Chapter Eighteen

"H e grows strong."

Alyce turned at the sound of her brother's voice. "Aye, that he does." She rested her arms on the fence and peered out over the lush pasture.

The colt had thrived and was prancing around his mother in the pasture, leaping and playing on gangly legs with the vigor of youth while Guinevere grazed quietly. Ffyddlon wagged her tail excitedly at the antics of the colt, trying to climb through the opening in the fence to get to him until Alyce snapped a finger at the wolfhound and forced her to lay at her feet. She'd pouted, with her back to her mistress for a long while, then lay down in the sun and dozed.

The energetic colt and tending to Guinevere had kept Alyce occupied for the past two days, but that didn't stop her from constantly thinking about the events that unfolded at the market and Hawk's accusation. She found it hard to believe that Cynwulf was crossing into Wales as a spy and not as Lord of Hawkspur Castle, sworn liege to King Edward, as Hawk suspected. But even she deemed Cynwulf's recent behavior suspicious. She'd been trying to work up the courage to confront him, knowing that things would never be the same once she did—not for Cynwulf, not for all the people who called Hawkspur home, and especially not for her.

She fretted over Cynwulf every waking moment, but when she closed her eyes, it was Hawk who filled her mind, despite her best efforts to push him away. He was the enemy, the man tasked by the king to prove her brother a traitor to the crown. She should want nothing to do with him.

But there was no one else she could turn to in this maelstrom of secrets, covert meetings, and suspicion. Cynwulf was hiding truths from her, and she dared not discuss it with anyone else for fear they were either in on the deception with him, or they were completely unaware, and she was exposing his deception to them. Hawk was the only person who seemed to have any idea what was happening.

And the only person sympathetic to the fear was tearing at her insides.

He had not been to the hall for his meals since they returned from Shrewsbury after being abandoned by Cynwulf. She'd not spoken to him and saw him only from afar as he stalked across the bailey, trained with his men in the field, or huddled with Red and Hunter in earnest discussions.

Cynwulf had not been to the hall in the time they returned from the market either. It was as though everyone was avoiding a dreaded confrontation.

Alyce eyed her brother now that she finally had him to herself. His defenses were up, she could see it in his posture. Deciding a straightforward attack was the best approach, she led with a bold question. "Why did you leave me at the market with two of your least-experienced soldiers as escort?"

"You had Hawk and his men to protect you," Cynwulf said with a shrug.

Alyce sighed in frustration. "That doesn't excuse your behavior. And I thought you did not like Hawk, so why did you trust him with me?"

"I resent Hawk's presence here, but by all accounts, he is a man of honor."

"High praise, indeed! I should hope you consider him honorable since you left the well-being of your only sister in his hands." When had Cynwulf become so cold and uncaring?

"He's taken a liking to you; he would never harm you." When Alyce said nothing in response, he continued, "I am sorry, dear sister, if I misjudged. Just say the word and I will ensure you are never in his presence again."

Alyce shot her brother a sharp look through slitted eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"No need to look at me that way. I'm not going to have him killed. I just mean that I will tell him to stay away from you if that is your preference."

"And what makes you think he will do as you ask?" she scoffed. In truth, her tone had more to do with her fear of not seeing Hawk again than it did her skepticism of him obeying a command from Cynwulf.

"I do know a bit about Sir Grogan and his band of bastards."

"His what?" Alyce exclaimed, appalled that Cynwulf would refer to Hawk and his men that way.

Cynwulf held up his hands defensively. "It is what they are called, even by themselves. I did not make up the name. Besides, in this case, it is because they are bastards that they are honorable."

"Now you are talking nonsense." Alyce felt her frustration growing as her brother talked in circles, avoiding her questions.

"Hawk and his men are all base born. Each one of them has a sad story of being an outcast forced to witness the harsh treatment of his mother and a resulting sympathy toward women. The rumor is they take their oath of chivalry very seriously. Hawk will not tolerate any man in his guard mistreating a woman."

"You are saying they swear not to touch women?" Alyce stared at her brother in disbelief.

"No," Cynwulf said with a smirk, shaking his head, "they swear not to mistreat women. That does not mean they are monks."

Alyce waved her hand in the air dismissively. "That is not what I want to discuss. Something has changed," she said carefully, staring at him intently, trying to read his response to her. "You are changed; I don't recognize you. You've never shut me out, lied to me, treated me as though I were just another one of your vassals. What has happened to you?"

Cynwulf leaned against the fence and looked at her. The softness had returned to his eyes, and he looked at her with a warmth she realized had been missing for some time. Alyce felt like she'd won a great battle. The wall had come down and his face lost the hard edge he'd had of late. "Tell me what is troubling you. I can help, whatever it is."

Cynwulf shook his head. "It is my doing; I will fix it."

"What is your doing? What must you fix?"

Cynwulf reached for her hand and cupped it between both of his own as though to protect it.

"Do you remember that Aelwin was a witness when Uncle Ranolf was on his deathbed? He can testify our uncle's desire was for Hawkspur to stay in the Chetwynd family, and that it goes to you if I could no longer be lord for any reason. He nearly broke himself building this place. It belongs to us, and if anything happens to me, it belongs to you."

