Page 319 of The Daughters of Avalon
Why?
Because of him.
It wasn’t only because she’d had a vision of their fates. Admittedly, some small part of her had lived for each moment when he’d come to console her.
In the beginning, she’d believed it was pity that compelled him—pity for her affliction, pity for her circumstances.
The child in her had clamored for some simple human connection, and the woman in her had laid her tear-stained cheeks in the crook of his neck and inhaled the very masculine scent of him—a scent that to Rhiannon had been oddly familiar, though she’d never met Cael before that day, fresh from her tumbril.
Nay, he would never hurt her.
She sensed that truth deep in her soul.
Somehow, she’d always trusted that Cael would defend her, despite everything.
She felt his chest expand with a contented sigh as he pulled the edge of the cloak over her face, taking care to keep the rain from her, and Rhiannon lost the battle to stay awake. They’d been traveling too long now, with her nerves on edge, and now that she was in her husband’s arms, she hadn’t any spirit left to muster. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his leathered chest, and slept like a newborn babe. When she reopened her eyes again, the first blushing of morning light had begun to unfurl.
“Wake up,” said Cael. “Rhiannon!”
Her head shot up, as she heard bellowing.
The morning sky was a watery rose as they ventured onto Amdel’s parklands, and though the rain had stopped, the entire landscape was a muddy brown.
Looking far more like a pile of stones against the dusky horizon, Amdel castle lay shrouded in a thick morning mist, its aura black as pitch.
“Tell him to come out, treat like a man!” shouted one of two fellows standing in the middle of a muddy field—one mounted, one not.
The one doing the bargaining stood, arms akimbo.
Reining in their mounts, the entire cavalcade stopped to assess the situation.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Rhiannon righted herself in the saddle.
Marcella patted her mare’s neck, whispering gently to the beast to keep her calm.
Jack reined in as well, tightening the lead rope to Rhiannon’s riderless horse, bringing it close.
Even the wolfhound stood silent, perhaps evaluating the level of danger. Although Rhiannon half expected the animal to growl or to leap at the pair of warriors standing in a watery field, he remained close by their side.
Before them, Amdel Castle rose from rich, black loam, looking like a debased tomb, with its half-finished stone wall nearly gone to rubble.
It was, as though, she thought… the lord of this place had begun to construct a bastion, only to be thwarted by his coffers, or perhaps even a king’s mandate.
There were many adulterine castles built after King Henry’s death—over a thousand, so she’d heard. So long as their lords bent the knee, the Usurper had allowed many to remain, far too many, his barons would say.
Only naturally, Stephen would respect a man who took what he wanted per force. After all, hadn’t he done the same?
Still, it was impossible to say if this castle might be among the ones he did not approve. For whatever reason, the construction had been forestalled long, long ago. And even so, its aura gave Rhiannon the distinct impression that it had only been recently abandoned. It filled her with a strange senseof presentiment. Even the air itself held the faintest whiff of death. But she sensed heart flames within, so the castle wasn’t entirely abandoned. More proof of that stood upon the parapet… one man with arms akimbo, though Rhiannon could spy others hidden behind themeutriers, bows knocked and arrows ready to loose.
“He’ll not treat with the likes of you!” he shouted. “Get ye gone, else we’ll loose another volley!”
The two men standing before the barbican stood far enough away that the first round of missiles had embedded themselves harmlessly at their feet. At least half a dozen stood planted in the sodden ground.
“Cael?” said Marcella. “I believe that’s…
“Giles,” he said.
Rhiannon perked over hearing that name.
