don’t know?”
“I found Brynn in the small village of Kythe in Wales. As I said, I could not force her to tell me anything about Gwynthal.”
“Then how do you know about it?”
“Everyone in the village knew of Gwynthal and the treasure. Her father boasted of it when he had too much ale. He was always mumbling something about an island.”
“An island!” Richard snorted in disgust. “How can a woman find one island in a vast sea? Or am I supposed to sail aimlessly until I find this island?”
“When I found Brynn she was in the forest far away from Kythe on the road to the village of Selkirk. Selkirk is on the sea. Doesn’t that suggest she must have knowledge of where this island is located?”
“Perhaps.”
Encouraged by Richard’s interest, he took a step closer and said eagerly, “Can’t you see? We need Brynn back.”
We. Did the fool actually think he would share such a treasure if it did exist? However, it could prove wise to continue to foster the belief. Delmas was not only familiar with this Welsh village but was Brynn’s husband and might be able to influence the woman. He turned and went back to his chair. His step was a little steadier; the effect of the ale must be leaving him. Good. He would need a clear head to sift truth from myth.
Treasure. It seemed too easy a solution to his plight.
Yet didn’t he deserve a stroke of good fortune after the way fate had ravaged him? A useless woman as his wife, a king who could not keep his lords’ lands safe from those Normans. Yes, it was time Richard was given his due.
He sat down and stared with contempt at Delmas’s eager expression. Disgusting creature. How low he had fallen to be forced to deal with this vermin. He leaned back and allowed himself a faint smile. “If what you say is true, then I agree we must try to retrieve your wife from the Norman.”
“It is true. I swear it.”
“Oaths have little value. You want her back.”
Delmas hesitated and then reached into the pouch at his belt. “I have proof. She had this when I found her. It was on a chain she wore about her neck and she fought like a young wolverine when I took it from her.”
The small, perfect ruby in Delmas’s palm shone bright in the candlelight.
Richard carefully hid his sudden interest. “It is of no great size.”
“But clear and of an excellent color. Where would a simple village girl get such a jewel?”
Richard took the jewel and held it closer to the candle flame. The ruby was quite perfect. “Where, indeed,” he murmured. He leaned back in his chair. “But I must know a great deal more before I can judge whether it’s because you lust after her body or this so-called treasure. Tell me more of your meeting with Brynn of Falkhaar and this Gwynthal.”
“Where is Gwynthal?” Malik asked.
Brynn stiffened, stopped in mid motion of spreading salve around the wound. “What?”
“Gwynthal. That is where you were born, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She took more salve from the pot. “But I don’t remember telling you about it.”
“She didn’t tell you,” Gage Dumont said from across the tent. “I would have remembered.”
“Perhaps you weren’t in the tent.” Malik frowned, trying to remember.
“I’ve scarcely left you since that first night,” Gage said.
It was true, Brynn thought. He had been a powerful, vigilant presence since the moment of Malik’s awakening, watching her for any false step, encouraging Malik. At times she had felt the sheer force of his will alone was pulling Malik farther and farther from the darkness.
Malik was still perplexed. “Cool green forests, wonders around every bend …” he murmured.
Her own words when she had been trying to reach him that first night.
“That’s right, isn’t it, Brynn?” Malik asked.
“That’s right.” She smiled at him. “I told you about Gwynthal the night I first came. I didn’t think you’d remember.”
“I didn’t know I did.” Malik yawned. “It just
“I found Brynn in the small village of Kythe in Wales. As I said, I could not force her to tell me anything about Gwynthal.”
“Then how do you know about it?”
“Everyone in the village knew of Gwynthal and the treasure. Her father boasted of it when he had too much ale. He was always mumbling something about an island.”
“An island!” Richard snorted in disgust. “How can a woman find one island in a vast sea? Or am I supposed to sail aimlessly until I find this island?”
“When I found Brynn she was in the forest far away from Kythe on the road to the village of Selkirk. Selkirk is on the sea. Doesn’t that suggest she must have knowledge of where this island is located?”
“Perhaps.”
Encouraged by Richard’s interest, he took a step closer and said eagerly, “Can’t you see? We need Brynn back.”
We. Did the fool actually think he would share such a treasure if it did exist? However, it could prove wise to continue to foster the belief. Delmas was not only familiar with this Welsh village but was Brynn’s husband and might be able to influence the woman. He turned and went back to his chair. His step was a little steadier; the effect of the ale must be leaving him. Good. He would need a clear head to sift truth from myth.
Treasure. It seemed too easy a solution to his plight.
Yet didn’t he deserve a stroke of good fortune after the way fate had ravaged him? A useless woman as his wife, a king who could not keep his lords’ lands safe from those Normans. Yes, it was time Richard was given his due.
He sat down and stared with contempt at Delmas’s eager expression. Disgusting creature. How low he had fallen to be forced to deal with this vermin. He leaned back and allowed himself a faint smile. “If what you say is true, then I agree we must try to retrieve your wife from the Norman.”
“It is true. I swear it.”
“Oaths have little value. You want her back.”
Delmas hesitated and then reached into the pouch at his belt. “I have proof. She had this when I found her. It was on a chain she wore about her neck and she fought like a young wolverine when I took it from her.”
The small, perfect ruby in Delmas’s palm shone bright in the candlelight.
Richard carefully hid his sudden interest. “It is of no great size.”
“But clear and of an excellent color. Where would a simple village girl get such a jewel?”
Richard took the jewel and held it closer to the candle flame. The ruby was quite perfect. “Where, indeed,” he murmured. He leaned back in his chair. “But I must know a great deal more before I can judge whether it’s because you lust after her body or this so-called treasure. Tell me more of your meeting with Brynn of Falkhaar and this Gwynthal.”
“Where is Gwynthal?” Malik asked.
Brynn stiffened, stopped in mid motion of spreading salve around the wound. “What?”
“Gwynthal. That is where you were born, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She took more salve from the pot. “But I don’t remember telling you about it.”
“She didn’t tell you,” Gage Dumont said from across the tent. “I would have remembered.”
“Perhaps you weren’t in the tent.” Malik frowned, trying to remember.
“I’ve scarcely left you since that first night,” Gage said.
It was true, Brynn thought. He had been a powerful, vigilant presence since the moment of Malik’s awakening, watching her for any false step, encouraging Malik. At times she had felt the sheer force of his will alone was pulling Malik farther and farther from the darkness.
Malik was still perplexed. “Cool green forests, wonders around every bend …” he murmured.
Her own words when she had been trying to reach him that first night.
“That’s right, isn’t it, Brynn?” Malik asked.
“That’s right.” She smiled at him. “I told you about Gwynthal the night I first came. I didn’t think you’d remember.”
“I didn’t know I did.” Malik yawned. “It just
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