Chapter Four

A lyce turned to her brother after the arrogant knight and his hulking accomplice left the solar. His face was pale and looked as though it had aged ten years in the last few moments. Her chest tightened, and she could not draw breath. When she tried to speak her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "Cynwulf, tell me everything will be all right."

Cynwulf's square jaw was set in a rigid line, the angry tick still throbbing visibly behind the dark locks of hair resting on his broad shoulders. He was unusually tall, like his sister, and they shared the same sapphire blue eyes as their mother, but where she was pale-faced with fiery auburn hair like their mother, he was darker complected with dark brown hair.

Like his sire?

"Father raised you as his own, as did Uncle Ranolf," Alyce said soothingly. "Never have you ever been known as anything other than a Chetwynd. The king cannot possibly doubt your loyalty."

Cynwulf kept his stony gaze focused on the wall in front of them, not even acknowledging Alyce's words, leaving her to wonder if he had heard her speak.

"Cynwulf?" Alyce pleaded, "What are you keeping from me?"

Her brother was the one constant person in her life. He had been her confidant since they were children, always at each other's side when needed, and her protector after their parents had died. She could not imagine what she would do if anything happened to him.

"Do you think the King is remembering the times Daffydd has been a guest a Hawkspur and is misinterpreting the purposes of those meetings? Surely he understands the necessity of the Marcher lords to maintain diplomatic communications with the Welsh princes and will not hold that against us."

"Of course, the king understands that, but he would be a fool to not be suspicious anyway."

She reached out her hand, resting it on his forearm. "Cynwulf," she said in a low voice, "No one remains who knows mother came to our father with you already in her belly. And no one knows who your father is."

"We do not know that," Cynwulf muttered. "It was the king himself who blessed the hasty marriage of my mother to your father."

"Our father," Alyce interjected. "He was never any less your father than mine."

"I know," Cynwulf agreed, "but he was not my sire. And we cannot know if the king was aware of her condition when he allowed Father to marry her."

"Even if the king did know, what does that matter now?"

Cynwulf sighed. "Mother had relatives in Wales, and she married Father immediately upon returning from an extended stay with cousins. I likely have more Welsh blood coursing through me than anything else."

"But you were raised English," Alyce argued. "And you have proven your worth as lord of Hawkspur."

"It is not so simple as that, sister." The tone of Cynwulf's voice made Alyce uneasy. What was he not telling her?

"Then what is it, Cynwulf? You know you can tell me anything."

Cynwulf finally sat down and turned to her. He studied her face for several moments, then cupped her cheek in his hand. "You need not be concerned. I will not let anything happen to you."

Before Alyce could recover from the deep dread that gripped her with his words, Cynwulf rose and left her alone in the solar.

What did he mean that she need not be concerned? Why did he not say we need not be concerned? And what did he fear could possibly happen to her? It was not like Cynwulf to withhold information from her.

Alyce felt lightheaded with dread and helpless frustration.

*

"Have you already drawn your conclusions?" the Viking asked Hawk as they walked across the bailey to the barracks.

Hawk nodded.

"Do you plan to share them with me, or am I to guess?"

"You know my mind almost as well as I, Red, it would not be much of a guess," Hawk reminded the man who had been his friend, confidant, and right hand for most of his adult life.

"You are certain about the brother, but still unsure of the sister," Red surmised.

Hawk glanced sideways at this friend and nodded once. "Something is amiss, of that I am certain, and the lord of Hawkspur plays a part. But the sister…." Hawk furrowed his brow, uncharacteristically unsure of what to make of the woman. "Her face and mannerisms reveal her every emotion, even if she is not aware of her actions."

"Is it the seemingly genuine look of surprise when you revealed your suspicions of a traitor that makes you uncertain, or is it the way her eyes flash when she's angry?" Red ignored the roll of Hawk's eyes. "Or mayhap it is her lovely face or…? Well, you know what is said of red-haired maidens."

"You are a foolish romantic, and you have a soft heart for women, Red, especially red-haired women. Do not let it interfere with your judgment of her." He glared sideways at this friend as they walked. "How is it that the toughest warrior I know can be so weak when it comes to a winsome woman?"

"You did notice her beauty then." Red smiled broadly at his commander. "I know you, my friend, and your heart is not as hard as you would like everyone to believe. Besides, is it not time for you to settle down? After all you've done for the king, it is time you are rewarded with a warm hearth and a warm woman to call your own and give you little hard-hearted sons."

