The Long Betrothal Ch. 03

As though Edon had conjured the priest with his wishes, a rider arrived before dawn the following day with word from their northern outpost. Maxen's messenger was en route with the cleric he'd requested. They'd reported seeing signs of bandits on the trail along the way, but the outpost– meant only to provide advance warning of an enemy's approach– was sparsely staffed and couldn't send anyone to guard them on their way to the castle.

Maxen sent a party of half a dozen warriors to meet them. In only a few hours they returned, jubilant. They'd arrived to find the outpost besieged by a band of sluggish trail-pirates. Despite being outnumbered by a factor of three to one, Maxen's well-fed, well-trained men had made quick work of dispatching the thieves, and returned to Tywyll Keep with a pile of prizes for their trouble. Four horses, six oxen, three slaves, and six casks of wine were among the bounty they'd collected.

While Maxen was pleased with the unexpected bonus and favored his men with a congratulatory welcome, the cleric was his chief concern. Father Hubert, though obviously saddle-sore and weary from his journey, agreed to perform the ceremony that very day, after hearing confession from the bride and groom. Maxen himself showed the man to his chamber, offering the cleric a reprieve of only fifteen minutes before returning to make his own confession.

Leaving the room, he nearly collided with Edon, who'd come upstairs to ask a question about allowing the men a bit of revelry. Maxen gestured for his second to follow him aloft.

Kerin was standing by the bed-post when they entered, her hands folded in front of her and her eyes anxiously awaiting the summons she was sure Maxen was here to issue. She wasn't disappointed.

Maxen bent and heaved the corner of the heavy bed off the floor, freeing Kerin's chain before he answered Edon's questions. "We're to be married today, so the men will have their celebration after our evening meal." Apparently realizing he'd informed his fiancée of her impending nuptials in a most improper manner, Maxen paused on his way to the door, half-turning.

Kerin was pale and her lower lip very faintly quivering, but her gaze was steady. Maxen had expected her to weep, at least, but was surprisingly met with neither tears, nor ire, nor despair, which would have bothered him most, he realized.

Not bothering to examine the thought, he returned to Edon with Kerin's chain extended. "The priest wants to hear confession before the wedding. Will you accompany the Lady Kerin to his chamber below while I change my clothing?"

Edon froze, his face darkening. He'd made no secret of the disgust he felt seeing a noble lady in chains, but Edon's earlier response was nothing compared to the indignation brewing in his belly at that instant.

He'd assumed Maxen would have Kerin's collar struck off before her wedding, and that morning had offered to send the smith to do the job. Maxen had refused, saying he'd increase his tithe, that forgiveness was "always available to those burdened with an excess of gold." Edon had been appalled by the comment and the sentiment behind it.

Now he studied the end of the iron chain Maxen proffered and wondered if anything was left of the man he used to know. For the first time in his adult life, Edon questioned his loyalty to Maxen ap Dyfed.

Kerin saw a tempest brewing without understanding its cause. She'd come to feel a reluctant respect for Maxen's right-hand man, despite the enmity he'd so plainly felt for her when they arrived. Her future husband's foul temper was eternally on the verge of an eruption, she believed. Not considering which of the three of them she was protecting, Kerin stepped forward and placed her hand on Edon's elbow, drawing his attention. "I appreciate the kindness, Sir Glyn."

Edon held her eyes, drawing strength from the serenity he saw there. Sparing only the barest flick of a glance for Maxen, he collected the end of Kerin's chain and offered her his arm to escort her below. "My lady."

Maxen watched them away before closing the door, then stared at the smoke-stained wooden panel, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. When had that happened? For years, Edon had conspicuously refused to use the honorific when speaking of Kerin, a trend which continued when he conversed with her at Penrhyn Tywyll. Maxen hadn't noticed a change taking place, but evidently one had. He could hardly credit the notion, but his best friend seemed to be softening toward the woman he'd loathed so fervently these past five years.

For a moment after handing over Kerin's chain, Maxen had been sure Edon was contemplating whether to split his skull or separate it from his shoulders altogether. His first urge when Kerin stepped between them had been to push her back behind him for her own protection, but Edon's expression warmed immediately when he met her eyes.

Maxen shook his head sharply.

Had Edon been taken in by the harlot's wiles, too?

It didn't seem plausible.

Yes, Kerin was charming, and between himself and Edon, no one doubted that Edon had the calmer head, but he was by no means naïve. Maxen decided he must have misread the situation and turned back to his chest to done clothing more appropriate for his wedding day.

When he opened the door to admit the lady of the keep, the priest was no less shocked by the black band encircling her neck than Edon had been when first he saw it.

Without a word, Edon passed the end of the chain to Kerin, holding her eyes for half a beat, his expression inscrutable. She hesitated with a questioning look on her face, but nodded her thanks when he didn't reply. Edon departed for the hall below, ignoring the outrage in the cleric's eyes as he left Kerin's freedom in her own hands. He would not be one of the soldiers pursuing her if Kerin chose today to flee.

–-o–-

An hour later, Father Hubert drew the master of the keep aside. Glowering into Maxen's eyes, a foot above his own, Hubert told Maxen, "No amount of gold would convince me to perform this ceremony with that abomination around your bride's neck if she hadn't given me her consent.

"However," he continued gravely, "you risk your immortal soul if you continue to treat her in this manner. God intends for a man to bind his wife with kindness and decency, not with iron."

He paused for breath and was not entirely happy when Maxen waited unperturbed for the rest of his rebuke, worried that the hulking Lord's lack of rebellion equaled a lack of interest in divine opinion.

Hubert continued calmly, nonetheless. "The Church has been remiss in not visiting Penrhyn Tywyll more often. From now on you can expect to see one of my brothers from the Abbey quarterly, at a minimum. I'll be making the climb myself for at least half a year, and if I should find Lady Kerin still burdened by what she calls her 'wedding ring' on my next visit, I shall take her with me when I leave, and you can meet with the judge at Rhufoniog to plead whatever case you think you have. Do you understand me, young man?"

"Yes, Father." Maxen answered, nodding with no apparent rancor or remorse. "Though I'd prefer a cleric permanently assigned here. Mayhap we can discuss it on the morrow?"

Father Hubert stared for such an extended period of time that Maxen began to think the wedding would have to be postponed, since he had no intention of being the first to look away. Finally, having made his point, the priest ducked back through the woolen drapes to the small chapel beyond. Maxen followed, and there took Lady Kerin to wife, wedding ring and all.

–-o–-

Back in 2 weeks with Chapter 4, in which the wedding celebration goes horribly wrong, and Maxen discovers one of Kerin's secrets. Thanks again for your comments, and be sure to check out my bio for more info. – Stefanie