The Pledge (19 page)

The two galloped to catch up to their charges, their eyes checking on the outriding MacKays, who nodded back at them. All
would be well. Their lady and the lad would be protected.

Morrigan was taken aback when she saw her cousin Cumhal. First she was elated, but when she studied his somber visage she
was alarmed. She urged her steed forward, pulling up short in front of her relative. “What goes?” she said in Welsh.

“Goll has been taken. We’re to ransom him.” His face twisted when he faced the Scots who now surrounded him. He turned in
his saddle until he looked at each group of grim men. “Do they think to cause me fear?” he asked, his Celtic words filled
with disdain.

“They seek to protect the wife of their laird and his adopted son.” She took a deep breath. “And we have given our name to
two others, you should know.”

Cumhal blinked, ignoring the last part. “Then ’Tis true the boy is heir to MacKay?”

Morrigan nodded. “To some of the estate. He’s an adopted MacKay, as are the other two.”

“But he is still a Llywelyn, and I hope you’ve so informed him,” Cumhal growled.

Morrigan’s chin lifted. “All the years until this one you’ve shown little interest in the boy. Now you wish to claim him as
Llywelyn?”

Cumhal swallowed. “I may have been remiss in my duties—”

“May? There’s no question you were neglectful.”

Cumhal winced, eyeing the MacKays. “Not so loud, cousin.”

Morrigan sighed. “They are my guardians. Rest assured they won’t berate you.”

Cumhal nodded, licking his lips. “I’m glad the boy has been accepted, Morrigan.”

“I hope so. You can see the sense of the course MacKay has taken with the boy, and the other two, I’m sure.” At her cousin’s
reluctant nod, she was sure he didn’t see, but like most of her iron-necked relatives he’d not admit to it. “There is little
of the Llywelyn estates for him to inherit, except for monies and isolated holding, ergo, if he inherits a portion of MacKay
wealth his future is secured. True?”

“ ’Twould seem so.”

Though his scowl didn’t clear Morrigan could tell by the arrested gaze that her cousin did see the merit of Rhys being a MacKay.
Being a tightfisted Llywelyn, Cumhal would not want any others to delve into the family coffers lest some touch his portion.
If the boy was given enough by MacKay there’d be no need for him to search out more among the Llywelyns.

Morrigan was satisfied she’d get no more protests on the subject of Rhys being a Llywelyn. She patted his arm. “Come, cousin,
let us go back to the castle. You shall be refreshed as will your coterie, then we’ll talk strategy.” Morrigan waited.

Finally Cumhal nodded. He was the most taciturn of her many cousins. He could be truculent and bullheaded, and he could set
folk’s backs up without trying hard.

The other side of him was his honesty. Morrigan had never known him to take unfair advantage of anyone. He and Morrigan had
become close when he’d come to her father’s holding to be trained as a lad.

Unlike some of the lesser-connected Llywelyns who came from the far country, he didn’t subscribe to the narrow uses of women
as playthings and birthing objects. Neither he nor Goll had ever looked upon her father as a buffoon, not to be reckoned with,
because she’d been educated and trained to such a high degree. There’d been some among the Llywelyns who’d dared to voice
such. Her brothers had shouted them down, and
threatened them with dire consequences if they ever dared gainsay their father, head of the family Llywelyn.

Yet there’d been controversy when the pact with England and Scotland had been put forth.

Goll and Cumhal had been voted down in the family’s decision to offer her to MacKay. They’d both been vehemently against it,
arguing that there were other methods to be tried before offering up their cousin as a sacrifice. They’d apologized to her
and to her brothers once the final decision had been made. Morrigan had thanked her cousins for their support. Others in the
family had offered her condolences that she would be married to a Scot. More than one had whispered that she, a fallen woman,
was lucky to snag anyone. She should marry the Scot to solidify their positions. The sacrifice was worth it.

Morrigan had longed to point out a few things to the unctuous Felim, older brother to Goll and Cumhal and designated head
of the eastern portion of the family. He was in charge of all when her brother Califb or Drcq were away, or her cousin Boyne
from Hibernia was not in residence. Felim, to her knowledge, had never made a sacrifice of any kind for anyone or anything
connected to Llywelyn. She’d often wondered how sour he would be if she ever pointed out how happy she’d been at Castle MacKay.

