The Wild Hunt Read Free

no cause to complain.'
     
    'She might not have had a cause at Michaelmas, Guy, but she certainly has one now.'
    Guyon's wariness sharpened. 'Meaning?'
    'Meaning she is not so skilled a herb wife as she thought and the rounding of her belly proves it. Midsummer I would say, to look at her.'
    Guyon glanced from his sister's disapproval to his father's blank surprise. He took another swallow of wine to hide his consternation and feigned nonchalance. 'I'll speak to her tomorrow, but I do not see that this marriage will change anything. Willingly I will acknowledge and provide for a child if that is what she wants, but Rhosyn is a wild law unto herself.'
    'I am not thinking of wild law, but Welsh law,' Emma said, as he reached for a piece of bread. 'A man's firstborn son, even begotten out of wedlock to a mistress, has equal rights with the other legitimate heirs of his body.'
    Guyon discarded the notion with a shake of his head. 'I am Norman born, Em, and Welsh rights do not pertain this side of the border. I could cede a couple of holdings to a chance-gotten child without too much hue and cry, but no more than that. Besides, the child is yet unborn and might well be a daughter, in which case I will find her a good marriage when the time comes.'
    Emma's full mouth pursed. 'It needn't have happened at all .'
    'Don't be so finicky, sister,' he growled. 'The sin of fornication is a peccadillo compared with the ones I could have perpetrated at court.'
    Colour flooded his sister's face. Her husband, as a minor chamberlain, knew most of what transpired in the immediate circle surrounding the King: the scandals, the petty power struggles, the prevalent vices, and Guyon, with his striking looks, disregard for propriety and hint of Welsh barbarity was a magnet to which all three were drawn whether he wished it or no. 'I expect you and Prince Henry keep tallies to compare your ruttings,' she snapped.
    'Indeed we do,' Guyon said with a sarcastic flourish. 'How did you guess?'
    Miles eased tactfully to his feet and stretched like a cat uncoiling. 'Time enough for discussion tomorrow,' he said. 'I'm for my bed and I'm sure Guyon is too.' He gave his daughter an eloquent stare. Guyon had his trencher piled high enough already without her heavy-handed seasoning of moral chastisement and righteous advice.
    'A conspiracy of men,' Emma declared with a sniff, and then gave a tight smile. 'I know when I am beaten.' Going to her brother, she stooped and kissed his stubble-blurred cheek.
    He tugged the copper-coloured braid peeping from beneath her veil. 'That does not mean you will give in!'
    'Does it not?' She arched her brow at him. 'Let me tell you, I will gladly relinquish the battle to your wife and hope she has better fortune in taming your ways!'
    'Know when you are beaten, do you?' he needled as she went towards the curtain. 'Is that why you always have to have the last word?'
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 2
    In the great hall , Rhosyn rolled over on her lumpy makeshift pallet and sat up, irritated to discover that yet again her bladder was full . Beside her, oblivious, her father snored. He was a prosperous wool merchant these days, with a paunch to prove it. Complacent. They had fared well since their business dealings with Miles le Gallois. There was much profit to be had in wool and the cloth woven from the fleeces. Lord Miles bred it raw on the hoof. Her father sold the clip in Flanders and speculated a little on the wider trade markets - spices and leather, silks and glass - and they prospered.
    Beside their grandfather, the children of her first, now widowed marriage slept in a puppy huddle. Rhys was ten, a sturdy, dark-eyed replica of his father. Eluned, seven, resembled herself -
    slender and fey with raven hair, autumnal eyes and a luminous complexion. This coming child, as yet scarcely realised; well , if a boy, she could only hope by God's charity that he inherited Guyon's beauty married to a less difficult nature.
    Stupid, she thought,