Morgan the Rogue

by Lynn Granville

  The Tudur brothers were jubilant at having so easily captured the castle, and Morgan celebrated with them.

  ‘This will be sung of in the mountains for a thousand years,’ Gwilym cried in triumph. ‘They will talk of this in every valley – and ‘tis due to you, my friend.’

  ‘Nay,’ Morgan denied. ‘It is not my name that will echo through the mountains, Gwilym Tudur. I merely gave you my knowledge of the castle and the English ways. It was you and your brother who took the garrison. My own men have not yet come to me. I go to meet with them in a few days.’

  ‘The English will not be so easily surprised again,’ Rhys ap Tudur said. ‘They will reinforce their other garrisons.’

  ‘They will do whatever they can to stop us,’ Morgan said, his eyes bright as he looked at the two men. ‘But I believe that we shall have victory in the end. The way may be long and hard – but we shall make it as hard for them as it is for us.’

  ‘Have you other tricks up your sleeve?’ Gwilym asked.

  ‘Do not ask,’ his brother warned. ‘What we do not know we cannot be accused of telling.’ He gave Gwilym a warning look.

  Morgan pondered on that look as he rode away from the castle the next morning. He had found the brothers receptive to his suggestions but he was not sure of their reasons. He thought Gwilym eager for the fight against the English, but Rhys seemed less inclined.

  It did not matter. Their bold action would breathe new life into the revolt no matter what they did next. Once word of the capture of Conway Castle spread throughout Wales it would give others the courage to come forward.

  Morgan knew that much of the fighting in the next few months would be in the form of swift strikes against the enemy followed by retreat into the forests and the mountains. He had been forming his own plans and would have much to discuss with Owain when he next saw him – but now that his mission was complete for the moment he had other things on his mind…

  *

  The drawbridge was lowered at his approach. Morgan saw Thomas Bridger almost as soon as he dismounted and eager hands came to take the reins of his horse.

  ‘We expected you,’ Thomas said. ‘You are in good time, Morgan. Lady Rosamund went into labour early this morning. Alicia told me that she is suffering greatly.’

  ‘Kestrel is here?’ Morgan knew that it must be so for how else would they know he was coming when he had only known it himself that morning? ‘I must go to her…’

  He heard her cries of pain as he ran up the spiral stone staircase to her solar. Two of her ladies were with her, and Kestrel was standing at the foot of the bed, directing the women as they bent over her.

  ‘Rosamund…’ Morgan cried, his heart twisting as he heard her scream terribly just as he entered the room. ‘Forgive me. Forgive me, my love…’

  ‘Ah…’ Kestrel turned and saw him, a smile on his lips. ‘I told her you would be here for the birth – and now you see I am right.’

  As Morgan’s eyes turned towards the bed he saw that Rosamund’s body was heaving with the pain, and then a child’s head appeared between her thighs. He went to her at once, reaching for her hand as she screamed in agony and pushed once more at the urging of her women. Then the child came slithering out as he grasped her hand holding it tightly.

  ‘Morgan…’ she whispered, clearly almost spent, her strength gone. ‘You came to me…’

  ‘Forgive me, my love,’ he said. ‘I should have come sooner.’

  ‘You had work to do. Kestrel told me that when I needed you, you would be here.’

  He bent to kiss her brow, smoothing back her damp hair and stroking it as he gazed into her eyes. ‘I love you, Rosamund.’

  ‘You have a son, my lady.’ Alicia held the babe wrapped in a white cloth for them to see, then laid it in Morgan’s arms. A loud wail issued from the tiny red-faced babe, making both Rosamund and Morgan smile. ‘Stand back, my lord, for we need to attend your lady now.’

  ‘I am in the way.’ Morgan looked ruefully at his love. ‘I shall come back soon, Rosamund.’

  He carried the child to a nurse who stood waiting to receive the precious bundle. For a moment longer he held the child, gazing down into the face of his son – his son. He knew that this child was his flesh, though he would never be certain that Morwenna’s child carried his blood.

  ‘Take good care of him, Gwyneth,’ he said and gave the bundle to the nurse. ‘He shall be called Richard Morgan in memory of a friend.’