Alyce felt a cold shiver creep down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool breeze rustling the turning leaves overhead. "What do you think is going to happen to you?"

"I found my father," he said after a long moment. "Or rather, he found me."

"How?" Alyce was grateful he had her anchored in his as she felt herself sway at the impact of his words. "When?"

Cynwulf released her hand and pulled at the leather thong hanging around his neck, freeing it from beneath his shirt, and revealing a delicate ring of gold adorned with a small sapphire. "This was my mother's, given to me when I left home to train under Uncle Ranolf. She told me to keep it safe and that she would one day tell me why it was special to her and its significance to me, but she died before telling me anything more."

Alyce reached her fingers toward the ring, then stopped and raised an eyebrow at Cynwulf. "May I?" He nodded as he pulled the string of leather over his head and dropped the ring into her outstretched hand. She studied the delicate craftsmanship of the jewel. "I don't recall ever seeing this ring."

"I'd not seen it until Mother gave it to me. And after she died, when you came to live with Uncle Ranolf, I didn't want to show it to you."

Alyce felt a stab of jealousy and betrayal at his admission. "Why not?"

He smiled ruefully as he explained. "I was young, and I wanted something of hers that was only mine. It felt like a bond with her after she died that was mine alone."

She could not fault him for keeping it secret. If the ring had been given to her, she would have felt just as protective of the precious link to their mother.

"After she died, I put it on a strip of leather and wore it around my neck, tucked under my shirt. It made me feel less alone. I managed to keep it hidden for a long time, but when Geoffrey and I were sent to train under the tutelage of Lord de Ferrers, it came loose while practicing hand-to-hand combat on the field. One of the soldiers training us got near enough to grab the leather thong and use it as leverage to pull me off balance. He made an example of me, demonstrating the folly of wearing something that could be used against us. The training commander dismissed us immediately after that, but he asked me to stay behind. He wanted a closer look at the ring, and I feared he would take it from me. But it wasn't greed in his eyes; it was recognition."

Alyce remembered the summer Cynwulf and Geoffrey were gone, sent away to broaden their training. It had been the longest three months of her young life without them at Hawkspur.

"He wanted to know where I got it," Cynwulf continued. "When I told him it was my mother's, he demanded to know her name, wanted to know where she was. He tried to hide the pained look on his face when I said she was dead, and when I asked him if he knew her, he nodded. But then he left me standing alone in the field without saying another word."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," Cynwulf said with a bitter laugh. "I was not yet lord of Hawkspur and was in no position to question a commander. I returned to Hawkspur shortly after that."

Alyce studied the ring in her hand. The exquisitely intricate design carved into the gold band meant this was a rare piece of jewelry, rich in value, and not just a fancy bauble given to a lover on a whim. "Who was the commander?"

"Daffydd ap Gruffydd," Cynwulf said flatly.

Alyce gasped. He was brother to the Welsh Prince Llywelyn, and the man King Edward hated more than any other man in the kingdom. Daffydd had twice abandoned his brother and Wales to swear fealty to the King of England in the vain hope of being backed in his bid to overthrow his brother and declare himself Prince of Wales. And twice he had betrayed his vow to the king to join forces with his brother again.

"Daffydd is your father?" Alyce asked in disbelief, and horror, hardly comprehending Cynwulf's nod in affirmation.

Daffydd was a charming, manipulative man who only cared about himself. At least that was what Uncle Ranolf had always said about him. He was not a man who could be trusted to keep his word to anyone, even family.

"Did Uncle Ranolf know?"

"Yes," Cynwulf replied. "And he was not happy about it. I told him what happened when I returned from training at Lord de Ferrer's, thinking he might know if there was any connection between Daffydd and our mother."

"What did he say?" Alyce sagged against the fence, feeling weak from trying to make sense of the whirlwind of information.

"He confessed that there had been whispers about our mother having an affair of the heart while visiting a cousin in Wales. He confirmed that when our mother married his brother—your father—she was already pregnant with me. Father swore Uncle Ranolf to secrecy, and they never spoke of it again. He didn't know about the ring, but he assumed, as I did when I showed it to him, that only her lover would recognize it. I can't imagine Mother giving it to me for any other reason than it once belonged to my father."

Alyce was putting the pieces together in her mind, realizing that Cynwulf had known long before he told her that they did not have the same father. "You lied to me all those years ago. You told me it was Uncle Ranolf who revealed we had different fathers, but that he did not know the name of your father. Why did you not tell me the truth then? Why hide his name from me?" Alyce's voice was strained, unable to disguise the hurt stabbing at her heart.

Cynwulf looked sheepish. "Uncle Ranolf said I should never tell anyone, that it would be dangerous if anyone else knew he was my father. He said it was fortunate that Daffydd did not acknowledge his connection to me that day on the field and warned me to stay away from him lest I be caught up in his deceptions."

"What does all of this have to do with what is happening now, if you only met him once?" Alyce asked, perplexed. "Oh!" she exclaimed as the realization dawned. "You did not meet him just once, did you?" She said it more as a statement than a question because she had no doubt as to what Cynwulf's answer would be.

