‘I know that you have done much for me while I was ill,’ Morgan acknowledged. ‘I asked you why you came.’
‘Because I did not want you to die – and because I knew that it was my fault you fought with Rhys. If you had died your death would have been on my conscience.’
His eyes were intent on her face. ‘Did you hope for reconciliation – that I might forgive you?’
Morwenna fell on to her knees beside the bed, her head bent, tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘I do most humbly beg you to forgive me, sir. If you would let it be as it was before that night…I would never betray you again…’
‘Get up,’ Morgan bade her, frowning. ‘You need not abase yourself before me, Morwenna. For what you did with Rhys I have no forgiveness, but for your care of me in my fever I am prepared to accept you before the eyes of the world. I shall not reject you publicly, nor shame you before your family. You may live where you please – at the house Owain built for us or at your own estate at Oswestry. It matters not to me. I shall never be more than your husband in name…’
A sob left Morwenna’s lips and she looked at him imploringly.
‘I beg you to take me back. I love you, Morgan. You are my husband.’
‘But I shall not live with you as man and wife,’ Morgan said. ‘I know that my decision is hard for you to accept, Morwenna. If you decide to go away with your lover I shall not force you to return to me. I accept at least part of the blame for I knew when I married you that I did not love you, but I had intended to try to make it a good life for us both. What you did killed any feeling I might have had for you. You are as nothing to me.’
Morwenna turned away, her shoulders shaking as she fought to control the storm of weeping that had overtaken her. If he had raged at her and beaten her she could have borne it – but she could not fight this coldness. Something had changed in him, and she knew that she would never reach him.
‘I shall go to Oswestry,’ she said at last and turned back to face him. ‘You blame me for what I did, Morgan – but when you were ill you called ceaselessly for the woman you love. I have sinned no more than you.’
‘That is not true for I have never lain with the woman I love,’ Morgan said. ‘If she had given me a sign…I should never have married you.’
Morwenna caught her breath as his final arrow struck home, and she felt the pain deep within her. Useless to tell him that she was with child, for he would not relent. Why should he when neither of them knew who was the father of her child?
‘Then I have your permission to retire to Oswestry?’
‘Or anywhere else you please,’ Morgan said gently. ‘I believed for a short time that I hated you, Morwenna – but now I know that I could never feel such a strong emotion for you. You do not touch me in any way.’
Morwenna turned away as anger surged in her. She had loved him but she had betrayed him and he had rejected her. So be it! She would not offer him her love again. Indeed, she did not believe that there was any love left inside her to offer anyone. He had killed it with his cold, cruel words and she was beginning to feel the emotion that would come to fill her in the empty years ahead.
What had once been love was fast turning to a bitter hatred. She looked at him as he sat propped against his pillows, still too weak to do more than get out of bed to relieve himself.
‘Perhaps the emotion is too strong for you,’ she whispered. ‘But it is all I have to sustain me, and believe me I shall feed it. You have made me hate you, Morgan Gruffudd, and one day you will be sorry for it.’
If her kinsman’s guard had not been standing outside the door, where he had been ever since Morgan was brought back more dead than alive, she might have killed him then. He was too weak to have stopped her, but she knew that one cry from him would bring a dozen men running to his aid. Owain was furious at what had been done and he had men out looking for Rhys Llewelyn with orders to bring him back either dead or alive.
Owain saw her as she left Morgan’s chamber and came up to her.
‘How is he this morning, Morwenna?’
‘Still weak but gaining strength every day,’ she replied and gave him a small sad smile. ‘My husband has bid me go home for he says the household must not be neglected and there are others here to help him.’
‘You will not wish to leave him?’
A hint of tears was in her eyes as she raised her head proudly.
‘Morgan is my husband. I must obey him.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ Owain said and frowned. He had heard Morgan speak another woman’s name in his fever and he had guessed that the marriage was no love match. It saddened him if they were not happy together, for it had seemed to be a good match. The girl was beautiful and good, and Morgan was a fool to pine after a woman he could not have. ‘I shall speak to Morgan and ask him to let you stay.’
‘No, please do not,’ Morwenna begged. ‘In truth I am very tired and would like to rest quietly at home, my lord. I am…with child.’
‘That is a different matter,’ Owain said and smiled at her. He had misjudged the way things stood between them. Clearly Morgan was sending her home because she had been doing too much. ‘I shall send an escort with you, Morwenna. You must take care of yourself.’
‘Thank you, my lord. You are very kind.’
He inclined his head, going into Morgan’s chamber as she passed by and made her way to her own. Outwardly she was calm, but inside she was raging.
The hatred was forming a hard knot inside her. Morgan thought he could dismiss her and be free to go to his woman, but one day she would have her revenge – on him or both of them! She did not believe for a moment that they had never lain together, and picturing them together fanned the flames of her anger.
Inside the chamber, Owain waved Morgan back to bed as he would have made the effort to get out.
‘No, no, my friend, not yet. You must rest a little longer – get your strength back.’
‘I shall soon be well again.’
