‘There are others with as true a claim to the English throne as Henry,’ Owain said and there was a new determination in his voice. ‘And I may yet form an alliance with France or Scotland.’
‘We must not lose hope because things have gone against us,’ Morgan said. ‘The King’s army brought destruction to the abbey at Strata Florida but achieved little other than a petty revenge. I believe that the tide will turn our way in the spring if we can just hold on.’
‘Then we shall somehow,’ Owain said. ‘And now we should join the ladies. Did I not hear that there is to be a wedding?’
‘Thomas Bridger and Alicia are to wed,’ Morgan said. ‘It has taken Thomas a long time to speak his mind but at last they are to become man and wife.’
Owain smiled and nodded. ‘Have you heard ought of your mother or Morwenna?’
‘Not since I took Morwenna and the child there,’ Morgan said with a frown. ‘My mother is ill but strong. She told me she is not yet ready to die and I know she will fight as long as she can.’
‘I am sorry that she is so ill,’ Owain said. ‘You must try to see her again before she dies.’
‘Perhaps – when I can,’ Morgan replied. ‘But come, Rosamund is expecting us to join her in the chapel. The wedding cannot begin until the guest of honour is present.’
*
Rosamund lay with her head against Morgan’s shoulder as he caressed her soft flesh and kissed the arch of her white throat. She sighed, feeling content after the heat of their passion was for the moment slaked.
‘Are you sad?’ Morgan asked, gazing down into her lovely face. ‘What are you thinking, Rosamund? Do you feel hurt because Alicia is married to Thomas and we cannot marry?’
‘It is my greatest wish that we might marry,’ Rosamund replied. ‘But I am never sad when you are with me, my love. No, I do not sigh because I an unhappy, but because I am content.’
‘I would marry you this minute if I could.’
‘I know that,’ she said and kissed his shoulder, tasting the salty flavour of his sweat. ‘There is no good to be had from wishing for the moon, Morgan. What must be must be. If it is meant that we shall marry it will happen.’
‘And if does not?’
‘Then I shall count myself blessed for having had your love.’
‘You are as wise and generous as you are beautiful. Owain told me that he understood why I could never love another woman after he had seen and spoken with you.’
‘You do not love your wife,’ Rosamund said, looking at him gravely. ‘But you must try to love your daughter. You must visit her when you can, Morgan.’
‘Did Owain put that thought into your mind?’
‘It has been there for a long time,’ Rosamund replied. ‘The child is growing, Morgan. She ought to know her father – and she ought to have a father’s love. You should visit her and take her a present when you can.’
‘I have given you no gifts.’
‘I have your love and whatever time you can spare from your work. What else should I need?’
‘One day I shall give you things, Rosamund.’
‘Until then I am content. But do not let Morganna grow up to hate you. Give her something that will make her smile when she looks at it and think of you.’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘An ornament – a small gold cross that she may wear on a chain or a ribbon about her neck.’ Rosamund slipped from the bed and went over to her counter, which was an oak cupboard on legs and had been used by her father’s steward for counting and storing money. She took a heavy silver casket from inside and opened it, then she seemed to look for something before giving a murmur of satisfaction. She removed the trinket and brought it back to the bed, pressing it into Morgan’s hand. ‘My father gave me this when I was a tiny child, no more than three or four at most. Give it to your daughter, Morgan.’
He looked at the cross, which was delicately engraved and hung from a fine chain of gold links.
‘This is beautiful, Rosamund. It must mean a great deal to you. How can I take it from you?’
‘My father gave me many gifts, Morgan. I can spare this one small thing – and you might find it difficult to purchase a gift for your daughter. If you approached a goldsmith he might betray you to the English.’
‘There are some I might trust – but I shall take the cross because you offer it, Rosamund. One day I should like to give you precious jewels.’
