No one noticed her arrival, for which she was thankful. As she listed to the discussion at hand, she realized why she went unobserved.

“The Scot king promised aid and I will not take retribution against Marshall until they arrive. They’ll bring the additional men we need.”

“But father,” David said, “you cannot let Marshall get away with this atrocity. He killed many of our men and took our fief. We need to strike now when he least expects it.”

Her father pounded his fist on the table. “Enough! Do you deem he doesn’t expect us to march to our keep and take it back? He is always prepared. We need more men and until the Scots arrive, we will remain patient.”

“You’ll let him get away with attacking our people and fief? How many times must we allow him to walk away? We’ve been more than patient.”

Her father grew angrier as his eyes glared at David, and Emlyn became concerned for her brother. Their father was not one to question and her brother would be in dire trouble if his mood grew darker. Her brother would end up in the dark-stall in the garrison, where her father placed those who dared refute his orders. David would do well to keep quiet, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She kicked him beneath the table to give him the silent message.

“Owww, Emlyn, that hurt. What’d ye do that for?” He gave her a glare.

“Sorry,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on her trencher.

“I am not letting him get away with anything. I will attack when the time is right.” Her father’s voice took on that tone, gruff and undeniably fearsome.

And yet she sensed he was concerned for she watched him closely and noticed his face downcast with worry lines, and his normally shining eyes staid. She knew well enough to stay away from him when he was in a mood.

The rest of the meal passed in utter silence. Emlyn ate very little, but was sated. She caught the gaze of her mother and kept averting her eyes. Her sister, Suzanna, kept her mother busy with talk of garments and such nonsense. Goddess Arianhod love her.

After supper, Emlyn snuck back out of the keep and went to find Branwyn. She’d been able to escape the keep before her mother asked after her or assigned her a mundane task. Branwyn was outside her cottage hanging launder behind the small home she shared with her parents and brother.

Emlyn whistled their secret call to give alert. When Branwyn didn’t respond, she took a rock and tossed it nearby, and finally she turned. Her friend shook her head and Emlyn waved her forward.

“Come,” she whispered loudly.

“Shhh. I cannot. Go away.” Bran flapped her hand at her as if she was swishing away a fly. She hung up the last of the garments and picked up the basket.

Emlyn hastened to her and pulled her arm, causing her to drop the basket and to run alongside her. When they were far enough away from the cottage, Emlyn veered off the path and took the secret trail deep in the woods.

“You’re going to get me in trouble. I vow if I am punished, so shall you be.”

Emlyn flashed a grin. “We need to meet Delyth. She said she would meet us by the waterfall. ‘Tis hot enough for a swim and the lake should be high enough what with the recent rains.” By the time they found their friend, dusk settled on the land. Emlyn couldn’t wait to remove her garments and did so as soon as she reached the large rock by the bank.

The lake was small, but surrounded with lush plant life and a rocky incline. She always enjoyed being there, and rejoiced at the serenity it brought to her. It was rumored to be a magical place, where one’s soul could be soothed and injuries healed. Emlyn believed in such folklore for she’d seen it firsthand. Her grandfather proclaimed to be a close friend to the legendary wizard, Merlin. He’d performed magic of his own and verily impressed her.

Emlyn jumped upon the rock and waited for her friends to join her. “Hasten, come on. I’m not awaiting you much longer.”

Both Branwyn and Delyth added their garments to the pile and joined her on the rock. They clasped hands and jumped in together. The water was the deepest near the large rock and well over their heads. Emlyn rejoiced as the cool water took away the heat and sweat of the day.

She swam toward the waterfall, and ducked her head under the fast-moving streams. “Ah, the cauldron of rebirth.” Emlyn loved this place and its enchanted aura. Pair Dadeni was said to be the place of the Gods and a person could be saved from death if placed in the water. Fortunately, they’d never had to test that forsooth.

Delyth joined her and floated nearby, her long light-brown hair lay upon the top of the water. “It was a fair idea to come. I vow this day was the hottest yet.”

Branwyn came up from beneath the water and used the waterfall to flatten her unruly hair. “I had to do chores all day, except when Emlyn stole me away to practice her archery. I vow this does feel good. But if we get caught—”

Emlyn splashed her friend and laughed when she returned it. “No one knows we come here. Besides, all fear this place. There’s no way we will be caught.”

“What of the army coming? Do you deem they’re close?” Branwyn asked skeptically.

“How do you know about that?” She didn’t consider her father would allow such news to be shared amongst the clan. At least not yet.

“My father was discussing it with my mother at supper. He’s angry that our lord would call on others to fight our war. He deems we can take care of our own troubles.”

Delyth scoffed. “I for one think our lord is doing what’s best. He cares about us and wants to protect us. I’m gladdened they will have help.”

Emlyn narrowed her eyes. How ignorant they were of her father’s true nature. He did care about his people, but his lands and fiefs were more coveted. Her father was ruthless when it came to battle and merciless against his enemies. His only challenge was William Marshall of late. He lived and breathed to one day meet his nemesis face to face.

Emlyn floated in the water and listened to her friends’ chatter.

Delyth scooped water and leaned back against a rock. “I want to be betrothed to someone who looks akin to our leader.”

Emlyn laughed, for her friend had an odd infatuation for her father. “Ewww, really, Del, he’s older than a saint’s bones.”

“I said akin to, not the very man.”

Branwyn chuckled. “My Cranog pleases me and I couldn’t be happier.”

Hearing them speak of betrothals, made her regard her own. She was forced to agree to take Bevan and eventually came to accept him. If he hadn’t died, she’d be married by now and likely spending her days tending to her husband’s needs. What a disdainful life.

She would rather be trussed up like a Michaelmas goose than spend her days in such an existence. If she had to watch one more demonstration on how to properly replace the rushes, how to effectively dye bedding, how to sew a straight line, she’d be waylaid. Her sword and daggers were more coveted than kitchen ladles or sewing needles.

“What are you thinking about? You’re afar from us.” Branwyn snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Come back to us, Emlyn.”

“My sword,” she said, and laughed when both her friends rolled their eyes. “And my goal of joining my father’s soldiers in war.”

Branwyn sent a splash at her and caused her to gain her feet. “Do you deem he’ll let you? He coddles ye and only that. He’ll never allow you to war with his men.”

She splashed Bran back and hastened away before she could retaliate.

“You should be thinking about finding a man,” Delyth said, “like I am.”

“I had a man but alas no longer.”

“Do you deem your father won’t betroth you again? None of us are free. And besides, do you not wish to be with a man? I do. I wish to experience for myself what the ladies speak of. I would that he speaks of beautiful poetry akin to the bards.”