  With a glance towards the bed, he left Rosamund to the care of her women and went out. It was as he reached the bottom of the spiral staircase that Kestrel came to him.

  ‘She will be well,’ Kestrel said. ‘Are you pleased with your firstborn, my lord?’

  ‘My firstborn…’ Morgan frowned. If Kestrel knew as much as he claimed, that meant Morwenna’s child was not his but Rhys’s. ‘I am pleased with my son. I thank you for your care of my lady.’

  ‘It is my destiny to care for her,’ Kestrel replied. ‘As it is yours to love her. You will have other children, Morgan, but the others will not be sons. Guard Richard well for a time will come when he may be in danger.’

  ‘I thank you for your warning, friend. No harm shall come to either Richard Morgan or Rosamund if I can prevent it.’

  ‘You do not question me?’ Kestrel’s eyes were alight with mischief. ‘It has happened then – the vision?’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘There will be more,’ Kestrel said. ‘Learn to trust them, Morgan. One day it may mean the difference between life and death.’

  ‘You are going?’ Morgan asked as he turned away.

  ‘Like you I have other work. I come when I am needed.’

  Morgan watched him walk away. He was about to go outside and talk to Thomas Bridger when he saw the steward looking at him. There was something in the man’s eyes that made Morgan uneasy.

  ‘Was there something you wanted, Master Baldry?’

  ‘No, my lord – what should there be?’

  Morgan had thought that the steward had ceased to dislike him, had come to trust him, but now he was not so sure. He hesitated, wondering whether to have it out with him, then changed his mind. He would be better employed in talking to Thomas than wasting time with a man who clearly resented his relationship with Rosamund.

  *

  Rosamund smiled as they laid the child in her arms. She was feeling better for she had slept and now she was ready to feed her babe. As the boy sucked greedily at her breasts, she nodded to Alicia.

  ‘Ask Morgan to come to me now,’ she said. ‘I want him to see Richard feeding. It is a memory he will carry with him when he goes.’

  Rosamund knew that Morgan could not stay long with her, for Kestrel had told her that he had a leading role to play in the struggle ahead, and that she must not seek to keep him with her.

  ‘The time will come when you are together,’ Kestrel had told her. ‘It will be the best and the worst of times for you. You will know great happiness and great sorrow, but that time is not yet.’

  She smiled as Morgan came into the room. He crossed in eager strides, bending over her to kiss her gently on the lips and to place a tender finger on the child’s forehead.

  ‘He is beautiful,’ she said. ‘Do you not think so?’

  ‘He has your hair and your eyes,’ Morgan said. ‘But I see something of myself in that nose.’

  ‘I think he looks a little like my father,’ Rosamund said. ‘Are you pleased with him, Morgan?’

  ‘More than I could ever tell you,’ he replied. ‘Forgive me for the pain I brought you, my love.’

  ‘It is but a few hours and then ‘tis gone,’ she said, and gave the babe to his nurse. She reached out for Morgan’s hand and held it to her cheek. ‘It is good to have you here, my lord. When must you leave?’

  ‘Forgive me – in two days. I would that I could stay with you forever, Rosamund, but I must see Owain and then I have more work.’

  ‘Kestrel told me it would be so,’ she sa
id and smiled at him lovingly. ‘I shall not beg you to stay, my love. Go as you must and return as you will. I shall be waiting.’

  ‘Thomas tells me that you have not heard from Philip de Grenville since I was last here?’

  ‘There has been no word of him, though someone told me that they had heard he was ill for some months. I do not know if that is true.’

  ‘You must remain vigilant,’ Morgan said. ‘These are dangerous times, Rosamund. Gwilym and Rhys ap Tudur have taken Conway Castle by a trick. Be careful you are not caught off guard. Philip de Grenville is no fool. He may wait until he thinks you have forgotten him and then strike.’

  ‘We take no chances,’ Rosamund said. ‘But sit here with me for a while and tell me of yourself. Where have you been these many months, my love?’

  ‘I have travelled the length of Wales,’ Morgan told her. ‘And I visited my mother. She knows about you, Rosamund – she told me that someone had improved my manners and she guessed that there was a woman I loved.’

