A Dishonorable Knight(31)

Gareth gnawed his upper lip and Elena knew he thought of all the conversations Elena had heard at dinner between he and his father concerning Henry Tudor.

“I only remembered a few words until Enid and I began talking. It didn’t seem important,” she lied, though she was not sure why.

Suddenly loathe to turn his thoughts to worrisome matters of state on such a beautiful day, she cast about for a topic that might distract him.

"What of your mother?" she asked.

"My mother?"

"Yes. Where is she?"

"She died giving birth to me."

Elena frowned. That news was given to expectant fathers near as much as "'Tis a healthy boy," or "You've a beautiful girl."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"'Twas quite a while ago. I've had as few years to get over it,” he joked lamely.

They did not speak for several minutes as their horses climbed to a peak overlooking the shallow valley in which Eyri Keep lay. Sheep dotted the green fields around the keep and the air was filled with the sweet smell of evergreen trees and sun-warmed grass. Though it was high summer, the tallest peaks to the north were still capped with snow as white as the clouds which dotted the crisp, brilliant blue sky. The valley below was lush with hundreds of shades of green from the palest yellow-green of the birch trees, to the blue-green of spruce and the deepest emerald of the mosses and ferns. At the mouth of the valley, rippling fields of wheat rippled in the balmy breeze that came off the foothills.

Elena felt Gareth’s gaze on her. She turned as he asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Wales is a strange place," she answered without thinking.

"What do you mean?" he asked his voice sharpening in defensiveness.

"It affects me strangely. I've never really cared about my surroundings but now I can't stand to be inside for more than a few hours. I have to come outside and just look. It's like..." Her voice faded and she shrugged. "I can't explain it."

"We call it Cymrectod."

Elena searched her mind for that word. "I don't know what that means."

"It is the intense feeling all Welsh have for this land. Are you sure you have no Welsh relatives? Perhaps you are Cymraes, after all."

"A Welshwoman? No. I am English."

"English by birth, perhaps, but Welsh by spirit."

"How you do talk in riddles," she said with edginess in her voice. She did in fact have a grandmother who was Welsh--the reason she and her family had visited south Wales for five summers as a child. But being Welsh was not something to boast of in Richard's court and Elena had carefully forgotten her Welsh grandmother. Nudging her horse, she led the way up the narrow path that zigzagged up the mountain. Nearly an hour later, they reached a wide plateau at the peak. Gareth dismounted and helped Elena down. He quickly removed the horses’ saddles and let them graze freely.

"Shouldn't you tether them?" Elena asked.

"Isrid will not go anywhere and the other horse is too timid to go anywhere alone. She will stay with Isrid."

Elena nodded as she raised her arms over her head and stretched. The sun was warm on her face, but a cool breeze kept it from becoming hot. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths of the invigorating air. This is heavenly, she thought. I wish I could just live on this mountain and sleep outside under the stars. Elena opened her eyes and dropped her arms abruptly. Where on earth had that thought come from, she wondered. What of her comfortable chamber at Eyri Keep? What of the glittering beauty of Richard's court with men and women alike bedecked in rich velvets and satins, jewels on every finger, entwined in ladies' hair. Music playing softly, candles glowing. Turning to watch Gareth as he climbed atop a huge boulder, she thought, perhaps my Welsh blood is awakening. The idea was vaguely disconcerting. She did not wish to examine the feeling too deeply.

Seeking to distract herself, she called him. "Gareth?"

Gareth smiled down at her from his perch on the boulder where he had been reveling in the peace of the day. She realized she had never called him by his given name, had, in fact, avoided calling him anything at all. "Hmm?"

"Why do you support the Earl of Richmond's claim to England?"

Gareth's smile faded. He jumped down from the rock and approached her.

"Have you ever heard of Llewelyn ab Iorweth or Owain Glyn Dwr?"

Elena frowned in concentration. "They were rebels, were they not?"