Keeper of the Legend: The Keeper Saga: Book One

By T.L. Kitchens

Their betrothal ended the war, but his battle has just begun...

Forced to accept the betrothal of her Norman conqueror, Lord Ronin, the Welsh heiress Lady Asclynn is outraged when he asks her father for more time to consider all his options. As Ronin heads to the king's court to look for a Norman heiress, Lady Asclynn heads in the same direction to find his replacement. Because he never spared the time to meet her in person, he does not recognize her when she arrives at court disguised as the beguiling Lady Anne, not a Welsh heiress, but a Norman with nothing to offer but herself. His goal is to find any other option than the Welsh bride that awaits him, and her goal is to find any Norman lord strong enough to defeat her conqueror. But fate will force them to realize that there is only one that truly fits each of their hearts, no matter the blood that pumps through it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.L. Kitchens
• Release date: Sep 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310156021

Book preview

Keeper of the Legend

Book One of The Keeper Saga

T. L. Kitchens

Copyright 2015 T. L. Kitchens

Published by T. L. Kitchens at Smashwords

www.TLKitchens.com

Smashwords Edition License Notes - This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Cover artwork by Nathan Skreslet

Portfolio at: http://nskresle.wix.com/graphicportfolio

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Preview of Book Two: Keeper of the Keepers

About the Author

www.TLKitchens.com

Chapter 1

1100 A.D., Castle Gwent, Wales

He'll be giving you a beating for sure, my lady. This isn’t wise.

Oh, silence yourself, Edith. I was only three and ten then and he has not punished me like that for almost eight years now. Besides, this meeting concerns me and I must hear what is said in order to best protect my people. Asclynn made a fist to conceal her shaking hand from Edith's observant eyes. Her handmaid had always been afraid of Asclynn's adventurous nature, and shaking hands would not help convince the young woman that what they were about to do was right.

Aye, my lady, it has been quite a few years since your father has taken his hand to your backside, but if I recall it all clearly, it was but for this very same offense. Edith followed behind Asclynn like a small shadow through Castle Gwent's hidden corridors, nagging all the while. The stone walls that trapped in her sharp echoing voice were damp and forbiddingly dark, even now in the summer months, and the two spattering candles they carried barely made a difference. It was difficult to breathe the thick air that hung heavily about them like a sagging pennant crying out for a strong breeze, but that didn't deter Edith's chatter in the least. Please, Lady Asclynn, there be no way this will work. You'll never be able to get back to the hall when he calls for you without getting yourself all soiled. Then what will your future husband think of you, with webs snarling up your black curls and mud on your skirts? The Red Hand's not a man to take kindly to such unsightliness.

Don't call him that, Asclynn snapped.

It's what everyone in Wales calls the bastard.

Edith!

Well it's true. Edith was not at all repentant for her insolence. She acted as if nothing wrong had been said at all. Her ever-efficient hand darted out to fuss with one of the long ringlets she had arranged with such care around Asclynn's face that morning. Asclynn shooed her away with a few harmless taps. It seemed Edith couldn't decide what to worry over most, Asclynn's bum being reddened or her hair looking immaculate for 'the bastard'. Asclynn really didn't care about either. She knew it wasn't the exorbitant cost of the velvet on the dress that would sway Lord Ronin de Furlwick in his decision. Her title and the allegiance it brought with it was all he wanted.

They called him the Red Hand, a common sight it was said, after he finished all his battles with the Welsh. He had surged forward into their fair lands faster than any other Norman conqueror, and Gwent's neighbors had all fallen before his blade one at a time, like wheat being harvested with a sickle. Now Gwent's time had come. He was finally upon them, but this was his last battle and he had not arrived with a sword. His unstoppable legions of Norman warriors surrounded Gwent at that very moment in a show of force that left nothing to be pondered, and left her no choice but to take his offered proposal of peace.

This is very serious, Edith. I will explain this to you once again, and if you still don't understand, I’ll take my hand to your backside,she said with a chuckle. It was not much of a threat, for they had grown up as friends since childhood and Edith knew Asclynn would never harm a living soul. I really must hear what is said between my father and Lord Ronin so that I appear well informed when I meet him. All our lives depend on this marriage, Edith. I need your help now more than ever. Asclynn swallowed down the distasteful image of her deflowerment that the words marriage and Lord Ronin brought up. It was still more tolerable than the image of Gwent’s people strewn and mangled in their own blood on their home soil. She inhaled fresh strength to see her through this day. I already have the key to the hidden entrance. All you have to do is hold the door open while I'm inside.

