24Many lords and kings took the golden stallions as their own standards, for they symbolized power, strength, loyalty, but also a surprisingly truthful quality, and that of self-gain. Many brothers had turned against brothers to gain a crown or title, and the stallions also came to mean the conquest over their rival.
Men thought it lucky to ride a golden stallion into battle when they were preparing to take the field against their brothers. But rarely ever did brother help brother in the midst of a battle against each other.
* * * *
"Thank you for your continual care for me, Mother. I have tried to do your will, to do as you did, but it is hard. I feel so alone sometimes. Please continue to give me strength, patience, and grace."
As usual, the reply Angharad received was silence, but she did not mind, for just being in her presence gave her comfort as she stared into the smooth marble face of the Mother Goddess. Angharad kissed her fingertips, then touched then to her bowed forehead and rose to her feet. She took in one final breath of the scent of the jasmine incense, the scent of the Goddess, one Angharad had adopted for herself. Then she emerged from the temple somewhat reluctantly. A servant almost immediately came up to her, as if he had been hovering by the doors.
"My lady, a guest has arrived," he said, "and your lady mother wishes you to be in attendance at once."
Angharad nodded and began for the receiving room, wondering who would be coming to call in their isolated part of the world. But whoever it was, she would be grateful for the company. She had lived here in this castle for all her fourteen years, only having visited court a few times before the war broke out. It was a very lonely life, and very isolated. She longed for companionship of someone her age, either male or female.
Before Angharad entered the room, she smoothed her hair back and straightened her skirts rather self-consciously. Being in the presence of her mother's perfect form always intimidated her. Then she opened the door and saw him. Her mother was saying something to her, but she did not hear. Before she knew what she was doing, Angharad threw herself into his arms. He embraced her in return, laughing, and pretending to stagger back from the force.
"Gwilym, it is so good to see you again!" she said breathlessly as she drew back slightly to look into his face. "What did you bring me?"
He smiled widely. "I knew your greeting had to have a motive," he said, chuckling. He lead lead her to the window seat where his bags sat. "Only the most beautiful for a beautiful young lady," he said teasingly as he tugged at her braid. Then he reached into his haversack to reveal a blue silk ribbon. "Just for you, my lady."
Her breath caught in awe. "It's so pretty," she whispered as she hesitantly reached out to touch it. Then she carefully took and showed it to her mother excitedly. "Is it not pretty, Mama? Will you put it in for me? Please?"
Marared de Tulan scowled as she unconsciously took a step away from her daughter. "What would I know of putting ribbons in your hair?" she said coolly. "William, I wish you would not spoil the girl so. She is already running wild, just like her worthless brother."
Angharad's face became clean of any emotion; the excitement in her eyes died, and her hand dropped down listlessly by her side. She raised her head a little higher and straightened her shoulders. She was well aware of sting in Marared's words, and knew that since her brother's blood ran through her own veins, then they must share the same faults, the same sins that Angharad could not resolve herself from.
William winced upon seeing the pain in Angharad's eyes, to see the walls she put up against Marared and her coldness. He beckoned to her to come to him. "Come, Angharad, beloved, I'll put it in for you." She obeyed him and floated across the room as silent as a wraith. "Having three younger sisters can come in handy, I suppose," he said lightly as he turned Angharad around. "Come, now, princess, give me that beautiful smile of yours."
She was still sharply aware of her mother's disapproving and icy stare in her back. But for William, she gave him a tiny, hesitant smile. "Thank you, Gwilym," she murmured.
"There's a good lass. Now why don't you go show off that pretty blue ribbon?" he suggested.
She all but ran out of the room to escape. As William watched her go, he stood up, shaking his head. Then he turned to Marared. "I wish you would be kinder to her. These times cannot be easy for her."
The older woman gave a harsh laugh as she settled herself on the settee. "And you think it's easy for me? I am the widow of a rebel and mother of a thieving rogue. All day and night, I am trying to keep favor with the king so he does not throw us out to starve. I have not the capacity to concern myself with a daughter."
"She's but a child," William insisted gently.
"I am surprised you dared step foot on Altarian soil again," Marared said swiftly. "The king swore he would hang if you did so. And anyone who harbored you. So why are you here?"
A gleam came into the young man's bright eyes as he smirked. He unhurriedly poured himself a glass of wine and leaned against the table. "Why, to see my close friend's lady mother, of course," he replied innocently.
"Stop playing games with me, William. There would only be a handful of reasons. One is that my son is dead, or he has been imprisoned. But since you have such a cheerful disposition, those reasons can be discarded. The third would be that the king has pardoned Hywel. Or you." Marared's eyes widened as the young man's smile broadened at her last words. "Gods, you can't be serious?"
