Morwenna smiled. ‘Then I shall be waiting for you.’ She allowed him to kiss her but when she felt the heat of his passion burn against her she drew away. ‘No, not yet. I must not bear another child for Morgan has not been to my bed since…that night. If he rejects me your plans would come to naught. Come to me when they are dead, Rhys – and then I shall be yours.’
Rhys let her go. He could have taken his will of her by force but he wanted so much more. He had always coveted the rich land Morgan had neglected, knowing that he would never own such a manor. As Morgan’s cousin he had some right to it if Morgan was dead but others had as much claim. Morwenna’s right was the one that would stand in Welsh law, and as her husband he would own it through her.
‘I shall come to you when I can,’ he promised. ‘Go back to your child now, Morwenna. And remember that I love you.’
‘I shall remember all that you have promised,’ she said and smiled as she turned away.
As she walked back towards her house she was singing. The sun was warmer now and the air tasted sweeter on her tongue. She was alive again, had not felt this good in months. Above her a bird sang his song of gratitude for the day, and her heart soared with it to the skies. Rhys had given his word that he would kill both Morgan and his woman! She wanted to shout her triumph aloud, but knew that she must keep her excitement to herself. She did not want to live at Oswestry alone all her life. She wanted Rhys to be her husband – and he would be once Morgan was dead.
Entering the house, which was old and gloomy, the stone walls almost permanently damp, Morwenna was aware that something had changed. The servants were scurrying about with a new purpose. Her heart caught, beating fast so that she felt breathless.
‘What has happened?’ she demanded as a servant wench came running towards her. ‘Have the English come? Have they confiscated the estate?’
‘No, mistress,’ the girl said, her eyes sparkling. ‘Your husband has arrived. He has gone up to your solar to see the child.’
Morgan here! Morwenna’s heart did a rapid somersault. How strange that both Rhys and Morgan should arrive on the same day!
She might so easily have been caught with her lover – but she had not. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Morgan could not know that she had been meeting Rhys for it had happened but once in all this time. But why was he here? Had he come to tell her that he was casting her off? Yet he had given his word that he would not shame her in the eyes of the world.
As she walked into her chamber Morwenna saw that her husband was holding Morganna in his arms. The child was gurgling with laughter and patting at him with her chubby hands. It was a picture that would touch most hearts and she paused for a moment, recognising the tenderness in Morgan’s eyes and realising that he truly cared for the child. For a moment she was overcome with regret and remorse. Why had she betrayed him? If only she could go back…but it was too late. Far too late.
The tenderness faded from his face as he looked up and saw her. He handed the child back to its nurse, who discreetly left the room.
‘Your child grows, Morwenna.’
‘Your child, Morgan. She has your hair and eyes.’
‘Perhaps.’ He frowned. ‘Have no fear, I shall not deny her or you. I have not come for that.’
‘Why have you come?’
‘To ask if you would like to stay with my mother for a while,’ he said. ‘It is dangerous here in these troubled times. I think you would be safer at Gruffudd.’
‘You are considerate,’ Morwenna said, her eyes downcast. ‘I thank you for your kindness. I should be pleased to visit your mother. It is often lonely here.’
‘Yes, I imagined it might be,’ Morgan replied. ‘And my mother would like to see the child before she dies.’
‘Your mother is ill?’ Morwenna pretended not to know. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Morgan.’
‘I dare say it would be a comfort to her to have you there,’ Morgan said. ‘If it will suit you I should like to leave in the morning. You need only bring what the baggage mules will carry. Your possessions may follow in the wagons.’
‘I shall tell Gwenny to prepare,’ Morwenna said. ‘Morganna may travel in a litter with her. She is almost weaned and will be no trouble on the journey.’
‘I shall escort you,’ Morgan said. ‘But you have your servants to attend you and I may leave you to camp and rest from time to time. I have other matters that need my attention as we travel.’
