She looked back at Greta. ‘Thank you, again.’
Greta’s smile lit up her brown eyes.
Anwen chose a piece of cheese. When it stayed down, she felt a faint glimmer of hope. Despite everything, she was healing. Soon, she could return home and everything would be set aright again.
* * *
‘I thought I’d find you here.’ Rhain climbed the last two stairs to the top of the outer bailey tower.
Despite the cold, Teague stood just beyond the torches’ flames so he could remain in the shadows. It was easier to watch his men this way. It was also easier to hide that he stood alone while they walked the cold night in camaraderie. He had long become accustomed to being a voyeur to the life they led.
‘Ffion says Anwen is recovering, but she still needs to stay a sennight,’ Rhain said.
News of the woman again, who was as obscure to him as the darkened forest beyond the courtyard. Was it she who made him aware of his solitary life?
‘Well?’ Rhain prompted.
‘Let Ffion have her say in this.’
‘It may be easier, but I wonder.’ Rhain shrugged. ‘Ffion is not as she was.’
‘You left when you were a child,’ Teague reminded him.
‘True. But what about tonight’s episode during dinner. Has it happened before?’
Ffion’s episodes, as well as her anger and unintelligible murmurings, were worsening since his brother’s return. He worried for her. ‘Yes, it has happened before, but tonight it was mild.’ Teague pulled his cloak tighter around him. The ground was already hardening with frost, his breath gusted out in front of him. He hadn’t been aware of the cold until his brother arrived.
‘It was as if something upset her.’
‘Christmas approaches. Though Ffion is fierce on celebrating Christ’s birth, there are those who celebrate more than the Christian traditions. It is a battle she doesn’t like to lose.’
‘You once wrote to me about the Mari Lwyd. Is she still arguing about that?’
‘Every year,’ Teague said. ‘Ffion insists the decorated horse skull with white linen is to celebrate the Virgin Mary and should come at the end of the Christmas season in January.’
‘But the villagers...’
‘Still bring it out at the end of harvest on Martinmas. When we slaughter the animals for winter, there’s always celebration.’
‘Wassailing? I could see how that would worsen her condition.’
‘It does.’ Teague nodded. ‘Since Martinmas approaches, I am glad you are here.’
‘For all her faults, at least her stubbornness proves she’s family.’
Ffion had shown Teague only stubbornness and animosity. Though he never doubted she was family, it wasn’t what secured her home at Gwalchdu. It wasn’t the reason why he protected her, when her episodes became noticeable, and the Church made enquiries.
No, it didn’t matter if his aunt hated him, most people did. He would protect her; he would pay off the Church and their damning enquiries because he would be for ever in his aunt’s debt.
‘Stubbornness is no doubt what gives her strength,’ he said.
‘Well, the battle of winter traditions will certainly make for an interesting Christmas,’ Rhain said.
No one ever won, but Teague ensured Ffion’s wishes were obeyed and that the villagers hid their pagan ritual. It was the least he could do for his aunt.
He’d been a mere boy when his mother gave birth to Rhain and, as a result, he was barred from her birthing chamber. But Ffion had been by her side, tending to her in those last hours. Knowing what he knew of Ffion’s skill now, he had no doubt she’d waged war to save his mother’s life.
‘It seems as if her condition worsens.’ Rhain sighed raggedly, his breath visible in front of him. ‘I knew she wasn’t well when she approached the table. I could see the whites of her eyes and she was sweating profusely.’ Rhain wrapped his arms around him and patted his sides as if beating off the cold. ‘But her prayer! I couldn’t understand a word she said.’
When Teague had paid his respects to his mother, he hadn’t known what to expect. He’d been but five years old and within hours witnessed his mother’s heart breaking and heard her pain-filled labour. Yet when he saw her lying there in the bed all he saw was peace.
Ffion had given his mother peace in the last moments of her life.
‘Tonight, you had a calming effect on Ffion.’ Teague tilted his head. ‘When it happened before, I stepped in, but her rage worsened and she was dragged out of the Hall.’
There was a part of him that still believed as the child did, that Ffion, in order to give her sister peace, had taken the grief and pain as her own. For ever after, Ffion was never the same. Her countenance was lit with some wrathful vengeance he couldn’t understand.
But he didn’t need to understand everything. He understood what mattered most. That he owed his aunt a debt he wished he could pay. And he hated that she suffered.
‘It’s almost unbearable to see her so altered,’ Rhain said.
Teague couldn’t disagree. Ffion was the only family they had left. Over the years her episodes continued and so did her demands for control and order.
Just like the demands she made now when it came to Anwen of Brynmor. He stamped his feet against the cold seeping into his shoes. Instead of ruminating on the past, and freezing his toes in the process, he should be searching for Gwalchdu’s weakness and the enemy.
He should be scanning the forest beyond for a fire. If Anwen wasn’t his enemy, or was only an accomplice, the main perpetrator would still be nearby. On a cold night such as this, a fire would be necessary.
But the darkness beyond Gwalchdu’s walls was complete. So Teague turned his attention to the barbican. There were two guards above the gate and two standing next to the closed portcullis. Such manpower was excessive, but the threats could not continue.
And though his aunt’s demand for Anwen to stay had been made with the greatest disdain, it was a simple request to agree to. In fact, he wouldn’t want it any other way.
‘Let the woman stay the sennight,’ Teague said. ‘But I want a guard at her door.’
Rhain glanced at Teague. ‘A guard at Anwen’s door? I wonder you do not apply this to all passages.’
Teague shot him a look.
Rhain shrugged. ‘She won’t like it, but it would do more harm to move her and no harm will come of her staying.’
Teague’s mouth twitched. ‘No harm? What of the threats and the fact she is not from Gwalchdu, but an enemy’s manor?’
‘We haven’t received any messages attached to a slaughtered animal since the day we brought her here.’
‘There were weeks between messages before and the villain still won’t show himself.’
‘It is all very odd. The messages never demand anything, neither money, nor horses, nor services. There’s never a pattern to their appearance. Everything we’ve been taught about an enemy doesn’t apply, except the slaughtered animals and the threat of your death, which is always there.’
Teague leaned over the rampart to feel the burst of cold night wind. Everything Rhain said was true. The enemy didn’t follow any normal pattern. He couldn’t negotiate to stop the threats when he didn’t even know who to negotiate with. Until the enemy revealed himself, Teague was a warrior in a ghostly war. His sword