Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
At last, after almost three weeks of travel, Gwenllian and her friends reached Sheridan Manor. Uncle Matthew and the whole family were in the courtyard admiring a horse they had just purchased when the retinue arrived one windy afternoon.
“Gwenllian!”
Her cousin Iorwerth was the first to spot the riders. He ran to Gwenllian and held her horse while she dismounted. Then he drew her into a warm embrace.
“And Bethan and Cameron as well, with their son,” her aunt, Branwen, added, walking over to the group with a smile. “This is a lovely surprise.”
Bethan slid from the saddle with a sigh. “Yes. We decided to go to Wales to introduce Little Callum to the family, but I will admit, I’m happy to have arrived here where I will be able to enjoy a few days’ rest before carrying on.”
“Aye, mo chridhe, you’ve been very brave.” Cameron sounded concerned as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Perhaps we should have waited another few weeks before setting off.”
“I’ll be fine,” his wife soothed, giving their son a kiss on the head.
Gwenllian smiled inwardly, remembering Lady Isabeau.
The Frenchwoman had not been a mother dealing with the demands of a newborn baby, and she had not traveled all the way from Scotland when she had stopped at Audley, eager for a respite.
Had she stopped there on the way back as well?
Colin had said they were going to a place called Blue Rock Castle in Hugh’s stead.
Was it very far? Would Alexander have to deal with his brother and his mistress a second time? She dearly hoped not.
“Well, come, you can join us inside and share our meal,” Uncle Matthew concluded. “We were about to eat.”
After a joyous feast where the Hunters got to know the baby, everyone settled in for the night.
Back in her familiar bed, Gwenllian spent a long time staring at the ceiling.
She felt different than the last time she had lain in the same bed, and no wonder.
She was different, a real woman. A couple of months ago, she had been here, wondering about the adventure awaiting her in Scotland.
She had not suspected that she would find it the next day, in the arms of a local knight rescuing her.
Early the next afternoon, in other words, as soon as she could justify leaving Sheridan Manor, she was on the road to Audley, riding one of her uncle’s horses.
Her excuse for going there was a good one and didn’t raise any questions.
After all, she did have to return the mare Alexander had lent her for her journey to Scotland.
Alasdair had insisted on accompanying her.
He would lead Buttercup for her, for which she was grateful.
After a quick and uneventful ride, the two of them parted ways outside Audley’s drawbridge.
It had been agreed that she would carry on through the gate while he rode on to Redhill Castle, William’s residence, a few miles to the west. Her excursion had also provided him with the perfect excuse to visit his lover without raising suspicion.
“I wish you the best of luck,” she told him warmly. The young man looked both anxious and hopeful at the idea of being reunited with the man who sent his heart to a wild drum, which was exactly how she was feeling herself. What welcome would they get?
“You, too, my lady.”
As soon as the squire had kicked his horse into a canter, Gwenllian crossed the wooden bridge.
Absurdly, it felt as if she were coming home.
Peter, the groom who had been of assistance with Lady Isabeau back in the spring, was in the bailey, brushing a stunning chestnut horse.
He recognized her and walked over to her, a smile on his face.
“How are you doing, old girl?” he asked the animal before going red to the roots of his hair. “Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know, don’t worry. And Buttercup is very well.” She gave the mare an affectionate caress on the neck. She would miss her. “She was perfect all the way to Scotland and back. The two of us got on well.”
“I’m glad.”
After having dismounted, Gwenllian looked around, doing her best not to appear too eager. “Before I go, I would like to thank Sir Alexander for the loan of the mare and for accompanying me on my journey. Is he in the main hall?”
“I’m afraid he’s not at the castle.” Peter looked sorry to have to tell her that. “He left early this morning, and we’ve been told not to expect him before tomorrow.”
Everything within Gwenllian went limp. Alexander was not here. How had she not thought of that possibility? She had not sent word of her arrival, wanting to surprise him. Well, that plan had failed, spectacularly.
