Montbryce Next Generation 01 - Dark Irish Knight Read Online Free Page A
Author: Anna Markland
the seaside. Aiweeda and some of the other older nuns tutted and scolded, but Myfanwy reminded them it was God’s wish that His people be joyful.
Rhoni was looking forward to the trip. She had crossed the Narrow Sea to Normandie by longboat more than once, but the voyage was usually nerve-wracking. Her father suffered from terrible seasickness, a malady he resented bitterly.
She had never walked along a beach. Besides, Prestetone was the beginning of the famous Offa’s Dyke she had heard much about. It would be interesting to visit the three hundred year old earthwork that stretched from the Irish Sea to the Severn River, built by an ancient king of Mercia to ward off Welsh incursions. Rhoni suspected this educational component was how Myfanwy had justified the excursion.
Mabelle and Rhonwen begged off, citing their age and creaking bones.
Rhys and Rhydderch rode alongside the carts, with their father. Rhodri’s bowmen formed an escort. Rhun walked with them, a bow slung over his shoulder, a full quiver at his back.
Rhoni and Carys sat together, arm in arm. Carys was full of questions about Baudoin. Rhoni considered bluntly telling the girl that she may as well forget any designs she had on him. Neither father would ever allow them to marry. But Carys was only three and ten. She had lots of time to find an appropriate suitor. Let her enjoy her infatuation with Rhoni’s brother. What girl wouldn’t dream of marrying the future Earl of Ellesmere?
Those thoughts brought Rhoni abruptly back to her own dilemma. She had never been infatuated with anyone. Again the prospect of life in a convent reared its ugly head. She sat among women who had given up their freedom to live a cloistered life, not always willingly. A cold shiver marched up and down her spine.
Surely there was a man for her somewhere? Did attractive men avoid her, finding her too frivolous, too empty headed? Not pretty? Not desirable?
Gulls danced on the wind, calling to each other, reminding her they were close to the sands. A novice squealed, “I can see the sea!”
Rhoni inhaled deeply. Yes, there it was—that unmistakable scent of the sea. She squeezed Carys’s hand and turned to look at the distant shore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Myfanwy organised the women into groups, admonishing them not to venture into the water, and not to stray from their escorts. Rhodri assigned a contingent of bowmen to each group.
He and Rhun accompanied Rhoni, Carys and Myfanwy. Rhoni felt strangely content, as though she was with family. The brisk wind whipped Myfanwy’s veil around her face, and Rhoni’s wimple was soon lost to the breeze.
The women scoured the beach for pretty shells, poked at strange creatures in tide pools, and sidestepped encroaching waves. Squeals of girlish laughter filled the air.
Rhoni looked out to sea and closed her eyes, raising her face to the sun. She let the warm wind lift her arms and suddenly she was a soaring bird. The breeze tickled her palms.
“The tide is coming in, Myfanwy,” Rhodri warned. “We’ll have to keep an eye on it.”
Rhoni reluctantly opened one eye. Rhodri’s voice had broken the spell. For a brief moment, she had been one with the sea, the sun, and the warm zephyr.
Suddenly, a young nun came scurrying around a rocky outcropping, red faced and breathless. “Mother, Mother, come quickly. Sister Aiweeda has fainted.”
Rhoni came back to reality abruptly. Rhodri and Rhun strode over the rocks. The women hastened after them.
“What happened?” Myfanwy asked breathlessly.
“She was attacked.”
Rhun nocked an arrow to his bow in the blink of an eye.
Aiweeda lay on the sand like one of the jellyfish they had grimaced at earlier, quivering before a barking seal. The wet skin of the first seal Rhoni had ever seen gleamed like polished silver mottled with brown spots. Though it seemed distraught, the comical the way it barked and slid rapidly back and forth on the sand enchanted her.
Rhun took aim.
Rhoni shoved
Rhoni was looking forward to the trip. She had crossed the Narrow Sea to Normandie by longboat more than once, but the voyage was usually nerve-wracking. Her father suffered from terrible seasickness, a malady he resented bitterly.
She had never walked along a beach. Besides, Prestetone was the beginning of the famous Offa’s Dyke she had heard much about. It would be interesting to visit the three hundred year old earthwork that stretched from the Irish Sea to the Severn River, built by an ancient king of Mercia to ward off Welsh incursions. Rhoni suspected this educational component was how Myfanwy had justified the excursion.
Mabelle and Rhonwen begged off, citing their age and creaking bones.
Rhys and Rhydderch rode alongside the carts, with their father. Rhodri’s bowmen formed an escort. Rhun walked with them, a bow slung over his shoulder, a full quiver at his back.
Rhoni and Carys sat together, arm in arm. Carys was full of questions about Baudoin. Rhoni considered bluntly telling the girl that she may as well forget any designs she had on him. Neither father would ever allow them to marry. But Carys was only three and ten. She had lots of time to find an appropriate suitor. Let her enjoy her infatuation with Rhoni’s brother. What girl wouldn’t dream of marrying the future Earl of Ellesmere?
Those thoughts brought Rhoni abruptly back to her own dilemma. She had never been infatuated with anyone. Again the prospect of life in a convent reared its ugly head. She sat among women who had given up their freedom to live a cloistered life, not always willingly. A cold shiver marched up and down her spine.
Surely there was a man for her somewhere? Did attractive men avoid her, finding her too frivolous, too empty headed? Not pretty? Not desirable?
Gulls danced on the wind, calling to each other, reminding her they were close to the sands. A novice squealed, “I can see the sea!”
Rhoni inhaled deeply. Yes, there it was—that unmistakable scent of the sea. She squeezed Carys’s hand and turned to look at the distant shore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Myfanwy organised the women into groups, admonishing them not to venture into the water, and not to stray from their escorts. Rhodri assigned a contingent of bowmen to each group.
He and Rhun accompanied Rhoni, Carys and Myfanwy. Rhoni felt strangely content, as though she was with family. The brisk wind whipped Myfanwy’s veil around her face, and Rhoni’s wimple was soon lost to the breeze.
The women scoured the beach for pretty shells, poked at strange creatures in tide pools, and sidestepped encroaching waves. Squeals of girlish laughter filled the air.
Rhoni looked out to sea and closed her eyes, raising her face to the sun. She let the warm wind lift her arms and suddenly she was a soaring bird. The breeze tickled her palms.
“The tide is coming in, Myfanwy,” Rhodri warned. “We’ll have to keep an eye on it.”
Rhoni reluctantly opened one eye. Rhodri’s voice had broken the spell. For a brief moment, she had been one with the sea, the sun, and the warm zephyr.
Suddenly, a young nun came scurrying around a rocky outcropping, red faced and breathless. “Mother, Mother, come quickly. Sister Aiweeda has fainted.”
Rhoni came back to reality abruptly. Rhodri and Rhun strode over the rocks. The women hastened after them.
“What happened?” Myfanwy asked breathlessly.
“She was attacked.”
Rhun nocked an arrow to his bow in the blink of an eye.
Aiweeda lay on the sand like one of the jellyfish they had grimaced at earlier, quivering before a barking seal. The wet skin of the first seal Rhoni had ever seen gleamed like polished silver mottled with brown spots. Though it seemed distraught, the comical the way it barked and slid rapidly back and forth on the sand enchanted her.
Rhun took aim.
Rhoni shoved
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