Betrayal: Pendyffryn: The Conquerors, Book 3

By Lily Dewaruile

“The best of men...the most treacherous of lovers.”
If Ieuan Emyr was less of a man, if she did not love him, she could easily find it in her heart to end his life for what he has done. There are many ways a woman can be foolish. Gwennan has proven all but one of them. Her husband has one goal; hers is not so different they cannot find a compromise. Her heartbreak does not necessarily mean she is defeated. His betrayal does not necessarily mean she has lost everything.

Disappointment does not kill a man. Disinterest. Submission. Less than all he had thought he had gained, grueling day after day of war and Gwennan’s cold indifference dismay him. Her happy laughter had once filled him with hope that his gamble had won him a home and the love of woman he had risked the lives of his children to wed.

Her friends, a beautiful day, a reckless venture to escape her anguish bring Gwennan face to face with the evil her husband once served. Betrayal is not always about love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eres Books
• Release date: Mar 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9780983657736

Lily Dewaruile

Lily Dewaruile is a best-selling author of medieval Welsh fiction. Lily Dewaruile is the pen name of an American author who lived in Wales for thirty years. Her love of the Welsh language, culture and history has inspired her fiction since her first visit to Rhuthun where she heard Welsh spoken for the first time. During her time in Wales, she wrote over twenty novels, many of which are still manuscripts, awaiting their debut.Her first Welsh Medieval novel, TRAITOR'S DAUGHTER, was published while she was living in Wales. The photograph used for the cover of this book is of one the most spectacular sunsets over the historic town of Caerfyrddin, named for the medieval poet, Myrddin (the inspiration for the fictional character, Merlin), where Lily lived for twenty-five of her thirty years in Wales."You will know the man..." One woman stands against the INVASION of her home. One man holds her life in his hands. And... "he was not a man who needed a lot of women. He was a man who needed a lot of one woman. This woman." - INVASION, Book 1 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series, now available. Publication date: November 17, 2012.SALVATION, Book 2 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series. Publication date: January 17, 2013.BETRAYAL, Book 3 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series. Publication date: March 17, 2013REVIVAL, Book 4 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series. Publication date: June 9, 2013RECONCILIATION, Book 5 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors. Publication date: January 23, 2014JUSTICE, Book 1 of the Pendyffryn: The Inheritors, Publication date: October 20, 2016MERIT, Book 2 of the Pendyffryn: The Inheritors, Publican date: November 21, 2021More about all of Lily's independently published novels in the Pendyffryn:The Conquers and Pendyffryn:The Inheritors series are on her website: lilydewaruile.com and eresbooks.com, Smashwords, as well as KDP: Amazon and most independent online booksellers.Recent Posts: https://lilydewaruile.com/ysgrifau-posts/

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgments

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Glossary of Welsh & Pronunciation

Lily’s Books

About the Author

DEDICATION

Hoffwn gyflwyno’r argraffiad hwn i’m cyfeillion yng Nghymru sydd wedi fy nghefnogi ers i fi symud yno ac ers i fi symud i ffwrdd.

I would like to offer this edition to my friends in Wales who have supported me since I moved there and since I moved away.

Ac yn arbennig, i’m hannwylaf ŵr a’n meibion am eu holl amynedd a chariad. Fe wyddoch ba mor bwysig ag ydych i fi.

And especially, to my dearest husband and our sons for their patience and love. You know how important you are to me.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I bob un o’r hanesyddwyr sydd wedi gwneud ymdrech i sicrhau bod y cewri o Gymru ddim yn diflannu.

Every one of the historians who have made the effort to secure the giants of Wales do not disappear.

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Cynddylan, or Cynddylan ap Cyndrwyn was a seventh-century Prince of Powys associated with Pengwern. Cynddylan is attested only in literary sources: unlike many kings from Brittonic-speaking post-Roman Britain, he does not appear in the early Welsh genealogies or other historical sources. The son of King Cyndrwyn, Cynddylan is described in the probably seventh-century poem Marwnad Cynddylan and seems to have been a chieftain in Powys. - Wikipedia

AD877, Rhodri Mawr Regis.

One

Gwennan glared at her husband, facing her from the other side of the bedchamber. He was weary, his boots and legs covered in black slush, but she had no sympathy for him. Why did you send my father away?

I did not send him. He went, deFreveille answered. He had work. He could not stay longer.

But why did you not at least allow him to say good-bye to me?

"I did not prevent your father from seeing you, menyw. He decided to go at dawn. He did not ask to have you awakened."

