he will be kind to me and the children I give him. He has a home, and a respected position. It is unlikely he will ever lose either. We are well matched, and another man might not have been as accepting of me despite the fine dowry Da has offered.”
Maia nodded slowly. “You have gained some wisdom in these weeks away from us,” she said. “Though we are but a year apart, you seem older to me now.”
Averil laughed. “I do not know if it is wisdom, or the simple acceptance of the facts that stare me in the face now,” she admitted ruefully. And then she laughed softly.
“Well,” Junia put in, “if he cannot be a great lord, or a wealthy man, then it is certainly a good thing that he is handsome, isn’t it?”
Her two elder sisters laughed, and Averil cupped the girl’s face with her hand.
“Is that what you shall seek in a mate, Junia? A beautiful man?”
“I think it a more obtainable goal than a great lord,” Junia murmured dryly.
Maia chuckled. “Clever puss! She may be right.”
“I want a bath,” Averil said. “My nose has become numb to my own stink, and that of the horses we rode. My bottom has turned to leather these past weeks!”
“Yes,” the lady Argel said, overhearing. She turned to Rhys FitzHugh. “You, too, will certainly want a bath, my lord. I will have it made ready. Your wife will bathe you herself. I am happy to say that all of our daughters know how to properly conduct themselves with guests.” She signaled to a servant.
Maia and Junia looked at Averil mischievously. Their eldest sister swallowed hard, but then she said, her voice smooth and calm, “Yes, my lord, it is a wife’s duty to bathe her husband when he needs it. I shall go and oversee to the preparations so that all is done properly. My mother will bring you to me when all is in readiness.” Then, with a brief nod of her head, she glided gracefully from the hall.
“You’ve done better than I would have thought, young FitzHugh,” Lord Mortimer noted with a grin. Then turning to the lady Argel he said, “We will avail ourselves of your hospitality tonight, my lady, and I thank you.”
“Of course, my lord Mortimer. You and your son are welcome. Would you like baths, too? Our daughters and I can see to it.” Her mild brown eyes were twinkling.
Roger Mortimer looked most enthusiastic, but his father quickly said, “We shall wait until we return home, lady, if you can bear with our stink. And again, I thank you.”
The lady Argel tilted her head graciously. “I must go see that the cook has enough for the supper. We were never certain when you would return. Gorawen, go help Averil. Ysbail, I will need your aid. Daughters, go to my solar and rest yourselves. We will leave the hall to the men for now.”
“Those who call the Welsh barbarians have never visited your home, Merin Pendragon,” Lord Mortimer said. “Your wife is most obviously a treasure. And your two women!” He smacked his lips lightly. “How you have managed to keep the peace between them, I do not know.”
“Each has her place in my house and my heart,” the Dragon Lord told his old friend. “They are assured of it, and thus coexist. If they did not they would go, for Argel is my wife, and she is a good woman.”
“But Gorawen has most of your heart, my friend,” Edmund Mortimer said wisely.
Merin Pendragon said nothing, but he did smile briefly.
Gorawen. His wife’s mother, Rhys FitzHugh thought. He could see from where Averil had obtained her looks, but for her green eyes.
“Do you wish us to send for your sister, Rhys FitzHugh?” the Dragon Lord asked. “We will be celebrating your marriage to my daughter for the next few days.”
“We shall celebrate at Everleigh as well,” Rhys answered. “I think it best Mary remain on her own lands. It is a long trip for one so young, and there is no place to shelter but for that ruins. My sister is yet tender.”
The Dragon Lord nodded. He understood. “My son and I shall accompany you and Averil back to Everleigh,” he said. “It will be a fine adventure for Brynn. You have not met him yet. He is a good lad. And strong. Perhaps we might consider a match between your sister and my son one day.”
Clever, Edmund Mortimer thought to himself. Then the Pendragons would have lands in both the Welshry and the Englishry. Old Merin is ambitious of a sudden.
“Mary is too young yet for me to consider matching her, my lord,” Rhys replied.
“She would be lady of Dragon’s Lair,” Merin noted. “Her husband would have his own lands and cattle.”
“My sister is lady of Everleigh. She has lands and cattle in her own right,” Rhys replied. “When she is older we will speak on it, my lord, but I make you no promises.”
“Well said, young FitzHugh,” Lord Mortimer agreed approvingly. He was considering that little Mary might make a fine wife for his youngest son, John. A man had to look after his own, and he had not the influence or wealth of his more powerful Mortimer relations who lived at court.
Merin Pendragon knew his old friend Edmund Mortimer well enough that he understood he would have a rival for little Mary FitzHugh and her lands. But he felt no animosity towards the Englishman. The heiress was a choice bit. As long as one of them won her for their family, and not some stranger, Averil and her husband would be safe.
In the bathing room of the keep the servants were lugging buckets of boiling water and dumping them into the great round, gray stone tub. Gorawen poured a small vial of fragrance into the hot water. The scented steam rose up, wafting the smell of lavender about the chamber. In the hearth the fire burned hot. Averil had already pinned up her long golden hair, and divested herself of her garments save her chemisette.
“Will you help me, Mother?” she asked her parent.
“I think not,” Gorawen said. “You have been well taught and are capable of washing a man by yourself. Because he is your husband you must get into the tub with him, Averil. You, too, need a bath. Besides, it may encourage Rhys FitzHugh to a greater familiarity of your person. Your marriage must be consummated sooner than later, my daughter, and I believe sooner would be best for both you and Rhys.”
“But I thought there were certain things that you wanted me to know, Mother,” Averil protested softly. The idea of getting into a tub with Rhys FitzHugh was startling.
“Aye, there are. But when I consider what I can teach you, I know it is better that Rhys FitzHugh find you as pure a virgin as you really are. Once he has taken his first pleasure of you, and has no doubts as to your innocence, then I shall teach you the many delights a woman can share with her husband, and the pleasure she can give him. Rhys will not be unhappy in his wife, my daughter.” She looked about the room. “The bath is ready. I will go and fetch Rhys. Warm the drying cloths on the rack by the fire, Averil. Have you already forgotten what you have learned?” Giving her daughter a pat of encouragement, Gorawen hurried from the bathing room.
Averil looked about her to be certain all was in perfect readiness. She hung the large clean cloths over the wooden rack by the fire as her mother had instructed her to do. She checked the temperature of the water with her hand. It was quite hot. She moved the little oak steps one more time. With a round tub it didn’t