‘When you have won back what rightfully belongs to you, you may give me what you please,’ she said and then laughed as she kissed him. ‘For now I am content with what you I have of you.’ She reached up to touch his face. ‘I want another child, Morgan. I would have a daughter this time if it pleases you.’
Morgan chuckled deep in his throat as he gathered her to him. ‘Then I must see what I can to do to oblige you, my lady…’
*
Morwenna frowned as she left her motherin-law’s bedchamber. Maire had been ill again in the night and was keeping to her bed for the moment, though she would drag herself downstairs before the day was over.
‘You should rest. There is no need for you to get up,’ Morwenna had told her over and over again, but her answer was always the same.
‘I shall die in bed, Morwenna. Until then I shall come down when I can.’
Morwenna did not push the argument further. She had learned to respect Maire and it grieved her to see the other woman so ill. Indeed, she dreaded the day when Maire finally died and not only because the English might confiscate the manor. If that happened she could return to Oswestry, though she preferred to live here. The land here was rich and fertile and they lived well. She knew that Maire had gold locked in a counter in her chamber, for she had given her money to buy material for new clothes for herself and the child from the cloth merchants who came to the market once a month. When Maire was dead she would take that gold for herself but for the moment she was content with what she was given.
Hearing a child’s laughter, Morwenna turned to see that Gwenny had brought her daughter to visit her. She smiled as she saw the little girl for Morganna was a lovely child. She hardly ever cried or screamed and was no trouble.
‘She wanted to see her mother before I put her to bed for her afternoon sleep…’
‘Come to Mother,’ Morwenna invited, holding out her arms to the child as she walked unsteadily towards her. She sat down suddenly on her bottom, her face creasing as if it had hurt but then she picked herself up and set her mouth determinedly.
How like her father she was! Morwenna had seen that look in her husband’s eyes. If she had doubted that the girl was her husband’s daughter she did not now.
It was months since Morgan had been to visit them. At Christmas she had wondered if he might make the effort to visit his daughter but he had not come. No doubt he was with his woman!
The bitterness was strong in her. Rhys had promised to kill Rosamund de Grenville but she had heard nothing from him. She believed he was too much of a coward to carry out his promises. Were she a man both Rosamund and Morgan would have been dead long ago – or she killed in the attempt.
‘Mumma…’ Morganna patted her hands against her mother’s face and Morwenna realised that the child had sensed her anger. ‘I am not angry with you,’ she said. ‘It is him I hate…’
Even as she spoke she heard voices outside the door and then it opened and he came in. She stared at him in disbelief.
‘I thought you must be dead.’
‘Or did you merely hope for it?’ Morgan asked. ‘You should know that Rhys Llewelyn is an outcast again. He tried to kill Rosamund de Grenville – but killed her serving woman instead. His life is forfeit and if he comes here you should have nothing to do with him, Morwenna.’
‘I have not seen him since…’ she faltered as his angry, accusing eyes stabbed at her.
‘I do not care when you last saw Rhys. Go with him if you wish but leave Morganna here with her nurse or you will be sorry when I find you.’<
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‘I do not wish to go away with Rhys.’
It was true enough. Rhys had failed her once again. He was a fool and a coward and she despised him.
‘Why have you come?’ she asked.
‘To see Morganna.’ He was smiling at the child as she clung to her mother, clearly disturbed by the tension she sensed between this stranger and her mother. ‘You are lovely, my daughter. Will you come to your father?’ He squatted down and held out his arms to her. ‘Come and kiss me, my pretty one.’
Morganna stared at him for a moment. She had no conscious memory of him, but something in her responded to the scent of him and the caressing tone of his voice. She held out arms to him. Morgan took her up, holding her high above him and tossing her in the air, catching her with ease.
She shrieked with laughter, clearly enchanted with this new person in her life.
‘Do you remember me?’ Morgan asked as he held her lower and looked into her face. ‘I nursed you as a babe but it is many months since I have seen you.’
