Wynne said nothing in reply, for she was distressed over the fact that her milk had not come in despite her own remedies to encourage it. She had reluctantly agreed to allow Ealdraed's granddaughter, who had given birth to a stillborn child the day of Arvel's birth, to wet-nurse her son.

"I know how disappointed you are, lady," Ealdraed had told her, "but the child must be fed to survive; and my poor Gytha must have a reason to survive also. Her child is dead and so is her man. She is young, healthy, and free of pox. Her milk is rich, for it began to flow a week before her child was born."

Wynne had had no choice but to allow the unfortunate Gytha to wet-nurse her son. The girl, younger than Wynne by two years, was pitifully grateful for having been given a reason to go on living. She cradled Arvel lovingly, and Wynne was ashamed to feel herself being strongly overwhelmed by jealousy. Gytha would have a sleeping space in the Great Chamber, the only servant in the house so honored, for Wynne would not allow her son from her sight.

Summer was near, and Wynne eagerly waited for Madoc to come, but he did not. She tried to be patient, for she understood that he must seek for her as one would seek for the very first flower of the spring. Not an easy task. Beltaine came, the anniversary of their wedding day, and Wynne went out into the fields just before sunrise to gather flowers before the dew was off them. She washed her face in dew, for it held magical properties. Her tears flowed silently, and she looked to the brightening skies above for a sign of old Dhu, but there was none. There were robins, and larks, and sparrows and cuckoos calling back and forth to one another, but there was no harsh, raucous cry of a raven. She tried to reach out to him in her mind, but she could not seem to concentrate.

His face. Madoc's fierce and handsome face was becoming harder and harder for her to focus upon. It seemed so long since she had seen him, and yet it was but seven months. So much had happened since they had been parted. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever see him again. It was becoming more difficult to resist Eadwine Aethelhard's persistent wooing. She had reached the point where she was not even certain she wanted to resist him. She was still not fully recovered from the ordeal of her son's birth, and susceptible to the Saxon thegn's loving kindness. There was no doubt in her mind that he loved her, and he treated Arvel as if the baby were of his own blood. Indeed she had come upon him in the Great Chamber the previous evening, Arvel cradled in his bearlike grasp, singing a lullaby to her son.

It was not fair! Wynne thought. Madoc should be the one holding his son, singing to him, but Madoc, prince of Powys, was nowhere to be found. Would he ever find her? How would she deal with the problem of Arvel's heritage as he grew? Would she tell him, or would she let him believe that a kindly Saxon thegn was his father? No, Caddaric would see that Arvel knew Eadwine Aethelhard was only his adoptive father. Wynne sighed deeply. She had thought that when she remembered that distant past and came to grips with it, they would all live happily ever after, but obviously that was not to be. Why must she and Madoc be so torn apart just at the moment when they had begun to live their greatest happiness?

"I am going to have to come to terms with my life as it now is," Wynne said to herself aloud. "I cannot go on like this forever! How long do I wait for Madoc to come? Why has he not come by now? Is he coming? She sighed again and then bent down to gather up the sheaf of flowers she had set down when she had washed her face with the dew. Straightening up, she saw Eadwine Aethelhard coming across the field toward her.

"I awoke and you were gone," he called, waving.

She walked toward him. " 'Tis May morn," she said, not needing to offer any further explanation.

Reaching her, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. "I missed you, sweeting," he said.

"Did you think I had run away, Eadwine?" she half teased him.

"You would not leave Arvel behind," he replied bluntly. "You are a good mother, Wynne. We should have more children."

She stiffened in his embrace, knowing what was about to come.

"Your healing period is over," he continued, "and I ache for you. I will wait no more!" His hand gently massaged her back in an attempt to relax her. "You are my wife, Wynne. I have said it before my sons, my family, my servants, and my serfs. None have denied you your rightful place at Aelfdene. Not even Caddaric. Now it is time for you to be my wife in the fullest sense."

There was no escape, she thought, her emotions mixed and confused. Looking up at him, she said, "Of course, my lord, it is your right. You are good to me, and I will deny you nothing." What else could she do?

