior. Many at Talisand knew Rhodri and this nephew of his was much talked about.

Lady Serena had been thrilled to welcome Owain to her hall. “You must sit on the dais with my husband and me tonight,” she urged. “Rhodri would expect it.” It did not matter to their lady that Wales warred with England’s Norman king. The bond Serena had forged with the Welsh bard had been a strong one. For Merewyn, too, Wales was a source of happy memories.

Lady Serena waited for Owain’s answer and he looked at Merewyn.

“ ’Tis an honor to sit with the Lord and Lady of Talisand,” she told him. “Go.”

Reluctantly, it seemed to Merewyn, Owain took his place beside Alex’s father and she returned to the trestle table to sit with Jamie and Lora. Merewyn was glad she had refused Jamie’s noble offer to marry her for the sake of the babe. The affection she now saw in Lora’s eyes for the captain was its own reward.

“Your Welsh friend is drawing many admiring glances,” said Lora, leaning in to speak in a low voice.

“Aye, Owain is a handsome one.”

“And?” Lora raised her brows, waiting for Merewyn to say more. “Why has he come so far?”

“He said he wanted to see Talisand.” She could never tell her friends that Owain had come for her, but Lora was perceptive.

“More like, he wanted to see you,” her friend said, nudging her in the ribs.

“We are merely friends,” Merewyn insisted. “He was the one who taught me how to shoot from my pony.”

Lora answered her with a suspicious grin. “He does not look at you the way a man looks at a ‘mere friend’.”

Merewyn let out a sigh and reached for the bread next to their shared trencher. From his seat on the other side of Lora, Jamie shot her a sidelong glance. Merewyn was certain he had overheard the last of Lora’s comments and was thankful for his silence. Jamie was the only one at Talisand who knew of the babe and she meant to keep it that way for as long as she could.

* * *

The messenger’s grim expression spoke loudly to Alex, telling him the news was not good. Having already endured a shortage of food and many storm-filled days, the king’s army, camped on muddy ground south of Lothian, needed their spirits raised, not lowered.

The king, his brother and the barons had been discussing strategy in William’s tent when the man stepped through the opening, removed his hat and bent his knee before the king. Alex, invited to join the discussion, looked on with interest.

“My Lord,” the man said with bowed head.

“Rise,” said William, his eyes narrowing on the man.

The poor wretch trembled in the face of his monarch, who was obviously impatient. Slowly, the man got to his feet, worrying his hat in his hands. His clothing was ragged and salt-crusted and his jerkin was smeared with mud nearly the same color as his mussed hair.