have lost count of the days, sister."
For a moment Wynne had a sinking feeling, but then she drew upon her deep well of courage and laughed weakly. "If tomorrow night is the full moon, Caitlin, then I have indeed lost track of my time."
"Well, I have not," Caitlin said tartly. "I long for the day when I may be married to Rhys's rich cousin and leave Gwernach for my own home. That time cannot come quickly enough for me."
"And me," echoed Dilys.
Wynne shook her head sadly. She could think of nothing harder for her than having to leave Gwernach behind, and yet her sisters were eager to do so.
"Do not think badly of them, my child," her grandmother said quietly as Caitlin and Dilys turned back to their own pursuits. "You are the eldest and it is only natural that you love Gwernach better than they do. They know that it is unlikely that either of them will ever inherit these lands. It, therefore, has no hold on them, and they are anxious to have a place that they may call their own."
"But I will not inherit Gwernach either," Wynne noted, "and yet I love it."
"With God's blessing, child, you will not inherit, but there is always that chance that Dewi may not reach his manhood, or not produce heirs. If that should happen, then you will be Gwernach's mistress. That is a possibility, but the chance of both you and Dewi dying and leaving Gwernach to Caitlin is slight. Your sister is no fool. A shrew, perhaps, but no fool."
"And speaking of that scamp brother of mine," Wynne said, "I have not seen him since my return from the forest. Where can he have gotten to, Grandmother?"
"He said he was going birding this afternoon," Enid answered.
"Did Einion accompany him?"
"Nay, child, it was not necessary. Dewi would have been deeply insulted by such a gesture. You are overprotective of your brother, Wynne. He may yet be a boy, but he is lord of Gwernach nonetheless and should be treated as such. Besides, Einion was giving Mair her riding lesson, and the child would have been heartbroken had she not been able to have it. She loves that fat pony of hers greatly," Enid finished with a smile. Her youngest grandchild was her admitted pet.
Wynne glanced through a window in the hall and frowned. It had become overcast and, although she could see no sunset, the sky was already darkening with impending night. "Einion," she called to the big man as he entered the hall. "Have you seen my brother?"
"Nay, lady, not since he departed, but I shall go into the courtyard and ask. He may be in the stables." Einion returned the way he had come.
"I know it is foolish of me, Grandmother, and I realize I am oversolicitous of Dewi's well-being, but he is my responsibility! If anything should happen to him before he reached his manhood, I should feel that I had failed my parents in my duty to Gwernach. I cannot bear the thought that I should profit at my brother's expense. Can you understand that?" Wynne's usually serene features were distorted with her distress.
"I do understand, my child," Enid assured her granddaughter, but in her heart she was angry at the unkind fate that had burdened this young girl with so much accountability at so young an age. And she was angry at her late son, God assoil him, for Wynne had been his favorite and he had instilled in her a passion for Gwernach that could never be satisfied. It was a hard world in which they lived, and children died easily. That Owain and Margiad had produced healthy children was both a blessing and a miracle; but Dewi and Mair were yet young and vulnerable. If accident or disease took them before their maturity, Wynne could not hold herself responsible, and Enid told her so, squeezing her granddaughter's hand as she spoke to reassure her, but she could see in Wynne's foresty green eyes that although the girl nodded her agreement, she did not really accept Enid's attempt to set her mind at rest.
Einion returned, saying, "The young lord is not yet back, lady."
Wynne paled and, looking again to
For a moment Wynne had a sinking feeling, but then she drew upon her deep well of courage and laughed weakly. "If tomorrow night is the full moon, Caitlin, then I have indeed lost track of my time."
"Well, I have not," Caitlin said tartly. "I long for the day when I may be married to Rhys's rich cousin and leave Gwernach for my own home. That time cannot come quickly enough for me."
"And me," echoed Dilys.
Wynne shook her head sadly. She could think of nothing harder for her than having to leave Gwernach behind, and yet her sisters were eager to do so.
"Do not think badly of them, my child," her grandmother said quietly as Caitlin and Dilys turned back to their own pursuits. "You are the eldest and it is only natural that you love Gwernach better than they do. They know that it is unlikely that either of them will ever inherit these lands. It, therefore, has no hold on them, and they are anxious to have a place that they may call their own."
"But I will not inherit Gwernach either," Wynne noted, "and yet I love it."
"With God's blessing, child, you will not inherit, but there is always that chance that Dewi may not reach his manhood, or not produce heirs. If that should happen, then you will be Gwernach's mistress. That is a possibility, but the chance of both you and Dewi dying and leaving Gwernach to Caitlin is slight. Your sister is no fool. A shrew, perhaps, but no fool."
"And speaking of that scamp brother of mine," Wynne said, "I have not seen him since my return from the forest. Where can he have gotten to, Grandmother?"
"He said he was going birding this afternoon," Enid answered.
"Did Einion accompany him?"
"Nay, child, it was not necessary. Dewi would have been deeply insulted by such a gesture. You are overprotective of your brother, Wynne. He may yet be a boy, but he is lord of Gwernach nonetheless and should be treated as such. Besides, Einion was giving Mair her riding lesson, and the child would have been heartbroken had she not been able to have it. She loves that fat pony of hers greatly," Enid finished with a smile. Her youngest grandchild was her admitted pet.
Wynne glanced through a window in the hall and frowned. It had become overcast and, although she could see no sunset, the sky was already darkening with impending night. "Einion," she called to the big man as he entered the hall. "Have you seen my brother?"
"Nay, lady, not since he departed, but I shall go into the courtyard and ask. He may be in the stables." Einion returned the way he had come.
"I know it is foolish of me, Grandmother, and I realize I am oversolicitous of Dewi's well-being, but he is my responsibility! If anything should happen to him before he reached his manhood, I should feel that I had failed my parents in my duty to Gwernach. I cannot bear the thought that I should profit at my brother's expense. Can you understand that?" Wynne's usually serene features were distorted with her distress.
"I do understand, my child," Enid assured her granddaughter, but in her heart she was angry at the unkind fate that had burdened this young girl with so much accountability at so young an age. And she was angry at her late son, God assoil him, for Wynne had been his favorite and he had instilled in her a passion for Gwernach that could never be satisfied. It was a hard world in which they lived, and children died easily. That Owain and Margiad had produced healthy children was both a blessing and a miracle; but Dewi and Mair were yet young and vulnerable. If accident or disease took them before their maturity, Wynne could not hold herself responsible, and Enid told her so, squeezing her granddaughter's hand as she spoke to reassure her, but she could see in Wynne's foresty green eyes that although the girl nodded her agreement, she did not really accept Enid's attempt to set her mind at rest.
Einion returned, saying, "The young lord is not yet back, lady."
Wynne paled and, looking again to
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