I don’t believe you.

Regardless, there is the truth.

What caused his haste? Why, without seeing me? The gelyn commander shrugged, though he knew the answer, drank his wine and began to undress. Gwennan sank to the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. Ieuan, I may never see him again.

Jehan-Emíl turned the chair to face her while he pulled off his boots, keeping his eyes on her. The sight of her helped him forget that he had been riding in undergrowth and sludge all day, that he was cold and filthy, and that the weight of his responsibility to them—his family, his men, the people—was too heavy, at times, for one man. The start of a new year broke the period of mild weather. The hard frost went deep into the soil and all mornings dawned white. Soldiers moved with ease over the frozen fields and the woods provided no shelter.

I have promised you will see him in spring. I will take you myself. If I am able.

People die in winter, she reminded him. He is almost alone there.

What do you want me to say? That I will let you go to him? He dropped the boot and yanked the other free. No. I need you here, for my children. Where I can protect you all. Besides that old woman is there, Galar, she went also.

I know.

How? His brow furrowed.

I asked my father to take her, Gwennan sighed. And Derwyn.

To Pendyffryn?

Of course, she said wearily, falling back onto the bed, her arms above her head. It is home for us.

Jehan-Emíl dragged his shirt over his head, tossed it aside and ran his hands over his chest, relieving the ache of hours on the back of his warhorse. His fatigue was too great to give any energy to the surge of jealousy he felt. It washed over him and left him in deeper melancholy. Where is home for us, Gwennan?

She rolled her head to look at him. Here. Though neither of us truly belong. She raised herself onto her elbows and hunched her shoulders. Even Siriol does not belong here. Aine belongs though her mother was from Iwerddon.

If you could be anywhere?

I would go home. She let out a deep sigh and began to unlace her bodice. In the spring, you will see for yourself how beautiful the mountains are. Surely by spring, he will have given me a child. Gwennan smiled to herself. Our son—he cannot be anything but wonderful.

Dropping her gown across the foot of the bed, she knelt in her linen chemise by the hearth and offered to wash her husband, holding up the bar of pine-oil soap and a cloth. He nodded once and stood facing the fire, resting his hands on the mantelpiece while she washed his back and dipped under his arms to bathe his torso and legs. He smiled when she came up between his rigid arms, but he was too tired to take the opportunity she presented to him.

Gwennan frowned to herself and bit her lip as she rubbed him dry. He turned away and fell into the bed, asleep before she had removed her undergarments to bathe herself. She shivered and her teeth chattered as she slid into bed beside him, trying not to touch him with her cold legs, but he reached for her, gathering her into his arms and dropping his leg across hers. Gwennan shivered again, accepted his warmth and went to sleep.

You cannot mean to do this, Gwennan, Siriol exclaimed, chasing her friend across the hall.

Of course I do. Where is Maides?

He has not returned. There is only Bedwyn. Most of the captains have gone with deFreveille.

Then I will ask Bedwyn to help me. Restless for her husband’s return, sitting by the fire on a bright, cold day designing a tapestry for her husband’s new crest did not suit her. I want to do something.

I will go with you, Gwennan, Charlotte offered. I have not been from this house for as many days as you.

Gwennan turned to study her stepchildren’s nurse. Charlotte had been subdued for weeks but Gwennan did not think that Ieuan had cured her of her sharp tongue or ended her spite. Gwennan did not think her husband had chastised his mistress at all. He had not been with Charlotte since their marriage, but she did not know how long he would keep his vow—his distraction, even when they were alone and she gave him opportunity, wore on her confidence.

Yes, all right, Gwennan replied.

Gwennan, that is truly foolish, Siriol chided her.

If you are so worried, come with us, Gwennan snapped. You can ride, Siriol, and I want to improve my skill. Come with me?

It is not that I won’t come with you. I don’t think your husband wants you to risk another injury when he is not here. And you heard what Rocaille said.

DeFreveille encourages me to ride. It is not my fault he does not take the time to accompany me. Gwennan stormed from the house with a gleeful Charlotte following.

We will have fun, yes? Charlotte said, taking Gwennan’s arm, leaning against her in confidence. Two women, these powerful animals, crisp air, yes?

Gwennan ignored her companion. She roused Bedwyn to escort them to the stables. His reluctance made her as angry as Siriol’s good sense. She had decided what she wanted to do that day and was determined not to be dissuaded, though Siriol and Bedwyn were right. Her decision was made. The commander’s mistress did not have to ask permission to ride, why should the commander’s wife be so restricted? As pennaeth, her decisions were equal to his. Foolish jealousy. But that made no difference.

