‘And I, my friend – and now I think I shall send for Morwenna and tell her that she is to make ready for her betrothal on the morrow.’
‘And I shall go in search of Rhys and tell him that I am home again.’
*
Morwenna’s heart was fluttering as her father came to meet her that morning. She was dressed in a new white gown embroidered with gold and beads at the hem and on the sleeves, her hair hanging down her back and covered by a tiny cap of jewelled mesh with a fine veil.
‘You look beautiful, daughter,’ Hywell told her as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her towards the dais at the end of the room where the ceremony of her betrothal was to take place before a small group of Owain’s family and friends. ‘Do not look so nervous. Owain thinks highly of your husband, and from what I know of him you have naught to fear.’
‘I am not afraid, Father,’ she replied in a voice that was hardly above a whisper. ‘Just a little nervous.’
‘As is right and proper.’ He smiled at her, well pleased by her answer, which showed she was modest.
Morwenna’s hand trembled slightly on his arm as he led her to stand beside Morgan. Owain was there together with the priest who was to bless them and conduct the ceremony of betrothal, which was almost as binding as the wedding itself.
She glanced at Morgan and found that he was smiling at her in a way that set her fears to rest. His blue eyes made her heart beat all the faster but it was for a different reason and she found that she wished this was indeed her wedding day. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze proudly and yet with pleasure and heard the soft chuckle in his throat as he sensed a challenge in her.
The ceremony was brief, and afterwards there was special wine to be drunk and all the good wishes of her family to receive. She was told of the house and lands Owain was to settle on her, which would be the property of her husband, of course. She was also given several small gifts from Owain’s wife and children together with kisses and smiles from all those present. And Morgan gave her a beautiful cross of garnets set in silver, for which she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, blushing at the laughter this occasioned.
In all the happy confusion of such a gathering it was the more chilling to turn and find Rhys Llewelyn staring at her with such anger that she felt shocked. It was a surprise that he should be here – why was he? Yet as Morgan turned to him with a grin, his expression changed and became easy again, leaving Morwenna to wonder. If he was so angry that she was betrothed to Morgan and not him – why was he pretending to be Morgan’s friend?
She looked away and when she looked for him again he had gone. Her heart ceased to beat so wildly and she was smiling once more as she heard her husband to be addressing her.
‘Your father is to take you home this afternoon,’ he told her. ‘The wedding will take place here the week before Christmas and we shall go from here to our new home.’
‘We are to leave this afternoon?’ She looked at him in disappointment. ‘Am I not to see you again before the wedding?’
‘So impatient, Morwenna?’ The wicked laughter in his eyes made her blush and she did not know whether to laugh or be angry with him. ‘Nay, that was unkind of me – for you could not be more impatient than I, sweet lady. Owain has some task for me. I must travel once more, this time in Wales. When I return I shall call on your father and perhaps we can spend a little time together.’
‘I shall be pleased to see you, sir.’
‘And I to see you, Morwenna,’ he replied and took her hand to kiss it. As he did so he was reminded of another woman he had taken his leave of in that way, and the kiss he gave Morwenna was brief, a mere salute. He let go of her hand almost at once, as if stung by some insect. For a moment the pain that swathed through him was intense as he realised that he felt nothing for the woman he had promised to wed – or at best a mild affection. ‘Go now with your father. I have things I must do.’
Morwenna watched as he walked away from her. Something in his manner had disturbed her. What had caused the light to go so suddenly from his eyes? He had been teasing her, seeming to court her, and then it was as if he had shut her out, closing his heart to her.
He did not love her! A great wave of disappointment and hurt swelled up inside her as she understood that this had been a political alliance for him and nothing more. He had married her because she was connected to Owain and he wished to serve him. Such marriages were commonplace, and she had known that she was marry as her father dictated. Yet she had hoped that her husband would love her – as Rhys Llewelyn did…
Morwenna’s heart ached as she left the company and went outside. All the bright promise of the day seemed to have disappeared as she walked through the courtyard and out into the meadow. She walked towards the woods, wanting to be alone, to hide her deep hurt and the pain that was beginning to gnaw inside her. After all her excitement and pleasure in her marriage, it was to be but an empty thing after all.
