Page 35 of A Husband for Esyllt
Now he was the one ill-at-ease and she felt as if she had the upper hand.
Ignoring her question, he stood up and helped himself to a cup of ale from the pitcher on the trestle table. When he came back to face her, he was his usual commanding self once more. She knew then that he would not reveal what had happened, and that she would not force him.
“Let us go to the village today and meet the people.” He was as composed as if he had not been on the verge of a collapse moments ago. “It is time for my new tenants to be introduced to their lord, and for me to see what the feeling toward the English is.”
Esyllt gave him a slanted look. “I can already tell you what that feeling is. Wariness in the main, fear mingled with suspicion for the rest, and of course the occasional burst of hatred.” No, unfortunately, she had no illusion about the welcome the English lord of Castell Esgyrn would get.
He heard the news with equanimity, as she could have guessed. “Well then. It is lucky I’ve never been a man to turn down a challenge.”
“It is indeed, for you will have your hands full. Not to mention that you don’t speak their language.” She didn’t mean to make him feel bad but, undoubtedly, that was a complication.
“No, I don’t. But if I remember correctly, I am married to someone who does.” The smile that followed the words would have reduced any woman to a quivering mess, Esyllt told herself to justify the weakening in her knees. It was not that she was too easily swayed, it was simply that he was too irresistible for words. “Will you come with me and face the hordes of enemies baying for my blood?”
“Yes.” The word was out of her mouth before she could think.
In truth, she was impressed to see that her English husband wanted to introduce himself to his new tenants rather than stay hidden away behind the castle walls like a mighty lord, was brave enough to confront people he knew would not give him the best welcome and wanted to earn their approval. That he’d asked her to accompany him was the proof that, just like he’d told Gruffydd, he wanted to include her in the managing of the estate. She knew he was not taking her along just because she spoke Welsh.
He took her hand and kissed the fingers in a gallant gesture that had now become familiar. “Come. With a lady like you at my side, I cannot fail to win every heart.”
Alas, it was not to be. As far as Esyllt could tell, no heart had been won that day.
As they left the village, her ears were still ringing from the shouting they’d had to endure and her body was still trembling from indignation and fear combined. Connor did not seem overly affected by the reception he’d gotten, however. Cantering by her side, he seemed as relaxed as he had been when they had set off that morning.
“What did you say? Suspicion at best, hostility at worst? I think I know which category the men we just saw belong to,” he said, bringing his horse back down to a trot. “Perhaps the next village will not be as bad.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she mumbled.
“Your honesty does you credit, wife, and I fear you may be right.” He flashed his teeth, not in the least worried. “In the end it was probably a good thing that my sword broke. I should perhaps thank the blacksmith who forged it, for I’m not sure what would have happened otherwise.”
Esyllt could not believe he was talking so blithely about what had been one of the worst moments of her life.
Morgan, the cooper, had attacked Connor with an axe. An axe! She had scarcely been able to credit it, and the violence of the ensuing confrontation had deeply shocked her. It was one thing watching men practice swordplay in the bailey to hone their skill, but this had been different. There was no doubt the Welshman, who was a notorious drunkard, had aimed to kill his lord in the most gruesome manner imaginable.
Even though Connor had done his best not to hurt the man, faced with such a weapon, he’d had no other choice but to defend himself. His skill as a knight had been enough to ensure he came to no harm against a drunken novice but, as he was parrying a particularly vicious blow from Morgan, his sword had broken clean in half. Cries of protest had instantly filled the village square. One could not wield an axe against an unharmed opponent, they all agreed to that at least. The villagers had allrushed to Morgan in case he decided to forget all sense of honor and carried on anyway. It was one thing meeting a knight in combat, quite another hacking at a defenseless man.
“Morgan will have been relieved with this outcome, even if he would never admit it,” she observed, doing her best to hide how distraught she had been to see Connor face a madman brandishing an axe. “He’d probably started to realize that he would never best you, addled though his mind was by drink.”
“My wife is a connoisseur of swordplay, then.” Connor arched an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”
“I know a good swordsman when I see one, so I know you did not fight as hard as you could have.” It had quickly become clear, even to the untrained villagers, that her husband was doing nothing more than prevent Morgan from hurting him, allowing him to vent his rage without posing a threat to his life.
“Of course I didn’t. If I had, he would have found himself with the tip of my sword through the heart in no time.”
The bloody image made her grimace.
“Why did you hold back? You could have bested him a dozen times over and, in truth, he deserved it. He was the one who attacked you.”
She had been thoroughly disgusted and ashamed by the man’s behavior. How were the English supposed to want to treat her countrymen like equals when they behaved with such crudeness and exhibited such lack of judgment? It had been clear that Connor had come in a spirit of conciliation and yet he had been met with nothing but hostility. Before he’d even had the chance to explain what plans he had for the village, Morgan had launched himself at him.
“Would you have rather I humiliated him in front of the whole village? That would not have been the wise thing to do,” Connor said. “I think he would have preferred I cut his hand clean off. He would never have lived it down if I had sent himsprawling to the dirt with his friends, and perhaps his enemies, watching.”
“Yes... Of course, you’re right.”
Esyllt sighed. Indeed it was better that way. She was certain the Welshman would never have provoked Connor if he had suspected him of being such an accomplished knight. Just before he’d run at him, axe in hand, she’d heard him tell his friends he would teach the pretty boy a lesson. Pretty boy! She had almost laughed out loud. For all his beauty and smooth manners, her husband was all man, as Morgan had found out to his cost.
But perhaps all was not lost.
When they had left, she could tell the tide had started to turn in favor of Connor. Faced with his skill and determination not to kill or even hurt a man who had struck first and would have deserved to be taught a lesson no one would forget, the villagers had reluctantly given him the respect he had hoped to earn.