‘Of course.’ She inclined her head. ‘I am well provided for. I shall trouble you as little as possible, my husband.’
‘Then I shall leave you to make your arrangements.’
‘Thank you, my husband.’
Morwenna felt the anger rise inside her once more. Oh, how she hated him! For a moment she had felt regret and remorse but the moment had passed. He cared nothing for her. If he had not been travelling in the same direction he would not have bothered to come at all, merely sending word that he thought she should go to his mother.
He had probably been thinking of his mother rather than her – that she would make a good nurse for the sick woman!
Her anger abated slightly as she remembered the plans she had made with Rhys Llewelyn. Soon both the mother and the son would be dead.
*
Morgan left the house and walked towards the woods. He needed some air! The smell of the bracken was strong and he noticed that it had been trampled recently by a horse. Someone had tethered a restive animal here not long ago. He saw evidence of its presence, the droppings still steaming.
Glancing over his shoulder he looked for signs of more horses but there were none. One rider then. Why should one man tether a horse here when the house was so close?
Morgan frowned as he began to look about him for more clues. Had he been followed here? He knew that the English had put a price of ten gold nobles on his head, which was a fortune to most. Catching sight of something blue he plucked a piece of cloth from a bramble. Morwenna had been wearing blue when she came in – and she had looked excited.
Had she been meeting someone? It would not surprise him. It was lonely in this isolated house and she had few friends to visit her. He knew that she was not the kind of woman who would be happy to live alone for long.
Rhys! She was meeting Rhys Llewelyn. Morgan knew it instinctively. What had they been plotting together here – and for how long had they been meeting in secret?
His brow wrinkled in thought. His anger was for her slyness rather than of a jealous nature. He had given her the freedom to go with Rhys – why should she appear to be an obedient wife when she wanted another man? Unless that was not all she wanted?
If Rhys had always been jealous of him might he not covet all that he had? Not that he owned anything much of value. The estate was Maire’s for her lifetime and if she died then the English would confiscate it as they had Orlane.
A little smile touched Morgan’s lips. He would say nothing of this to Morwenna now, but before he left Gruffudd Manor he would make sure that his wife understood her best hope of securing a home there was to keep Maire alive for as long as possible…
*
‘The child is beautiful,’ Maire said as she stood with her son gazing down at the sleeping babe. He had brought his wife and child to her that morning and now she knew that he was thinking of leaving soon. ‘She reminds me of my mother sometimes – but perhaps that is just foolishness on my part.’
‘I have never known you to be foolish,’ Morgan said. ‘If you think she is like your mother then perhaps she is.’
Maire glanced up, looking into his eyes. ‘You are not sure the child is yours.’
‘Of course she is mine – How could it be otherwise?’
Maire shook her head but said nothing. ‘The babe is beautiful and innocent, my son. She needs to be loved as we all do.’
‘You have not known much love since you came to this house.’
‘I have loved you.’ Maire saw the denial in his face and smiled oddly
. ‘You may not always have thought so, but it has been so, my son. We do not all show our love in the same ways.’
‘You must take care of yourself while I am away,’ he told her. ‘Morwenna will be company for you.’
‘Your wife…’ Maire frowned. ‘She is bitter, Morgan. You have hurt her with your neglect. If she has harmed you…’
‘I have not said so.’
‘Not in words but it is easy to see in the way you look at her, in your manner towards her. She knows you have no love for her and it has turned her against you.’
‘Then be careful of her,’ Morgan said. ‘Shall I take her away again – send her back to Oswestry?’
‘I do not fear her,’ Maire said, ‘for my death is closer now and the pain comes more frequently. She can do me little harm – but she may seek to harm you if she can.’
‘I am aware of her feelings towards me – and of other things,’ Morgan replied. ‘Do not concern yourself for me, Mother. But look after Morganna if you will. The child is innocent and I would not have harm come to her.’
‘When do you leave?’
