"So, daughter, you would do this for me, would you?" the prince said, rather surprised by her words.
"I was raised here, my lord, and I was taught duty to family and to Wales. I have an English husband whom I love, and I am content to recognize the English king as my overlord. But this business has little to do with England. It is Welsh business, my lord, and it must be concluded by the Welsh. This Rhys ap Daffydd is a man of guile and dishonor. Both he and his vile actions shame our race."
"And you, Englishman, you are content to allow your wife to do this thing?" ap Gruffydd asked Rafe.
"Aye," Rafe said. Then he continued, "My wife is not some delicate flower in need of my protection. She is a strong woman, and frankly at times I have been glad for her protection. If she believes she can do this, then I am content to let her. But know that if she should fail, I will, myself, see to this man's death for the temerity he has shown in taking my sister as his hostage."
The prince of the Welsh smiled slowly. "This time, daughter," he said, "you have married a real man. I do like you, Rafe de Beaulieu." He clapped his son-in-law upon the back in a friendly gesture.
It was decided that the prince, along with a troop of men-at-arms from Cythraul, would travel several hours behind the others. They would not enter Aberforth until signaled. Rhonwyn, Rafe, and Dewi would come to Rhys ap Daffydd's castle in their guise as traveling entertainers. Rhonwyn had decided to dress herself as a female in boy's garb, the better to entice the castle's master. Oth would leave Cythraul in the morning, Rhonwyn and her party would come two hours behind him, and the prince and his men would be four hours behind them.
The evening meal was served, and afterward Gwilym sang several ballads of ancient times. "But," he told them as he so often did, "my laddie, Glynn, has sung and played them better."
"Now he sings and plays for God," Rhonwyn said.
"My only son, a priest," the prince muttered, disgusted.
"He's happy," Rhonwyn said quietly. "Besides, when you can celebrate your marriage to de Montfort's daughter, get yourself a son on her. That child will be your legitimate heir."
"I've been betrothed to the wench for long enough, but she is hidden in a convent in France, and the English will not give her permission to travel through their lands so we may marry," ap Gruffydd groused. "Edward Longshanks is in fear of de Montfort's daughter, the fool."
"King Edward is scarcely a fool, my lord," Rhonwyn told her father. "It is you, I'm thinking, who is foolish. Why will you not pledge your fealty to him? If you did, perhaps your bride could come to Wales, and you would have many sons. But nay, you will niggle and haggle to gain an advantage you will never obtain from this king. He is a hard man like his grandfather King John, although he can be quite charming. Nonetheless, Tad, he will have his own way, and you and your allies will eventually cost Wales her freedom, I have not a doubt."
The prince looked extremely disgruntled by her words. "You still speak your own mind, Rhonwyn, I see," he said. "The English shall not have Wales as long as I live. I swear it on the true cross!"
"Words come easy to you, my lord, but 'tis actions that count," Rhonwyn said scathingly.
Rafe was fascinated by the combative relationship between lather and daughter. He knew that ap Gruffydd had had next to nothing to do with her upbringing, but he had not realized before just how bitter Rhonwyn was toward the prince of the Welsh. Absently Rafe took her hand in his and, raising it to his lips, kissed each fingertip. "Let us retire, wife," he said low. "We will have a long day tomorrow."
Ap Gruffydd sipped on his wine thoughtfully, but when his daughter and her husband had crawled into their bedspace, he said to Morgan ap Owen, "He manages her well, and she does not even realize it. She must indeed love him, Morgan."
The captain of Cythraul smiled his reply.
Oth was gone before the dawn, and Rhonwyn and her party followed him two hours later. They had borrowed several of Gwilym's old instruments, for it was likely they would have to perform. Dewi and Rhonwyn were skilled in such arts, but Rafe was not. When they camped that night she taught him how to keep time with a tambourine and cymbalum, which were a type of bells. Dewi was adept on the pibau, or bagpipes, and the pibgorn, a reed instrument. Rhonwyn would play the Telyn-a Celtic harp-as well as the lute, and sing.
They traveled from dawn till dusk for two days. On the morning of the third day they reached Aberforth Castle, meeting Oth but an hour after they sighted the castle, and they drew their mounts into a wooded area off the road to await him. Seeing them, he stopped.
"She's there," he said, "and in the dirty, stained gown they took her in, for the leman of the master will not loan her a clean garment. These are wicked people, my lady. Be careful. I shall ride on to meet with your father and tell him what I have learned."
"Into the lion's den," Rhonwyn said, and kicked her mount forward.
They rode down the road, across the heavy wooden drawbridge beneath the portcullis, and into the castle courtyard, asking for the steward when they stopped.
"You must go into the hall," the stable boy said. "He will not come out here, for who are you but a ragtag and itinerant bunch?"
"Will you watch our horses, you handsome fellow?" Rhonwyn said, favoring the lad with a broad smile and chucking him beneath the chin. She bent, allowing him a generous view of her breasts. "We'll make it worth your while," she purred.
The boy swallowed hard, scarcely able to look away from her bosom. Without a word he took the reins and nodded, blushing beet red when Rhonwyn pinched his cheek and blew him a kiss.
"Must you be so damned bold?" Rafe muttered as they mounted the steps to the porch and went through the door of the castle.
"Men like bold women, for they always assume that bold women are bad women," Rhonwyn told him. "I may have to do things that I would certainly not do otherwise, Rafe, but you must trust me."
"Aye, my lord, follow her lead," Dewi said. "She's a clever lass and more than once got us out of a scrape as we made our way home through France."
In the great hall they asked for the steward and were directed to his chamber. Knocking, they entered, and Rhonwyn immediately spoke up.
"Greetings, my lord steward. I am Anghard, and these are my two companions, Dewi and Rafe. We are musicians and thought perhaps that you might have a need of a night's entertainment."
"It is not often we get travelers in this place," the steward said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Where are you from and where are you bound for, Anghard?"
"We have no real home, my lord steward, but we have at last been in Shrewsbury and now make our way to Prince Llywelyn's stronghold, for we hear he is a lover of music and generous to boot. We have spent the last two nights out-of-doors and would welcome a night beneath a strong roof with a fire and some hot food." She smiled at him.
"I can save you a long trip," the steward said, "for the prince will be here in a few days' time. He is coming to visit my master, Rhys ap Daffydd, lord of this castle. We will give you a week or more of shelter, Anghard, and you and your companions will entertain us, eh?"
"With pleasure, my lord steward, and I thank you for your generosity," Rhonwyn said.
"Go into the hall," the steward told them. "You may sleep there and eat at the lord's tables below the salt. If you play well, there may be a little something else for you as well."
"Thank you, my lord steward," Rhonwyn said, bowing as she backed from the room.
"You are a devious woman," Rafe said as they returned to the hall. "I should have believed you myself did I not know you."
"We must find the perfect place," Rhonwyn said to Dewi, "and then you must make certain my alborium is ready to be used. We'll watch for servants while you prepare it, for if it is learned we have brought weapons into this lord's hall, we may be killed for our daring."