by Ruth Kaufman
Annora gasped, clutching Morgan’s arm. Their disguises had already been breached.
“Ssshh!!” Ninian hissed to the three tall, handsome men who approached.
Their welcoming smiles faded.
How many had heard her companions’ names? Fortunately, everyone seemed to be minding his or her business, carrying packages, hauling carts, shopping at stalls, scolding children. Or were they merely good actors?
“What’s wrong?” the one in the middle asked. His black hair shone in the sun. Thick brows narrowed over pale blue eyes. His shoulders were back, his head held high like a lord’s, but he, too, dressed as a peasant.
“You almost got us captured by ap Lewis, that’s what.” Ninian summarized their tale.
“Let us help, then,” offered the redhead on the right, hand on his sword. He was the only one of the three wearing a hat. Like Morgan’s hood, the hat hid his eyes.
Morgan held up a hand. “Thank you for offering, but we can’t risk involving any of you in this mess.”
At this moment, Annora wasn’t even offended that the man she was attracted to thought of her as a mess. He had his own quarrel with ap Lewis. She just wanted to complete their purchases and leave ap Lewis’s town.
“It’s easier to be inconspicuous if there are three instead of six,” Ninian agreed.
The redhead continued, “We’ve combined forces. We’re here to purchase items Lance needs to—”
“We look forward to learning the details of…your travels another time,” Morgan said.
Why had he interrupted? What was he hiding now?
“At the next gathering,” the redhead agreed.
The blond on the left, lean with a long nose and sea green eyes, bowed. “Lady Annora, I’m Percy, at your serv—”
Ninian cut him off with a wave. “Sorry, Percy, we simply can’t tarry a moment longer. We’ll talk again soon.” She practically shoved Morgan and Annora so they’d keep walking. Away from the trio.
“They were nice. Who are they?” Annora asked as they rounded a bend.
“Friends,” Morgan said.
“Whom we’ve known a very long time,” Ninian added.
Again their closeness and information they wouldn’t share rankled. What were they hiding? Horrible deeds? Were they spies, and if so, for whom? “Then why didn’t you introduce them to me?”
Ninian sighed. “We don’t have time for friends. As I said, the sooner we can leave this town, the better.”
What wasn’t she saying? “What kind of gathering will you see them at?”
“Ummm….” Annora hadn’t ever seen Ninian at a loss for words. “A family reunion of sorts. We don’t live near each other, so we get together every so often.”
Morgan nodded as they continued toward the square. “Let’s focus on reaching the market and buying horses, not talking.”
A clever way to stop her questions. She vowed to bring this up again when they were safely away from Jankyn ap Lewis.
With high, stone walls looming over the winding streets, leaving once the gates were closed would be nearly impossible. Feeling trapped and insecure, out of her element, she moved closer to Morgan.
Though they hadn’t resolved what had happened in the stream, though she was sure he’d been avoiding her, he took her hand. Instantly she was reassured. All would be well because Morgan would make it so.
Then he’d leave. She’d never see him again. Defeating her uncle, regaining her home should be her only goals.
But how would she stop wanting more from Morgan ap Myrddin?
Chapter 5
“And mayhap a sturdy pony for the boy, sir?”
Boy. Oh, to dress as a woman again.
Morgan bargained for three horses. The seller didn’t seem offended by dealing with a customer whose visage remained hidden beneath his hood.
“Nay, we’ll take another palfrey,” Morgan said, his voice deeper than usual.
“A palfrey it is then,” he said with a smile, clearly happy to sell a costlier mount. “You won’t find better horseflesh anywhere,” he persisted, bowing so low he almost scraped the dirt.
The clamor in the field just beyond Llanarglyn’s large marketplace made Annora long to cover her ears. Everywhere sellers and buyers haggled over horses, shouting to be heard over neighs, snorts and whinnying. She’d never seen so many horses in one place, smelled so much manure.
After several more moments, Morgan secured their mounts. The seller walked away, testing the weight of a goodly purse. How had Morgan come by so much coin?
