Authors: Lynn Granville
'Shall you miss me, Rhys?' she asked. 'If we leave here and return to our home at Bala shall you be sorry?'
'You know that I shall…' He stared at her hungrily, the longing in his eyes. 'You must know that I…'
'I must go to meet my father…' Morwenna's heart was racing and suddenly she was a little frightened by his intensity, though she did not know why. He meant her no harm and yet a cold chill had passed over her and she felt that she was on the brink of some terrible disaster.
'Nay, do not go for a moment,' Rhys said and caught her by the wrist as she would have walked past him. The look he gave her was almost desperate, and lifting her hand to his lips he placed a heated kiss within her palm. 'I love you, Morwenna. I do not know what I shall do if you leave here. I am desperate for love of you…'
'You should not,' she said, trying to pull her hand away and feeling the strength of his as he denied her. 'If you care for me you must speak to my father.'
'It is my intention,' Rhys said eagerly. 'I have nothing to offer as yet, Morwenna, but I shall work hard to earn my living and one day I shall give you a house and lands that you will be proud to be mistress of.'
'You must speak to my father. Now let me go…'
She pulled sharply away and this time he released her. As she walked on ahead of him, her cheeks were heated. She had thought it amusing to dally with the young man, but something in his eyes had frightened her that morning. Until this moment she had not given a thought to his prospects, but now she realised that he was too poor to offer her the kind of life she had been accustomed to living. Until he proved himself and began to rise in Owain's service, they would have nothing but the revenues from her estate at Oswestry.
She was not sure that her father would allow such a match, and in her heart she had begun to realise that perhaps she did not truly want it either.
*
After a meeting with Henry of Bolingbroke at Flint, the details of which were revealed only to a chosen few, Richard, King of England, was arrested and taken to Chester, that citadel which had been his pride. By the time Morgan reached the city he was greeted by the news that the King had been taken to London, there to be imprisoned in the Tower.
It was useless to think of going to his assistance, nor was there any sense in repining at the days lost to a fever. Morgan could not understand his own desire to make the attempt, nor his rage at the deceit and betrayal that had led Richard into a trap. Richard the king was his enemy, yet despite himself he had liked Richard the man – and for
her
sake he would have tried to rescue that man had it been possible.
In his heart he had known Richard's was a lost cause, and perhaps Richard himself had also known that – perhaps his fate had been foretold in the stars? Something in Kestrel's farewell had seemed to indicate that he believed Morgan would be wasting his time making this journey, as if he had already looked into the future and seen it was hopeless. But for Morgan it had proved useful in many ways.
Singing for his supper at the taverns in the towns through which he passed, Morgan spent several weeks travelling the border between Wales and England after leaving Chester. He gathered information as he went, listening to the mood of the people, hearing their grievances – which seemed as much against Bolingbroke as Richard himself. Henry of Bolingbroke was victorious for the moment but his victory was not without dissent. Richard had not been a popular king but it seemed that there were those who muttered as fiercely against the usurper. Plainly the kingdom was uneasy and Henry would have trouble with the dissenters.
There were parts of Wales where he had been welcomed, particularly at his own lordships in the Brecon. Henry was intent on restoring all that Richard had changed these past years, which must cause further unrest. As one wrong was righted so it followed another took its place, creating new hatreds and more resentment.
At last Morgan decided that he had gathered all the information he was likely to discover here in these border towns. It was time to return to Owain and tell him what he had learned, which was little enough in itself but might serve to help his kinsman form his own opinion.
But first he would take a detour to Caris Castle and deliver Richard's last message to the Lady Rosamund.
*
'I had almost given up hope of your coming,' Rosamund said as she looked at the Welsh singer, her heart beating oddly fast so that she was aware of a strange feeling of breathlessness. The meeting was taking place privately in her chamber, where she could be certain of not being overheard. 'Kestrel said that he believed your destiny lay elsewhere and that I was not to look for you.'
'Did he not tell you that I had a message for you from the King?'
'No, he said nothing of that. He gave me the ring and told me that he had helped you when you were in a fever…' She looked at him, a faint spark of hope in eyes that were shadowed with sadness. 'What news of Richard?'
'None that can give you any pleasure, my lady. I dare say you have been told that he was taken to Chester a prisoner and from there to the Tower?'
'He was betrayed by those he trusted,' Rosamund cried, her face pale. 'I tried to warn him, as did others, but he would not listen.'
'It may be that he sensed his destiny. Great men sometimes have no choice but to follow where fate leads them.'
Rosamund stared at him for a moment in silence, then gave a sob of despair. 'What message did he send me?'
'Only that you were not to surrender while he lives, but that if you were in trouble you might one day seek sanctuary with Thomas Percy.'
'Yes…' Rosamund nodded. 'I remember that my father was at one time close to that family – and I believe them to be honest men.'
'Those were the King's words exactly,' Morgan said. 'His thoughts were of your safety if he should no longer be able to protect you…'
Morgan stopped speaking as he heard her sob of grief, and with an oath at his own clumsiness moved towards her as she swayed, seeming overcome by her emotions, catching her in his arms and holding her close as the storm of grief overcame her.