Asclynn held her candle up to Edith's face to judge her response. Edith's wispy blond brows, which were such a contrast to Asclynn's striking black, were furrowed over Edith's equally placid eyes. She was still reluctant, but at least she was nodding her agreement this time. Come on then, Asclynn said with a smile, tugging her along quickly by the wrist to make sure they were in the room before Edith changed her mind again.

I see now why your father lets you be in making your own decisions. Edith's tart remarks kept pace with their quick steps. Would matter not what he said to you anyway. Seems nothing goes through that thick head of yours except--

Asclynn turned abruptly and stopped Edith's chattering with the look of the hawk narrowing its sights on a pesky mouse. Please, Edith, Asclynn asked pleadingly. If I truly had my way in picking a husband for myself it would not be Lord Ronin, and I would not be sneaking through this decaying passageway. Asclynn’s nerves were already frayed and painful from her choices. There was not much patience left in her but she put one her best smile to help Edith relax. I need to see him and hear his words before I meet him face to face. I have to be prepared. She said it to Edith and she had repeated it to herself for days since the offer had arrived, but she was still not ready to meet him. How did one prepare for the end of a happy life? To be ravaged and abused when she had known only warmth and love from her father.

Do not turn them soft green emeralds of yours on me to get your way, Edith countered. You would not be in this predicament now had you chosen that bull of a man, Lord Ronald. When will you accept the facts of marriage for what they are? The uniting of forces, not hearts.

I know that now, Edith. I don't fancy myself in love with Lord Ronin. He is a conqueror come to our lands with a lust for battle, but he has offered us peace. I respect that. We cannot stop him and neither could Ronald.

And if he cares only for the land and not a bit for you?

All that matters to me now is Gwent’s protection and nothing more. If he speaks only of land, that is fine with me. Even better. A marriage on parchment and peace for Gwent is enough to keep me content for life.

I have never known you to be satisfied with just half of anything.

I would do it for our people. So would you if our places were reversed. Asclynn stopped and took Edith’s hand in a soft squeeze that showed their friendship would hold through anything. Now keep walking, less talking. Your jabbering is only waking the rats down here. Asclynn smiled as Edith's attention shifted from her to the ground. The skittish young woman suddenly became quite silent.

They traversed the remainder of the dank stone corridor, ducking under sticky white webs and around dark, stagnant puddles of water, until they came to the huge wooden door that led to the back of her father's meeting chamber. She took the key from her bodice and slowly turned it in the old, rusty lock. It creaked and clanked like an armored knight too long without the services of a squire, but finally it clicked and the door latch released. It had been quite some time since anyone had used the entrance. The metal hinges groaned as she opened the door fully, and the swollen wood scraped against the rough stones that made up the arched doorway above her head. It took all her strength to push it open and the leverage of her body to keep it that way.

Stand here and hold it open, she softly instructed Edith, who was already shaking her head again. You must close it exactly at the same time I make my entrance through the front doors. Please tell me you support me in this?

Oh, Lady Asclynn, I don't know--

It's done already. We are in and I'll not turn back now. Asclynn positioned Edith in front of the door to take her place as doorstop. Pulling one more reluctant nod from her helper with a sweet smile, she cautiously stepped into the room.

Asclynn gathered the flowing fabric of her train in close to her body. She was careful not to touch the creamy blue gown against the soot-encrusted wall behind her. Her loose mass of black curls was the indicator of her limits from behind, and her breasts brushing against the hanging tapestry confined her from the front. One small side-step at a time, she moved toward the old tear in the decorative hanging behind her father's chair. As long as Lord Ronin took the cushioned chair opposite her father's, she would have an excellent view of him and be able to judge for herself whether she could bear to be his wife.

Many things had she heard about Lord Ronin, but she only allowed herself to believe a few of them. This time she did not have to worry about her imagination running wild with the grand possibilities of love. It was fear that she had to push back with the strength of her shoulders alone, for there was no other to help her with this final battle. Every person in Gwent would be spared the slash of Lord Ronin's powerful battle sword for the mere price of her hand...and her body. She could do this, she encouraged herself. How badly would he abuse his wife? All wounds eventually healed.

