They had been at Conway for some days when the news came that Henry of Bolingbroke had taken Chester and it seemed that he had reached the city on the day that Richard had come to Conway. Conflicting reports reached them, one saying that the city had been stoutly defended, another that it had surrendered without a fight. The truth probably lay somewhere between the two, Morgan thought as he watched the comings and goings.
A strict guard was kept on the castle battlements at all times and thus far he had had no opportunity of passing a message to Owain, but he was content to bide his time. It might be that soon there would be something of more importance to pass on. Owain was sure to have heard of the fall of Chester and to reach his own conclusions.
Morgan was aware of a great stir the morning the ships anchored in the bay and it was obvious that an important envoy had come. Men were shouting and it was clear the excitement was running high as the delegation was hustled into the main body of the castle.
‘What is happening?’ Morgan accosted Thomas Bridger as he saw him coming from the stables. ‘Is there news?’
‘I know nothing for certain. I have heard a whisper.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘They say the Earls of Salisbury and Northumberland have arrived – that there is a message sent from Bolingbroke.’
So that explained the flurry! But why should Bolingbroke want to send his emissaries to King Richard at this stage? He surely could not expect the King to surrender?
Morgan frowned. ‘Bolingbroke has taken Chester yet the King remains strong here.’
‘If I were in command I should have Bolingbroke come here.’
‘That would be both fitting and wise.’
‘I have heard Richard thinks of going to meet him at Flint.’
‘I would advise against it. He could make a stand here.’
‘I agree…’ Thomas looked thoughtful. ‘Will she go with him do you think?’
‘Lady Rosamund?’ Morgan frowned. He had spoken to the lady alone only once since their arrival at Conway; their brief meeting by starlight had troubled his spirit, for he had sensed that she was deeply unhappy. Yet outwardly she gave no sign. She had been with Richard constantly. At feast she sat at his right-hand and during the day they were often to be seen walking together. It was obvious that there was warm affection between them, but was there more? ‘She spoke of going on to her Castle of Caris but she may have changed her mind.’
‘Here comes Alicia now. Mayhap we shall learn more,’ Thomas said as the young woman came up to them. ‘You have news for us, lady?’
‘Lady Rosamund wishes to speak with Morgan,’ Alicia told him. ‘You are to leave for Caris in the morning. You will bid your men to be ready at first light, Thomas Bridger.’
‘We shall be ready as always. Does my lady go with us?’
‘She will inform you of her wishes in the morning. I am merely bid to tell you to prepare.’
Morgan waited for Alicia. She was taking her time, seeming to enjoy bantering with the young soldier, but then she turned and beckoned to Morgan to follow her.
‘My mistress wishes to have private words with you. I am bidden to take you to her solar.’
His pulses quickened for he knew something was afoot and when Alicia left him at the door of her mistress’s chamber, biding him to knock and then go straight in, he soon discovered that Lady Rosamund was not alone.
Morgan bowed his head to her and then to the King. Until this moment Richard had done no more than glance his way and he felt slightly uneasy as those large eyes dwelt on his face.
‘Lady Rosamund has told us of your service to her,’ Richard said in a rich deep voice. ‘We thank you for it, sir. This lady is highly valued by us and had she been snatched at this time it would have caused us much grief.’
‘I did no more than any right-minded man would do, sir.’
‘Be that as it may, you have earned our gratitude. Now we would ask another service of you if you care to listen?’
‘Do you wish me to see Lady Rosamund safely to her castle?’
‘No, Morgan,’ she hushed him with a smile. ‘You must wait for His Majesty to tell you.’
‘I apologise, my lady.’
‘No need.’ Richard wearily waved his stiff apology away. ‘Your service is to me, sir. I would have you accompany me to Flint, where I am pledged to meet Henry of Bolingbroke…’
‘Is that wise, sir? Were I your advisor I would say that you would be stronger if you stayed here.’
