Daughter of Time (Prequel to The After Cilmeri Series)

Daughter of Time (Chapter Eleven)

Meg

"You didn't do as I asked, Marged," Llywelyn said after everyone else had left the room. He sat behind his desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed and his hands folded on his belly. It appeared to be one of his favorite postures, and I could understand since every chair I'd sat in so far had been nothing if not uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said. "What didn't I do?"

"Keep quiet; hold yourself still until we were finished."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't realize that you meant quiet, as in, don't talk at all."

"I was very clear when I spoke to you in the hall," Llywelyn said.

"Yes, but ..."

"What part of what I said didn't you understand?"

His words brought me out of my seat. "You're really mad about this aren't you?"

"Mad?" Llywelyn said. "I don't know that I'm mad; more confused and disappointed, perhaps even irritated at how disrespectful you are to me at times."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." I folded my arms across my chest, irritated myself that I sounded just like the sulky child Llywelyn thought me. "Why does it make sense for me to sit there quiet? If I knew what you were talking about, I might have an idea which could help. And I did."

Llywelyn's brow furrowed. "We seem to be having a problem with communication, Marged, so let me be a bit more clear." He pulled in his feet, stood, and walked to me. Putting a hand on each of my shoulders, he bent to look directly in my eyes. "As long as you are with me, Marged, you do as I say."

"What if I have some contribution to make, like today? What if I have a thought or idea that might make a difference?"

"Then you tell me afterwards, when my men have left," he said. "And you will call me my lord, at least in public, if you can't manage it in private."

"It would be easier if you just didn't give me orders at all. That way I wouldn't feel I needed to disobey them."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Llywelyn said, a half-laugh in his voice, though the exasperation was even more evident. "Are we really arguing about whether or not you're going to obey me? What kind of land are you from? Do women there not obey their men?"

"Not—" I stopped. "Not like this. Besides, I don't see why it's such a big deal. I helped, didn't I?"

Llywelyn flexed his big hands around my shoulders once and then put his nose only inches from mine. "When you disobey me in front of others, you undermine my authority," he said, articulating each word clearly. "Now, you may not care much about Wales, or its rule, but I care about both very much. It matters little to me if you don't like it, don't want to, or think that you shouldn't have to. But I am the captain of this ship and as long as you are on it, you will obey me."

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said. "I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know that anyone has ever used the word obey in my presence before—ever. In my world, some parents feel that their children should obey them, I suppose, but we never talked about it that way in my family, and women—wives, mistresses, whatever—certainly don't obey their men. We're equals."

"I can't imagine how that might actually work, Marged," Llywelyn said. "But in any case, it isn't just women. It's everyone. Look a little closer and you'll see it and maybe start to understand. In the meantime ..." he put an arm around my shoulders pulled me into his arms, "I expect you to try."