‘And Owain?’
‘Owain will never surrender,’ Morgan said. ‘I have told His Majesty that nothing I can do will change that. The revolt is over, though a few hotheads may make trouble from time to time – but there is no need for further discontent. I have talked to Henry. He is a fair man and I believe the whole country will prosper for as long as he rules. His vision of the future is one I share.’
‘Then we are free at last,’ Rosamund said as he put his arm about her waist, lowering his head to touch his lips lightly to hers. She sensed the need in him, which was echoed by her own, a need that must be held in check until they were at last alone.
‘Yes, my love,’ he said, holding her hard against him. ‘For freedom is something each man holds inside him. A slave may yet be free if his spirit and mind can soar above the petty chains that bind him.’
‘That is a wise but true thought,’ Rosamund said gazing up at him with love.
‘I had it from a wise men,’ Morgan replied and grinned. It was the grin of old, as bold as when he was young when all the world lay before him and his dreams were new.
And in the mountains the rising wind held the song; it was carried in the rushing water that tumbled headlong over boulders to the gentle streams, and the trees caught the whisper and took up the song. It was a song of brave men and brave deeds, of sacrifice and glory, and of despair, of courage and hope renewed to spring again as the water that comes from the mountain springs eternal.
And the song was this: Owain lives in the hearts and minds of those who remember, and his song shall be sung for a thousand years.
Lynn Granville also writes as Linda Sole, Anne Ireland and Anne Herries.
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Morgan the Rogue Page 34