Her spine suddenly stiffened and she froze in silence when a creak echoed out from the wooden doors at the front of the chamber.

Please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for my daughter. She heard her father's voice, but she could not believe his words. How could he call for her now, before they had even discussed anything?

She started to move back toward the door with hasty steps, trying desperately to keep her pale gown away from the blackened wall behind her with little care for the lumps and waves she was making in the tapestry in front of her. Halfway to the door, she paused at the fringed opening between the hanging tapestries to peek out into the chamber.

Her breath only went halfway down her throat. Her eyes failed to blink for several seconds. The only part of her body moving at all was her pounding heart, and it was thundering fast enough to pull a wagonload of gold all the way to the king's coffers.

Lord Ronin was not at all what she had expected from all the battle tales she had heard. He was unmistakably a Norman warrior, with his flowing shoulder-length brown sun-streaked hair and clean-shaven face. And that face. It held a harsh beauty akin to the jutting crags of the Welsh countryside she loved so much. Harsh yet warm and protective, stark yet striking in its subtle strength. He did not seem like a man who gained his wealth and standing by ravishing peaceful countrysides. For his thirty-one summers he actually looked quite young, not at all the gruff, weathered warrior she had been prepared to sacrifice herself to.

Suddenly, even her heart stopped for a single beat. With purposeful strides that seemed almost like a charge, he headed straight for her hiding place as if he could see right through the tapestry. She gasped the most silent gasp of her life as he came to a halt in front of the crack and seemed to look right through the tasseled edges of the hangings. He was not big. He was massive. Up close he was the broadest, tallest man she had ever seen. She knew not if she should run or stand her ground, but it was not in her nature to ever choose running.

The fabric of her train shook slightly in her trembling hands, but other than that she did not move, did not breathe. In frozen terror, her eyes followed the path of his sword hand. Closer and closer it came to her face until a whiff of aged leather from his wrist guards stirred her senses. She could make out the raised calluses under each of his fingers, and she could almost feel the strength his hand possessed, but she did not see red. His hand was not stained red with Welsh blood.

I've never seen such a beautiful work before. It's finely crafted right down to its border and trim, Lord Ronin said as his hand fondled the thick fabric hanging directly in front of her. Asclynn remained like one of the stones in the wall. Her breath still held tight in her throat.

Aye, that it is. It was made by my dear wife. She is no longer with me, but her beauty and craft have been passed on to our daughter. Asclynn crossed her fingers and hoped her father would stop with his bolstering before he mentioned her most dreaded asset, her title. But I will let you judge her for yourself. Walking slowly back to the front door, her father bellowed out in a firm tone of authority, Edith, bring Lady Asclynn to my meeting chamber immediately.

Upon her father's command, she heard the groaning release of the back door and Edith's slippered feet scurrying down the corridor. Asclynn wanted to make a dash for the door before it closed, but Lord Ronin was still admiring the tapestry design in front of her, and she dared not give away her presence.

Taking one more small step back toward the stone wall was not enough. The back of the tapestry was still touching the front of her bodice. If only he would stop handling it, she thought desperately. Then, exactly the opposite happened. His study of the tapestry got even more intense...and very personal. He leaned forward and examined the border design that hung over her right breast, and he used more than just his eyes.

The very texture of the pattern can be felt as well as seen. It's quite remarkable. Asclynn suddenly felt a wave of dizziness flood through her. She had never been a hair's breadth away from a man's face while he caressed her breast. She had never been handled by any man, and never dreamed her first would be so large with such strong hands.

Asclynn was amazed at the gentleness with which his massive hand worshipped the intricacies of the needlework and inadvertently her sensitive breast just under the fabric. She became so caught up in the feeling she leaned ever so slightly into the tapestry, preparing herself for the kiss she imagined would accompany such an intimate encounter. Her lips brushed softly against the back of the fabric, waiting for the pressure of his.

You called for me, my lord?

Lord Ronin's attention was drawn back to the other side of the room where the front chamber door swung open and a breathless Edith stumbled in, doing a quick little curtsy in her now soiled dress. Asclynn’s breath finally released from her throat in almost a whimper of longing.

I asked you to bring Lady Asclynn to my chambers. Where is she? her father demanded.

I'll fetch her right off, my lord. Edith left with another quick curtsy and slam of the door.