Morgan held three sets of reins in his gloved hands. “Annora, your horse is called Moonshadow. Ninian, yours is Chimera.”
“Did you make those names up?” Annora asked.
When he shook his head, she couldn’t help but wonder at the coincidence. Moonshadow, as in moonstruck, which lunatics were often called. Chimera suited Ninian perfectly, for she was as mysterious as the fabled creature.
“And yours?”
“Secret,” he said with a slight smile.
How appropriate.
“These horses will serve us well, but the price was a bit steep,” Morgan said.
“Thank you for wanting to lower my debt to you,” Annora said. “But we must do whatever it takes to succeed.”
“Then let’s move to an easier task, buying food,” he replied.
Annora hadn’t been shopping for nearly a year because of her uncle. She cringed every time a soldier marched by or even glanced in their direction, but managed to enjoy browsing the stalls, examining wares and eating tasty meat pies with flaky crusts. Longingly she caressed a bolt of sky blue velvet that reminded her of her bed coverings at Amberton. Home.
“Filthy boy, leave that alone,” the merchant snapped. “My rich fabrics are not for the likes of you.”
She moved on, wishing she could put him in his place by purchasing bolt after bolt with the coin she’d have when she regained her lands. On the other hand, the cranky merchant didn’t deserve the benefits of a large sale.
They were in the midst of purchasing apples when two soldiers approached the stall. Morgan hunched further while she and Ninian bent to inspect a bushel.
“They’re looking for someone,” Annora whispered after they’d passed. “Would so many armed men usually be on watch?”
“Ap Lewis keeps a firm hand to ensure an honest market. No doubt his penalties for re-selling stolen items, skimping on the measures, selling inferior goods and the like are high,” Morgan answered.
Ninian turned. Her face was oddly pale, her light green eyes glazed and unfocused. “Annora is right,” she whispered. “I, too, have a bad feeling about this place. Let’s leave. Or at least find lodging.” She took a deep breath. “We must hide. Immediately.”
Morgan grabbed Annora’s arm as they hurried away without their apples. They headed down a narrow side street toward the nearest inn. Until a barrel-chested soldier with bushy red eyebrows blocked their path.
“May we pass?” Morgan’s voice sounded high and wavered like an old man’s.
“No.” The soldier stared, hand on his sword hilt, trying to see inside Morgan’s hood.
Annora focused on the ground, her heart pounding. She recognized the soldier as one of the men who’d accompanied Jankyn ap Lewis to the cottage. Had he gotten a good look at her while she pretended to be sick?
How could she let Morgan and Ninian know? They had to run the other way. She glanced over her shoulder to find another soldier waiting several feet behind them.
“Please, we must be on our way,” Morgan said.
Ninian stepped back as Morgan put his arm around Annora’s waist so they could squeeze by. The soldier snatched Annora’s hat. Her auburn hair tumbled free.
“I thought so. ’Tis she!” he cried. Then he pulled at Morgan’s hood. “Lo, here’s the one we really want.”
Within seconds she and Morgan were surrounded. By too many for Morgan to fight them?
She doubled over as if in
pain and pretended to retch. “I’m still very sick. We’re on our way to the physician. Aren’t you afraid of catching my disease?”
“You’re not sick now. If you ever were,” the soldier said. “Bitch. You lied to us to protect him. We’ll make you pay.”
One of the men ran his hands over Morgan’s body. He relieved Morgan of the jeweled dagger at his waist and claimed another hidden in his boot. After admiring them briefly, he stuck them into his own boot.
“Things will go better for you if you come without a struggle,” he advised.
Annora quailed. She’d led Morgan right into ap Lewis’s trap.
“The other woman. Where is she?” the first soldier demanded. “Who is she?”
They didn’t reply.
“Merde. If we don’t bring ’em all he’ll be pissed. Find her now,” the second said.
Ninian had disappeared into the crowd. Annora felt a frisson of relief. Perhaps she’d find a way secure their release. But how could a lone woman prevail against armed soldiers?
Where were those friends they’d met when they needed them?