‘To be King of England I must be able to move freely about my kingdom,’ Richard said, a flash of anger in his eyes. ‘I have done with being told what I should or should not do. I shall treat with Bolingbroke. If I return the lands that were taken from him all may yet be as it was.’
Morgan thought the King either foolhardy or badly advised. At the moment Bolingbroke was flushed with triumph. It would be better to fight on and see the usurper either hold his ground or suffer some reverses. However, he could not expect King Richard to listen to the advice of a Welsh singer when he would not accept that of his own counsellors.
‘I shall go to meet with Bolingbroke,’ Richard went on in his own time. ‘The reason I ask you to accompany me is that I need someone whose loyalty I can be certain of to carry a message back to Lady Rosamund at Caris. You may have no loyalty to me, but I believe you would serve your lady faithfully.’
‘If you would only allow me to go with you…’ she began but was silenced by a shake of his head.
‘I know you would risk all for me if I asked it of you,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘But I prefer that you go to Caris. At least I shall know that there is a part of Wales that holds for me if you are there. Besides, if there is treachery…’ He broke off as she paled. ‘I am sure all will go well. I shall talk with Bolingbroke and come to terms. Mayhap he will demand more than the restoration of his lands, but I am sure that we shall reach an agreement.’
‘Then you wish me to go with you – to carry news back to Lady Rosamund?’
Morgan was thoughtful. At first he had not thought it wise to support the King in what he saw as weakness. A strong man made his enemy come to him. Yet it seemed that Richard was determined on the meeting with Bolingbroke, and if Morgan went with him he might learn things that would be of use to Owain.
‘Yes,’ the King said, his eyes dwelling on Morgan once more. There was a hint of bitterness in his voice as he said, ‘The people of Wales refuse to fight for me, Morgan Gruffudd, but they will not welcome Bolingbroke. I tell you now that if he ever gains my crown he will be a worse king than I have been. Yet I believe that you are loyal to those you serve, and that you would carry my message faithfully to this lady.’
‘You may rely on that, sir.’ Morgan said. ‘I have accepted service with Lady Rosamund and I would not see harm come to her.’
‘Then we are agreed,’ the King said and smiled. For a moment Morgan saw beneath the mask of kingship and understood what might bind a woman to him. ‘If I believe I am to be taken I shall send word with Morgan Gruffudd, Rosamund. Believe only him and none other. If any other comes and claims that I have fallen to my enemy bar your gates and fight – but if this man comes to you, you will know that it is true.’
Rosamund lowered her head submissively, but she was very pale and Morgan guessed that she was close to tears.
‘At what time should I be prepared to leave, sir?’ Morgan asked.
‘We leave in the morning,’ Richard asked. ‘You will join my party at first light. For now I bid you adieu, sir.’
Morgan bowed and left the chamber. He did not glance at Rosamund for he knew that he would see tears in her eyes, and a small, unworthy knot of jealousy was burning in his breast. He could not doubt that she felt a deep affection for Richard, though whether they were lovers he did not know. He discovered that the thought made him angry. Richard was a weak fool and not worthy of her love!
Walking down the spiralling stone steps, Morgan laughed at his thoughts. Jealousy was a fool’s game! L
ady Rosamund was beautiful but she was not for him. She had a husband and mayhap a King for a lover – what should she want with him?
At the foot of the stairs he met Alicia. She smiled at him, fluttering her lashes flirtatiously. He knew that she would have been easy enough to seduce, but she did not stir him. Besides, he believed that Thomas Bridger had hopes in that direction and he liked the man too well to take his woman in a careless moment that would mean nothing to him.
‘Are you to come with us tomorrow, sir?’
‘Not this time, Alicia. It seems that our lady has other work for me.’
She nodded, a faint air of disappointment in her manner as she saw he would pass her by.
‘Shall we see you at Caris one day?’
‘I think that may happen,’ he replied. ‘And now I must speak with Thomas – if you will excuse me, Alicia.’