That Felim felt he could send a demand of any kind through Cumhal was obvious. Since he’d not bothered to be part of the Welsh
contingent who attended her nuptials
she knew her worth to him, Now, because something had happened, she was needed to perform a service, anything that wouldn’t
involve effort from him, or monies. No doubt it had to do with gold. Unless she missed her guess, Felim would know she was
regent to Trevelyan. He and some of the other Llywelyns had tried to lay claim to the large and well-endowed estate because
of their connection to Gwynneth. They’d been stymied by Edward Baliol’s declaration on her espousal day. If he intended to
ask her for Trevelyan gratuities, he’d be disappointed. Morrigan had no intention of letting any of the sticky-fingered Llywelyns
slice, dice, and cube the estate belonging to Rhys.

They arrived back at Castle MacKay. Refreshments were seen to by Dilla. In short order, Morrigan was alone with her cousin
in the great room.

“Does Felim have a plan?” She asked this, full knowing that Cumhal’s older brother rarely had anything in order much less
a layout of anything. He was more inclined toward chaos.

Cumhal’s mouth twisted in mirth. “Strategy is not my brother’s strength.”

“I agree. I was hoping he’d changed. Since he hasn’t and you are here as his emissary, may I assume that he would like a…
contribution of some sort from me or the MacKays?”

Cumhal exhaled. “Not from the MacKays, but he does wish something from you, cousin.”

“Go on.”

Temper began to simmer in Morrigan as Cumhal went through the long list of reasons why she must sign her regency over to Felim.
“And he will administer the estate, and pay back any monies that need to be borrowed from it for the ransom.”

Cumhal had been striding up and down the great room, his reluctance obvious.

“And you think this is wise, Cumhal?”

He hesitated. “I could never believe that it is just to divide the portion belonging to another’s estate.” He grimaced. “But
there is no living Trevelyan to suffer.” His features hardened. “My twin brother is at risk. We must do all we can to free
him from the yoke that holds him by the throat.”

“And who holds this yoke?”

“I know not.”

“How is that? Surely those who hold Goll must have sent some sort of missive, if only to inform you they held your brother.”

“That’s true, they did do that, but there was nothing about the identity of those who held him.”

“Strange that Felim didn’t inquire about such. I know he hates to part with a pence of his own.”

“That’s true.” Cumhal looked thoughtful. “I’ve been remiss. I should’ve asked questions of Felim. If truth be told, I was
too worried to think straight. When Felim commissioned me to contact you, I was glad to do something positive.”

“I understand your worry, cousin. I would that we
know more. Where is he being held? How much gold is required to free him?”

Cumhal shook his head. “I should know all this. I don’t. I’m not sure that Felim does.”

“And is Goll well?”

Cumhal looked startled. “How would we know that? I suspect they might’ve tortured him. ’Tis expected. We’d not be informed
of that.”

Morrigan bit back a retort. So reckless. “Cousin, there must be enemies of Llywelyns known to you and Felim. Why wasn’t a
well-armed contingent sent to each holding?”

Cumhal flinched as though she’d struck him. “I’ve acted hastily and without thought.”

Morrigan nodded. “So you have. If Goll is waiting for you to rescue him, he must be resigned to death.”

Cumhal reddened, his mouth a hard slash. “We had no monies.”

Morrigan tutted. “Don’t try to fool me, cousin. Felim should’ve sold his cattle. Those destriers of his are worth much.” She
also knew that Cumhal had little monies of his own. When Felim had assumed control of the eastern branch of the family he’d
bequeathed his brothers little. Goll had a small fortune inherited from a godmother. Cumhal had very little.

Cumhal stopped, his mouth drooping. “ ’Tis true. The penny-griping fool. He could’ve done such.”

Morrigan turned away with the pretense of pouring more tea. She didn’t want her cousin to see her growingire.
She had the surety that not one MacKay would’ve acted so thoughtlessly. Maybe she’d become more of a MacKay than she’d figured.
How Hugh would laugh at Cumhal’s clumsiness.

She gestured to Cumhal to refill his goblet with ale. She sipped her tea and watched him. “Tell me this tale again, cousin.
Start at the beginning, if you please.”

It didn’t take long for Cumhal to reiterate his tale, restating everything he’d just told her and expanding it.

