She let him kiss her, lying still as he caressed and explored her body, finally possessing her with a hunger she could never match. His loving did not rouse her, though once she had found it pleasant enough. Hatred had destroyed all the natural feeling in her, making her cold and unresponsive to his touch.
After he had done she lay staring at the ceiling while he turned on his side and began to snore. She felt nothing but indifference towards him, knowing that she could endure his passion if she had to but had nothing to give him in return.
Rhys was a selfish lover, taking rather than giving, and she had known a different kind of lover, though only once. The love she had felt for Morgan then had turned to hate and bitterness, but she had discovered to her dismay that revenge was not as sweet as she had expected.
She took no pleasure in the knowledge that Morgan was being tortured and would soon be no more. Her hatred of him was all that had kept her going and without it she was empty. Staring at the stone walls about her, she realised that she had merely exchanged one kind of prison for another. Without Maire’s gold she was trapped here with Rhys and would be forced to endure his mauling whenever he chose to exert his rights.
Somehow she must find that money! It was owed her and she should have it. With a fortune in her hands she could leave this dark house and go wherever she pleased. Perhaps to England, where she might find a wealthy husband who would indulge her with all the things she had dreamed of as a young girl. Perhaps she might even learn to be happy again, to forget Maire’s staring eyes when she had choked on her own blood…
*
Morgan braced himself when the door of his cell opened but relaxed as he saw it was Jack Errin. The soldier had brought him bread, a hard corner of cheese and water to drink.
‘You are a welcome sight,’ Morgan said and grinned at him. For some reason they had not beaten him now for two nights and his pain was easing. ‘I thought they had decided to starve me to death.’
‘Sir Philip plans to burn you,’ Jack said and shuddered, crossing himself. ”Tis not right nor human, sir. It would be kinder to hang you.’
‘Even kinder to let me go,’ Morgan suggested. ‘But do not worry, Jack Errin, I would not have you risk your life for mine. So when am I to be burned?’
‘It was to have been today,’ Jack replied. ‘Sir Philip had decided that it was useless to question you further. But the King’s son has sent word that he wishes to see you. He has decided to interrogate you himself.’
‘Ah, I see…perhaps a more amusing form of torture…’
‘You jest, my lord,’ Jack said and crossed himself again. ‘You know I would help you if I could?’
‘Yes, I believe you would,’ Morgan said. ‘But I shall not ask it of you, Jack – but you would still do better to serve the Lady Rosamund. Leave the master you despise and go to her. Tell her that you were kind to me and that I asked a similar kindness of her for you.’
‘I must go,’ Jack said and looked nervously over his shoulder. ‘Eat what you can, my lord. They will come for you soon.’
‘The condemned shall eat heartily?’ Morgan smiled. ‘I thank you for your thought, Jack Errin.’
Morgan’s smile vanished as the soldier went out and he began to eat hungrily. They had given him water but no food for the past two days and his stomach was growling fiercely. For a moment he felt as if it would reject the food, but he forced it down, swallowing the brackish water, making himself finish every last crumb of the stale cheese and coarse bread. After he had eaten he got to his feet and began to pace the tiny cell, back and forth, back and forth. It was important not to let himself become weak. He must fight the blackness that seemed to take over his mind when he let it, to remember Kestrel’s words.
The healer had not come to him again, though he had tried to summon him. Morgan accepted that his strength was returning little by little, though how much of that was natural healing and how much came from his faith in Kestrel he was not sure. What new torture would they invent for him now? He knew that so far he had not suffered the refinements of a torture chamber, where terrible instruments of cruelty were used to wring a confession from the poor wretch subjected to these torments. Clearly, Sir Philip had not come prepared for such work, but perhaps they had been sent for?
Morgan prayed that he would not break under torture. He would rather die than betray Owain and his friends, but he knew that a man could endure only so much pain.
He turned as the door of his cell was unlocked and a young man entered. His gaze narrowed in surprise. This man was no common soldier, his features lean and aristocratic, his jaw jutting, lips compressed – but there was also intelligence and something finer.