I think you do not want Coquette, Charlotte laughed. She is a good horse for Jehan-Emíl, he has the power to control such a beast. You want a gentle animal, a donkey perhaps.

If you wish to be friends, you will have to do better than that, Charlotte, Gwennan said, not yet foolish enough to be goaded into trying a horse she could not handle. I have my own horse.

Oh. A gift from Jehan-Emíl?

No, a gift from my father.

Jehan-Emíl is usually so generous. I only thought he may have given you something in gratitude.

Gratitude for what, exactly? Gwennan asked, her brow knitting in anger.

Favors, Gwennan. Charlotte laughed. Special favors he has begged of you.

He is my husband. He does not beg favors. Gwennan turned on her heel and walked into the stable yard. Will you bring Cadarn for me? she asked Marshal.

Your father gives you a stallion? Charlotte asked. If you can handle him, even I will be impressed.

He is old, Gwennan answered, annoyed she was distressed by the nurse’s taunts. He has survived much worse than me, she admitted, gasping when the massive auburn stallion trotted toward her. Marshal cinched her saddle and brought a stool for her to mount. I know, she whispered to Cadarn. I will dismount the same as I mount. She settled herself in the saddle and accepted the reins, but was glad that her stepson did not let go of the bridle.

At the end of the stable yard, Charlotte puffed, impatient. Are we to do nothing more than pace this filthy corral? Can we not at least go out to the stockade?

Gwennan leaned over her horse’s neck and patted him. All right. I think Cadarn deserves a good walk.

Charlotte was not content with the stockade, busy with carpenters and stonemasons. Her horse could not get the exercise it needed, she complained, and led her companion through the gates to the encampment. We will be safe enough here, she said. See how the warrior keeps watch and sends soldiers to guard us. DeFreveille values his women very much, Charlotte confided. The warrior is probably terrified that something might happen to us. Jehan-Emíl would flay him to the bone for that. As her mount picked its way through the rubble of the camp, Charlotte stayed close beside Gwennan to give their conversation the illusion of intimacy. He is very persuasive, yes? Compelling?

Gwennan shrugged one shoulder and closed her fist on the reins, turning Cadarn’s head to the left to maneuver around a cart in her path.

I am very weak, Charlotte confessed. I can never refuse him. Anything. She sighed and let her body slump in despair. That is why I have behaved so unkindly to you, Gwennan. I know it is not your fault, what has happened. I was foolish to believe him but I, too, thought he loved me.

Gwennan glanced at her companion.

Before we came here, Jehan-Emíl promised…he said we would be married. We had been together since Cecilé’s birth, after Helene died. He always promised, when he had a home for us. Her eyes reddened and her lips quivered. But when I arrived…he was with you. Charlotte bowed her head, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. Even then, she continued, brushing her cheeks dry. Even then, I wanted to believe he told me the truth. He said he had no choice. As the commander, he was obliged to have the nobleman’s widow first. I think you will be honest with me, Gwennan, she pleaded. He was not your lover, was he, not then?

Gwennan bit her lip and turned her face away.

I did not think so. He was still my lover. After you miscarried, he could not risk staying with you, the scandal. Jehan-Emíl is not a brute. He did not like that everyone said he killed your child when he had never touched you. He told me these things, Gwennan. You know they are true.

Gwennan remained silent, seeing only the crest of Cadarn’s mane.

Jehan-Emíl came to me. He said again he would marry me, in just a few weeks. A few weeks. She sobbed openly for several minutes, her small frame heaving with anguish. He wanted another son, he said. Is it my fault I believed him? Is it my fault I let him give me a child to bear for him? I do not have a father to pay him to wed me.

The rock that Gwennan had known would crush her fell to the pit of her stomach. She could not breathe and did not care. Cadarn pulled his head down, shook his reins but received no response. He walked forward, muzzle low, searching for grass beneath the dusting of snow.

How can it be my fault? Charlotte screamed in deFreveille’s face. It was not me who encouraged her to ride. It was not me who refused to go with her.

I did not refuse, Siriol protested. You goaded her.

I did not know she was so willful, Charlotte replied. "I thought her husband had made certain she understood the dangers—especially at this time."

Where is she? deFreveille asked Charlotte again. Where did you last see her?