• • •
Ninian huddled in a doorway as the soldiers dragged Morgan and Annora away. She winced as one thwacked Morgan in the gut with a cudgel and another tugged Annora’s hair so hard her head jerked and she screamed, but didn’t dare call upon her Mysteries in such a crowded place. A hint of guilt washed through her that she’d escaped their immediate fate, but she knew she’d be of far greater use to them while free.
If only she’d pressed Morgan for more information about Jankyn ap Lewis. If only either of them could read minds.
She had no time for “if onlys.” ’Twas time to act.
• • •
Jankyn ap Lewis’s castle was built in the old style, more fortress than home. Situated on a hill, its great walls contained several wooden huts, a small church and a sizeable stone keep with only arrow slits for windows.
Though trepidation chilled her hands and feet, Annora couldn’t help but be impressed by the keep’s lavish furnishings. Servants scurried about, heads bowed, as if afraid they’d be beaten for the tiniest mishap. As many of her servants did and were under Uncle Roger’s rule.
Four guards accompanied them. Three for Morgan, the bushy-eyebrowed one for her. Annora feared Morgan would attempt to escape again as he had shortly after they were taken. That effort had earned him a brutal wallop and a warning. He hadn’t even groaned, but pain had blasted her as if she’d been the one hit. A lump rose on his temple, and his right eye was turning black and blue. Her head still stung from when they’d dragged her by the hair. She didn’t want to consider what they might do if Morgan resisted again.
Ap Lewis awaited them in his library, a high-ceilinged room stacked with more books than Annora had ever seen in one place. Wearing a dark brown wool tunic bearing his badge of a boar and sword studded with sapphires, he reclined in a high-backed chair, booted feet propped on his large desk. His lean face creased in a slow, malevolent smile.
She clutched the strap of the leather bag slung across her chest. Again she had the impression he wasn’t to be trusted. He was like her uncle Roger, using his power and position to achieve foul purposes. A man proficient at concealing his true self. But didn’t Morgan also conceal his true self? Why did she feel she could trust him?
“Morgan ap Myrddin, we meet again.” he said. “How kind of you to visit. Lady, how quickly you’ve recovered from our last encounter.” He rose and strode toward her with a greedy leer, his eyes brown as winter mud. “So very nice to see you looking so well.” His nasal voice was thick with sarcasm. “I’m so very glad ‘the plague’ didn’t claim your life or mar your beauty.”
He traced a path from her cheek down to her breast. She stiffened, then swung at his face.
Ap Lewis caught her wrist with ease and forced her hand between his legs. “I don’t even know your name yet, but I do know we’ll share such amusements….”
Morgan surged forth, breaking free of his guards. One bashed him on the head. He sank heavily to his knees, but revealed no indication of pain. The guards drew their swords and pointed them at him.
Annora bit back a scream. A trickle of blood slid down his cheek, vivid red against his silvery hair. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to remain calm despite wobbly knees. Men like ap Lewis and her uncle surely fed on fear.
“Morgan, you’ve made a tactical error. I touched the pretty one only to see what you’d do. Now I know you care for her. Now I can use her against you.” Ap Lewis was so close she felt his breath on her cheek. It smelled of wine. He sat on the edge of his desk, spread his legs wide and pulled her against him. “Like Helen of Troy you are, making men fight over you. Are you worth the effort?”
Terror stole her speech.
“You’re wrong. I’d care for any woman under my protection, no matter who she is. No more, no less for this one,” Morgan answered. His face revealed nothing as he rose to his full height.
Even flush against ap Lewis in the midst of danger, Morgan’s harsh words had the power to hurt her. Only repayment of his debt meant anything to him. He didn’t care for her as she was coming to care for him.
Unless…. She clung to a shred of hope that he lied to keep ap Lewis at bay.
“Morgan, you’re growing careless. Two errors in two minutes? The lady is no longer under your protection but mine. Mine.” He put his arms around her. “What is your name, pretty one? Why are you and Morgan helping each other and traveling together?” he asked, his lips against her ear.
She squirmed, but he held her tighter. Something bitter stung her throat.