The man who would be her husband did not love her. Perhaps there was another woman who had stolen his heart? Morwenna felt anger stir inside her. How could he do this to her? If he loved another he should have refused the match. Yet what was she to him? No more than a possession to be taken as part of a bargain sealed and signed. And she a fool to expect more!
Anger warred with her tears as she tried to hold them back. Why should she weep for a man who did not love her? She had come close to loving him, Morwenna realised. Had he given her a chance she would have been a true and devoted wife, but now…now she was lost, her misery so deep that she did not see the man watching her.
‘So you are to be his wife,’ a voice said behind her, startling her from her reverie. ‘You will regret this day, Morwenna. He does not love you.’
‘Nor I him,’ Morwenna said, stung into defiance. She raised her head, her eyes bright with tears she was too proud to shed. ‘This wedding was my father’s and Owain’s doing. I had no choice.’
‘Is that the truth?’ Rhys moved towards her, his face twisting with passion. ‘I thought you willing. You had been avoiding me. You knew that I love you – that I wanted you for my wife!’
‘I was not allowed to walk alone when my father returned,’ Morwenna lied. She was hurt and angry at the way she had been deceived and wanted to strike out. ‘My father would not allow us to marry, Rhys. You have nothing and Owain would not have given me a dowry had I been pledged to you.’
‘But it was me you truly wanted?’
Morwenna looked into his eyes and found herself drowning in the passion she saw there. ‘How could it be otherwise?’ she asked. ‘You know I love you, Rhys – but I am betrothed to Morgan and the vow was sacred. It cannot be broken.’
‘A dead man cannot marry…’ His eyes seemed to burn into her, his look sending icy chills down her spine. ‘If I killed him you would not be forced into this marriage.’
Morwenna was turned to stone by his words. She stared at him in horror. To what had her foolish words led them?
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘You must not, Rhys. To murder him in cold blood would be a terrible sin…’
‘But I cannot give you up,’ he said and reached out for her, drawing her into his arms, crushing her in a hungry, desperate embrace that left her head spinning. ‘I would risk even my immortal soul for you, Morwenna.’
‘No…’ she said again, and then to pacify him as she saw the wildness in his eyes. ‘At least not yet. Think, Rhys! If Morgan were dead they might marry me to another of Owain’s kinsmen. If I had been married and was a widow with my own lands…’
His eyes gleamed as she ceased, frightened by what she had said, her own eyes opening wider as she saw that he was agreeing with her.
‘My clever Morwenna,’ he said and smiled. ‘Yet you know what that would mean? Once you are his wife…No, I shall kill him now! I cannot bear to think of him touching you…possessing you.’
‘He may possess my body,’ Morwenna replied calmly. ‘But not my heart or my spirit – they shall b
e yours, Rhys.’
‘And your body?’ he murmured huskily as she stared at him. ‘I would have all of you, my love.’
Morwenna smiled as the thought came to her.
‘Yes,’ she said and gazed up to him. ‘You shall have me first, Rhys, then I shall always be yours despite that I am his wife.’ She darted back as he would have taken her in his arms, his intent plain to see in the burning look he gave her. ‘No, not now, for the wedding does not take place yet and I must not be dishonoured by bearing a child too soon or all is lost. Come to me the night before my wedding.’
‘The night before…’ Rhys stared at her as he realised what she was saying. ‘My sweet, clever Morwenna. It is as well that you do not betray me as you would him, for I should kill you.’
‘Save your talk of killing for the future,’ Morwenna warned. ‘And be careful that you give no sign of your jealousy – for if what we plan were suspected…’
‘I should be killed,’ Rhys agreed. ‘Morgan would kill you himself if he knew. He may know that you do not come to him a virgin…’
‘I shall take a pig’s blood to my bed and stain the sheets,’ Morwenna said. ‘And my tears and cries shall convince him that there has been no other.’
