She kissed her sister on the cheek.
“Keepsakes, you say?”
“They are nothing much.”
“Why have you not mentioned them before?”
“They were mine,” said Aelgar. “Private treasures.”
“And where are they now?”
“Where I have hidden them these past months.”
“Even from me? Your sister?”
“Warnod made me promise.”
“Why?”
“I do not know, but I obeyed. He was to be my husband.”
Golde nodded reassuringly and squeezed her hands.
“May I see these keepsakes now?”
Two strenuous hours at the oars inflamed the blisters on his hands and deepened the ache in his muscles. Gervase Bret took the boat into the bank again and moored it to a small boulder. He climbed ashore and offered his hand to Angharad.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“We are well clear of Monmouth now.”
“Horses could soon catch up with us.”
“We are not pursued, Angharad,” he said. “Take my hand and step out. It will do us all good to stretch our legs.”
“Yes,” agreed Omri. “My old bones do not like boats.”
They had managed a few hours’ sleep in the night without daring to leave their vessel. Cramps increased their general discomfort. Leaving at dawn, they were now further upstream and able to scan the landscape all around them. Grazing sheep were the only moving figures to be seen.
Helped by Gervase, the old man clambered onto the bank. He yawned and stretched himself. Gervase guided the two of them to some nearby bushes which offered them complete cover and protection from the stiff breeze. Secure in their hiding place, they settled down on the grass.
Angharad was embarrassed to be seen in such a sullied condition and tried to tidy her hair with hands that flitted like butterflies around her head. Gervase was far more conscious of his own bedraggled state. The dignity of a royal commissioner had been stained and soaked quite beyond recognition. He could feel the muck on his face and smell the stink on his attire. He was hardly in a presentable state to meet a lady from one of the royal houses of Wales.
Omri seemed to read his mind. He gave a rich chuckle.
“Adversity makes strange bedfellows,” he mused. “What else but a malign fate could have thrown we three together?”
“Gervase saved us,” said Angharad, simply.
“Indeed, indeed. I will compose a song to thank him.”
“Do not mention the mud and the water,” said Gervase.
“My music will cleanse you from head to toe. I will tell of a hero with golden lustre.” He sniffed deep and chuckled again. “And my song will have to put a peg on the noses of my listeners. Heroes do not stink of a night in a dungeon and a dip in the River Monnow.”
Angharad laughed nervously, then looked around with frightened eyes. She drew her cloak around her shoulders.
“You are sure we are safe, Gervase?” she said.
“For the time being.”
“Why have they not come after us?”
“Because that was not their task,” said Gervase. “Their job was merely to hold us at the castle. They had no remit to organise a search if we chanced to escape.”
“What of the men who took us to Monmouth?” she said.
“They have long gone.”
“How can you be certain?”
“We would have heard from them by now,” decided Gervase. “The road from Monmouth never strays too far away from this river. I heard a cart go past in the night and a drover took his cattle past at dawn.
We were hidden from them by the banks of the river, but travellers were not hidden from us. A posse of soldiers at full gallop is a sound that we would surely not have missed.”
“My ears would not have missed it,” said Omri. “I have heard every insect that crawled, every blade of grass that stirred. I have listened to the conversation of the fishes and the complaints of the frogs. No soldiers.”
“Other enemies still linger,” said Gervase. “We must take no chances.
When we have rested, I will search for food. There may be berries to sustain us and clean water to drink.”
“Find a tree that grows dry clothing,” said Omri. “And some bushes that yield spices to sweeten our persons.”
“Clothing must wait, but flowers may give us scent.”
Angharad looked increasingly uncomfortable. She bent to whisper into Omri’s ear. He nodded understandingly and hauled himself to his feet.
“She would be alone awhile,” he said, feeling for Gervase’s hand and pulling him up. “Let’s stand aside. This is no place even for a blind man.”
They left her to satisfy the wants of nature and found more cover behind the trunk of an elm. Its spreading branches dipped and creaked in the breeze. Gervase was grateful for a moment alone with Omri.
Strategy needed to be decided.
“What will you do with her?” Gervase asked.
“Take her to Powys.”
“Even though she does not wish to go?”
“I obey the command of her uncle.”
“Does he know how much she resists this match?”
“Rhys ap Tewdr has only spoken to the girl once or twice in her entire life. Power falls to the man with the strongest arm. A Welsh prince is always too busy guarding his territory against rivals. Even Rhys ap Tewdr must fight off foolhardy pretenders. He does not have much time for his wider family.”
“Until they can be used as pawns in marriage.”
“That is your judgment.”
“Is it not yours?”
“I am hired to sing and crack a jest.”
“And tell fortunes at the courts of the great.”
“Only to those who will hear me.”
“I will hear you, Omri.”
“You”
“Can you see into the future for us?”
“I have already done so,” said the old man, with a sly grin. “Why do you think I agreed to escape with you? It was because I foresaw success.
I knew that you would put us both on your back and fly over the walls of the castle.”
“Was the river part of your prophecy?”
“I deal in generalities, Gervase. Do not pin me down.”
“What lies ahead for us now?”
“Trouble, sorrow, and threats to our lives.”
“And then?”
“My vision becomes blurred.”
There was movement in the bushes. Angharad came to join them with a posy of flowers in her hand. She inhaled their fragrance then held them under Omri’s nose. The scent revived him.
“I will pick some of my own,” he said, moving away.
“Let me help you,” offered Gervase.
“I would go alone.”
It was the old man’s turn to relieve himself. Gervase watched him grope his way towards the bushes, then he turned his attention to Angharad. She looked even more beautiful by daylight. The glow on her skin was captivating. Gervase basked in its glory. Angharad studied him carefully. After making sure that they were not overheard, she moved in close to whisper to him.
“You have friends in Ergyng?”
“If we can reach them.”
“What will happen to me, then?”
“We will arrange an escort for you,” said Gervase. “Omri will take you on to Powys.”
“No!”
“Your uncle has decreed it.”
“My uncle does not have to marry that pig!” she said with quiet ferocity. “Goronwy is an animal. I will not share my bed with him. He frightens me.”
“You only know him by report, Angharad.”
“There are too many tales. They all say the same thing about him. I want to please my uncle, but I will not tie myself to a madman for the rest of my life.” She clasped his hands. “Goronwy is strong and brutal.
Think what he could do to me. Would you hand any girl over to a man like that?”
“No,” he said. “But this is not my concern, Angharad.”
“It is now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Omri is sweet and kind, but he is afraid to disobey. You are not bound by any orders from my uncle.” She clutched at his chest. “You have rescued me once, Gervase, and you must do it again.”
“Rescue you?”
“From Goronwy. You are the only hope I have.”