‘This evening,’ Morgan replied. ‘I have people I must see – but I may come again. I expect to be in this area for some months. If it is possible I shall visit you and the child sometimes.’
Morwenna stood outside the chamber and listened as they spoke. She was angry that Morgan should dismiss her so easily – one day he would remember his words and wish that he had taken more notice of his mother’s warning.
Strangely enough, she had discovered that she did not hate Maire. Indeed, the woman’s welcome had been kind and the warmth of her embrace had comforted her. Maire knew that Morgan suspected the child was not his, but she had not held that against his wife.
After so many lonely months at Oswestry, Morwenna discovered that she was looking forward to some company. There was after all no hurry for Maire to die, for unless Morgan was also dead she would not be able to claim the estate.
No, Morgan and his woman must die first and then she would decide what Maire’s fate would be…
*
Morgan was slightly uneasy as he left his mother’s house that night. Was he wronging his wife in thinking her sly and not to be trusted? Perhaps he had jumped to conclusions at Oswestry. There were many reasons why a horse might be tethered in the woods for a while, and why Morwenna might go there. He remembered that she had always been fond of walking alone.
There was nothing more he could do for the moment. Maire seemed to understand the girl and perhaps they would be friends. Besides, he had other things on his mind. He had his duty to Owain, which would keep him here in the Brecon for the rest of the summer, and after that who knew what might happen next?
For a moment his thoughts turned towards the woman he loved. Rosamund was often in his thoughts, for he knew that her days must be lonely shut away in that castle when she had been used to a far different life. He wished that he might go to her, sweep her and their child up on his horse and ride away with them – but it could not be.
Owain’s cause was gathering momentum. Excitement was reaching into every corner of Wales as more and more men decided to join them. Now the English would begin to realise that this was not just a group of hotheads taking a petty revenge but a serious uprising.
Their cause was just and had been a long time festering in the minds of men. If Merlin’s prophecy was ever to come true surely now was that time…
*
It was as the leaves were beginning to change their colour that the news came. Rosamund’s heart caught with fright as she heard the words that she had expected yet dreaded for so long.
‘How long before my husband’s men can reach us?’
‘An hour or so at most,’ Thomas Bridger told her. ‘Our spies sent word at once, but they were on foot and your husband’s men are mounted. The village has been alerted. Those who wish will come inside our walls, the others will drive their beasts into the forest and take their chances there.’
Rosamund could hear shouting in the courtyard below as the castle was prepared for a siege. She glanced out at the confusion, knowing that the news must have cast fear into the hearts of her people.
‘You are needed elsewhere,’ she said. ‘But before the bridge is drawn up you should send word to Morgan. He told me that Owain Glyn Dwr had pledged support should we need it and it may be that the time has come.’
‘A messenger is already on his way,’ Thomas assured her. ‘And now, my lady, I must leave you.’
Rosamund bade him go. She stood at her window gazing down at the courtyard as servants and men-at-arms scurried about securing the castle. Some of the villagers had brought livestock with them: a pig, two sheep and a few hens were adding to the general chaos. They might be needed to help feed the garrison if Philip de Grenville was determined to starve them out.
‘Oh, my lady,’ Alicia came hurrying into the room. ‘I came as soon as I could when I heard the news. What shall we do?’
‘For the moment there is little we can do,’ Rosamund replied. ‘Once the fighting starts we may be able to help with the wounded, but until then we should carry on as always.’ She saw the anxiety in Alicia’s face and smiled at her. ‘Do not be too alarmed, Alicia. Caris has stout walls and we are well prepared. I believe that Philip will soon tire of this fight and then he will go away and leave us in peace again.’
‘I pray God that you are right!’
‘Come, sit with me,’ Rosamund invited. ‘Take up your needlework, Alicia. It may be that Philip means us no harm. He may merely be on route to somewhere else for his master King Henry.’
Her mouth twisted with scorn for she had never forgiven her husband for siding with Henry Bolingbroke against King Richard.
