The old woman stood smiling in the little church at Gwernach as Father Drew united in the holy sacrament of marriage her granddaughter Caitlin to Arthwr of Coed, and her granddaughter Dilys to Howel of Llyn. She nodded, pleased, as she saw Madoc of Powys reach out to take Wynne's hand in his, and Wynne not frown or pull away. Ah love! Ah youth! And yet, she thought wisely, there was a great deal to be said for age. Far more than youth could ever know. With age came acceptance, and sometimes, as in her case, peace. It was good to arise in the morning despite one's aches and pains, secure in the knowledge that one had survived to live another day. It was equally good to lie in one's featherbed at the end of a long day, warm and safe, and allow sleep to overtake one's thoughts. Enid smiled once more. If God would but allow her the time to see the others safe, she thought; and then little Mair was tugging at her hand.
"Come, Grandmother! The mass is over," she said brightly. "It is time to celebrate!"
"Aye," Enid responded. "It is certainly time to celebrate!"
Chapter 4
She was in the woods, and about her a faint mauve mist blew through the trees like pieces of shredded silk gauze. The world was frozen in time, yet above her a raven cried.
Remember!
She sensed the word rather than truly heard it, and she struggled to comprehend its meaning.
Remember! The word was whispered softly, urgently, in her ear.
Once more the raven sounded its harsh, raucous cry.
Remember? Remember what? She didn't know what. Then as always a terrible sadness began to wash over her. She heard the name being called, but she could absolutely not make out that name. Stirring restlessly, Wynne suddenly awoke. She was drenched in perspiration. As she came to herself, she was grateful that Nesta was now sleeping in the bed that had once been Caitlin's and Dilys's. The recurring dream was not something she wanted to share with anyone. It confused her and it frightened her.
Pushing the bed curtains back, she slipped from her sleeping place. Outside the window she could see light beginning to creep up the horizon. In the dark blue sky above, the morning star blazed brightly like a perfect crystal. Opening the chest at the foot of her bed, Wynne drew out her favorite old green tunic dress and slipped it on, not bothering to belt it. Then splashing some cold water on her face, she moved softly down the stairs, across the hall to the entry. Drawing the bolt back as silently as she could, she opened the door and stepped outside.
She padded barefooted across the courtyard, nodding at the sleepy sentry who opened the gates for her. At Gwernach they were used to the young mistress's early morning wanderings. Halfway across the field opposite the gates, Wynne stopped suddenly as a great fifteen-point buck stepped daintily and silently from the forest. Wynne pulled a handful of green grass and held it out to the buck. Her heart was beating wildly in her excitement, but drawing several deep, slow breaths she managed to quiet it, thereby lowering the tempo of her life force so that she would not seem hostile to the big deer.
The beast eyed her curiously for what seemed like several very long minutes. Then he snorted softly, tossed his head and pawed the ground gently, all the while watching her to see what effect his actions would have upon this human. When Wynne giggled low, the deer stepped nervously back a pace or two.
"Shame on you," she said in a soft voice.
The deer's ears pricked at the sound of her words, a definitely nonhostile sound.
"Why you're twice my size," Wynne continued, "and you're afraid of me? Don't be silly! Come and take this fine meadow grass I've picked for you. 'Tis sweet and the dew's yet on it."
As if he understood her words, the buck came slowly forward, curious and lured by the delicious scent of the grass. He stretched his neck out as far as he could, reaching for the greenery, yet hoping to keep a goodly distance between himself and this human. Wynne leaned forward a tiny bit to facilitate the animal, who now began to chew upon her offering and, thus distracted, did not notice the slender girl moving forward just slightly toward him.
An arm sliding about her waist would have startled her terribly had not Madoc's voice whispered in her ear, " 'Tis only me, dearling. I see you have tamed Hearn to your hand."
"How can you be certain it is Hearn?" she demanded of him.
"How can you be certain it is not?" he replied. Reaching out, he rubbed the muzzle of the big buck with the knuckles of his hand.
The great deer, finished eating, raised his head to stare directly at them both. Then turning gracefully, he moved off slowly across the meadow, browsing casually on choice tidbits here and there as he went.
Madoc turned Wynne about so that she was facing him and smiled down at her. "You are clever that you can entice the beasts of the forest to your side."
"There is no trick to it, my lord. I merely concentrate on not being threatening to them," Wynne told him, and she shifted nervously in his arms. It was happening again. She could feel the heat beginning to pound through her veins. Why did he have this odd effect upon her?
Madoc could plainly see her discomfort, but he appeared in no hurry to release her, and Wynne would not ask him to do so. "I believe I was to give you a lesson in kissing the other night," he said quietly. "As we were not able to meet then, I think now as good a time as any." He tipped her face up to his. "Open your lips slightly."
"What?" She found the request startling.
"To kiss properly you must part your lips," he explained seriously, struggling very hard with himself not to laugh. Teaching a maid to kiss seemed a strange occupation. Most girls appeared to come by it quite naturally.
"Like this?" Wynne, obviously very intent on getting it just right, pursed her lips adorably.
"Close your eyes," he said.
"Why?" she demanded.
"I believe it's considered more conducive to kissing to close one's eyes," he told her.
Her beautiful green eyes shut obediently, the thick, dark lashes fanning across her pale skin like smudges of black dirt. For a brief moment Madoc stared down at her in rapt awe. She was really incredibly beautiful. Who would have guessed that the pudgy infant he betrothed himself to those long years ago would have turned out to be so fair? Then he smiled to himself. He had always known. His mouth closed over hers without further delay, savoring the sweetness of her, the tenderness of her flesh.
Had her soul left her body? For a brief moment Wynne was entirely certain, for she seemed to soar, but then the heat consumed her as never before. Her stomach seemed to clench and unclench over and over again. Her heart beat a wild tattoo, and as passion, that hitherto unknown sensation, caught Wynne in its firm grasp, she became intoxicated with the intensity of her feelings. She was kissing him back, suddenly knowledgeable, a student no longer. She pressed herself against Madoc with an eagerness that caused him to gasp with surprise. She could not possibly understand the cravings she now felt; nor even those she engendered in him. All Wynne knew was that kissing was a most marvelous pastime, and she was filled to overflowing with her enthusiasm.
Madoc, however, knew that if he did not stop her now they would shortly be rolling about in the sweet green grass of the meadow, consummating their union in a manner Wynne could not possibly even imagine. Not that he could not teach her to enjoy that too, but it was far too soon for such revelations. He broke off the kiss and set her firmly back from him, smiling to show her that he was not displeased. "Dearling, you are as apt a pupil as any man could want," he assured her.