Morgan the Rogue

by Lynn Granville

  ‘Then you still want me as your husband?’

  ‘Of course. I have always loved you, Rhys.’ She lied easily, moving towards him, her lips parted enticingly. ‘You may kiss me and touch me – but there must not be a child until Morgan is dead.’

  ‘Morwenna,’ he breathed, his face lighting up as he reached for her. ‘I was afraid to come to you – afraid that you would hate me.’

  She pressed herself close to him, feeling his manhood harden with desire for her, and she let him kiss her. Then she took his hand and folded it over her breast.

  ‘When Morgan is a prisoner of the English you shall take me to our bed, my love.’

  ‘That time cannot come soon enough for me.’

  ‘Or me,’ she said. ‘But if we must wait we shall be patient. You may meet me sometimes like this but you must not come to the house. If Maire knew that I had seen you she would send word to Morgan – and you know what he would do?’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Rhys bent his head and kissed her. His body throbbed with desire and he groaned as he felt the agony of denial, but at least he had hope. For many long months he had lived without hope, often cold, exhausted and sometimes desperate for food. ‘I shall do as you command and ask only that I can see you…know that you will be mine one day.’

  ‘When Morgan is taken by the English and we have the promise of their gold. Then you shall be my husband, Rhys.’

  She kissed him once more, then held him away from her as he pressed for more. ‘I must go now. Come to me here again. Rhys, but be careful. If Maire knew you were here she would send to Owain and have you killed.’

  She was singing softly as she began to walk back to the house, a song she had not sung in these many months. She had thought that all hope of revenge had gone but it seemed that Rhys still wanted her. She had no love for him, but she would use him and perhaps she would wed him if it suited her once Morgan was dead.

  She laughed for sheer joy as she went into the house. Gwenny was bringing the child downstairs. Morganna ran to her, catching at her skirts.

  ‘Mumma pick up!’ she demanded imperiously.

  Reminded of her father, Morwenna pushed her away. ‘I am busy,’ she said her tone harsh. ‘Go to Gwenny.’

  Lost in her thoughts and excited by her new hope of the future, Morwenna did not notice that Gwenny was staring at her oddly.

  ‘Come to Gwenny. She loves you, sweeting.’

  Gwenny burned with anger as she saw the child’s look of anguish at her mother’s thoughtless dismissal. Morwenna was too often unkind to her daughter in the nurse’s opinion. She did not know what had happened to make Morgan Gruffudd despise his wife but she suspected that it was something Morwenna had done.

  She had been spoiled by her father and too fond of her own way. Something had happened for Morgan had been a kind and considerate husband at the start – and she had overheard heard a terrible quarrel between them one night.

  She did not know why they had quarrelled but she had her suspicions. However, the child was clearly his. Maire was convinced of it and so was Gwenny.

  Both women adored the brave, strong-willed child and Gwenny was determined to shield her from her mother’s spite for as long as she could. She was as old as Maire but had never suffered a day’s illness in her life.

  She would live long enough to see Morganna grow up – and pray God her father would not forget her. Perhaps one day he would come and take her away with him.

  *

  ‘Henry has gone home with his tail between his legs,’ Owain said to Morgan as they met for a council of war early in November. ‘His march succeeded in destroying only a small village.’

  Morgan smiled as he heard the note of triumph in the other’s voice. As he had forecast, the tide was turning their way at last.

  ‘He has sent his son – that other Prince of Wales – to relieve the castles of Harlech and Caernarfon, and Percy won a victory at Homildon Hill,’ Morgan reminded him. ‘I think we should send again to the Percies. I hear that they grow mighty discontented and we would do well to make allies of them if we can.’

  Owain agreed. ‘Have you heard that Richard Grey of Condor has been appointed as the King’s lieutenant in the Brecon? He is rumoured to have some seven hundred and fifty men in his service.’

  Morgan grinned. ‘It seems that we have pricked the English where it hurts, Owain. They know it is a long struggle between us.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I have been thinking that we should continue our campaign into the winter – give them no chance to settle.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps. It has been my habit to break off for the worst of the winter, but think what a blow it would be for them if we attacked when they believed they were safe.’

