Chapter Six
Emlyn wasn’t usually fearful of soldiers, for she trained with them daily. But the Scottish warriors who stood in the hall were far brawnier than she would have thought. Try as she might to keep her eyes on her father’s back as instructed by her mother, she couldn’t and peeked at each of the men.
Their leader looked as fierce as her father. Next to him stood a tall, muscular warrior and his face held such appeal. She hadn’t meant to look so long, but couldn’t resist, for his face had a strong jaw line, clear of whiskers, and verily had to be hard to the touch. A rich shade of brown hair reached his shoulders and likely hadn’t been cut in sometime. His nose was long and straight and appeared unbroken from any previous brawl. It was his eyes that held her. For she looked straight at him, and his brown eyes stared back.
Never one to back down from a challenge, she had no choice but to concede. For if her mother caught her looking at the man, she’d scold her for a week. That was the last thing she wanted. Her mother’s voice could be grating.
With all their company, her mother and sisters would be kept busy enough, leaving her to her own will. As her mother gave her instructions for the day, Emlyn trailed behind her siblings. Thankfully she’d slackened her step and after her mother’s tirade, she caught the end of her father’s speech. They’d train with his soldiers. An excitement built within her chest for she wouldn’t mind going against them, especially the dark-haired warrior.
Emlyn went to the chamber that she shared with her sisters to change into her training attire. Her mother had insisted she wear a gown for the meeting. She detested the garments, mostly because they were all hand-me-downs from her sister, Suzanna, and itched akin to the devil. One day she’d have her own garments, made for her, which wouldn’t show her ankles and would be soft against her skin. If she cared to wear such attire.
She pulled on the breeches she’d taken from David, and the tunic she’d taken from Griffen. Both her brothers cared not about such things and didn’t remark when they’d seen her wearing their clothes. Everyone had vacated the floor where they slept and Emlyn passed by her parent’s solar, when she heard them talking. Their voices raised in discord.
She hid in the recess of the wall, where the torch was placed, and listened. Oftentimes it was the only way she and her siblings found out about anything, for her parents were oft tightlipped about news.
“Aye and if I agree, she’ll be taken to him immediately.”
Her mother gasped. “Llywelyn, her reputation has reached all the way to England? How is this possible?”
“One of the men told me a traitor was amongst Marshall’s men before he died. I know not who, but the lass was mentioned by name in the betrothal pact. Marshall wants none other than Emlyn. I cannot allow it no matter what threats he makes. Let him come with his entire army. I care not.”
Her mother’s shrill voice rose, “You shan’t jest about this. You would allow one measly daughter to endanger us all? I say let her go.”
Emlyn grew tense at their words and realized what they alluded to. The monster wanted her?
“If I decide to accept his proposal, I will not send Emlyn. We’ll send Suzanna or Anhard. They both would make a more acceptable wife.”
Her mother groaned. “Do you not see? He doesn’t want an acceptable wife. He wants her because of what he’s heard about her. I deem this is your fault. Aye, you’ve allowed her to train at war, allowed her to dress as a lad. You dote on her as if she were a son. She is a woman now and shouldn’t be doing such dreadful things. If anyone goes, it shall be her.”
“I know, my love. It is my fault, but I could not help but encourage her pursuits. She charmed me and I love the lass. It will break my heart to send her away.”
“But you must. I will not allow us to be put in danger because of her. If you deem our marriage will save us, I think not. My uncle, England’s king, will care not for our relations. And neither will Marshall, who verily has his support.”
Emlyn stopped listening. She walked slowly toward the stairs, in shock and dismay at what their discussion alluded to. A grin switched her lips though in hearing her father’s kindly words of her, but then she frowned, realizing her jeopardy. Her father would betroth her to the monster.
Oh God.
In dejection, she kept walking until she reached the back exit of the keep and went toward the stables. Inside, she freed Aled, and the huge hound rose up and put his feet on her shoulders and licked her face.
“Ah, my handsome fellow, you want out.”
In a secret compartment of wood where her hound was kept, she removed her sword and other war instruments. If her mother found her weapons, she’d take them away. It was her father’s suggestion that she hide them in the stable. He’d even given her mail and a small helmet to use. She put on the mail, covering her dark tunic, and then pulled on a helmet, ensuring her hair tucked well up into it so no one would see it.
With the heavy mail against her breasts, she knew none would suspect she was a female. She could’ve laughed, for most of the time her father’s men didn’t know they fought against her. If they had, they would’ve forfeited, and that would have upset her. Only her brothers were aware she trained with them and they never told anyone her secret.
That had ended the day she bested Rhun and her father praised her in front of his men. Since, she hadn’t trained with the men because she’d been distracted with making amends with Branwyn and keeping her mother content.
Emlyn snapped her fingers, and Aled followed her outside. He was the best pet a lass could ask for. He was extremely loyal, and protected her fiercely. The only time she worried for him was when the owl came. Emlyn looked above and as if on cue, the feathered beast came flapping her wings.
“Good morn, Iola. Aye, your friend awaits you.” The owl landed on Aled’s back and he galloped away, through the gate, and toward the hills. “I shall see you this eve,” she called to them.
She would see neither of them the rest of the day. Emlyn wondered how a hound befriended an owl, for their friendship was indeed odd. But she allowed Aled to have his friendship, and went on toward the training fields.
As she approached, she saw the hundreds of Scottish warriors standing about, getting ready to join her father’s thousands. The only way she could tell the difference betwixt the two armies was that her father’s men wore blackened mail and tunics with a large red dragon as embellishment on the front.
The Scotsmen wore many colors of garments, some matching those they stood around, and she learned most northern clans wore alike colors. They didn’t wear any mail.
This day would be exciting, and she hoped to avert her mind from her parent’s discussion. She’d work out her frustration on the field and would verily feel much better. At least the warriors would be good sport. Emlyn hurried to stand with her brothers and gave them a nod.
“You’re late. I would’ve thought you would have been here by now,” David said, laughing and knew well that she wanted to fight with their visitors.
“I’m surprised she wasn’t here at dawn,” Griffen remarked dryly.
“Sorry, I was detained. Who leads the training this day?”
David turned and nodded. “I do. Come, we’ll begin.” He marched off and assembled various leaders to give instruction on the various tactics they’d take to.
Emlyn was put in the same group as her elder brother, Griffen, and was glad because he wasn’t as concerned for her as David. He allowed her to take to combat with any weapon she chose and any partner. David, on the other hand, often chose the weapon and partner for he didn’t have as much faith in her.