Morgan the Rogue (22 page)

             
'I thought she was at Oswestry?'

             
'She was for some months, but I believe she found it uncomfortable and returned to the manor I gave you.  When I heard she was there I invited her to come here for the birth of your child.'  Owain exclaimed as he saw Morgan's startled look.  'You did not know?  How can this be?  Morwenna told me she was with child before you left us.'

             
'I did not know,' Morgan said and swore beneath his breath.  'When is her child expected?'

             
'You were wed a week before Christmas and on the Lord's day you were struck down…'  Owain's gaze narrowed in suspicion.  'Yet you need to ask?  Does this mean…the fight with Llewelyn was over her?'

             
'It means nothing,' Morgan said swiftly, realising that shock had made him betray what he had meant to keep secret.  'I was surprised at the news, that's all.'

             
'You are a poor liar and I am a fool,' Owain said.  'Forgive me.  When I arranged your marriage I believed her a good modest girl.'

             
'No one else is to know,' Morgan's tone was firm.  'The child may be his or mine.  She claimed he raped her on our wedding eve…'  Owain swore and Morgan smiled wryly.  'I cannot be sure the child is not mine, and since I cannot wed the woman I love…'

             
Owain nodded his understanding.  'Rosamund de Grenville.  You stayed with her many months. I have heard that she is beautiful...'

             
'She is – in every way.  She hath a nature to match her beauty, for she is loving and generous.  And I know that the child she bears is mine.'

             
'You have made an enemy in de Grenville.  I have heard he is a dangerous man, Morgan.  I think it would go hard with your lady if she were ever to fall into his hands.'

             
'She will never surrender Caris to him.'  Morgan grinned.  'She was fiercely loyal to King Richard but now she holds the castle for you, Owain.  She bid me tell you that we would always find shelter there if we needed it.'

             
Owain smiled.  'I think I understand why you love her, Morgan.  I wondered why you went to her but now I see.'

             
'I went because I was sick to my soul and weak in body.  Rosamund healed my spirit and Kestrel gave me back my strength.  Without his help I feared I might never have been able to fight again.'

             
'I have heard of your healer, Morgan.  They say there is some mystery about him.'

             
'That is how Kestrel wants people to think of him.  He speaks only in riddles,' Morgan said with a slight frown.  'Perhaps he can see into the future as he claims, I do not know – but I owe my life to him twice over.'

             
'Wise men always speak in riddles for otherwise fools might mock them.  No matter whether he be a magician or merely a healer, I am glad to see you strong and well again.  I shall have need of you in the months to come.'

             
'Kestrel told me that I was destined for great things.  I pray that he was right and that we shall have many triumphs together, Owain.'

             
'Amen to that,' Owain said.  'And now you should see Morwenna.  It may be best if her child is born here.  After that…'

             
'Morwenna is free to go or stay as she pleases,' Morgan said.  'I have no hatred for her, yet I cannot love her – nor feel anything towards her.'

             
'Yet if the child is yours…'

             
'Then I would keep the child,' Morgan replied.  'But if Morwenna wishes to go I shall not deny her.'

             
'I am sorry to hear this…'

             
'I shall not deny or shame her.  I am not so heartless.'

             
'Then she is fortunate.  Many men would not have been as forgiving.'

             
Behind the curtain, which concealed the outer door into Owain's private chamber, Morwenna listened to their words, the anger and bitterness festering inside her.  She had hoped that Morgan would have forgiven her by now, but his feelings towards her had not changed.

             
He would keep the child if it was his but she might go where she pleased.  It was easy for him to say – but where could she go?  If she left him all the world would know that he had cast her off.  It might be that in the future he would find some means to put her from him and take this woman he loved as his wife.  Yet they had spoken of a husband…

             
If that were so he could not marry his woman.  It pleased Morwenna that the woman her husband loved was tied to a man she did not love, and that he might one day wreak his vengeance on her.  Morwenna would have liked to witness that – or at least to play some part in it, but she was never likely to have the chance.  Yet she would find some way to take her revenge on her husband if she could.

             
She wished that she had taken the chance while he lay ill.  It would have been an easy matter to hold a cushion over his face as he lay in a fever. Yet she had feared to do anything then that might cause blame to fall on her.  Owain had been so angry at Rhys Llewelyn's betrayal, he would have had her killed if she had been caught trying to harm Morgan.

             
It might even have been worth it!  Oh, how she hated him!  She could feel it rising in her throat, tasting the bitterness as gall.  Frustration worked in her and she was aware of sudden pain.  It was sharp and she knew that her time had come.  She realised that she was beginning her labour pains.  She clutched at her belly, stifling the moan that rose to her lips, knowing that she must not be discovered here.

             
She had gained access through a narrow stairway that led to Owain's bedchamber, and she dragged herself up the twisting steps to the door that led to an outside stair.  This door was normally locked and she had stolen the key so that she could eavesdrop on her kinsman.  She would need to return it to its accustomed place soon or it might be discovered that the key was missing – but she could not think properly now.  She was in too much agony.  She must keep the key for the moment and hope that its loss was not discovered before she had a chance to replace it.