‘She is eighteen months old,’ Morwenna said, the hatred twisting inside her as she contrasted his manner with the child and her. There were smiles and kisses for Morganna but not even a kind word for her!
‘And I have given her nothing,’ Morgan said and took something from his pocket. Lodging her against his hip he fastened the chain Rosamund had given him around the child’s neck. The clasp was secure and would not easily yield unless you knew its secret. ‘That is for you, my daughter, to remind you of your father.’ Turning to Gwenny he passed the child to her. ‘Guard her well, Gwenny. I shall come again when I can. For now I would speak to my wife alone.’
‘She is a sweet child and no trouble,’ the nurse told him. ‘I love her well.’
Morgan nodded, his expression hardening as the nurse went out.
‘I have nothing for you but this…’ Morgan gave his wife five gold coins. ‘You may use it as you wish. I hope that you have all you need here with my mother?’
Morwenna wanted to throw the gold nobles into his face, but resisted the impulse. She might need money if the English came to turn her out of the house. She frowned as Morgan turned away.
‘You are leaving at once?’
‘I shall visit my mother and then eat food her servants are preparing for me. After that I shall go. It is not wise to stay here for long and I have work I must do for Owain.’
‘You are going to her!’ Morwenna cried, the jealousy in her face.
‘Where I go is my business, Morwenna. But I shall not be with Rosamund again for months.’
Morwenna made no answer. She was eaten up with her jealousy and bitterness. He had come to see the child and his mother. She meant nothing to him. And now she would not even have the satisfaction of knowing that he had lost the woman he loved, for Rhys had failed again.
She watched as her husband went out, hating him. Anger and self-pity welled up inside her. Surely one day she would find a way to be revenged on him!
*
The Battle of Bryn Glas was a turning point for Owain Glyn Dwr’s cause. The devastation wreaked on the enemy was terrible indeed and the savagery inflicted by the Welsh on the hated English went far beyond the rules of warfare.
Morgan was sickened by some of the mutilation he witnessed as he moved amongst the dead and wounded afterwards. It had been a glorious battle but this cruelty was inglorious.
‘Was it necessary?’ he asked Owain later. ‘God knows I hate the English as much as any man here – but some of what has been done here makes me ashamed.’
‘You have a soft streak in your nature, Morgan. I have noticed it before. This will make the enemy fear us. They will not now dismiss us as cowards and weaklings.’
The battle had taken place in June 1402 and as that year wore on it became clear that Owain’s words had the ring of truth. Now at last the rest of Wales was beginning to respect this man who had come to deliver them from the yoke of English dominance that had lain too long upon their land. More and more men were swelling their ranks and the momentum seemed unstoppable.
In every region there were uprisings against the English, and the burgess cowered in their towns, terrified of what might happen if they tried to resist. The people refused to pay the fines and taxes levied against them. Now there was a belief that Owain was the true Prince of Wales, and that Merlin’s prophecy was coming to fulfilment at last.
Owain was being taken seriously in France and Scotland. There were negotiations for foreign troops to come and aid them in their struggle against the English oppressors.
‘Owain’s cause rides on a tide of victory,’ Morgan told Rosamund when he visited her in the autumn and discovered that she was big with their second child. ‘I believe that all we desire shall be ours one day.’
‘I am glad that all goes well for you,’ she said and looked at him with love in her eyes. The content of bearing her second child was on her like a blessing, making her more beautiful than ever.
‘I wish that Kestrel was here to see it,’ Morgan said. ‘I should like to talk to him…’
‘Do you not think he sees what we do?’
‘Perhaps…’ Morgan had told Rosamund of his vision but it had begun to fade after so many months and there were times when he doubted. He had tried to call Kestrel to him but to no avail. He had neither heard nor seen him and wondered if he had been dreaming that day on the mountain. ‘But enough of these things. How are you, my love?’
‘I am very well. Much better than I was when I carried your son, my lord. Your daughter is much more considerate.’