She let him pass and went on up the stairs towards her own chamber, which was directly above that of her mistress at the top of the tower.
Morgan went outside to find the young captain of Lady Rosamund’s guard. He wanted to warn him of certain dangers he might encounter the following day, and to help him to avoid them. For he would rest easier at night if he knew that Rosamund was safe with her own people inside the stout walls of Caris Castle.
*
Rosamund was desperately unhappy as she took her leave of the King after Morgan had departed. Richard did not like emotional scenes, so she did not cling to him or beg him not to leave her behind, but though she held her head high she could not keep the sparkle of tears from her eyes.
‘I pray that we shall meet again one day, Sire.’
Richard took her hand and carried it to his lips. He loved her as much as he had ever loved a woman, but she was not his lover. He had been tempted to take her to his bed when she came to him, for he had wanted her since he first saw her at his court. Yet to dishonour her, now when he knew not what was to happen, would be an evil thing. She must be able to return to her husband if need be with her head held high.
After what she had told him of de Grenville’s behaviour towards her that knight would soon find himself on service in some foreign land, hopefully to die there of his wounds or a fever. He would certainly never be allowed to mistreat her again – and if things went well perhaps…
‘Be of brave heart,’ he told her. ‘When I am in London I shall send for you.’
Rosamund was silent, remembering the fear that had possessed her on waking from a dream a few days earlier. That shooting star had seemed to be the harbinger of evil, and now she was very afraid that something terrible was about to happen.
‘I shall pray for that day,’ she said. ‘May God keep and protect you, Richard.’
‘Amen to that,’ he said and smiled wearily. ‘I must leave you now, sweet lady, for I have councillors waiting to discuss the meeting with Bolingbroke.’
‘Did any warn against it?’ Rosamund asked, for she knew that he had spent many hours in discussion with men who had persuaded him that he must meet with his enemy.
‘Some but I have made up my own mind that this must be.’
Rosamund said no more for she knew he would not listen. As a youth he had been dictated to too often and it had made him stubborn, but she wondered at the wisdom of trusting Henry Bolingbroke. If Morgan Gruffudd thought it unwise…but he was merely a Welsh singer. Or was he? She had never quite believed in his story, though his voice was beautiful and there was no reason to suppose he was lying – and yet the way he had swooped down on the rogues attacking her that morning had made her think him a fighting man.
Why should he pretend to be other than he was? She wondered if she had been wise to recommend him to Richard as their messenger, and yet there was no one else she could spare. She needed all her men-at-arms, for Richard had bade her hold the castle for as long as he lived.
‘If you hear that I am dead, you must decide what to do for your own sake,’ he had told her. ‘But until then hold true for me, Rosamund.’
She had sworn that she would, and given him a kiss to seal her promise. For a moment they had clung together and she had wished that he would carry her to his bed, but knew that he loved her too well. He would not dishonour her lest she be forced to return to her husband one day.
She would never, never do that! Rosamund vowed fiercely to herself. This little time of freedom had taught her that she would rather die than submit to Philip again.
*
Richard was full of confidence as he set out towards the meeting with Bolingbroke that morning. He had been persuaded by the Earl of Northumberland, and Arundel the former Archbishop of Canterbury, that it was the best way forward. Morgan was with the King’s party, which had left Conway an hour earlier than Lady Rosamund and her people. There was an atmosphere of tension amongst some of the men for despite Richard’s manner, which seemed one of determined cheerfulness, some were uneasy.
Morgan knew most of the men by sight now, but though accepted outwardly by them, he had met no one he could talk to, as he would have Thomas Bridger. For the most part he rode in silence, the sense that something was wrong growing steadily inside him, his eyes on the King’s back. It would not have surprised him had an attack come while they were in the forest for he suspected treachery and thought the King foolish to have abandoned a position of strength.
Richard’s army was by all accounts no match for the one Bolingbroke had amassed against him but had the King remained at Conway he might have held out for some months, and by then perhaps others would have rallied to his cause.