‘You are Morgan Gruffudd they tell me?’
‘Yes, sir. I fear I do not know you.’
‘Yet you rebel against my father.’
‘King Henry’s son…’ Morgan stared at him, surprised that he should come to this wretched cell. ‘I am honoured, sir. I ask you to forgive my lack of hospitality, for I can offer you nothing – not even a place to sit.’
‘It distresses me that you have been given such poor accommodation,’ Prince Henry said and smiled as if he appreciated Morgan’s jest. ‘Had you been my guest I assure you it would not have been so.’
‘I have been told you want to question me, sir. I must tell you now that I shall not confess to you the whereabouts of my friends. I would prefer that you give me a clean death – but I shall die on the rack rather than betray those I love.’
‘I see no rack,’ the prince replied. ‘Nor have I asked Sir Philip’s men to prepare the hot irons, which is what I understand he intended next for you – before you were condemned to the flames. No, I have come to see if you will talk terms with me, Morgan Gruffudd. I have heard much of your work in the Brecon and believe me I admire men of courage and intelligence. I should like to offer you the hand of friendship. This foolish feud has gone on long enough between our two countries.’
‘I do not believe the Welsh can ever willingly accept bondage, my lord.’
‘Nor should they,’ the prince agreed. ‘I would have us unite as one, become stronger to fight our enemies abroad. Our nations have both known what it is to fight the foreign invader, to have our villages raided and our women stolen, our young boys taken to make slaves of them. With a common heritage why should we be not become one nation?’
For a moment Morgan saw the sense of his argument, and for a brief time he was tempted. He believed the prince was sincere – why not take what he offered and avoid a painful death? Other men had surrendered honourably.
‘I thank you for the offer, sir,’ Morgan replied carefully. ‘There is in me something that responds to your words – but it cannot be. I have sworn to serve Owain while we both live and I cannot forsake my oath to him. Perhaps if you and I had met in other circumstances I should have been honoured to serve you.’
‘You are an honest man, Morgan Gruffudd, and a stubborn one,’ the prince said with a frown. ‘Very well, I accept that your mind is set. I must say farewell now for I have work to do here in Wales. If your people will not come of their own will they must be dragged into the future that awaits them.’
‘May God go with you, Prince Henry,’ Morgan said. ‘For I believe that in another life we might have been friends.’
The prince looked at him in silence for a moment, inclined his head and went out without speaking.
*
Rosamund paced the floor of her chamber. She had risen after a restless night spent dreaming of Morgan. In her dream she had seen him consumed by fire and the fear that he might have been executed in this most barbarous and cruel way was on her.
‘Morgan…Morgan, my love,’ she whispered. ‘If my prayers can bring you comfort let them reach you…wherever you are. I pray that if you are dead you did not die in great pain, and that we shall meet again one day.’
She was at her devotions when Bethan came to her with the news that Alicia’s time was close.
/> ‘She is in great pain and asks for you, my lady,’ Bethan said. ‘And Richard has a stomach-ache. I told him you were resting, but he cries for you.’
‘Then I shall come to him,’ Rosamund asks. ‘For a moment only, and then I must be with Alicia, for I know how she suffers.’
Rosamund put her fears away from her, for that was all they were. She did not know where Morgan was or what he faced and it was foolish to dwell on wretched thoughts and dreams.
Kestrel had told her to be at peace, and she wished that she might believe in his words, for then she would know that nothing could happen to her beloved lord.
*
Morgan woke from another night spent sleeping on the hard floor of his cell. All that night he had slept peacefully, though the previous day had been one spent in imminent expectation of his death. He had not thought it would be long delayed after his refusal of the prince’s offer, but the summons had not come. Mayhap they had merely wanted to prolong the agony of waiting a little longer.
The door was opening now. Four soldiers had come to escort him to his final examination and then his death.