“Do not say a word,” Morgan warned.
The guard hit him behind his knees and smiled when he fell forward, landing heavily on all fours.
“My name is Annora,” she said quickly. “Lady Annora of Amberton.”
A small price to pay to spare Morgan more abuse.
“Lady Annora, I’m sure you’re eager to know my plans,” ap Lewis said. “We’re going on a journey. Morgan, you know where and why. Lady Annora, I’ve no doubt you’ll be so kind as to join us. I look forward to getting to know you better. Much better. And having you help keep Morgan in line. So let us pack—oh, my men have taken most of your belongings, have they not? You’ll have what you need when you need it. We shall depart in the morning.”
“Jankyn, there’s no point. I haven’t found her yet,” Morgan said. “You know how elusive she can be.”
“That I do.”
“Nothing can be done without her.”
“You’re wrong yet again. I don’t need her anymore. I’ve come up with another solution. You’ll understand upon our arrival.”
What were they talking about? Who was she? Curiosity momentarily overcame fear she desperately strove to hide.
Primrose chose that moment to poke her white head out of her small, leather bag.
“And who’s this?” Ap Lewis crooned as he picked up the cat. “What pretty green eyes you have, Cat.” He wrapped his hands around Primrose’s neck, leaving her dangling. “I hate cats.”
“No!” she and Morgan yelled.
Ap Lewis grinned, a malicious gleam in his eye. “The cat may live, for now. Just keep it out of my sight.”
He tossed Primrose to Annora. Though her hands were shaking, she caught her pet with ease and returned her to the bag. She patted Primose on the head to soothe her. And herself.
“As to your accommodations,” ap Lewis continued, “there are many chambers in my castle. Lovely they are, too. But as you can’t be trusted to remain within them, I’m afraid I must send you off to the dungeons. Should you desire food and drink, I’ll need information in return. About the woman who travels with you and where she might have gone.” He looked at them expectantly. Neither spoke. “I thought not. If you change your minds, my men know where to find me. My cook is excellent. I’m looking forward to stuffed capon and cherry pottage. Fresh ale, too. Care to join me? No? Then take them,”
he ordered with a flick of his wrist.
As the guards led her and Morgan from the library, Annora realized that the only consolations about being captured were that she’d get to spend more time with Morgan, and without Ninian. And she might finally get to learn something about his past.
* * *
Annora would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so hungry, thirsty, cold and tired. As hard as she’d worked since escaping Roger, all she’d achieved was the exchange of a comfortable, though locked, room with a bed where at least her basic needs were met for a dank cell where she had no comforts. Not even a stool to sit on. She’d traded one captor for another and endangered two other people in the process. Four, if she counted Emma and Albert, who risked her uncle’s ire to help her.
The brief taste of freedom between prisons made being confined again all the worse. But she had Morgan now. If he hadn’t been with her, she might’ve gone mad, confirming Roger’s lies. She still might, for Morgan was chained to the wall with his arms over his head. She didn’t know how to free him and hadn’t found any means of escape. At least they hadn’t hit him again.
The small window high on the wall revealed night sky and fleeting gray clouds. Their only light was a torch outside their cell casting long shadows through the bars and illuminating the guard sitting beneath it.
Something scrabbled noisily in the corner. She couldn’t bring herself to sit on the thin layer of dirty, rank straw sticking to the ground. Because they’d refused to share any information about Ninian, they’d had no food or drink. Not even a pot to piss in.
All she had left was Morgan’s companionship.
“Will you tell me where we’re going?” she asked, though her throat was parched.
“Cornwall.”
“Why?”
No answer.
“Who is the woman you spoke of?”
No answer.
“Will you help me work on a plan to escape?”
No answer.
Now she truly had nothing.
• • •
Morgan couldn’t bring himself to speak to Annora. His carelessness had gotten them captured. He’d been so busy admiring her adorable bottom as she strolled in those clinging hose he hadn’t noticed the soldiers’ approach. After Ninian’s warning, he should’ve been on acute alert every second. But no.