Morgan was surprised when during a break to rest their horses, Richard sent for him. He was standing a little apart, staring into the distance, his back towards Morgan when he approached, almost as if he scorned to take any precautions for his safety.
‘You sent for me, Sire?’
Richard turned and Morgan was struck by his expression.
‘Ah, my lady’s singer of songs,’ he said and smiled oddly. ‘I wished for some private words with you.’
Morgan inclined his head, waiting as he was silent once more. There was an air of resignation about the King, almost as if he were expecting…his own death? Something in his eyes told Morgan that he knew or suspected more than he had indicated to Rosamund. No fool then, but perhaps a man who believed too strongly in his own right to rule. A man who was prepared to die rather than surrender those rights he cherished.
‘If anything should happen…’ Richard took a ring from his little finger and handed it to Morgan. ‘Give this to your lady. Tell her that if I should be killed and she should need help there are men who might offer her shelter. If she is in trouble she should place herself under the protection of Hotspur or Thomas Percy. Even if they take my enemy’s side now, I believe them both to be as honest as any man in my realm. They will not deal well with Bolingbroke and the day may come…’ He broke off, shaking his head as if to clear it of unwelcome thoughts.
Morgan glanced at the ring, then placed it safely within his clothing. It was fashioned of gold and wrought in the shape of a pair of clasped hands with a small ruby at its centre.
‘I shall carry your message faithfully, Sire.’
‘If we are attacked you must get away and warn her. Go at once to your lady, for she will need you more than I.’
‘It shall be as you command.’
For a moment the King’s sad eyes dwelt on him.
‘Like others of your race you think I have acted out of self interest and greed in Wales, but what was done was done for the good of my realm as a whole. I sought to bring peace to my people. War can only bring ruin and hardship. For this land to be at peace it must be united under one strong hand. Before God, I have done my duty. I ask only that one day men shall say of me that I tried to bring good to this land and its peoples.’
Morgan made no reply. He had been taught to hate the English as a nation of conquerors and to long for the day when the yoke of oppression could be cast off. Yet for a moment in this man
that many reviled as a tyrant he saw sincerity and one other thing - that the burden of kingship was heavy for a man to carry alone. Perhaps this man had done what he believed right by his standards but he had succeeded only in stirring up hatred and resentment against him.
Richard made a gesture of dismissal and Morgan went back to join the other men, who were talking uneasily amongst themselves. He sensed that their unease was growing and there were murmurs that they should turn back while there was still time and make their stand at Conway.
The respite was brief and soon they were riding again. The attack came towards evening. They had been making good time, anxious to reach a secure place before stopping to make camp for the night. Suddenly, without warning, they were surrounded by a superior force of men-at-arms and, in the trees, Bowmen could be glimpsed in the failing light.
Some of the King’s men drew their swords, prepared to defend their lord and themselves to the death, but before they could do more than look about them and shout to one another, a hail of arrows came at them, cutting down men and horses indiscriminately. Pandemonium broke out as they tried to rally themselves into a fighting unit, jostling and manoeuvring for position, but the site chosen for the ambush was a good one and there was little chance the King’s men could survive the attack. It looked as if they would be slaughtered to a man where they stood.
Morgan looked towards the head of the train, seeing that some of the men had closed ranks to try and prevent the King being taken. He tried to reach Richard himself, but in the confusion and chaos was unable to make any headway, and then the order came from His Majesty. Turning, he raised himself in the saddle and cried out that there must be no more fighting.
‘Let no more lives be lost,’ he commanded in a voice of iron. ‘I am prepared to go willingly with this escort Henry of Bolingbroke sends for me. Sheath your arms and let us depart in peace. I command you to bury your dead and return to your homes. We shall treat with our enemies and there shall be no more bloodshed.’
The men looked at one another in consternation. The King seemed to be resigned to his fate and there were some wild murmurings amongst the hotheads who wanted to fight.
Morgan the Rogue Page 7