  ‘If you have changed it is because you love and know yourself loved,’ Rosamund replied and kissed his hand. ‘I am glad you named our son Richard, Morgan. I fear that Henry Bolingbroke has had King Richard murdered, and I pray that the crown of England will never sit easily upon his head.’

  ‘I too have heard these tales, they grow more strongly all the time. There are some who would claim the throne for themselves, and it may be that we shall find willing allies to our cause amongst those who hate Henry.’

  ‘I was thinking of Richard’s message to me…’

  ‘That you should seek refuge with the Percies?’

  ‘He named Hotspur and his father the Earl of Northumberland,’ Rosamund said thoughtfully. ‘It might be that he suspected that these men would not long be easy bedfellows with Henry Bolingbroke – they have too much pride.’

  ‘You have heard something?’

  Rosamund nodded. ‘Just a whisper. But they say that Hotspur is not happy with things as they are…that perhaps he and his father might not always be loyal to Henry.’

  ‘But has Hotspur not been given powers and high honours?’

  ‘Yes – but still he is not satisfied. Henry’s advisers are to blame. Hotspur feels that they do not listen to him…for he knows how to handle the Welsh better than most and yet the English ignore his advice. He has advised that it would be best to make peace with Owain, to give back not only the estates they have confiscated since the rebellion but that which was stolen from his family long ago.’

  ‘Then it is possible that Hotspur and his father may be brought to support our cause,’ Morgan said. ‘I shall think on this, Rosamund.’ He touched her cheek. ‘Now no more of this. My time is short and I would think of nothing but you. Tell me how you spend your days when I am not with you…’

  TEN

  ‘We have to find some way of making the English think twice about sending their men against us,’ Owain said to Morgan as they discussed their future strategy. ‘Despite our gains the English still levy fines and confiscate out lands.’

  ‘So nothing has changed,’ Morgan agreed. ‘But I believe the tide has begun to turn, Owain. The capture of Conway has shown what can be done – and money stolen from us may be stolen back again.’

  ‘That is what you wish to do – why you have been forming your band of brothers again?’

  ‘This time there will be more of us,’ Morgan assured him. ‘I have discussed this for many hours and we have arranged that there will be three bands of brothers. They will never know where we are going to strike; we shall harry them at every turn and take whatever they collect in taxes and fines.’

  Owain looked at him thoughtfully. ‘For the moment it may be the best course for you and your men to follow, Morgan. We must not let the enemy settle. If they are attacked on all sides and robbed, unable to follow their usual business it must make them uneasy.’

  ‘Meanwhile you will continue to negotiate with Hotspur?’

  ‘He speaks of my suing for peace,’ Owain said. ‘If we could win back what is rightfully ours I might consider it…but Henry is stubborn. I doubt that we shall come to terms.’

  ‘We should fight on until Wales is ours.’

  ‘For that we need the whole of Wales to rise.’

  ‘I believe that it will happen. Already there is word of men joining our ranks in many regions – Camarthenshire, Powys and the Middle March to name but a few. Soon it will spread. Word of the capture of Conway will hearten our people.’

  ‘Already the English have Conway under siege,’ Owain said. ‘In the end the Tudur brothers may be forced to surrender. But it was a brave deed and if others follow suit…’

  ‘One day we shall hold many castles, and then you shall be truly Prince of Wales.’

  ‘I pray you are right,’ Owain said and then frowned. ‘You know the English have confiscated your manor of Orlane?’

  ‘Yes, I had heard a whisper of it. Morwenna and the child were not there, I think.’

  ‘I understand they had gone to Oswestry,’ Owain said. ‘She holds that manor in her own right and may be safe. With good fortune they will leave her in peace.’

  ‘As they have my mother,’ Morgan said. ‘I may take Morwenna and the child there. If she wishes…’

  ‘She might be more comfortable there,’ Owain agreed. ‘At least she would have company. ‘So – you are to go your way and I shall expect you again in the autumn.’

  ‘If I am needed sooner you have only to send word and I shall bring my men to you.’