‘Forgive me, sir, we have been told to bind your hands,’ one of the men said and came forward with a thick rope. ‘Will you put your hands behind your back, sir?’
‘I would sooner go with you of my own free will…but you have your orders.’ Morgan put his hands behind his back, feeling the bite of the thick rope as he was bound tightly.
He had made no attempt at escape for he could see other men waiting outside and realised that they were making sure of him. On the other occasions that he had been questioned by Sir Philip, he had been taken to another part of the dungeons, but this time he was being pushed up the stone steps that he had been brought down while he was still unconscious after being almost crushed by his horse. He felt the rush of cold air as they came to the outer door and then he saw they were in the courtyard of the castle where he had been held these past ten or more days. The ground was hard with frost for it was a bitter winter day. He was not quite sure how long he had been here for he had lost count, and his eyes felt odd as the daylight dazzled him.
He looked for the pyre he expected to consume him but could see nothing and his spirits lifted as he thought that perhaps he was to be hung after all. Yet now he saw that there were horses waiting, and a small group of ten men-at-arms. Was it possible that he was being taken somewhere else? He stiffened as he saw Sir Philip come towards him.
‘So, I am not to have the pleasure of seeing you burn,’ the Englishman said, an angry look in his narrow set eyes. His mouth twisted with spite. ‘Prince Henry says that it would be wiser to hold you prisoner at Conway. He hopes to bargain with my wife for her surrender and perhaps your kinsman Owain Glyn Dwr.’
‘Owain will not surrender for my sake – and nor will Rosamund.’ The prince must surely have known that, Morgan thought, wondering what more lay behind the change of plan.
‘Be that as it may,’ Sir Philip replied. He was snarling like a caged beast that sees its prey but cannot strike and it was clear that he was angry at being robbed of his revenge. ‘Your fate is out of my hands now – but when my wife surrenders be sure that I shall make her suffer in your stead.’
‘You are a fool,’ Morgan said, remaining cool though he could cheerfully have wrung the other’s scrawny neck with his bare hands. His spite was that of a frustrated coward and unworthy of notice. ‘Do you know so little of her? She would die rather than surrender to you.’
He received a blow across the face that split his lip. Morgan raised his head, looking into the other man’s eyes, challenging him to do it again, but it was not repeated, and he knew that he had been charged to deliver his prisoner safely to the prince’s men. He smiled, mocking his captor for his impotence and Sir Philip stood back, scowling as he gestured to the men to carry on.
One of them came to help him mount, which he could not do unaided as his hands were tied. His eyes met Morgan’s for a moment as he helped him to the mounting block, swinging him into the saddle, where Morgan sat shoulders and back straight, his hands still tied behind him. It was the soldier who had brought him food and spoken fairly to him, and that gave him a source of hope. Perhaps even yet there was a chance that he might escape.
‘It is my task to lead your horse, sir,’ Jack Errin said. ‘They are afraid that if they untie your hands you will take the opportunity to escape.’
‘And if I gave my word?’
‘They would not dare to take it.’
‘So be it,’ Morgan said and smiled.
If he had given his word he must have kept it or lost all honour, but as it was he would find some opportunity of escaping from his captors on the ride ahead. They were nervous now and on their guard, but it was a long journey and there were only ten of them. If he could just free his hands …
FOURTEEN
Morwenna was in the stillroom making a tisane when she heard the sound of booted footsteps and suddenly Rhys burst in. He looked stunned, frightened, and she felt her heart catch with fear as she sensed what he was about to tell her.
‘Morgan – you have news of him? They have not let him go?’
‘No – but I have heard that terms were offered for his surrender,’ Rhys said. ‘Prince Henry ordered that he be been taken to Conway Castle and be held there. Sir Philip is furious and will not pay the other half of the reward. He says that he has been cheated of his rights and the money will compensate him…’
Morwenna’s lip curled in scorn. ‘I told you he would cheat you,’ she said. ”Tis a wonder that he did not demand the return of what he gave you.’ She laughed as Rhys turned pale. ‘Tell me, when is Morgan to die? For I know he did not surrender.’