The two men resumed their talk, while Asclynn tried to quiet her erratic breathing.

My visit will be brief, Lord Aldrick. I came only to speak to you about the terms of the betrothal.

I understand and will not keep you over-long. You know how women can be in their preparations, her father joked.

Edging toward the door a little more, her morning scone did a little flip in her writhing stomach when she realized it was useless to even try to get out. The door had closed completely when Edith deserted her station, and Asclynn felt a shaking panic creep up her legs as she looked down at the key in her hand. Edith would never be able to get the latch open without it, and the two men in the room were waiting for her to appear at that very moment.

She said a silent prayer to her favored saint, and then another to Aerfen, the Celtic goddess of fate. Between the two of them, she hoped she would somehow get out of yet another poorly planned adventure.

As luck would have it, the gods were listening after all. The front door swung open for the second time and Edith stepped into the room.

Lady Asclynn says she will meet with you in the garden, my lord. She says it be too beautiful a day to discuss matters indoors. Asclynn smiled silently for Edith's quick thinking. She had kept Edith as her personal maid all these years because they were alike in the cunningness of their minds, if not in their courage for adventure.

You tell Asclynn to come directly to this chamber without further delay. We have no time for these games. Her father's tone did not bode well for her newfound miracle. If they did not leave the room, there was no way she could escape herself.

Do not be too harsh with her, my lord, these are matters to be discussed between us men anyway. Lord Ronin defended her against her father's anger. How sweet, she thought. She had not even met him yet and already she knew he was a man she could definitely sacrifice herself to. He was strong, harshly handsome, chivalrous, and he even appreciated a woman's art. His hands were not red and his clothes not blood-soaked. Little by little, her fears of him were dispelled and replaced with something she could not describe in words, but could feel stir deep in her belly when she looked at him.

His face was fair but slightly golden, a trait that suggested he spent much time out of doors instead of wallowing in castle life under the caresses of painted women. And his ears, they stood out like flowers growing from a rock, his brown-streaked hair neatly tucked behind them. How could so large a man be so complimented by such alluringly small ears, she thought? She stared in a state of wonder as if she had never seen ears on a man before. She got no farther than his mesmerizing ears, when the conversation between the two men again turned back to her.

My daughter has many fine qualities, Lord Ronin, but I must admit that passivity is not her strongest. She'll always let you know of her true wishes, and very truthfully at that. Are you sure you want to battle her instead of my forces? Asclynn did not like the laughing tone her father used concerning her truthfulness or the smirk Lord Ronin replied with. She prided herself on being straightforward. I'm afraid it's my fault, though. I've indulged her since she was a child, for she is all I have left. Her father was suddenly engulfed by the sad emptiness that had so often been his companion since her mother's death. His aging frame sunk down into his cushioned chair, and the rich purple velvet caved in around him.

And I must admit that patience is not my greatest virtue. She need not be present for what I have to say. I have just a few matters to question you about.

Lord Ronin took the seat across from her father, but because she had moved toward the door he was now out of her view. Vexed at not being able to view him any longer, she worked her way back to the small tear behind her father's chair. She had a perfect view again of her future husband. His movements were fluid for such a towering frame, and she was sure not all of his physique had grown out of hard won battles. Some parts of him were purely that way by nature.

A flood of feminine heat rushed through her body again with a shocking alarm to her sensible nature. She had been battling back her fear of him so diligently that she forgot to fight off her fanciful attractions she seemed to develop for all her suitors. Never had she expected to find him likable, let alone attractive, but there was no way she could lie to herself now. Her ears had heard him talk, her eyes had seen him walk, and her body had felt his touch. He was not a murdering conqueror. There was much more to this man than his powerful sword arm. She could hear it in his voice, the way it commanded attention with a silent respect. The way he offered hope in a dealing that looked so grim for them.

Ask me anything. I'll keep nothing from you now that you are to be family. Her father seemed to be just as taken by him.

I'll be blunt and to the point, sir, for my troops grow restless and I haven’t much time to settle this matter. The rich rumble of his words floated through the room and reverberated down her spine like the shock waves of a huge tree felled in the forest. I would know why the lady is so old and not yet married? What other trait besides passivity is she lacking?

Asclynn fell back against the sooty wall as though she had been struck by his mighty fist. What kind of question was that? Why did he not ask of her many fine traits? How dare he ask that, and how dare her father even answer. He might be their conqueror and have them undefendably surrounded at that very moment, but he had no right to show such disrespect. She pursed her lips tightly and took a deep breath through her flaring nostrils.