Alicia sat down and took up a piece of needlepoint but then in a few seconds she was on her feet as she heard shouting below. She went to the window and looked out.
‘A messenger has come,’ she said. ‘Thomas is speaking with him from the ramparts above the gate.’
Rosamund refused to be drawn to the window, though her heart missed a beat. Determinedly, she set another stitch in the hanging she was embroidering.
‘Then we shall know very soon what my husband intends,’ she said calmly.
Within a few minutes her steward, William Baldry came hurrying into the chamber. His expression was grave, his eyes anxious as he looked at his young mistress.
‘Thomas bade me tell you – Sir Philip has brought his men to the gates and demands entrance in the name of King Henry. He says that he has an order from His Majesty and that you will be guilty of treason if you deny him.’
‘My lady!’ Alicia looked at her in fright. ‘The punishment for treason is death.’
‘I thank you, my good William. You may carry this message back…’ She raised her head proudly, her expression defiant. ‘I hold this castle for King Richard of England and for Owain Glyn Dwr the true Prince of Wales,’ she said. ‘Ask Thomas to convey my words to my husband’s messenger. And add these – we do not treat with traitors.’
Alicia turned paler than before when she heard her mistress’s brave words. Her defiance would cost her dearly if the castle should fall.
‘Do not be afraid,’ Rosamund said as the steward departed. He had not commented on her choice of words for he had expected no less. ‘Philip will not trouble us for long. We are prepared to stand a siege of several months and I believe help must come long before we are broken.’
‘I pray that you are right, my lady.’
Alicia’s fear was very real, not only for herself but also for Rosamund and for the man with whom she herself had fallen in love. If there was fighting Thomas might be killed and that would break her heart.
‘I think that we should all pray,’ Rosamund said. ‘I shall instruct my chaplain to bless the garrison at their posts and say prayers in the courtyard so that all may hear them. We must ask for God’s help in this struggle. It is all we can do. I believe that our cause is jus
t and in the end we shall prevail.’
Alicia noted how pale her mistress was. She had more to lose than any of them for it would be upon her that Philip de Grenville’s vengeance would be vented if the castle fell to his men. Rosamund’s own lover was somewhere beyond those walls fighting for the cause he believed in so passionately, and they had had no word of him in months.
If her mistress could be brave, then so must she, Alicia decided. Besides, it was true that the walls of Caris were stout and could be defended for a long time.
*
She would pay dearly for her defiance! Philip de Grenville scowled as the trembling messenger repeated the words he had been bidden carry to his master. Philip’s anger was such that he struck the man a heavy blow with his mailed fist, sending him crashing to the ground, where he lay in a daze, blood trickling from his ear.
‘Get rid of that fool!’ he snapped and two servants darted forward, afraid that they might be next if they were tardy. As the luckless man was carried out, Philip turned to the captain of his men-at-arms. ‘Send another messenger, Frobart. This time to the garrison. Freedom will be granted to those who surrender but if I am forced to fight there will be no quarter given when the castle is taken.’
‘But are we not to go on to Carmarthen and the Brecon?’
‘All in good time.’ Philip scowled at him. ‘We were ordered to subdue the rebels where we found them. You will do as I bid you, damn you! Question me again and I’ll hang you with the rebels.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Do it now!’
Philip growled low in his throat as the man departed, clearly reluctant to obey his order. The scurvy rogues were reluctant to fight against a woman they had once served, curse them! He knew that his men respected Rosamund and that they considered the men they must now fight against were old friends. But they would do as he bid them or he would have a few of them hung as an example to the rest.
He had expected Rosamund to seek sanctuary with Richard. It was a part of his plan to rid himself of a wife he did not want and still hold the inheritance she had brought him. He had imagined it would be easy to cast her off once she had refused to return to him, but Henry was insisting that he must come to terms with her. It seemed the King respected her show of defiance, despite the fact that she stubbornly refused to accept that Richard had been deposed.
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