"But how will you get back into the palace, Fulk? You are a slave as I was," Rhonwyn said in a worried tone.
"The young prince freed me months ago," Fulk explained. "He said a slave should not be teaching him the things he needed to know. I can come and go in and out of the palace with impunity, my lady."
"What am I to tell your brothers?" Rhonwyn asked him.
"That I died bravely defending you, my lady," Fulk said with a small smile. "The truth, we both know, would but bring them shame. That a brother who went so nobly off on crusade to free the Holy Land from the infidel, but then joined the infidel, would be more than they could bear or understand. But I must do what is best for me. Here in Cinnebar I can practice my own faith without fear of reprisal, which is more than any Jew or man of Islam can do in England. I wish you Godspeed, my lady." The young knight bowed to her as he kissed her hand. Then he turned and departed the chamber.
"At least my conscience is clear," said Rhonwyn slowly. She turned to her brother. "Where is Edward?"
"I saw him last in Acre," Glynn responded, "but there is something I must tell you, Rhonwyn. Edward truly believes you are dead. He is preparing to marry his cousin Katherine de Beaulieu when he returns to England."
"Then we must get to Acre quickly," she replied.
"Nay," Glynn said. "We must return to England so that you will be at Haven awaiting your husband when he returns. The lady Katherine is a sweet woman, but her brother, Rafe, is a hard man. They must be dispossessed and returned to their own manor. You are perfectly capable of husbanding Haven until Edward returns to England."
"And just how am I to force Rafe to give up his hold on Haven?" she demanded of her brother.
"Our tad will aid you if you ask him, sister. This is no time to be over-proud, Rhonwyn," Glynn said bluntly.
"Better we go to Acre so Edward sees me and does not believe it is a hoax played upon him," Rhonwyn said.
"Nay! For once, sister, do what is asked of you and do not be willful. This is what has gotten you into difficulties all along, doing what you wanted instead of what was right and expected of you. Edward is angry that you dashed into a battle. He is angry that you were captured and lost him one of his knights. He will believe nothing of you but the absolute truth, but I fear his angerwhen he learns you have known another man. It will take every bit of your strength and knowledge to convince him that he should not disown you," Glynn told her earnestly.
"I love him," Rhonwyn said as if her love could solve the problem. "I know he loves me." But having heard what her brother reported, she was now not so certain of her husband's love. How could he have given her up for lost so easily and made plans to marry Katherine de Beaulieu? She was confused as to what to do, and then Oth spoke up.
"Better you be at home awaiting him like the wife he wants you to be than suddenly appearing before him in Acre, lady."
"Are you certain it would not be better for us to go to Acre, Glynn?"
Glynn nodded his dark head. "We must go to England as quickly as we can, sister," he told her firmly. "Now, you need to get ready to travel. Our caravan leaves at first light. There on the shelf is a bowl, a rag, and two pitchers. The large pitcher contains a dye for your skin. You must cover your entire body with it. Our host's daughter will do your back for you, but you will dye your hair black with the contents of the smaller pitcher. Your clothing is laid out on the chair. Pantaloons, a shirt, a vest, and boots. You already have your cloak. Be careful with it, and do not lose it. Baba Haroun has sewn a cache of gold coins in a secret pocket for you."
"Why must I be totally dyed?" she demanded, sniffing at the pitcher. "The stuff smells foul."
"It won't once it's on. You are too fair, Rhonwyn. You have not the look of a young man used to the outdoors, and you must. If your pant leg rode up and your white skin were seen, or if you squatted to pee and your bare white bottom were visible, it would give the game away. I know it must be difficult taking orders from your little brother, but please, for all our sakes, do it! Dye your hair first so the girl who helps you afterward does not know your hair's true color. It is for her safety," Glynn concluded.
They left her. Rhonwyn sighed. She had cut her hair so that it now bobbed at the level of her chin. Hopefully it would grow quickly, and by the time Edward returned home it would be a respectable length once again. Rhonwyn stripped naked, and finding the pitcher of black dye behind the larger pitcher, she poured it into the basin, mixing it with a tiny bit of water, and then dipped her head, her fingers moving rapidly through her scalp to completely cover her tresses. She then rinsed her hair with clear water and hoped the transformation was complete, for she had no glass or metal mirror in which to check her efforts. She quickly began rubbing the brownish dye from the larger pitcher into her skin. When only her shoulders and back remained white, she called out, and almost immediately a young girl entered the chamber.
"Here, lady, let me finish the task you have begun so well." She took the rag and began smoothing the dye down Rhonwyn's back and across her shoulders.
It took a moment to sink in, but Rhonwyn suddenly realized that the girl was speaking in the Norman tongue. It had been many months since she had heard it, and she wondered if she could still speak it herself. She and Fulk had spoken together in Arabic, and her brother and Oth had spoken in the language of the Welsh. The words, however, came easily when she tried. "You speak the tongue of the Franks," she said.
"My father-this is his house in which you are now standing-is a merchant. I am his only child and help him in his business. Sometimes I even travel to Carthage. I speak several languages."
"You speak well," Rhonwyn noted, and then said nothing more.
When the dye covered her skin completely and had dried, she dressed. The merchant's daughter had departed the chamber with all the evidence of Rhonwyn's disguise. She was pulling on her boots when her brother entered and looked her over with a critical eye.
"You've bound up your breasts?" he asked.
She nodded and stood up for his final inspection.
"Have you found the secret pocket in your cape?" he asked her.
"There are actually two," she told him, "and both are well hidden and well filled. 1 will keep my cape with me at all times."
"Good! Now, here is our story. I am the minstrel and entertainer. You are my brother and one of my musicians, along with Oth and Dewi."
"What instrument do I play?" she teased him.
"The tambourine," he said seriously. "That way if we must perform, you cannot make any error. Any fool can play the tambourine."
"Thank you," Rhonwyn said dryly.
"We are ready to go," he told her.
"You have become so serious, Glynn," she said to him.
"We are not yet out of Cinnebar, sister. I will not rest until our feet are once again on good Christian soil, nor should you," he explained. "I am angry that Edward de Beaulieu gave you up so easily. He looked for you for only several days before following Prince Edward to Acre. I told him you were alive! I felt it! But none of them would listen to me, Rhonwyn. Now it is my duty to return you to Haven Castle and to your husband. I will do what that fine knight of yours could not. I will bring you home!"