Morgan laughed and drew her into his arms, kissing her forehead. ‘I am glad to hear that, but it does not surprise me. Our son has too much energy. His nurses tell me he is never still.’
‘That is why I took another girl from the village to help care for him,’ Rosamund replied with a fond smile. ‘Bethan is very young and she can run as fast as Richard. He would be too much for any one nurse to cope with.’
‘So I have heard.’ Morgan chuckled. ‘Let us hope that our daughter will be less trouble, Rosamund.’
‘I believe she will. She is very quiet and only kicks now and then to remind me of her presence.’
Morgan nodded, thinking briefly of his eldest child. Morganna was like her half-brother, determined to have her way, brave and full of energy. His mother had told him that she was a pleasure to have in her home.
‘Promise me that you will not forget her, Morgan,’ she had begged him when he’d visited her in her chamber. He had been shocked by the change in her for her skin was yellow, her eyes dull. ‘I know you hate her mother but you must not hurt the child.’
‘I feel nothing for Morwenna, not even hate.’
‘Poor Morwenna. She is very bitter, my son.’
‘She must blame herself for the way things are between us. Rhys tried to kill Rosamund – why would he do that, Mother? He might want me dead but he can have no reason to hate her.’
‘You think Morwenna…surely not?’ her face creased with pain, part physical but partly of the heart. ‘She has been good to me, Morgan, and I feel for her loneliness.’
‘Then perhaps I wrong her,’ he said, not wanting to distress her further. ‘Rhys may have acted from his own malice.’
They had spoken no more of Morwenna, though both knew that Rhys must have had good reason for what he did.
‘What are you thinking?’ Rosamund asked, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Was it of Morganna?’
‘If it were possible I would like her with us one day. Could you accept that, Rosamund – perhaps for a part of the year?’
‘Yes, of course, for as long as she and you wish it,’ she replied. ‘But is it fair to take her away from her mother?’
‘If Morwenna were to go with Rhys…’
‘Then your daughter would always be welcome in my home.’
‘You are always so generous.’
‘But I have so much,’ Rosamund said. ‘Morwenna has so little.’<
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‘Perhaps she has all she deserves.’
Rosamund said nothing more. She knew that he was sometimes troubled that he could not see his daughter more often. She took his hand, placing it against her swollen belly so that he could feel the child kicking inside her.
Morgan smiled and put his thoughts of Morganna away. She had her nurse Gwenny to love her and perhaps he had wronged his wife in his thoughts. Perhaps she was not the vengeful witch he had come to think her.
*
Morwenna was gathering herbs at the edge of the stream. She sometimes brewed a drink from them, which helped to dull Maire’s pain for a while. Hearing a twig crack beneath someone’s foot behind her she was startled and swung round in alarm. Her fear left her as she saw and recognised the man who stood a short distance away and was watching her warily, as if he feared she might scream at him.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked coldly.
‘I wanted to see you,’ Rhys said.
‘You have taken your time in coming.’
‘I have been hunted like a beast,’ he said. ‘Owain has offered a reward for my death – ten gold nobles.’
‘Morgan’s price is one hundred.’
‘You hate me for failing you.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to agree, but something made her hold back the bitter words. Maire would die soon and then she would be alone apart from the servants and the child.
‘I hate Morgan,’ she said. ‘The woman is not so important, though it would hurt him if she were to die – but it is him I would see dead.’
‘He is too powerful for the moment,’ Rhys said. ‘Owain values him highly and unbeknown to him he is constantly watched over and guarded lest anyone should try to assassinate him.’
‘And if that were not the case?’
‘If I had the chance I would betray him to the English and take their gold.’
‘Yes…’ she smiled at that. ‘I would betray him if I could. The money would help us to live as I would wish, Rhys. I do not want to lose Gruffudd Manor. It could be a part of the bargain that I am allowed to keep it.’
Morgan the Rogue Page 21