Spindle and Dagger - J. Anderson Coats Page 0,67
never could and neither can I, because in truth, there is no place for me here.
Ordinary is waiting for me in Dyfed.
I find Isabel spinning in the dooryard on one of the hall benches. I join her in the birdsong and sunlight, and I snap off a long stem of grass. Somewhere to the south, William and David are playing ball. Not Miv may be taking her first steps, and I have not yet come back.
“I wonder how long till Owain returns,” I muse.
“I hope he never returns. I hope his ship sinks and he dies in terror.” Isabel peers at me sidelong. “It can now, yes? Since you’re not with him?”
I want badly to turn my eyes Heavenward and beg Saint Elen that it not be from Isabel’s lips to God’s ears. Instead I toy with the stem and say, “If I’m in Dyfed looking after Nest’s children, I’ll never be near Owain again. Gerald of Windsor will make very certain of that. It’s a long way from here, though. I’m not sure I know the way. Once Owain’s back, he’ll never let me out of his sight again.”
Isabel jumbles her spinning in her lap. “What if I send one of my swordsmen with you? Give you food for the journey? I can do that. You-know-who can’t stop me.”
An armed escort. That’s even better than I hoped for. “My lady! That’s so kind of you! I can be ready to leave right away.”
“What, now?” Isabel makes a dismissive gesture and untangles her leader yarn. “Before you-know-who learns that you’re here under my protection and there’s nothing he can do about it? No, I want him to stew in that a while. Also, don’t call me my lady when he’s around. It’ll irk him sorely to hear you call me Isabel.”
“But Owain will be back soon!” Too panicky. I force my voice calm. “I doubt he’ll go straight to Powys like he was told. He’ll come get me first.”
Isabel smiles, coy and playful. “Don’t you worry. We’ll be sure you’re gone before he lands. Besides, I’m not afraid of Owain. My wolfhound is more clever.”
It’s only been a day. I’d planned to pass a short while here anyway. A little longer won’t hurt, but knowing Nest and the children are waiting makes it hard to nod along.
Beside me, Isabel hums a little tune as she spins. She doesn’t know Owain like I do. She has no idea what Saint Elen means to him, how deep down it goes, and what he’ll do to get her protection back.
THE NEXT DAY IS FAIR, AND ISABEL WANTS TO GO FOR a walk along a deer path. She chatters about Henry and how much she misses him, but I can’t keep from looking over my shoulder every other pace, listening for hooves at the approach.
“Cadwgan must have heard by now,” I say, letting the idea hang between us, but Isabel scoffs and takes my hand and swings it.
“You worry too much. Come, just enjoy the day.”
In one breath she misses her baby. In the next she’s telling me to enjoy the day. Perhaps later she’ll complain about bland stew, like worse things don’t happen to the daughters of fallen kings and slain drovers alike.
The linens are finally dry, and Isabel has the servants make up the bed, so at least we have the prospect of a decent night’s sleep. But I lie awake staring at the curtains and wondering whether Rhys has made it to the coast, whether he’s already sailed with the tide, whether he’s even made it out of Powys without being slain by someone’s warband.
The days linger and crawl. My yarn is a mess. I tap my foot. I go to the privy every other moment, walking slow past the gate and straining my ears for footfalls.
Isabel frowns at me over her neat skeins. “That’s very tiresome, you know. All your fidgeting.”
“Then send me to Dyfed,” I say, and it’s all I can do to ask and not plead.
“It’s hurtful, too. Like you can’t wait to leave.”
I flutter a smile. “Please forgive me. You’ve been most kind.”
“I’ll let you go soon, I promise. I’d have you-know-who truly squirm. Besides, we’re having a nice time together, aren’t we? We’re all but kin, you know.” Isabel smiles like she can’t wait to say that in front of Cadwgan.
There was a time when I thought being close to Isabel would solve everything. If this kind of self-serving excuse for company and showy, false companionship