"But I will not inherit Gwernach either," Wynne noted, "and yet I love it."

"With God's blessing, child, you will not inherit, but there is always that chance that Dewi may not reach his manhood, or not produce heirs. If that should happen, then you will be Gwernach's mistress. That is a possibility, but the chance of both you and Dewi dying and leaving Gwernach to Caitlin is slight. Your sister is no fool. A shrew, perhaps, but no fool."

"And speaking of that scamp brother of mine," Wynne said, "I have not seen him since my return from the forest. Where can he have gotten to, Grandmother?"

"He said he was going birding this afternoon," Enid answered.

"Did Einion accompany him?"

"Nay, child, it was not necessary. Dewi would have been deeply insulted by such a gesture. You are overprotective of your brother, Wynne. He may yet be a boy, but he is lord of Gwernach nonetheless and should be treated as such. Besides, Einion was giving Mair her riding lesson, and the child would have been heartbroken had she not been able to have it. She loves that fat pony of hers greatly," Enid finished with a smile. Her youngest grandchild was her admitted pet.

Wynne glanced through a window in the hall and frowned. It had become overcast and, although she could see no sunset, the sky was already darkening with impending night. "Einion," she called to the big man as he entered the hall. "Have you seen my brother?"

"Nay, lady, not since he departed, but I shall go into the courtyard and ask. He may be in the stables." Einion returned the way he had come.

"I know it is foolish of me, Grandmother, and I realize I am oversolicitous of Dewi's well-being, but he is my responsibility! If anything should happen to him before he reached his manhood, I should feel that I had failed my parents in my duty to Gwernach. I cannot bear the thought that I should profit at my brother's expense. Can you understand that?" Wynne's usually serene features were distorted with her distress.

"I do understand, my child," Enid assured her granddaughter, but in her heart she was angry at the unkind fate that had burdened this young girl with so much accountability at so young an age. And she was angry at her late son, God assoil him, for Wynne had been his favorite and he had instilled in her a passion for Gwernach that could never be satisfied. It was a hard world in which they lived, and children died easily. That Owain and Margiad had produced healthy children was both a blessing and a miracle; but Dewi and Mair were yet young and vulnerable. If accident or disease took them before their maturity, Wynne could not hold herself responsible, and Enid told her so, squeezing her granddaughter's hand as she spoke to reassure her, but she could see in Wynne's foresty green eyes that although the girl nodded her agreement, she did not really accept Enid 's attempt to set her mind at rest.

Einion returned, saying, "The young lord is not yet back, lady."

Wynne paled and, looking again to the window, said worriedly, "Night has fallen. What if something has happened to Dewi? What if he is lying injured and frightened? We must send out a search party to seek him immediately!"

“Lady,'' Einion told her gently,'' the night is dark and thick with clouds. Were it not so, the young lord could walk home himself once the moon had risen, and should the overcast be dispelled in the next few hours, he may very well do so. I do not believe him injured, for he is a careful lad when climbing, though you may not think it so, knowing him otherwise."

"But he is so little," Wynne fretted. "He is alone and in the dark. We must find him!"

"Einion is right, my child," Enid said matter-of-factly, but in her secret heart she worried too. Still, it would do Wynne no good to know that. Enid signaled the servants to begin serving the evening meal, and shepherded her family to the high board.

Caitlin and Dilys chattered endlessly on as the food was served.

"Do you think," Dilys ventured, "that the lord of Llyn is a handsome fellow? Oh, I hope he is handsome! I cannot bear that which is ugly."

"What difference does it make?" Caitlin snapped. "If his purse is full, if he is generous to you, and if his lance is mighty and he gives you pleasure, what care you if he is handsome? In your marriage bed in the dark it will make no difference, you silly goose."

"But if he is disfavored, sister, even in the dark I will know it," Dilys persisted.

"Then you are a greater fool than I ever believed possible, Dilys," Caitlin said unkindly, not even noticing the hurt tears that sprang into Dilys's soft blue eyes. "I care not if my lord of Coed is as plain as mud, or has the wit of a flea, as long as his purse is endless and he denies me nought."

"How can you say such a thing, Caitlin?" Wynne said angrily. "Our mother, God assoil her sweet soul, and our grandmother have certainly not taught you so."