  ‘I have thought,’ Morgan said and a look of grim satisfaction had settled on his mouth. ‘I have decided to visit Rosamund for a few days now and then I shall return to the Brecon. Who knows, perhaps by next spring my price will reach two hundred nobles?’

  ‘You see fit to jest,’ Owain said and frowned. ‘But I cannot afford to lose my good friend and able lieutenant.’

  ‘Nor shall you,’ Morgan replied. ‘I know my enemies, Owain. You accused me of having a soft streak in my nature and perhaps I have – but I have learned to be wary.’

  ‘Then God go with you – and give my good wishes to your lady.’

  Morgan smiled as he left Owain. He knew that Rosamund had given birth to their second child for he had received word that all was well and he was not to worry. He wanted to see her and the child for he knew that it would be a while before he could see her again if their campaign was to continue into the winter as he had planned.

  *

  ‘My lord, it is good to see you,’ Rosamund greeted him with a kiss as he came to her. She was sitting in her solar nursing her daughter – a red-haired, green-eyed tiny thing that made Morgan fear for her. ‘I thought we might call her Maire – do you agree?’

  ‘No, not Maire,’ he said, thinking of his mother as he had last seen her. ‘Why not call her Ellen after your own mother?’

  ‘If you wish it.’ Rosamund was puzzled. She had thought he would like to call the child after his mother. ‘Do you not think her beautiful?’

  ‘She is lovely,’ he said and touched a finger against the babe’s fist. To his surprise she caught it strongly. He chuckled, feeling pleased. ‘She looks so fragile but her grip is firm.’

  ‘Do not be deceived by her looks,’ Rosamund said understanding his reaction now. ‘She will not die, Morgan. She is always hungry and I have employed a wet nurse for my milk would not satisfy her.’

  He nodded and smiled. ‘Then we shall call her Ellen Maire of Caris,’ he said and turned his eyes on her, searching her face. ‘You are well, Rosamund? You have recovered your own strength?’

  ‘I am very well,’ she told him. ‘But I fear I have sad news for you. I received word from your manor at Gruffudd. They say that Maire will not live for many days.’

  ‘When did this message come?’

  ‘Only this morning. I had planned to send a messenger to look for you, but I was not sure where you might be.’

  ‘I have been with Owain, but he thinks I should return to the Brecon.’ He grinned. ‘There is a new garrison, much stronger than before. I think they mean business this time.’

  ‘Take care, Morgan,’ Rosamund cried for a chill had started at the nape of her neck. ‘Fortune has been with you thus far, but I fear you grow too bold. You know the English would hang you if they could.’

  ‘That has always been the case,’ he replied and his smile had vanished as he saw how anxious she was. ‘I would not have you worry for me, my love. You know that I cannot promise to return to you for my life may be at risk at any time – but I shall not grow careless. My love for you makes me stronger. I believe in my heart that we shall know peace and content one day. Owain was close to despair last winter but now he is full of confidence. Have faith, Rosamund. I feel our time is close at hand.’


  Rosamund went into his arms, hiding her fear as he kissed her. She knew she must let him go for it had always been thus between them. To weep would simply make it harder for them both. Yet she had a terrible sense of impending danger. Not for herself or her children but for him.

  It was almost as if she heard Kestrel’s voice warning her, yet she knew it was only in her mind.

  ‘I have always known it must be so,’ she agreed. ‘I simply ask that you take care when you are at …Gruffudd Manor.’ The words were suddenly so clear that she could hear them. She put a hand to her head, trying to hear more clearly. ‘It is so strange. I think…I have words in my head…Kestrel is telling me that you are in danger from an old enemy.’

  ‘Rhys Llewelyn,’ Morgan said and frowned. He had tried so often to summon Kestrel but without success. Now the healer had spoken to Rosamund. ‘Yes, I shall take care, my love. I promise you that all will be well. You must not worry too much.’