Again, it's my fault she's not married yet. I've indulged her with her choice of husbands, and until now she has turned them all away. I assure you it is not for lack of suitors that she remains unwed. I've nearly exhausted my stores entertaining the lords who have dared to ask for her hand. Brave men they all be, but Asclynn has not agreed to any offer...until now.

This matter does not really balance on whether or not she approves of me, or I of her. I want no more battles with Wales, and as my wife she can bring me that. Does she understand fully what I offer and expect of her?

What he expected of her? Was it really any different than any other man? Did he think her a woman of no training at all? She held tight to the tapestry hanging and dug her nails into the thick cloth. It was all she could do to keep from jumping out and giving him an earful of her lack of passivity for his dismissing attitude toward her.

Asclynn has accepted your generous offer of peace based on her station and not the fanciful dreams of a young girl. She knows of our tenuous position here at Gwent, and she knows that only an alliance with a strong Norman lord will keep the others at bay, just as your alliance with Gwent will keep our Welsh neighbors from rising up against you again. You are William's strongest, his champion, and that is what we need. It could no longer be put off. I assure you, Lord de Furlwick, you'll find no fault with my daughter once you meet her. Please just wait and speak with her yourself. Asclynn hated the way her father groveled for this man's approval. He so deeply wanted to protect Gwent for her, he was willing to throw his pride and honor at Lord Ronin’s feet.

You may be right, but I fear I'll not have the opportunity today. From your words, I take it you do not know of King William's death?

The Norman king has died? When? Her father's shock was as deep as her own.

A fortnight ago he was killed while hunting with his brother Henry. Henry is now our new king by virtue of being in the right place upon William's death.

I would think their brother, Duke Robert, would take the throne?

Duke Robert will indeed feel as you do and as many of the barons do. But the fact remains that Henry has been crowned king and Robert is still on his way back from the crusades. When he comes, there will be war, and the side one picks now could forever decide his fate. Lord Ronin sat there and put the statement to her father, obviously waiting for his declaration of allegiance.

I'll leave that up to you. As my daughter's husband, I trust you will fight on the right side and we will be on that side along with you.

That brings me to my final point, and I must say I'm glad your daughter has failed to appear. It makes this easier to say without an emotional woman present. From his introduction of the topic, Asclynn was sure this was something she did not want to hear either. Her father waited just as quietly in the chair she hid behind. Because of the change in circumstances in the English court, I require that we put this agreement of marriage on hold.

What? Her father's shout covered Asclynn's own gasp of horror. How could the only man she had ever accepted and that she hadn't even wanted in the first place suddenly reject her? And worse than that, how could he be so disrespectful to her father as to think their verbal agreements had meant nothing? He had made the offer, and they had accepted. There was no turning back as far as she was concerned. She would not have turned back no matter how much she disliked him right now.

King Henry is offering many land charters and alliances with wealthy Norman widows who have holdings in Wales. I made it plain that my offer to you was made to gain peace in Wales through alliance instead of battle. I have all the land I want. I do not wish to spend the rest of my life battling to keep it. Land that belongs to the Welsh who you've slain, Asclynn added silently for him. Lord Ronin's features remained totally calm and superior as he continued with his rejection. If I find favor with my new king, I’ll have more options than just your daughter to consider. Henry will be in Wales to recruit supporters. He’s offering great concessions for their backing against his brother. Being unmarried, I stand a better chance at winning some of those offerings. I might need a few fortnights to choose between my best options, to see if your daughter still contends with a Norman heiress for my needs. If you agree, I’ll consider our arrangement still standing and withdraw my forces based on your word of honor.

Her father finally spoke after a long silence lingered in the room. What you say are the words of a wise man planning his future, and even though I do not like it, I admire it. I will hold you in offer for two fortnights.

How could her father be offering him that grace period? She would not be kept waiting for an arrogant lord while he searched the lands for a better wife to ally with against them. They had not the time to wait, especially now that a new king was taking the throne and throwing heiresses to his champions like chicken feed.

She stood from her crouching position to come around from behind her father and protest on her behalf, but her father's large hand reached behind his chair with the frightening speed of a snake and wrapped firmly around her wrist.