Cynwulf slowly shook his head from side to side. "He became part of the nobility when he married King Edward's cousin, often attending gatherings of the Marcher Lords to represent the king's interest in the Welsh border. Uncle Ranolf and I would see him occasionally, but he never acknowledged me. Shortly after Uncle Ranolf died and I became lord of Hawkspur, Daffydd approached me at a meeting of the Marcher Lords. He wanted to know more about our mother, what her life was like, and how she'd died. I asked him then if he was my father, and he admitted he was."

Alyce closed her eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh. "Did anyone hear him tell you this?"

"Not that I know," Cynwulf said. "And he thought it best if we did not tell anyone of our relationship. He did not want to bring scandal to his family or ours."

Alyce snorted with contempt. "Scandal? I'd say he is as deep in scandal as he can get. The man betrayed the king and is destroying villages, ravishing peasants, and burning farms. The king is mobilizing every army at his disposal to destroy him."

"It is not scandal he thinks about now, but justice. He fights for what he believes is his," Cynwulf said with vehemence.

The words hit Alyce like a punch to the gut. Not because of what was said, but because of how it was said. Cynwulf's tone held authority and conviction. "You speak as though you support what he is doing. He was the king's ally until six months ago, and then he attacked Hawarden without provocation. People are dying because of him. You cannot possibly be on his side."

"Is he wrong for wanting what should be his? What choice did he have but to take what he was promised by force? King Edward has broken his oath to Wales and to Daffydd one too many times. If Daffydd does not rebel against Edward, then Wales will be gone and it will all be England, with English laws and English ways."

Alyce's mouth gaped in shock. "He does not fight for what is best for Wales; he fights only for what is best for him. Uncle Ranolf was correct when he said the king never should have trusted Daffydd. He changes allegiances more often than the queen changes gowns. And now, he is leading the rebellion against King Edward. Your king. The king you swore fealty to as lord of Hawkspur. Tell me you are not any part of what he is doing."

"Lower your voice," Cynwulf said in a harsh whisper.

Alyce was so frustrated with the foolishness of the entire situation that she hadn't noticed her tone was getting louder with her growing exasperation. She looked around to see if anyone was near, but they were alone. In the distance, the stable boys were turning out horses to the smaller pastures to graze and stretch their legs, but Guinevere and her colt were afforded the luxury of having the larger pasture to themselves. Which also meant she and Cynwulf were alone as they leaned against the fence watching them.

"If I am understanding you correctly," Alyce said in a quieter tone, though she knew her anger was apparent in the way she bit out the words through clenched teeth, "you have given your allegiance to Daffydd. Which also means you are the spy Hawk thinks you to be."

"It was never my intent." Cynwulf's crestfallen face resembled that of a regretful, scared child. "I didn't know until it was too late that this was his plan."

Alyce closed her eyes, squeezing back the sting of tears, wishing she could make this all go away. Reluctantly, she opened them to look at her brother again. "How bad is it? Were you merely sympathetic to his complaints? Or have you been conspiring with him and betraying your king every time you ride alone into Wales, as Hawk says?"

"It's complicated, Alyce. I wanted to know the man who sired me, to find out more about who I am. I didn't know at the time that Daffydd would betray the king yet again. He is married to King Edward's cousin, for Christ's sake."

"You are a Chetwynd, my brother, lord of Hawkspur. You should be giving us the same loyalty we've given to you. Are we not enough for you?"

Cynwulf pursed his lips together, "I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else."

"Lord Cynwulf!" Aelwin called, startling them both.

"What is it?" he snapped at Aelwin as he turned away from Alyce to face his first in command walking briskly along the fence toward them.

Alyce wanted to scream her frustration. She finally knew the truth, but they had yet to determine how to fix the mess Cynwulf had created. Whatever Aelwin had to say, she prayed he'd be quick about it and then be on his way.

"We've had a messenger," Aelwin announced. "He bears the king's standard."

"What does he want?" Cynwulf asked irritably.

"He says he has a missive for you directly from the king," Aelwin said, shifting from foot to foot nervously, "and he suggests you make haste as there is not much time to prepare."

Alyce looked questioningly from Aelwin to Cynwulf, not understanding the implication of the messenger's words.

"God's blood," Cynwulf muttered, dropping his head back in defeat. "The king must be on his way here."

"Here?" Alyce asked, her voice nearly cracking with hysteria.

Aelwin nodded. "He carries a message for Hawk, as well."

Alyce's head began to pound, an affliction she suffered from often as of late. She was reaching her limits and it felt like another stone had been added to the pile already resting upon her shoulders. She looked at Cynwulf to see his reaction; his face had paled, and his jaw tightened.

"I will see the messenger immediately," he said to Aelwin. Turning back to Alyce, he put his hand on her arm in a reassuring gesture. "We will continue our discussion at a later time."

"I am coming with you," Alyce announced. She would not stand idly to the side and watch while Cynwulf, the king, Welsh rebels, and English armies tore Hawkspur apart.

This was her home, and it was time to fight for it.