Rhys took her chin in his hand, gazing intently into her face. ‘Do not think to deceive me, Morwenna. For if you ever do I shall make you wish this day had never happened.’
‘What is there in life for me but you?’ Morwenna asked. She reached up to kiss him, biting his bottom lip so that the blood ran and licking it with her tongue. ‘The pact is sealed between us. You must be patient, my love. Do nothing against Morgan until the time is right.’
He touched the spot where her teeth had drawn blood, looking down at her with a smile of satisfaction on his lips. ‘You are a vixen. From your looks you would seem a milk and water wench, but there is fire in you. I have always known it – but even I did not guess at the deviousness of your mind, Morwenna.’
‘Then we are well matched, sir.’
‘Aye, that we are,’ he said, and caught her to him, crushing her mouth beneath his once more so that she almost cried out for pain, as he bit her and licked the blood. ‘Now you know that I shall give back what I get, Morwenna. Remember and keep faith with me.’
SIX
”Tis a messenger, my lady.’ Alicia hesitated, looking at her mistress uncertainly. ‘He asks for an audience with you.’
‘A messenger?’ For a moment Rosamund thought of the Welshman who had saved her from abduction. Perhaps Morgan had news for her! Then, as she saw her companion’s frowning look, her heart caught with sudden alarm. ‘Does he come from my husband?’
‘Yes, my lady. He says that Sir Philip has sent you a letter, and that he is to deliver it into your hands and none other.’
Rosamund sighed. She had known the message must come. It had only been a matter of time, for she knew that Richard was a prisoner though she was not sure where he had been taken. It was said that he had been moved from the Tower to a secret location for fear that an attempt might be made to rescue him, but her informants were not certain of his whereabouts. Some believed he might even be dead.
Henry of Bolingbroke had laid claim to Richard’s throne and the small rebellions of his followers were being ruthlessly put down wherever they occurred. It seemed that all was lost.
‘You may tell this messenger to bring his letter,’ Rosamund said with a weary sigh. ‘But let him be guarded for I would not trust anyone who comes from Philip.’
After Alicia had gone she looked at the ring she wore on her middle finger. Richard’s ring, given to the Welsh singer for her…but she did not believe that Morgan Gruffudd was merely a wandering bard. He had the look of a fighter, and Kestrel had told her he was a man of destiny.
She was not quite sure what the old man had meant, and she had lied to Morgan for Kestrel had told her that her destiny was bound up with his. She had lied because she had trembled in his arms, finding herself strangely drawn to him as he comforted her. She had not wanted to feel that way for she had been grieving for her lost friend. Richard had shown her more kindness than any man had since her father died and she had loved him dearly. He was a man of vision and of culture; his influence would be sorely missed in England, especially by those he had patronised in the arts and with works of great architecture. Rosamund felt that with Richard had gone all the best of an age of glory. It might be many years before his like was seen again.
Yet it was not of Richard that she was thinking as she waited for her husband’s messenger. Caris was not yet isolated from the world outside. People came and went and rumours reached them – sometimes strange rumours that Rosamund found disturbing. Was it possible that the Welsh people planned revolt against the English lords that had ruled this land and suppressed them for so long? She would not have thought it possible, but she had not dreamed that Richard would be so easily deposed.
If only he had remained at Conway. Had he made a stand there his followers might have fought on for him and Henry been defeated. She turned as she heard footsteps and then Alicia entered the room, Philip de Grenville’s messenger with her. Thomas Bridger, who from the look on his grim face, was determined to protect his mistress at any cost, accompanied them.
Rosamund lifted her head, her manner proud and cool. ‘You have a message for me?’
‘Yes, my lady. Forgive me for my presumption, but I was ordered to give it to no one but you.’
‘Very well.’ Rosamund held out her hand. ‘There, I have it. Now you may go.’