In the camp, she sighed, exasperated, disinterested. As I said. I told her it was time to return. She refused to follow me. There were soldiers guarding us every moment. Your wife must have wanted to escape very badly, Jehan-Emíl, because she would not have gotten far if Bedwyn had bothered to search for her. Perhaps she has found her way back to her raven-haired Welshman. Charlotte had turned to leave the hall, but clapped her hands and turned to face the commander. That is it. That is why she was so insistent on riding into the camp. She planned to run. They had all devised a secret plot, Jehan-Emíl, to help her escape. Your wife, Bedwyn and the Welshman, this one too, Charlotte said, glaring at Siriol. Your wife is gone. You have lost her, she tossed over her shoulder as she sauntered to the stairwell.

Siriol watched deFreveille’s expression change from alarm to rage, his body rigid and his knuckles bloodless. She laid her hand on his forearm, restraining the hand clenched on the hilt of his dagger.

Gwennan would not do that, she said.

You know this? he snarled, glaring into her soft eyes. You know this?

Gwennan would not do such a thing to anyone, Siriol insisted. She had good reason or the horse was injured.

If I find the Celt—.

You will not.

It was no longer safe for anyone to go beyond the gates after the light of the sun began to fail. DeFreveille could not risk his captains to hunt down a woman or risk their ridicule by allowing them to know she had run from him. Of the women, only Siriol and Charlotte knew Gwennan had not returned from her ride. DeFreveille planned to deal with Bedwyn, and Charlotte, once he had Gwennan back.

He rode through the gates at a leisurely pace, cantered through the camp in the twilight and began his search where Charlotte said she had last seen his wife. He patted Coquette’s shoulder and stared at the ground, trying to think without rage.

If she meant to escape, he thought she would turn northwest, to Pendyffryn. That way was through woodlands. If she plotted to meet Derwyn, the best way was to circle the stockade toward the precipice, meet there and make good an escape into the gorge on foot.

If her horse was to blame, the way was the easiest track in any direction.

DeFreveille’s experience of women told him to turn northwest or into the gorge.

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Two

You stupid, stupid horse. Gwennan did not dare dismount to lead Cadarn away from the sheltered corner of the churchyard wall. She could not force him to raise his head from the frenzy of feeding on tender grass. The more she pulled on the reins, the more in danger she was of being pulled off his back. I did not mean for you to stake yourself for the wolves with me on your back.

She had tried kicking him very hard but he kicked his hind legs and she clung to the saddle. This is a stupid saddle as well. And this is a stupid, hateful place for you to stand. I will use you to plough, you stupid horse. Back up, will you? I can’t stare at these stones all night. She leaned over his sloping neck, pressing her cheek against his mane. If I were not so unhappy, Cadarn, I would be angry with you for making a fool of me. But I am already a fool and that is not your fault.

For a while she left the animal in peace, looked around her at the darkening shadows as the sunlight faded. When it was completely gone, the nocturnal hunters crept and snarled. You son of a horseman’s dinner, she growled, pulling as hard as she could on the reins while she clamped her feet hard in the stirrups. Cadarn allowed his head to be brought up but as soon as she relaxed the tension slightly to turn him, he dragged his head down again. You stupid horse. You stupid horse, she said. I am cold and I don’t want to be a wolf’s dinner. Please, Cadarn? Please? I want to go home.

Where is home, Gwennan?

Ieuan, she cried. "Diolch i Dduw, she snapped, recovering her dignity. I thought I was going to have to stay here all night with this stupid horse."

"It is no good blaming your horse, blodyn, he has less sense than a newborn calf. He will do what you command. If you cannot command, he will not follow."

I have commanded him! she hissed. He is deaf. And stubborn.

Bring his head up or he will eat until he dies of it.

What do you think I have been trying to do? She clenched the reins in her hands and pulled with all her strength.

That is not the way, Gwennan, Jehan-Emíl said, urging Coquette nearer. If he is stubborn, you are more so. Pulling is no command he understands. Sit up, take the reins in one hand.

I do not want a lesson. I want to get out of this corner.

You will have to learn. I may not always be here to find you before the wolves have their fill. Relief overwhelmed him, choked him. His knowledge of Gwennan and his faith in Siriol had turned him east to follow the track leading to the church, following evidence that a horse and rider had preceded him. He has no brain to think. He cannot know what you mean. He understands what he has been taught. Slacken the reins and then draw them to the left over his neck. Not hard, definite.

Ach, such fine distinctions. He is only a stupid horse.

He is only a stupid, well-trained horse, her husband laughed.

Gwennan slackened the reins and then drew them across Cadarn’s neck.