‘Some say the prince will not hang him,’ Rhys said and his colour was a ghastly yellow. ‘They say Prince Henry admires brave men and that if he chose he could enter his service…’
‘And you fear he will take the prince’s offer and come back to kill you?’ Morwenna looked at him with disdain. ‘You are a coward, Rhys Llewelyn. Morgan is twice the man you are. I was a fool that I did not know it sooner. Think again, my coward. Morgan will never betray Owain. He would sooner face the fire they planned for him.’ She smiled coldly. ‘If I were you I should run now, before Morgan comes to find you. While they had him in that cell they could contain him, but the road to Conway is long and Morgan knows it better than most. I will wager that he escapes his captors before too long, and then he will come here – and he will kill us both.’
Rhys swallowed hard, his forehead glistening with beads of sweat. It was clear that he feared Morgan’s revenge.
‘Are you not afraid?’ he asked. ‘You were as much in this as I, Morwenna.’
‘I do not fear to die,’ she answered, her eyes meeting his scornfully. ‘Rather I fear life.’
‘I do not understand you,’ Rhys growled. ‘You are trying to make me run away. You want this place for yourself and you think that Morgan would let you stay if I was not here.’
‘Think what you will,’ Morwenna said. ‘I care not what you do. But I tell you that Morgan will escape those English fools – and he will come here.’
She had no intention of leaving without Maire’s gold. Rhys had refused to leave the house since that night. He came to her chamber when he pleased, forcing her to submit to him, which she did without a fight. Better to let him have his way than risk being beaten. She had no illusions about him now. He was a bully and a coward and she cursed the day she had met him.
But for Rhys Llewelyn…but it was useless to think that way. For the moment she was tied to him, for she would never leave this accursed house without the gold Maire had hidden.
Her search for it had been hampered by Rhys’s presence for she did not want him to guess there was gold here. She believed it must be in the house. Maire had been too ill to leave the house for weeks before she died, and the gold had been there only three weeks prior to that night.
Besides, Maire had a
dmitted that it was hidden – but where? Morwenna had been through all her chests and coffers but could find no trace of it. There must be a secret place somewhere. All she had to do was find it.
She had thought there was plenty of time, but now she felt a sense of urgency. If she could find the gold she could leave before Morgan returned to kill her.
*
‘Will you not untie my hands so that I can eat?’ Morgan asked as Jack brought him food. ‘It is not fitting that I should be fed like a babe.’
‘I have thought of that, my lord,’ Jack said. ‘See, I have brought more rope. ‘I shall tie your ankles while you eat and then when we ride your hands will be bound again.’
Morgan grinned at him. ‘Do your friends fear me so much, Jack Errin? I am not a magician. I cannot fly nor make myself invisible. There are ten of you to stop me if I try to seize a horse and escape into the forest.’
‘They have been ordered to deliver you safely to the prince,’ Jack said and smiled slightly. ‘I think they would rather do that than see you consumed by the fire, sir – as would I.’
‘I am grateful for the prince’s grace in sparing me that,’ Morgan said. ‘But freedom would be better, Jack. Why do you not change sides? All I ask is that you tie my hands less tightly next time.’
‘Sir Philip would hang me!’
‘But you need never return to that evil man. Why should you when a better life could be yours?’
‘You have a silver tongue, Morgan Gruffudd,’ Jack said, tying the rope securely about his ankles before loosening his hands. ‘I wish that it were as easy as you say – but even if you were free it would not be possible. There are ten men here to stop you, and I would not be the cause of their deaths.’
‘Even I could not kill ten men, nor do I wish to,’ Morgan replied. ‘I respect that they have their duty, as you have, Jack. All I ask is that you tie me a little less tightly, for the ropes pain me. If I were to slip away it would be when you were all sleeping and I would rather knock a man senseless than kill him needlessly.’
Morgan the Rogue Page 24