“I see. Well, would you tell him I called?”
Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t sure she had managed to stop her voice from trembling. Peter looked just as wretched as she felt. Had he guessed why she was so distraught? She dearly hoped not.
“Of course.”
She could try her luck again another time.
But what if something else required his attention then?
Bethan and Cameron had decided to rest at Sheridan Manor because it was conveniently situated on the way to Castell Esgyrn, but they would not remain here more than a week.
That had seemed short enough. And now she was told that instead of having half a dozen days—and nights—with Alexander, she might be lucky to get one.
She had worried about his reaction when he saw her. But she had not even thought they would not see each other at all.
Still, there was nothing to be done for now. She climbed onto her uncle’s mare and rode back through the gate.
Well, that visit to the village had been an utter waste of time. It might have been funny if it had not been so pathetic. But pathetic it had been, from beginning to end.
When a man had come to Audley early that morning to ask him to come settle an ongoing dispute between two of his friends, Alexander had imagined it would be something to do with a contested boundary between two fields, or the number of sheep supposedly stolen from a herd.
He had not imagined that he would find two louts arguing about who was in possession of the biggest cock, or that he would be called upon to decide who was right.
And yet that was exactly what had happened. When he had arrived, the miller and the baker had been by the church in the middle of a large crowd, taunting one another with crude gestures and even more unsavory insults.
“I have the bigger one, and I will poke your eye out with it if you don’t concede,” a man whose clothes were covered in flour was saying. The miller or the baker? It was impossible to tell, as it could have been either.
“If you get it anywhere near my face, I’ll bite it right off,” his enemy countered with a sneer. “You’ve been warned.”
“Ha! You like stuffing your mouth with cock, then? Why am I not surprised?”
Alexander turned to the villager by his side, stunned. Was that the dispute he had been called to arbitrate? Surely not, and the men had only resorted to this crude display when the quarrel about the land had become too heated.
“Do not tell me that you dragged me all the way here so I could establish which of these two men has the biggest cock?” he asked, barely able to get the words out for anger and disbelief.
“Aye, my lord, I did.” The man was not shamefaced in the least. “The argument has been tearing the village apart. The miller refuses to deliver flour to the baker, so there is hardly enough bread to feed the weak and the children, never mind the rest of us, but even if we convinced him to relent, the baker refuses to bake bread made with the flour coming from the miller. It’s been going on for weeks. It has to stop.”
Unable to believe the absurdity of the situation but seeing that the feud would indeed create problems for the whole community, Alexander stepped in between the two men, who instantly went quiet.
“It appears that I am here to pass judgement on the size of your cocks and declare a winner.” This had to be the most ridiculous sentence he had ever uttered, but to his surprise, no one laughed, which told him that the situation really was as bad as the man had suggested.
“Has no one here been able to do it?” he asked around.
Mutterings answered him, then a tentative voice called, “There’s not much in it, that’s the problem, and they won’t let us—”
“Well, I see an easy way of establishing the truth,” Alexander cut out, patience finally at an end.
“Take them out. If I cannot immediately see the difference, I’ll have to cut them off so we can place them side by side and measure them.
Then we will know for sure. Not that either of you will care to be declared the winner by that point, I don’t think. ”
He brought his hand to the hilt of this sword and placed himself in front of the man to his left, who blanched.
“No need to be so drastic, my lord. I volunteer to see the matter at rest,” a stout matron called out. This time, there were a few tentative laughs. “Though I doubt that any of them can match my Albert, I’m willing to take them both to bed and pass judgment.”
“Do that,” Alexander barked, already striding back to his horse.
“And then tell everyone. If I hear that either man has contested your decision, I will be back, and I’ll make sure they regret disturbing me for something so trivial.
” He vaulted into the saddle. “And there had better be bread for everyone on the morrow. I will be sure to send one of my men to check.”