  Rosamund gave him the smile she knew he wanted from her. Each time he left her it grew harder to let him go, tearing at her heartstrings, but she knew she must never let him see that their parting hurt her so deeply. Morgan needed her to be brave and so she must, but inside she was weeping.

  ‘I wonder why Kestrel came to you?’ Morgan said and looked thoughtful. ‘Why did he not speak to me?’

  ‘It is not for us to question,’ she said. ‘And now you should leave, my lord. If you delay you may not see Maire alive.’

  ‘I had planned to spend a few days with you.’

  ‘And now you must go. I shall not try to hold you, Morgan. I have my children and I know you will return when you can.’

  He drew her into his arms, kissing her hungrily, wanting to deny his duty. Would that he could stay with her and forget the world but he knew that he had to go to his mother. She must be dying or she would not have sent for him.

  ‘I would live with you always in peace and content if it were possible, Rosamund,’ he said and touched her cheek with his fingertips. As he gazed into her eyes he sensed the pain that this parting was causing her and guilt struck him to the heart. She had given him so much and he had so little to give her in return. ‘Take care of our children, Rosamund. I shall be with you again as soon as I can – and perhaps then I can stay for longer.’

  ‘Make no promises,’ she warned him. ‘Go now, Morgan. Maire has so little time left to her.’

  He kissed her once more and left her. Rosamund watched him walk away. Tears were stinging her eyes but she would not let them fall – until she was alone.

  The life at Caris was often lonely and hard to bear when Morgan was away. She had her women to keep her company but Alicia was married now and carrying Thomas Bridger’s child. They stayed with her out of loyalty but she knew that Alicia longed to return to her home to see her parents and show off her husband. In the spring, after her child was born and she was strong again, Rosamund meant to tell her to go.

  She could find other companions, though none would be like Alicia – and she still missed her good Margaret terribly. There were times when she wished she could leave Caris and visit her other manors. It would be pleasant to see old friends …to feel free again. Yet she had chosen to leave Philip de Grenville of her own free will and that meant she must stay here for the moment.

  Perhaps one day when the war was over…But when would that be? She believed that the struggle might go on for years. Morgan would never desert Owain and she could never leave him. She must bear the loneliness of the months ahead and pray that he would return one day.

  ‘Come back to me, my love,’ she whispered to the empty room. ‘For I could not bear it if you should die.’

  She wished that Kestrel was still with them in this life for though she had heard his words so clearly in her mind they had done nothing but create terror in her heart.

  Morgan was on his way to Gruffudd Manor to see his sick mother as was right and proper – but what would he find there?

  *

  ‘Do not send for Morgan. I forbid it.’ Maire pushed away the broth Morwenna had made for her. ‘He can do nothing and I do not want him here. It is too dangerous…’

  Maire knew that she was close to death and she did not fear it. Indeed, she would welcome an end to her pain. She had already lived with it for years and longed for peace. In death she would find peace such as she had not known since she was a child – but of late there had been a growing fear for her son.

  She suspected that Morwenna was plotting against him with Rhys Llewelyn. Morwenna had become increasingly sly of late and Gwenny had told her that she was often unkind to the child.

  Maire had tried to warn her son that Morwenna was bitter but she knew that he had not listened. He had never listened. But she could do nothing. She was not sure that her fears were more than imagination for she was finding it difficult to hold on to reality these days, and she suspected that Morwenna gave her things to make her sleep.

  ‘Leave me,’ she said. ‘I would rest.’

  ‘You should eat a little,’ Morwenna said. ‘But I cannot make you.’

  She went out carrying her bowl, taking it back to the kitchen. The servants looked at her and she shook her head.

  ‘She would eat nothing. I think she was wandering in her mind again. She has forgotten that she told me to send for Morgan. I am going out now. I need some fresh air.’

  She left the house, feeling the tension mount inside her. It was a week or more since she had sent for Morgan and there had been no word. Surely he would come? He could not ignore his mother’s pleas.

  She had sent her message despite Maire’s insistence that he was not to be summoned. Excitement warred with the fear inside her for she had planned it carefully with Rhys.