‘I was told to wait for an answer.’
‘Then you may wait in the kitchens, for I dare say you are hungry. Take him with you, Thomas, and offer him our hospitality. If there is an answer I shall send Alicia to you later.’
‘As you wish, my lady.’
Rosamund inclined her head, waiting until they had gone before breaking the seal. Henry Bolingbroke had laid claim to the throne and Richard was deposed, therefore she was required to surrender up her castle. She frowned as she read her husband’s demands. She was to return to Bundesley with all her goods and people and wait there until he chose to come to her. He had decided to forgive her providing that she obeyed him immediately.
To obey would be to place herself in Philip’s power for she knew that his talk of forgiveness meant nothing. He was merely attempting to save himself the trouble of forcing her to surrender to him. He had never loved her. Now that she was alone and friendless, he would keep her a prisoner once he had her. At least at Caris she was free to live as she pleased for the moment.
‘Alicia was looking at her anxiously. ‘Is it bad news, my lady?’
‘My husband demands that I return to Bundesley to await his coming.’
‘Shall you go?’
‘No, I shall not.’ Rosamund raised her head proudly. ‘We are well able to withstand a siege of some months here. I doubt that Philip has the patience to force me to come out. Why should he? He has all that was mine. He has offered reconciliation and may now cast me off before the world as a wife who has deserted her husband.’
‘Will he truly leave you here in peace? Do you not think that he will vent his anger on you for disobeying him?’
‘He disobeyed his king,’ Rosamund said scornfully. ‘Had he remained true to Richard I would have joined him at Chester.’
Alicia gazed at her doubtfully. She knew the lord de Grenville to be a cold, harsh man who punished his enemies. Was it likely that he would simply leave his wife in peace here at Caris?
‘If you are afraid I give you leave to go.’
‘Oh no!’ Alicia cried. ‘I do not wish to leave. It was of you I thought, my lady. If you do not obey him you are condemned to stay here, for where else could you go?’
‘I do not know,’ Rosamund replied. ‘But I would rather die here alone than return to Philip. Yet I shall not ask such a sacrifice of others. Any who wish to leave here have my permission to do so. I shall announce it this evening in the hall
. Let it be known that I do not command obedience. I have chosen so must others.’
‘I shall tell your Steward of your decision,’ Alicia said. ‘But no one will leave, my lady. If you stay we stay – for as long as you wish it.’
‘Then you may tell Philip’s messenger there is no answer.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Rosamund went back to her narrow window as Alicia went away, gazing out at the mountains that protected their backs. It was impossible for a hostile force to come at them from the rear. No, any attack would come from out of the forest. The tiny village of Caris lay at the foot of the hill, overshadowed on one side by the castle and the mountains and on the other by the forest, a small stream tumbling from the mountains into a pool inside the castle walls. It was this eternal spring that made them so strong under siege, for though food might eventually run short they would always have water.
No, it was the inhabitants of the village who would be the ones to suffer most if an attack should come, Rosamund decided. At the first signs of hostility they must either flee into the forest or take shelter with her. She was not afraid to die if the time came, but she must protect her people as she best she could. She would ask Thomas Bridger about setting up an early warning. There must be watchers in the forest at all times so that by the time a force of armed men could reach them they were prepared.
And she would double the stores held within the castle. Philip would grow tired after a few weeks and go away, she was certain of it – but it was best to be prepared for a longer siege…
*
Morwenna lay trembling in her bed. It was the eve of her wedding and she was frightened of what she had promised Rhys Llewelyn. Her rash words had been spoken in anger, and she had wished them unsaid a thousand times. Yet she had no way of taking them back for Rhys had stayed at Sycharth with Owain’s household and she had been at her father’s house until that very morning. She had hoped to be able to have a private word with him, but it had proved impossible. She had caught no more than a fleeting glimpse of him as she arrived, but the message his eyes conveyed then had been sufficient to set her trembling.
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