I assure you my daughter will be in understanding as we are. The matter is settled, Lord Ronin. We remain in a truce until you return to claim her lovely hand. He gave a crushing squeeze to that lovely hand as he finished bartering away her life, then he released her, certain of her compliance now that she had been discovered. He had known she was there all along and now she knew that waiting on Lord Ronin was the least of her unwanted fates.

I've heard and do not doubt that your daughter's beauty could draw in many suitors for you, but I also know that I stand to offer you more in the way of protection than most any other Norman lord. You cannot remain sovereign forever.

And my daughter can bring you the peaceful allegiance of half of Wales with her title and bell. No Norman heiress can offer you that. Asclynn cringed at the mention of her bell.

I know first-hand that your castle is not as large as many of your neighbors’, Lord Ronin noted as he looked around at the small size of her father's battle room. Another insult slung their way. And I know that your forces are limited. So why do so many in Wales do homage to you? What protection can you offer them that I cannot?

Marry my daughter and you will learn all about the title that holds their allegiance.

I can gain their allegiance in other ways.

Not without bloodshed, her father said with a sound of pride in his voice, the first she had heard in a very long time. A Norman heiress can only bring you more conquered lands to defend. My Asclynn can give you peace, a place to finally call home, the happiness of a family that you never dreamed possible in this battle-scarred land.

My wishes for a family disappeared with the death of my father. I will be back for Gwent. If I return with a wife, I will also be bringing a suitable husband for your daughter. Her allegiance will be kept close to me. But your lands will be under my protection. Lord Ronin's tone was cold and crisp with the edge of a threat. I'll see if your offer can be matched when I reach Montgomery to await Henry's arrival.

I would think he would make his court at Lord Belleme's Castle Shrewsbury. Is Belleme not in residence there?

That he is, but his daughter, Lady Francine, is in residence at Montgomery. Asclynn heard her father make an understanding hum of agreement, as if it were perfectly acceptable for her betrothed to tell her father of his next conquest. Another disrespect hurled at her father as if he were but a weak thane with no holdings of his own. I've no desire to spend a fortnight in the company of the king's court, but I'll be close enough to learn of all the concessions Henry's offering...and heiresses.

Asclynn fumed with anger that was kept barely in control by the threat of her father's retribution. The two men headed for the door, her father's head bobbing in agreement with Lord Ronin's every word.

I have no desire to ravish your beautiful Gwent.

And we'll give you no reason to, Lord Ronin. We will prepare for your peaceful return.

Lord Ronin's voice was cut off by a quick slam of the door. The lock turned on the other side with a loud click. Her father had quelled her attack. He knew how she would have liked to respond to Lord Ronin's olive branch that was sharpened into a piercing arrow.

She paced back and forth in the double-locked room as she waited for her father to return with his punishment. Even that thought was secondary to the words of that arrogant Norman. He could be the most fearsome conqueror, the most attractive male and unmarried lord in the English realm, and he still was not good enough to even squat at her father's feet. He had no idea of the strength their little castle could command.

She had been wrong in her judgment and swayed by her woman's heart. Blood could be washed away after a battle, but that did not mean it had not been there. His offer of peace was a farce. He still hated the Welsh with every Norman ounce of blood in him. She should have known the death of his father would not be forgiven so easily.

The key turned in the front door latch and her father took two steps into the room. His tired face was stern, but not as angry as she had expected. He reached out with open arms and she fell into them willingly.

Since you already know what has been said between us men today, there's no reason to repeat it. You know as well as I, with the new king making offers of marriage to his strongest lords, we have little choice but to wait. No others will be offering for you before Lord Ronin returns anyway. He said his words calmly and kissed the top of her head.

He cannot do this to you, Father. You are a powerful lord here in Wales and the Normans will never respect you if we give him this boon. We can still fight!

I'm afraid the power I once held is no longer, nor do I care to fight on for that right. I need to find you protection other than that bell. If you marry our biggest threat, then I will die a happy man.

We can still find another to champion us, she declared desperately. Once he withdraws his forces, you can send a contingent to Shrewsbury under the guise of doing homage to the new king, and I can go with them and search out--

Never! her father’s roar was deafening and fiercer than Asclynn had ever experienced in her twenty-one summers. He held her away from him by both arms and shook her slightly. No number of men can protect you there. One look at you, one mention of who you are, and they would throw you on their great banquet tables and claim you before all. His voice rose and his eyes bulged with fury as if he were picturing it happen.