  ‘It is the greatest good fortune,’ Rhys had told her when she met with him some days earlier. ‘I have discovered that Sir Philip de Grenville is with Richard Grey, who is the King’s lieutenant in this part of Wales. If I go to him he will be glad to pay for information. He hates Morgan as much as we do. He will use anything to force his wife into submission, and after his humiliation at Caris he must want to see Morgan hang.’

  Morwenna felt a thrill of pleasure at his words. At last! She would have the revenge she had longed for at last.

  Rhys was waiting for her in the appointed place. She felt the cool breeze catch at her wimple and the chill of autumn bit into her flesh as for a moment the wind seemed to whirl about her fiercely. She ran towards Rhys, allowing him to draw her into his arms and kiss her hungrily.

  ‘What news? Did you see Sir Philip?’ she asked. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He will arrange for you to keep Gruffudd Manor as your widow’s right,’ Rhys replied. ‘And we shall be given the reward as soon as Morgan is taken. He was as eager as I expected. I almost pity Morgan.’

  ‘Do not waste your pity,’ she scorned. ‘He deserves whatever the English do to him. I hope they make him suffer before they hang him.’

  Rhys felt oddly chilled as he looked at her. What had happened to the innocent girl he had loved at Sycharth? She was if anything more beautiful and he hungered for the moment when he could take her to his bed – yet something had changed in her. He had fallen in love with a warm, passionate girl but Morwenna had become a hard and bitter woman. He had known she hated Morgan but now he was seeing something in her he disliked.

  ‘You are harsh, Morwenna. I want him dead so that we may be together and enjoy this estate without fear – but I would give any man a clean death.’

  ‘What does it matter how the English treat him?’ she asked. ‘We must hope that he comes soon. How shall you warn Sir Philip?’

  ‘I must stay close to the house for the next few days,’ Rhys said. ‘As soon as he arrives I shall go to Sir Philip.’

  ‘Then I must go back. If he should be there already I shall come to the door and shake out a white tunic.’

  ‘Kiss me first…’ Rhys drew her to him, his eyes suddenly hard and bright. ‘Very soon now you sh
all be mine. Do not think to cheat me of what you have promised, Morwenna. If you do I shall kill you.’

  ‘Do not be a fool,’ she said. ‘Without you I should be alone. I have no wish to live alone for the rest of my life. Come to me as soon as Morgan is taken. When he is dead you shall be my husband.’

  She left him then and began to walk back to the house. Rhys was a fool. She would marry him if she had to but she was tired of living as she had for so many months. When they had the English gold as well as that Maire kept in her counter they could live as they pleased…but Maire might give it to Morgan if he came in time.

  Morwenna was determined that he should not have that money. It was hers by right. She had kept Maire alive, tending her, washing her, clearing up her vomit when she was ill. That money should be hers and she would take it while her motherin-law was sleeping. After all, Maire had no use for it now.’

  THIRTEEN

  Maire closed her eyes as the door of her chamber opened. It was dark save for the light that filtered through the tiny slit in the wall of her chamber, but she knew it was Morwenna for the scent of her was imprinted on her senses. She kept her eyes shut as her daughter-in-law came to the bed and peered down at her. Why had Morwenna come to her chamber at this hour? Most of the household was sleeping but Maire slept very little these days unless something was given to her in her food or drink to make her sleep.

  ‘Are you awake, Maire?’ Morwenna asked softly.

  Maire did not answer, keeping her eyes closed as the girl looked at her for a moment longer and then began to move about the room. Opening her eyes when she thought it was safe, Maire watched as Morwenna went to the counter and took out the small bag of gold that was hidden there.

  So it was accepted that she was dying. Morwenna was taking the gold to make certain of it now. In the darkness the sick woman smiled. She was not such a fool as to leave all her money where it could be so easily found. What she had was for Morgan’s daughter and she would tell Gwenny where it could be found. Gwenny loved Morganna as she did and would make sure the money came to the girl one day.