  ‘Then may fate favour you, Morgan,’ Owain said. ‘God be with you.’

  ‘And with you, my prince.’

  *

  Morwenna hurried towards the woods, eager for the meeting with the man who had sent word of his coming two days earlier. She knew that she was being reckless for if Morgan should learn that she had seen Rhys again he would surely cast her off. Yet she was weary of being alone and it was too long since she had seen her husband. He had left Glyndyfrwdy soon after the birth of her child without taking leave of her, though she knew he had seen the babe. In all these months he had sent no word. No doubt he had been to her! His woman! The bitterness tasted like gall in her mouth. Hatred had festered inside her these many months, for she imagined that her husband spent much of his time with Rosamund de Grenville.

  ‘You came! I was afraid you would not.’

  Morwenna was suddenly breathless as Rhys stepped out of the trees in front of her. She had forgotten how handsome he was for she had thought of nothing but her hatred in months.

  ‘Why should I not?’ she asked as her racing heart became less agitated. ‘Did you think I would be angry with you because you had not come before this?’

  ‘You knew why I could not come to you, Morwenna. I tried to kill him. Owain ordered that I should be captured or killed. They were looking for me everywhere.’

  ‘They still look for you.’

  ‘No…’ Rhys’s smile was strange, tinged with resentment. ‘I have begged Morgan to forgive me. He has promised to speak to Owain for me, to have the order for my capture nullified so that I may join him in the fight to free Wales from the enemy.’

  Morwenna’s eyes flashed with scorn. ‘Then you should not be here. I have nothing to say to a man who begs for forgiveness like a coward.’

  Rhys caught her by the arm as she would have turned away, swinging her back to face him, his grip bruising her soft flesh. ‘It is the only way. If we are ever to be together – to have all that was his.’

  ‘The English have confiscated the manor at Orlane,’ she said. ‘This is all I have left and that is little enough.’

  ‘But Morgan has his own estate at Gruffudd. The land is good there, sweet and fertile, and properly tended it would bring a good living.’

  ‘Morgan has a mother. She lives there. Besides, he has not given me permission to go there.’

  ‘Maire is ill,’ Rhys said. ‘I have heard that she will not live long. If you went there to
nurse her none could blame you. And if both Maire and your husband were dead you could claim a widow’s rights.’

  ‘If Morgan were dead…’ Her eyes narrowed. She felt cold of a sudden and her heart was pounding, and yet there was also a strange excitement in her. ‘You failed once. How can you be sure you would succeed next time?’

  ‘Trust me,’ Rhys said. ‘Next time I shall make certain.’ He drew her to him, breathing raggedly as he gazed into her face. She could see the anger and pride in him and caught her breath. Sometimes she was afraid of him! He was ruthless, dangerous. She would do better to walk away from him now, but she knew she would not. Her life had been too empty of late. ‘I want you, Morwenna. Tell me it is me you love – tell me that you will be mine when he is dead!’ His fingers were digging into her flesh, bruising her.

  ‘Kill him for me and I am yours,’ she said, her eyes glittering as the excitement raced in her. The words came of their own volition, surprising even her. ‘I hate him and his woman. Help me to be revenged on them, Rhys. If you love me – kill them both.’

  ‘I have never killed a woman.’ Rhys looked at her uneasily. ‘You ask a terrible price, Morwenna.’

  ‘If you loved me you would do it and not think twice.’ She pulled away, her beautiful face haughty and proud, her eyes scornful. ‘But perhaps you have no stomach for it?’

  ‘You know I would do anything for you!’ He looked down into her face hungrily. When she looked at him that way he was driven near mad with his desire for her.

  ‘Then I shall go to Maire Gruffudd and when she is dead I shall be mistress there. Come to me when you have done as I ask and you shall be my husband.’

  ‘You swear it?’

  ‘I swear it,’ Morwenna said. She smiled at him, moving closer so that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face as she reached up to kiss him on the lips. ‘She is naught to you, Rhys. Kill her and Morgan and you shall have all you desire.’

  ‘You are a witch!’ Rhys said and caught her in a crushing embrace. ‘I may burn in hell for my sins but I shall do as you ask.’