             
No one saw her leaving the tower and she walked with her head bent, feeling the pain strike again and again as she made her way back to her own quarters.  Oh, the pain was too violent, coming at her again and again, making her stumble and clutch at herself in agony.  She did not think that she could bear it.

             
'Are you ill, lady?'  She heard the concerned voice near by and saw that it was one of Owain's neighbours who had come for the ceremony.  'You should not be out here in your condition.'  She heard the note of censure in his voice and tears ran down her cheeks.  'Nay, do not weep. I was merely concerned for you.'

             
'I thank you, sir,' she said in a voice choked with tears.  'I came out for some air but I am wracked with pain.  If a servant could be called…'  She gave a cry and stumbled against him half fainting.

             
Dafydd Thomas caught her as she would have fallen, gallantly supporting her into the main hall of the house.  He called for help as he did so and several servants came running.  Morwenna was taken from him, and helped to the stairs but it was clear that she could not mount them unaided.  It was at this moment that Owain and Morgan came out of Owain's chamber into the Great Hall, and seeing what was happening, Morgan strode immediately to her side.

             
'You are in pain,' he said and swept her up in his arms.  'You were foolish to come down in your condition, Morwenna.'

             
'I wanted some air.  Forgive me,' she whispered in a voice so low that none but he could hear.  'If I should die…'

             
'You will not die,' Morgan told her.

             
His face was grim as he carried her up the stairs to her chamber, her women hurrying to prepare the bed to receive her.  Morwenna was moaning and crying out in her pain.  For a moment Morgan stood gazing down at her as the women bent over her, moved to pity by her agony.  Then, realising he was in the way, he turned and left them to their work.  Morwenna's screams followed him down the stairs to the hall below.

             
He saw other men glance at him and knew what they were thinking.  So many women died in childbirth and men lost beloved wives.  He did not love Morwenna, but Rosamund was carrying his child and because of that he felt pity for his wife.  Rosamund had told him he was too harsh towards her, and perhaps he had been.

             
He could never love her, nor would he ever be her true husband again, but if she survived her ordeal he would try to be kinder to her.  He would advise her to stay near Owain, where she might have more company than at Oswestry, and if the child was his…yet how would he ever be sure?

             
It did not matter, Morgan decided.  The child was blameless and he would not treat it unkindly, no matter who the father.

*

Morwenna's labour was long and hard.  For many hours she was wracked with terrible pain as she struggled to give birth to her child.  She had long since ceased to scream for she had no strength left, and she heard one of the women say that she was going to die.  Anger surged in her then.  She would not die!  That would make it too easy for Morgan.  She was going to live and find some way of taking her revenge on him for his slights.

             
Anger made her push harder when the next pain came and then as she screamed in agony, she felt the child slip out between her thighs in a mess of slime and blood.  It was over, it was done.  She gave a great sigh and relaxed against the pillows, only to be gripped almost immediately by another pain, and then once again she felt the sensation of a body ejecting from her own in a rush of blood.

             
Two children – there were two?  She raised her head to try and see what was happening.

             
'You have a daughter,' one of the women said.  'She is well, Morwenna.'

             
'But there were two…'  Morwenna said weakly.

             
'The second babe was born dead,' the woman said.

             
'Boy or girl?'

             
'Nay, do not ask, mistress.'

             
'Boy or girl?'

             
'It was a boy – as fair as you yourself, Morwenna.  The girl is dark like your husband.'

             
'Like Morgan…let me see…' Morwenna lifted herself weakly on her elbows to look at the child.  The babe was large and had a shock of black hair, eyes as blue as a summer sky.  'Morgan's daughter…' she whispered and lay back against the cushions.  'His daughter…'

             
She smiled to herself.  If the child was Morgan's she was safe.  He would not deny her nor shame her publicly.  She could live at their manor of Orlane or go to Oswestry if she pleased without fear of being cast off.

             
And one day…one day her chance would come.  The years might be empty but she would feed on her hatred and in the end she would have her revenge.

NINE

Walking round the camp, as was his habit in the late evening, Morgan listened to the laughter and excited voices of the men gathered about the fires.  For the past several days they had successfully attacked English towns in Northeast Wales.  Ruthin, Denbigh, Holt and Rhuddlan were just some of the towns on which damage had been inflicted.  The village and castle of Caris had been left in peace, for Owain had passed the word that it must not be attacked.

             
Morgan had been in charge of the party, which attacked an English relieving force at Flint, routing them and scoring an important victory.  There were reports coming in of a simultaneous rising in Northwest Wales, including Anglesey, and it seemed that almost the whole of North Wales was involved in the revolt.

             
'Come and join us,' Dafydd Thomas invited as he saw Morgan walking by their campfire.  'There is no need to be so watchful, Morgan.  The King's army cannot return from Scotland so quickly and the burgess is frightened out of their wits.  Especially after what happened at Oswestry.'

             
The damage inflicted there had been substantial.  Not a part of that particular force, Morgan thought it mindless and a waste of resources, but he did not want to offend Owain's neighbour so he smiled and shook his head.  For some reason he did not share his companions' elation.  They had inflicted some damage it was true but for Morgan what they had done thus far seemed more like revenge than war.