“… so we cannot sign any compacts with those around us until Goll is ransomed back to us. That puts our bartering in limbo,
and as you know, much of our revenues come from the marketplace. But how can we move on anything profitable when we don’t
know our foe? You can see how uncomfortable that would be if we were to sign a trade tract with the rascals who hold my brother—”

“My advice is to send some unknowns through the countryside. Word will have gotten out despite all efforts to be secretive.
Someone will know who’s holding Goll. Then you can make your move to free him.”

“That is wise, but there is still the matter of monies. If Felim can’t sell his cattle fast enough—”

“They will have to wait, then, won’t they?”

“You are now regent of Trevelyan, Morrigan. You have the authority to release gold to us.” Cumhal glowered. “You must admit
’twould be simpler to work through you than wait for Felim.”

“Is that how you see it? And how do you think ’Tis
simple for me to steal what isn’t mine? For that’s what this would be. I cannot in conscience release gold to you that belongs
to the family Trevelyan. ’Tis not honorable.”

Cumhal began pacing the great room again, then swung around to face her, his frown deepening. “Of course the House of Llywelyn,
on its word, will sign a note of payment—”

“Hush your whisht,” Morrigan said, her patience at an end. At her cousin’s puzzled look at the use of unfamiliar Gaelic, the
not quite hidden smirks of the MacKays who stood guard at the entrance, she took deep breaths trying to force down her ire.

“What is this you speak?” Cumhal quizzed. “I don’t speak Gaelic. You know that.”

“I said I needed quiet to think,” Morrigan said, not looking when some of the MacKays, who understood Celtic and the Gaelic
she’d used, chuckled. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell her stolid cousin to shut up in the Celtic he’d understand.

Cumhal looked around him, his brow furrowed. Then he stared at Morrigan. “You always cared for my brother as though he were
your own.”

“I did, and I still do. I will do what I can to free him.”

She didn’t remind Cumhal that Goll had upbraided her more than once about her adultery and the subsequent birth of Rhys. Since
he’d apologized at the birth of the boy, and they’d been on fairly good terms since, it was not something that needed chewing
and spitting
out again. “My feelings for my family are not in contention here. My honor is. I will not plunder an estate that doesn’t belong
to me, Cumhal. ’Tis thievery.”

Cumhal spread his hands. “Then what can we do?”

“ ’Twould be better if Hugh were here. He would have an answer.”

Cumhal looked astounded. “Then have you come to love this Scot, Morrigan? These vows were forced on you.”

Morrigan took a deep breath, not wishing to go into the detailed explanation Cumhal would demand, once she began any at all.
“I’ve had a change of heart.”

Cumhal gaped at her. “Can it be you chose the Scot?”

“No, of course not. I’d never met or seen the man.”

“You’re Welsh and sworn to our good.”

“I know that.” She was glad they spoke in rapid Welsh. Even those Scots who had a smattering of the language would find it
hard to follow. She didn’t wish to air her feelings in front of the many attendants who moved in and out of the great room.
“My feelings toward MacKay are my own, and they are between my spouse and me, and no one else.”

“Where is this paragon?”

She inclined her heard, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t malign him, Cumhal. I won’t allow it. You are in his castle, and you are
being treated as a guest because you’re related to me.” She lifted her chin. “If you dare to continue in such a vein—”

“I didn’t think to fire your temper, cousin.”

“—I would think nothing of having one of the burly Scots throw you bodily from this holding and bar you from it, henceforth.
Be warned, I mean what I say.”

Cumhal stared at her, blood chugging into his face. “I beg pardon. It was wrong.”

“It was.”

“Where is your husband?”

“He is destined to be in the king’s grace for another sennight.” She hesitated. “I don’t like to think they speak of war.
I fear they do.”

“Ah, English Edward is growling. We have heard.”

Morrigan sighed. “ ’Tis true. So… I must make a decision on this.”

“What will it be?”

“I will go with you to Cardiff to speak with Felim. We will devise a plan that will free your brother and my cousin, and I
will not have to resort to chicanery.”

Cumhal inhaled, his broad chest expanding as he nodded. “You are no cat’s paw, as they deemed you would be.”

Morrigan bristled. “And who made such a judgment?” She wished with all her heart Hugh was beside her. He would help her with
this dilemma. Remembering his strong warm body made her own heat.