"Love? Love is for children, lady. Marriages should be made for more practical reasons. Your marriage to Edward was part of a treaty between Wales and England. How could you have believed there was any love involved in it?"
"Perhaps because I am not very wise,'' Rhonwyn replied mockingly. "You are wrong, Rafe de Beaulieu. Love can exist between a married couple. I thought it had begun to bloom with Edward. He had, after all, said he loved me. Was I to think he lied?"
"A man will say many things when he is between a woman's legs" was the harsh response.
Rhonwyn's head snapped up, and she glared at him. "You really are despicable. Go away! Why do you find it necessary to torment me?"
He smiled down at her, and she was startled by the sudden realization that he was very handsome. The silver blue eyes mocked her. "I don't want to torment you, Rhonwyn," he said in a voice so low that only she could have heard him. “ I want to make love to you."
She grew pale. She could have sworn that her heart had stopped beating in her chest. She could not speak for a long moment. Finally she said, "If you ever approach me again, I will find a way to kill you, I promise." Then she lowered her head again and began counting her rosary beads.
"You are very bold," the abbess said to Rafe, and she laughed when he flushed. "Aye, I heard you, sir. My hearing is acute. It has to be if I am to keep strict order within my abbey's walls."
"She will be like you when she is old," he said.
"Probably," the abbess answered dryly. "Now go back with your cousin, Rafe de Beaulieu, and leave my niece be."
They waited. Finally the door to the room opened, and the royal chamberlain stood, beckoning them. Returning to the hall, they saw that the king was gone. The queen and the clergy remained.
"The king," Queen Eleanor said, "was exhausted by this morning's events. He has left me to render his judgment. You acted in haste, Edward de Beaulieu, when you remarried without truly knowing if your first wife was dead. However, by having her declared officially dead, your marriage to Lady Katherine is declared legal by the church, and your son, legitimate. It is not believed that you acted with any malice, but rather from the honest conviction that Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn was really dead. When you learned she was not, though, you acted with total disregard for her honor and her family's honor. For this you shall pay a forfeit, and you shall return her dower portion to her. Is that understood, my lord?"
Edward de Beaulieu bowed and said grudgingly, "Aye, my lady."
"As for you, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, you have condemned yourself by your own words. However, you would appear truly repentant of your sins. The church has taken into consideration the absence of God in your life during most of your life. Your future, though, presents us with a difficult problem. Your lascivious behavior makes you, even penitent, unfit for the church. It will also make it difficult to find a husband for you, and you must have a husband, my dear. You are a lady of noble family who is obviously in need of strong husbandly guidance. But under the circumstances of your recent adventures, who will have you?" the queen said, troubled.
" I will have her."
Rhonwyn turned to stare, surprised, at Rafe de Beaulieu, and then she lost her temper. "Never!" she shouted at him. "Never!" She held out her hands in appeal to the queen. "Madame, surely you will not take this man seriously? Besides, there must be some consanguinity between us because of my marriage to Edward de Beaulieu."
Queen Eleanor looked to the assembled clergymen. "My lords?"
The archbishop and bishops put their heads together, and the hum of their voices could be heard murmuring in debate over the question. Finally the archbishop of Canterbury spoke.
"There is no blood tie between Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn and Rafe de Beaulieu," he said. "If the lady had given Edward de Beaulieu a child, then the tie would be there, but it is not. He is free to take her as his wife. It is our opinion that this is the best solution to the matter at hand, my lady."
"I will not have him!" Rhonwyn said firmly.
"The choice, my dear," the queen replied, "is not yours. You must have a husband, and he is willing to have you despite all your faults."
"No!" Unable to help herself and in utter frustration, Rhonwyn stamped her foot at Eleanor of Provence.
The queen ignored Rhonwyn's protest and turned to her aunt. "My lady abbess, are you delegated by the prince of the Welsh to act in the matter of your niece?"
"I am," the abbess replied.
"What say you?" the queen queried.
"I would know first what kind of a home and hearth this man has to offer my niece. Tis not a castle, I am certain, and my niece is of noble blood. Even her mother, God assoil her, was lawfully born into a noble house. We are anxious that Rhonwyn be re-wed, but we will not act in haste and place our child in a difficult situation or one not suited to her station."
"Of course," the queen agreed, smoothing a wrinkle from her royal purple gown. She looked at Rafe de Beaulieu. "Sir, what have you to say to the abbess's query?"
"Through my maternal grandfather who had no other heirs, I hold the title of Baron Bradburn of Ardley," Rafe said. "My manor is small in land, but I have a fine house, servants, and ten serfs to work my fields. My cousin, Edward, has a piece of land, separate from his other holdings, that matches with my land. If you will give me the lady Rhonwyn for a wife, this land could serve as my cousin's forfeit to the lady, and my holdings would thereby be measurably increased. I have cattle and I have sheep among my possessions as well. I am not a very wealthy man but I am comfortable and my wife will not lack. I am not a powerful man, but my blood is as noble as hers. I will not hold the past against her. I will take her to wife despite her adventures and her bad temper."
Rhonwyn threw her rosary beads at his head, shouting, "You will have me in exchange for Edward's land, you bastard? Never! 1 would sooner spend the rest of my days in a windowless dungeon than have you for a husband!"
"The choice is not yours, my child," the abbess repeated quietly.
"Aunt…"
"Listen to me, Rhonwyn," the abbess spoke in the Welsh, "they will marry you off whether you will or no. At least you know this man. You may not like him, but you know him. What other will have you? Perhaps some lecherous old lordling who will use you and beat you and squander your dower portion? Rafe de Beaulieu is young. He will give you children. And, I suspect, in time you will come to an arrangement that pleases you both. I have the power to make this match, and I intend to do so. I would prefer, however, that you agree to it also. Not willingly, I know, but I beg you to agree, Rhonwyn."
"I feel like an animal caught in a trap," Rhonwyn said in her childhood tongue. "I hate it!"
"I know," the abbess sympathized, "and I do understand, my child."
"Why must I wed again?" Rhonwyn demanded angrily, but even as she asked the question she knew she was beaten. How in hell could she hope to prevail against the queen and the church? She couldn't. No one was going to come to her aid. Her brother stood silently, his gaze averted. She could see Oth and Dewi at the end of the hall, but she knew as much as they loved her, they would not act against what they knew her father and her aunt would want for her.
"Rhonwyn?" Her aunt's voice gently pressed her.
"I will marry him, but not willingly," she said, once more using the Norman tongue.
"Excellent," Queen Eleanor replied, well pleased.