I understand, Father, Asclynn spoke the words and had heard her father’s, but her thoughts were elsewhere. They had never wavered. She was going to find them a stronger Norman...at Shrewsbury.

Her father softened and his touch was once again warm and comforting, as she had always known it. There are not enough knights in Wales to protect you there or here anymore. You are the only joy and beauty left in this land for me, and Lord Ronin is your only hope for life instead of death. I am sorry, but you cannot leave here. I gave my word. My honor is all I have left.

And you are all I have left as well, Asclynn said, then watched him leave the room through the blur of tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. She stood frozen, shaken by his sudden violent outburst. She was willing to fight, to find a way to save their home, to tear her way through the battle lines with her bare hands if necessary. Yet her heart ached for her father every time he spoke of his lost pride and that of Gwent.

When Lord Ronin returned, he would take over the castle, their lives, their people...he would sleep with his new wife in her mother and father’s very chamber. Then where would her father be? And who would he bring back for her to be leashed to for the rest of her life? She could not let this happen to any of them. Her mind’s wheels began to spin as she paced the small battle room.

Lord Ronin would withdraw his forces from around Gwent when he left. They would be free to come and go from their castle once again. She knew where she had to go if she wanted a Norman lord as strong as or stronger than Lord Ronin, but after her father’s vivid warning, the mere thought of it made her sink down into his plush chair for comfort. She stared across at the now empty seat where her dearly almost-betrothed had sat and rejected her and ruined her plan for a happy outcome to all this. She gave her head a hard shake to dislodge his handsome face from her mind.

Shrewsbury Castle was not welcoming, especially to anyone Welsh, and it most certainly was not a place for an unwed heiress to go alone. But Lord Ronin had left her absolutely no choice. Stay and wait for the conqueror to return and claim her with his stained hands, or search out a more palatable alliance of her own. Her heart and body had been prepared for the ultimate sacrifice this morning. How much worse could one Norman be than another?

She let her head rest on her clasped hands and she prayed with all her earthly soul, Watch over me, Mother, as you have for so many years. Guide me safely home from the place you warned me never to go.

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Chapter 2

Asclynn stared out her bedroom window at the bands of wild warriors barraging the castle. They emerged from the surrounding woods that she had always thought of as Gwent’s safety barriers, and their hundreds of bare feet trampled down the once lush blades of grass in the meadow that led the way to the gated entrance of the castle.

The sight before her eyes was frightening enough without the added sounds of the coming battle. Bells rang and foreign-sounding horns screeched through the misty morning air. Amongst the ear-splitting noises came yells from the painted men who danced around the castle walls, calling on their gods for victory or death in an ancient Gaelic tongue. They wore the horns of dead animals on their heads, strapped around their chins with leather ties, and their bodies were painted with stripes and designs of the forest. Many had hair of white that stood on end against nature's pull, just like the hair on the back of her neck.

She backed away from the window and let the thick tapestry fall over the opening in the stone wall, but still the sound of their fury engulfed her room. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere the savages could not find her. Her fear swirled around her like an evil wind she could not find shelter from. Then she saw her mother, and instantly she felt the comforting warmth of her radiant smile.

Come, Apple, it is time for us to go to the cave. Soon you will take my place as the Keeper there. That was all her mother said before she led them from the safety of the castle out into the open meadow among the savage men.

They were like half-men and half-animals, circling all around them. Every time one of the savages lurched forward she thought she and her mother would certainly be devoured, but the men backed out of their path and let them pass, bowing down before them almost reverently.

Through all the chaotic turmoil, she let her mother lead her to the surrounding hills, dense with trees and undergrowth. One more look back at the castle they left behind revealed something new to Asclynn's eyes. A dead man's skull was in the stone nook above the castle gates, a nook that usually housed a silent bell.

Come, Apple, it is time for us to go to the cave, her mother repeated the words and used the pet name only her mother called her by. Asclynn had no desire to return to the cave. It was a forebodingly dark place that hid within its walls the dead of long ago. Her mother called it their haven. Asclynn saw it only as a stifling place of death.

No, Mother. Don't take me there again. I don't want to die today! She pulled and fought her mother's hold, but she couldn't break free. Closer and closer she was pulled to the opening of the cave. She knew once she was inside no one could save