‘We must pray for that,’ Owain said. ‘I have work for you, Morgan. The time is not yet here but it is coming soon – the time when we shall make our strike. I need my friends to be strong enough to fight when the time comes.’
‘I shall be strong again,’ Morgan said. ‘But I am going away for a while, Owain. I shall return when you need me but I need a little time for myself.’
‘You are not fit to travel nor will be for some months,’ Owain said. ‘This is foolish talk, Morgan. Why should you go anywhere until we are ready to move against the English? Besides, we have not yet found Rhys Llewelyn and while he lives you are not safe.’
‘Rhys could have killed me while I lay there helpless had he wanted,’ Morgan said. ‘I could not kill him, though I meant to do it – and I think he could not finish the task.’
‘He tried hard enough,’ Owain retorted. ‘He might have finished the task if Alain had not come in search of you.’
‘I do not believe he will try again. I am willing to take the risk.’
‘But why – and why did you fight with him? I thought Rhys was your friend?’
‘It is between us,’ Morgan replied. ‘I cannot tell you more, Owain – except that it is a private matter.’
‘Yet still you must give me your word that you will not go yet.’
‘I give you my word that I shall return when you need me,’ Morgan said. ‘When I am ready I shall go.’
‘As you wish,’ Owain replied, eyes narrowed. ‘I would be happier if you could trust me, Morgan – but I shall not ask again.’
‘It is a matter of honour,’ Morgan replied. ‘Believe me that it makes no difference between us. I am still loyal to you, Owain.’
‘Then we shall forget this conversation,’ Owain said. ‘Go with God and return safely, my friend.’
Morgan lay back as the other man went out, closing his eyes. He was no longer in terrible pain but the weakness still came over him in waves.
‘Where are you, Kestrel?’ he asked with a wry
grimace. ‘I need your magic now.’
Morgan knew that he must leave Sycharth for a while. His restless spirit would not bide here until he could forget Rhys’ betrayal – but where could he go?
The answer came winging its way into his mind. He would go to Rosamund. Perhaps she would know where Kestrel might be found. He had sworn to Owain that he would be strong enough to fight for him, but unless something changed he believed that he might never fight again.
*
Morgan paused as he saw the stark outline of the castle against a darkening sky. It was not far now, and yet his strength was fading fast and he scarcely knew whether he had enough to go on without pausing to rest. Yet if he should sleep he might not wake again.
He had passed by Caris on his travels for Owain last year, but had not trusted himself enough to go near it. He was weary almost unto death, his weakness terrifying to a man who had always been strong, but now as he drew near he hesitated. Ought he to go to Rosamund? She had warned him against it, and yet he felt himself drawn as a moth to a flame, and knew that if he must die he wanted it to be near her.
The sound of rushing feet startled him and he looked at the men coming towards him through the trees in alarm. If they attacked he was helpless for he could not lift his sword in anger, let alone fight his way through. There must be at least six or seven of them, too many for him to match in his weakened state.
‘I come to see the Lady Rosamund,’ he said in a voice hardly above a whisper. ‘She will know of me…Morgan Gruffudd…’
‘How can we be sure you come in friendship, stranger?’
‘It is him…’ a different voice cried. ‘I told you it was – the Welsh singer who saved Lady Rosamund last year.’
‘And by the look of him he needs help now…’
Morgan was near fainting as willing hands reached out to help him from his horse, and then he was aware of lying on the ground for a while before he was lifted to a board of some kind. They were carrying him now, voices all round him, talking to him, encouraging him.
‘Kestrel…’ he whispered.
‘Kestrel is at the castle,’ a voice he knew but could not place spoke beside him. ‘He came because he knew he would be needed. He is waiting for you, Morgan Gruffudd.’
It was a voice he knew, a woman’s voice - but not her voice. Morgan closed his eyes as the weakness robbed him of the power of thought. He was being taken to her, it no longer matter whether he lived or died.
*
The dream was sweet. Morgan was reluctant to leave it, though the hands that tended him were not as soft as those that had tended him in his dream. He was being shaken quite roughly and he murmured a protest.
‘Throw water into his face, it will bring him out of his trance,’ a voice said. ‘He is better now and must be woken.’
‘I do not like to be so cruel…’
That voice was hers! Morgan opened his eyes and gazed into her face. She was here, she was with him. It was she who had tended him so sweetly while he lay senseless -–and behind her the old man who had saved his life once before.
‘So we meet again, magician. I had sore need of you this time.’
‘I knew that you were calling to me,’ Kestrel replied. ‘I came to you, Morgan Gruffudd. Now you owe me your life twice over.’
‘I shall repay you somehow…’
‘I have told you before. When I ask you will refuse me – but it will not be your fault.’
‘You speak in riddles…’ Morgan feasted his eyes on Rosamund. ‘My lady…you have cared for me. I think I owe my recovery as much to your nursing as this rogue.’
‘Kestrel eased your fever. You owe your life to him and should not call him a rogue,’ Rosamund replied and smiled. ‘Yet I sense that there is a bond between you and I need not scold you for your mockery. I have done only as much as Kestrel would allow.’