'There, my sweeting,' he whispered hoarsely, his lips touching her hair. 'It may be that he will win free and come to you again.' He stroked her soft hair, which she had left uncovered and was hanging in silken glory down her back, a mass of red gold waves. 'You shall never be alone while I live…'
Why had he said that? Even as the words left his lips, Morgan knew that it was an empty promise. He could not give her his word when his loyalty was pledged to another.
Rosamund released herself gently from his arms, turning so that her back was towards him she fought for control and when she faced him again there was only the wetness of her lashes to show that she had given way to her emotions.
'I thank you for your pledge, Morgan,' she said in her soft husky tones. 'I know it was meant to soothe me, but I think spoken too hastily. Our ways are not together – this has been told to me. You must leave this place and I must stay. It has been revealed to me that my safety is here at Caris.'
'By Kestrel?' Morgan read the truth in her face and nodded. 'Your wise man seems to know many things. Perhaps it was he who warned Richard of his fate? He wanted to warn me of something I must not do – is he here with you now? I would speak with him before I leave.'
She shook her head. 'He left some days ago, for he believed he was needed elsewhere. Kestrel comes and goes. He says that to stay in one place too long would be his death. He has gone for now but he will return before I need him. He says that the time is not yet.'
'Who and what is he?' Morgan asked with a frown. 'He healed me of a wound that might have killed me, and there is hardly a scar left to show where the arrow pierced my flesh. While I was in a fever I seemed but to dream and when I woke I was not weakened by loss of blood as I might have expected.'
'Kestrel is a man of mystery and magic,' Rosamund said. 'I know nothing more of him than you, for he came to me soon after my marriage and told me he would serve me when the time came, and then he left me. He says that he served my mother when she was a young girl, and that I am under his protection, but he will say nothing of himself.'
'Then I shall ask you no more questions,' Morgan said and smiled at her. 'I dare say he would not have answered mine had he been here.'
'Kestrel never answers questions, except to give another riddle,' Rosamund replied. 'I suspect that his mystery lies in his refusal to do so – yet I know that he has the power of healing, for Alicia had a fever when he came to us and now she is well again.'
'I am glad that your friend has recovered,' Morgan said. 'I think that I must take my leave of you, lady – though if you should need me…'
'Make no promises,' Rosamund replied. 'If fate should bring us together again I know that you will be my friend and that is all I ask of you, Morgan Gruffudd.'
She offered him her hand and he took it, turning it to drop a kiss within her palm. She was beautiful and he knew that he loved her, but Kestrel had spoken truly. He could not stay with her even if he would.
'Farewell, sweet Rosamund.'
'Farewell, good sir. I wish you all that you wish for yourself in life.'
Morgan bowed and left her. It was harder than he had imagined, while all his senses clamoured to be obeyed. If he had acted as his heart demanded he would have returned and swept her into his arms, kissing away her tears for a lost love and forcing her to acknowledge a new one. Yet his head told him that he would be rebuffed. She was grieving for Richard and she had dismissed him, telling him that her magician had forecast a parting of the ways.
Morgan knew that Kestrel had spoken truly, for he was sworn to a path that must surely make them enemies. To give his heart to such a woman and to take hers would be foolish and cruel. Better they part now before it was too late.
*
'I have refused Rhys Llewelyn permission to address you, Morwenna,' her father told her. He had visited her in her solar so that they might be private. 'He swears that he loves you and believes you love him – is this true, daughter?'
'I believe that Master Llewelyn feels some…affection for me,' she replied, hardly daring to meet his eyes for she knew herself at fault in encouraging the young man. 'And I like him well enough, Father. He has little money but if some preferment could be found for him we might manage on what we have.'
'Your marriage has already been arranged between Owain and myself,' Hywell told her sternly. 'I have not spoken to you before because Owain wished it to be kept a secret – but he has received word that Morgan Gruffudd is returning and will be here within a few days. The marriage will be arranged then.'
'Morgan Gruffudd…' Morwenna's heart raced wildly as she looked at her father. 'But it was said that he had quarrelled with Owain…'
'That was what Owain wished to be known for reasons of his own. It is almost three months now since Morgan left us, and during that time he has been gathering information for Owain. I tell you this now for your peace of mind, but you must not speak of it to anyone – including Rhys Llewelyn. Do you hear me, Morwenna? Owain is not certain of that young man's loyalty.'
Morwenna blushed as her father's eyes dwelt on her face. Had she not guessed that there was some mystery from the start? She was feeling both excited and frightened at the news that she was to be married to the man who had looked at her with such bold eyes. If she had known at the start she would never have flirted with Rhys, and she was sorry now that she had encouraged him.
'Rhys is Morgan's friend, Father,' she said more in defence of her own behaviour than any wish to defy him.
'And so far has proved himself an apt student of the art of warfare,' Hywell said. 'Owain was uncertain of him at first, but I believe he is satisfied with his work. Yet still he is wary. These are difficult times for us, daughter, and we must take care what we do or say.'