"You deny me your heart," he said wisely, his blue eyes said.

Wynne nodded. "Aye, I do, Eadwine, but perhaps it will not always be that way. I must have time. You have given me everything but that. Mayhap I will never love you, I do not know, but I will care for you, and I will respect you."

"I want a child by you, Wynne," he told her.

"If God will it, my lord," she answered quietly.

"But in your heart you hope he will not, for then you would have to release your hold on your memories," Eadwine said half angrily.

"I will never forget what has been, Eadwine Aethelhard, and you do not have the right to ask that I do. Arvel is part of those memories. Would you have me deny him and his father, that your conscience be clear? You could return me to Powys and to Madoc if you chose to do so, but you do not. Yet you know I speak the truth of my past life, for all your denial to the contrary.

" Mercia and Powys are allies. My king's wife is Earl Aelfgar's daughter. You would not suffer in any way should you return me and my son to our own people, but you will not. You recognize my small status by your actions, my lord. You have honored me by declaring to all that I am your wife, but I wonder if the Church would agree and marry us within their sacred precincts.

"You but desire a child to bind me further," Wynne said shrewdly. "What if Madoc comes after I have had that child you so desperately want? What if he comes before, and I am heavy with that babe? I will be torn apart by the two of you, and it is not fair! God, I wish I were back at Gwernach and an innocent girl once again!" She angrily pulled out of his embrace and, pushing past him, fled toward the manor house.

Eadwine Aethelhard watched her go, sadness and frustration overwhelming him. She was right. It wasn't fair, but the chances of Madoc of Powys ever finding her were slim. There was too much distance between their lands. He had purchased her honorably. Even if every word she had told him since her arrival at Aelfdene was the truth, he was not legally bound to return her to Powys. He loved her, and to do so would break his heart. Wynne was his wife now. He was not yet forty-four. She made him feel like a young man. A young man with a fertile young wife. There would be children! He was dissatisfied with his two sons. He wanted other children for Aelfdene, and he would have them!

Chapter 14

There was no trace of Wynne of Gwernach in England, or so those sent out to seek her reluctantly reported to their lord, the prince of Powys-Wenwynwyn.

"She's in England," Madoc said stubbornly. "I know it!"

" England is a large land, my lord," Einion replied. "Our people have traveled the entire countryside along the border, following the exact route of the Irish slaver, Ruari Ban, as his passing is always noted by those who live there, for he is unlike most slavers, being a kind and merry soul. He sold no slaves until he came to Worcester. In Worcester there are many to attest to his coming. It is said of him that his merchandise is always good, his slaves healthy and obedient. Ruari Ban is always welcomed in Worcester."

"And no one remembers a woman of my wife's description among his slaves?" Madoc was beginning to look distraught.

"No, my lord, no one remembers a lady to match my lady's description," Einion answered, "but that does not mean she was not amongst Ruari Ban's slaves. He may have kept her hidden because he felt he could obtain a higher price in a larger town. Such practice is common among slavers with an eye to a good profit. Ruari Ban may be a decent fellow, but 'tis said of him that he strikes a hard bargain. Or he may have sold her privately along his route, as we had previously discussed. There would be nothing unusual in his doing that. It may be harder to trace her under those circumstances."

"Why have we not found her?!" Madoc cried angrily.

Einion cast his lord a look of pity which he masked lest he offend Madoc. "My lord, it will take time. Each Saxon man who can amass for himself five hides of land upon which he builds a fortified house, a chapel, a bakehouse and a little bell tower with a bell, is elevated to the rank of thegn. In some parts of England a hide is equal to one hundred and twenty acres, but in others 'tis only forty acres. There are many thegns now, my lord. Any of them with enough silver could have possession of my lady Wynne."

"And our child!" Madoc burst forth. "My child has surely been born by now, and I know not if I have a son or a daughter. I know not if my wife has survived the rigors of childbirth or if the child was stillborn from the shock of their abduction! I am Madoc of Powys! A prince of the great family of Wenwynwyn, but for all my magic I cannot find my wife or my child! What good are these powers I possess if they cannot return to me that which I treasure the most in this life?"