‘I thank both of you for my life, and more.’ Morgan sat up in bed. His head span a little for a moment or two but he knew at once that his strength had returned. ‘I am better. When I came here I was as weak as a kitten. I thought that I should never be fit to fight. How long have I lain here?’
‘A week,’ Kestrel told him. ‘I was not there to tend you when you were wounded, yet I knew it had happened. I tried to warn you not to do that which you did…’
‘But you did not tell me what,’ Morgan said. ‘If only I had known…’
‘The vision came too late. You had ridden away I knew not where,’ Kestrel said, ‘and I knew it was your destiny. There are some things that are meant to be and though we fight against them they will happen. Now the worst has happened and out of your pain a new man is born.’
‘There has certainly been pain enough,’ Morgan said wryly. ‘But I shall not mock you, my good Kestrel, for I know that if you had not helped me I should never have regained my strength.’
‘You were not destined to die yet,’ Kestrel said and shook his head. ‘Do not ask. It has not been revealed to me, though it may be one day. If that day comes I shall warn you if I am able.’ He inclined his head and turned to leave the room.
Morgan said nothing. In the nature of things he should outlive the old man, but after his recent brush with death he knew that youth did not guarantee life.
‘I shall bring you food,’ Rosamund said, smiling at him in a way that brought joy to his heart. ‘Kestrel has done his work and it is up to us now to make you truly well again.’
‘Stay a moment longer,’ Morgan said and caught her wrist as she would have moved away. ‘I came to you because I needed Kestrel’s help but I can leave if it might bring danger to you.’
‘Kestrel told me once that our destinies run side by side,’ Rosamund replied. ‘I denied you when last you came, because I was afraid to acknowledge what was between us – and because I was grieving for a friend.’
‘Was that all Richard was to you?’
Rosamund’s eyes did not leave his. ‘There was a time when it might have been more but it did not happen. I know now that it was not right. We were friends but not lovers, though I sorely needed to be loved and I would have taken what he offered. But it was not meant to be. I was meant to love another – a man I shall love until I die.’
‘And how do you know this, my lady?’
Her cheeks were pink as she looked at him. ‘You ask too many questions, sir. I should leave you to rest and Alicia will bring you some food.’
‘You are not afraid of me?’
‘I think that between us there can never be fear, Morgan.’
The look in her eyes told him more than a thousand words, and he released his hold on her. ‘Go then, my lady. I shall spare your blushes – but you should understand why I came to you. It was not just because I hoped that Kestrel might be here…’
‘You forget that I have tended you as you slept,’ she said. ‘You dreamed long and deep, but as you dreamed you spoke of what was in your heart. I do not believe that you need to say more at this moment. Soon we shall talk and then we may both say all that is in our hearts.’
He lay back, his eyes following her as she left the room. Was it possible that she had learned to love him as he loved her? It was more than he had ever dreamed, more than he could have expected.
He did not think of the difficulties that lay ahead, for neither of them was free to marry. Man and God forbade their love – and yet he believed that it would survive what lay ahead. A smile touched his lips as he closed his eyes. He had walked through fire to come to her, but it was where he belonged and though they might be forced to part sometimes, he knew that the future was theirs.
PART TWO
1400 –1403
ROSAMUND
EIGHT
She rode ahead of him, her horse seeming to have the speed of the wind and he could hear her triumphant laughter as she reached the lake ahead of him. Reining in, she turned to look at him as he arrived a second after and threw himself down, coming to help her from her mount, his hands lingering about her waist f
or a moment as he gazed down into eyes that were brimming with laughter.
‘That will teach you to offer me a start, my lord!’
‘Indeed it will, my lady,’ Morgan said and felt the hot desire surging in him as he bent his head to kiss her lips. ‘There shall be no more concessions from me, Rosamund.’
‘None were asked for,’ she reminded him. But there was only warmth and laughter in her face, for it was their habit to tease one another, a part of the love and trust that had built between them these past months.
Morgan touched her face, tracing the line of her cheek and the arch of her throat. ‘You are so lovely,’ he said. ‘You have made me whole again, Rosamund.’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘Do not think of the past,’ she murmured. ‘We promised each other the night that we became true lovers that we would think neither of the past nor the future. We must live only for now, Morgan, for the moment we have. If our time should be brief or long, we will take each hour and make it as sweet as if it were our last.’
Morgan nodded. What she said was true and he knew that if he had only these months to remember they would sustain him through his life long. He had never known such happiness, nor experienced such a feeling of content as when he was with her. Her smile, her touch, her scent were all he needed to set the blood singing in his veins, to make him feel that the world was a good place.
‘I never want to leave you,’ he said. ‘I would spend all my life with you, Rosamund.’
‘And I with you,’ she said. ‘But we both know that you have your duty to Owain – and that the time is almost here.’
‘Hush, do not speak of it,’ he warned and put a finger to her lips. ‘I do not want to think of anything but you.’
She smiled, shook her head and moved away from him. He saw that she was searching for the special flowers she had told him of that grew near the lake, and when she dropped to her knees and began to part the long grasses he went to see what it was that she had found.
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