"But I am," he said as he chuckled. He smoothed back his sun-kissed fair hair. "Griffith always was weak for a weeping woman. My mother went to him before the entire court on both knees with tears streaming down her face and beseeched him to pardon me. She said I had been young and foolish, only a lad of fifteen when I was lead astray by my cousin and your late husband. But now I am one and twenty and I have come to realize the folly in my actions and have deeply repented them. I have sworn homage to Griffith and am in full favor, am now the earl of Montyth since my father died in Griffith's services during the war. Also, my lord father was third cousin to Griffith, and the king always does look out for his own blood."
Marared was a woman to not easily be surprised, much less at a loss for words. But now she was utterly speechless. William enjoyed watching the formidable woman struggle for words as he leaned against the settee. She claimed William's wine glass and drank deeply, taking a deep and unsteady breath once she was finished.
"Gods, I cannot believe it," she murmured. "Eleanor managed to do that? I could almost believe that she has the Golden Tongue of Aldwyn. Did he not talk his way out of death before the Black God?"
William smiled and nodded.
"And where is my son? I am surprised he is not at your door, demanding money or some kind of pardon of his own!"
He shook his head. "He is still across the sea in Syen."
She observed him through narrowed dark eyes. "But he will come, for he has ever been one to muddy the waters. And then what will you do, William? It will look like a plot to Griffith. And then what good will your mother's tears be?"
"He will not come," William said firmly. "I believe he has acquired quite a life there with the wine and women. The Syeni court is very loose with morals. It is exactly to his taste. I believe he has even found himself an heiress. He will not be coming back."
"I see." No emotions passed over Marared's face at the news that her son might possibly never return. "And now what happens?"
William shrugged, but a smile tugged at his lips to give him a boyish eagerness that reminded Marared he was still but one and twenty.
"You have something planned, something up your sleeve."
"You have one of the richest lands in the country. Since a woman cannot hold land, by law, it will have to be given to someone. Dispute and disruption will break out, and you know how Griffith hates confrontation and discord; he will want to avoid it, especially if there is an easier solution."
Marared raised a dark and elegant eyebrow. "Which is?"
William was beginning to smile again. "Angharad is how old now? Thirteen?"
"Fourteen," Marared answered curtly.
"She is at suitable age for marriage. She cannot be denied a future just because Owain and Hywel did wrong. This land can become her inheritance since her brother's claim is void. Griffith may easily be swayed into thinking it is the right choice, but only if you speak to him as a mother." William challengingly held her gaze with icy blue eyes.
Marared's face still did not change as his words now hung heavily between them. She was rapidly reviewing all the information she had just received and was calculating the best answer, the best solution. "Who is to be her husband?" she asked at last, her dark shrewd eyes on the young man before her.
William bowed.
"I see." Marared swiftly rose from the settee and faced William. "I suppose it is time for me to act the mother. And this, thank the gods, may be my last time."
* * * *
That night, Angharad was being summoned to her mother's chambers. She nervously smoothed down her dress, then licked her hands to smooth her dark hair down. It was never as sleek and beautiful as her mother's.
She entered Marared's chambers to see her mother sitting in a chair before the fire. Marared made a regal figure, could have been a queen sitting on her throne while holding court. Angharad went to her hesitantly and slowly.
"Stop dawdling," Marared said sharply and beckoned her child to her. Her steely black eyes looked her daughter up and down. She could see her husband looking back at her with those bright blue orbs. She turned her head and motioned for the girl to sit.
"You are old enough now to realize your responsibilities," Marared said crisply. "Every woman has the duty to marry well to do her family honor. You have no father or other man to do the duty to find you a husband. So it is up to me. And I have chosen you a husband."
Angharad's eyes widened as she absorbed this information. She'd seen many girls and young women married before, and oftentimes, they were married to a man much older than they. She could not suppress the shudder that coursed through her body as she envisioned a short, portly man with graying hair, yellow, rotten teeth, and dry, wrinkly skin. She'd always imagined having a household of her own, a husband, and children to love. But she'd thought she would have a few years yet.
Marared was annoyed by the girl's failure to respond. "Do you not wish to know who your husband is to be?"
Angharad nodded, her body tense with anticipation.
"I have spoken with William, and he has agreed to marry you."
Williams name echoed in Angharad's ears as she stared at her mother. Could she have heard correctly? Did she dare believe her mother's words? She was to belong to Gwilym! He was the only one who had ever cared for her, who had ever spoken a kind word to her or bestowed a smile upon her.
"Truly, Mama?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yes." Marared saw the astonished and joyful look on her daughter's face. "Do not be fooled, child. He is a grown man and cannot be expected to act beyond his duty towards you. He has already established his lifestyle and he will not change it for you."
Angharad did not hear her mother. The words announcing that she was to marry William continued to sing in her head along with the unsteady rhythm of her pounding heart. Blindly, she rose to her feet and walked to the door.
"Good night, Mama," she said absently, then left the chambers. She knew the Goddess had not forgotten her, had heard her pleas.
Marared stared after her daughter and shook her head. The foolish girl had stars in her eyes. It would do her no good to have such hopes and expectations for the future.