"Margiad's mother, your other grandmother," Enid said dryly, "was even more selfish than Caitlin is. I remember her well. She bore her husband three sons and two daughters, both of whom were sweet-natured by some miracle. Dilys is very much like your mother's sister, for whom she is named. She died at eleven. That Dilys was also a younger sister who lacked intellect, but the sister she followed was a better influence than Caitlin is to Dilys."

"Your words cannot distress me, Grandmother," Caitlin said. "I will be shortly wed and gone from here."

"How can you think of yourself at such a time?!" Wynne raged at Caitlin. "Do you not care that Dewi is missing? What if he is injured or dead?"

"The deed is already done, whatever it is," Caitlin said bluntly. "My chatter cannot change anything, Wynne. You fret too much. Dewi has been caught by the dark and is sheltering somewhere. That is all there is to it, as you will see in the morning."

She arose from the table. "Come, Dilys. We must get our beauty sleep. I would not want Rhys of St. Bride's to regret his decision when he comes."

Wynne put her hand over her mouth to keep herself from shrieking as her younger sisters traipsed from the hall. If marrying the lord of St. Bride's meant getting free of Caitlin and Dilys, then perhaps it was not such a bad bargain she was making. Little Mair, wide-eyed, was unable to refrain from giggling as she eyed her eldest sibling, and Wynne, her hand dropping away from her mouth, grinned at the child, ruffling her hair affectionately. "They make me so angry," she said.

"They are very mean," Mair noted. "I know I should love them, but I do not." She glanced half fearfully at Father Drew. "Will God send me to burn in Hell's fires for that, Father? I know it is sin not to love Caitlin and Dilys, but I just can't!"

The priest swallowed hard, his own feelings warring with his conscience. "It is wrong to hate, Mair," he told her, "but I do not think God will condemn you to damnation because you do not like your sisters, Caitlin and Dilys. Our lord understands feelings like that." He patted the child's head reassuringly and then muttered softly beneath his breath, "Besides, it would take a saint to love those two."

"Time for bed, Mair," Enid said, rising from her place, her voice quavering with her need to laugh, for she had overheard the priest's remark. Taking her little granddaughter's hand, she led her from the hall.

"Are other priests as human as you are, Father Drew?" Wynne asked him. She too had overheard, and her eyes were dancing with merriment.

The priest's own brown eyes twinkled back at her. "It has been so long since I've been with other priests, Wynne, I cannot remember," he said honestly. "My world is Gwernach, and I am its only priest. My many years in the monastery were spent in study, preparing myself for the priesthood that I might return one day to Gwernach and, in serving my God, serve it and its people as well. My memories of that time are no longer clear. I can but recall two things. Study and prayer."

"No friends?"

"One," the priest said slowly. "Like myself, destined to eventually return to his family's lands to care for the spiritual well-being of his people. What was his name? Aelfric, I think. He was a Saxon from somewhere near Winchester."

"And what do you remember about him?" Wynne inquired.

Father Drew's brow furrowed a moment as he thought, and then he smiled. "I remember, my dear, that Aelfric loved to laugh, and even our harsh life in the monastery could not change that in him. We were both called home at the same time. I have not seen him since."

"You rarely speak of yourself," Wynne said, "and yet I find your tales interesting when you do."

"It is not my duty as a priest, Wynne, to speak of myself. Besides, what is there to say about Drew ap Daffyd? I am the only child of your father's youngest uncle, who is long deceased. You know that."

"I think there is more to you than you would admit," Wynne teased him, and then she sobered. "I am doing the right thing in marrying Rhys, aren't I?"

"Your grandmother and I will keep your brother safe, Wynne, never fear. I realize that is your greatest concern in this matter. Rhys of St. Bride's will get a better wife than he undoubtedly deserves, but he will not get Gwernach, I promise you," Father Drew told her. Then he chuckled. "And we will be rid of Caitlin and Dilys too!"

Wynne smiled at him, but then as she looked to the windows she frowned. "The moon should long be up, Father, but the overcast is still thick and it does not break through. Poor Dewi! I pray he is safe."

"Go to bed, my child," the cleric advised her. "You cannot help Dewi with all your concern. If the lad does not return home first thing in the morning, then I will lead the search party myself. We will leave at first light."