Hawk scoffed aloud at the notion.

Red smirked but said nothing more about the lady. "You have determined Cynwulf is guilty of something; have you discerned his intentions, then?"

"No," Hawk muttered. "But if the king's suspicion as to who his sire may be is correct, then it is not difficult to guess."

*

Twenty additional knights filled the barracks to the limit, leaving Cynwulf with no choice but to offer Sir Grogan and Red shelter within the castle. Propriety suggested that Cynwulf should offer the king's man and his first-in-command the comfort of the castle anyway, but Alyce suspected her brother would not have done so if the lack of space had not made it necessary.

For the remainder of the morning Alyce, her lady's maid Edna, and all the servants of the castle bustled about opening and refreshing bed chambers and assisting the kitchen in preparing extra food for the unexpected guests. Alyce focused her thoughts on the mundane tasks to keep her mind off the fact that something may be amiss at Hawkspur Castle.

"They are quite handsome, my lady," one of the maids said, with a cheeky grin.

"Gertrude," Edna admonished. "'Tis no way to talk in front of Lady Alyce, and you best be keeping your eyes and hands to yourself."

Gertrude giggled and winked at Alyce as she shook out the bedding. "You know I love you, dearest Edna, but our lady is not a woman gone blind. Men like that must catch the gaze of even a woman your age."

Edna turned a sharp eye on the younger girl, but her voice held more amusement than reproach. "I am sorry for Gertrude's rude mouth, my lady. She forgets herself and her position."

Edna had been nurse to Alyce from the time she took her first wobbly steps. She raised her as though her own when her mother died and served as her maid and mentor when she became a young woman with a new husband. She respected the woman as much as she loved her.

Alyce squeezed Edna's shoulders affectionately. "Which is precisely why I enjoy working alongside Gertrude more than any of the others. She makes the time pass quickly."

"You are too soft, my lady," Edna muttered.

Alyce grinned and whispered to the woman who knew her better than any other, "And you, Edna, are not as modest as you would like all to believe." She winked as she dropped her arm from around the older woman's shoulder. "I know some of your secrets."

"Secrets?" Gertrude's voice trilled with anticipation. "You must tell us, my lady. What secrets does Edna hide?"

"They are not for you to know, girl." Edna waggled a finger at Gertrude, but her lips twitched up at the corners.

Alyce could not keep the events of the morning from her mind despite the playful banter with the maids. The return of her somber mood seemed to permeate the room, and even Gertrude's usual high spirits plummeted.

"A band of knights from the king arriving and stories of Welsh uprisings erupting on the northern border, what does this mean for us?" Gertrude asked tentatively.

Alyce squared her shoulders and resumed a posture expected of the lady of Hawkspur. "It means we continue on as usual."

"But what of Cook, Bernard, Wart?" Gertrude hesitated before adding, "And me? What will become of us if the war comes here again?"

Alyce felt a pang of pity for the young Welsh woman. Gertrude's parents and grandparents had grown up in the village, and like Gertrude, had probably never traveled more than a day's journey from Hawkspur. "Whatever happens between King Edward's army and the Welsh rebels does not affect us. I cannot believe the people here would fight one against the other no matter which side of the border they call home." Alyce prayed her words were truthful, but how could she know for sure what the villagers would do if the uprising in the north and the occasional rebel skirmishes turned into a full war?

"But if the fighting does come here," Gertrude insisted, "what then?"

Alyce felt a twinge of uncertainty where before there had been none. Did any of the Welsh among the villagers harbor ill-will toward Cynwulf, or her, or the English? The respect and loyalty between the villagers and the lord of the castle had been strong for as long as Cynwulf had been at Hawkspur, and their uncle before him. But that did not mean that the Welsh villagers were loyal to the English king, and if war broke out, many would be forced to choose between loyalty to the Welsh prince and their ancestry or loyalty to their English lord and their livelihood.

Mumbling what she hoped sounded like reassurance to Gertrude, that all would come out right in the end, Alyce excused herself to search for her brother. There was more at stake than just Cynwulf's title and her role as his chatelaine; people's lives and livelihood depended on the safety and wellbeing of Hawkspur. Her gut told her Cynwulf was not being truthful with her, but never had he been able to keep a secret from her for long.

She must find him and force him to confide in her before he put everyone in danger.