Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(171)

Gryffyn rolled over onto his back, listening to the sound of his sister’s voice. Soon, that voice would be silenced. Now, he knew what he had to do. His plans had been laid for him.

He eagerly anticipated the day.

*

The priests at St. Peter’s spoke the harshest Welsh Keller had ever heard. In fact, he wasn’t even sure it was Welsh until they spoke a few words that he recognized. After he began to understand their accents, it was easier to have a conversation, and soon he had made arrangements for Trevyn d’Einen’s funeral mass to be held on the morrow.

St. Peter’s was a lovely old church, low and squat, and built with the gray granite stone that was so prevalent in the Welsh mountains. The priests pointed out Lady d’Einen’s crypt and he found himself gazing at the effigy of the woman who gave birth to both Chrystobel and to Gryffyn. How one woman could spawn two diametrically opposed individuals was something of a curiosity for him. Heaven and hell sprang all from this woman, in his opinion, so he wasn’t sure if he revered or reviled her.

Seeing Lady d’Einen’s effigy caused his thoughts to linger heavily on Chrystobel. He could only pray that her anger would cool and she would eventually forgive him. He wondered if his poem had done any good, if it had accomplished his purpose and managed to cool the fire of fury. He spent a good deal of time praying in that church about it, softly in his mind, even as he carried on a conversation with the priests about Trevyn’s funeral. His prayers were for his relationship with his wife, one that he hoped wasn’t over before it truly began. He was both eager to return to Nether Castle and terrified of it. Terrified to discover she was still angry with him. Terrified to discover whatever trust that had been building had been lost.

So he braced himself for the possibility, but he also decided to do what he could to ease the woman the only way he knew how – with gifts. Keller was a gift-giver when the mood struck him and had been known to spend copious amounts of money at one time. He’d brought more than enough money with him today. Mayhap if he plied Chrystobel with enough finery, she would soften and forgive him. It was worth a try and, at this point, he felt that he was out of options. He was in groveling mode.

When he was finished making arrangements with the priests and paid them several silver coins for their services, he quit the church with his knights in tow, out into a morning that was becoming increasingly threatened by rain. As he stood next to his charger and tightened up his gloves, Rhys came to stand next to him, gazing up at the angry pewter sky.

“Rain is coming,” Rhys said. “But I suppose it does not do anything else here. This entire country smells like a rotten egg.”

Keller grinned, glancing up at the sky. “I am sure there are a few people around here who would disagree with you,” he said. Then, he started looking around, up and down the muddy street that ran from one end of the town to another. “I must find a goods merchant.”

Rhys began looking around, too, because he was. “What do you need?”

Keller’s dark eyes focused on the western end of the town where there seemed to be several people milling about, doing business. “Down there,” he said, ignoring Rhys’ question. “It looks as if there is some commerce going on down there.”

He mounted his charger effortlessly, spurring the animal down the street. William, who had already mounted his charger and had not heard the conversation between Rhys and Keller, reined his charger next to Rhys as the man mounted his steed.

“Where is Keller off to?” William asked.

Rhys pointed down the street. “To find a goods merchant.”

“Why?”

“He would not tell me.”

William’s gaze lingered on Keller as the man charged off down the road. “I would suspect a peace offering for Lady de Poyer.”

Rhys looked at him. “Did they have a row?”

William shrugged and looked at Rhys. “The man spent the night passed out on the table in a drunken stupor and not with his new wife, which is where he should have been,” he said. “If you were Keller’s new wife, how would you feel about it?”

Rhys grunted heavily and turned his gaze to Keller down the road. “I would be furious.”

William nodded in agreement. “As I am sure she is.”

“I am never getting married.”

“Then you are destined for a lonely life, my friend.”

They didn’t say anything more after that, taking the ten men-at-arms down the road, following Keller, as Aimery brought up the rear. Once they reached the busier part of town with waddle and daub huts, and merchant stalls made of the big granite rocks that were plentiful in the fields and mountain, they slowed their pace and began to inspect their surroundings.

Since Machynlleth was a small village, there wasn’t a great selection of merchants and most of those were agricultural or farming. There was a man selling sheep, a few men selling vegetables and big grass baskets of grains. There was also a merchant who had iron pots all stacked up in front of his shop, while inside the shop, there were bundles of heavy woolen fabric and other odds and ends.

It was this merchant that interested Keller. He dismounted his horse and entered the stall, nearly too big to move around in the small space, as outside, the clouds overhead that had been threatening rain most of the day began to let loose of a heavy mist. When that began to happen, the shopkeeper raced past Keller from well back in the stall and began dragging the heavy iron pots inside so they would not rust. He was a small man with a bent back, so Keller politely helped the man pull in all of his pots. When they were finished dragging them into the stall, the man was very grateful to Keller.