Morgan the Rogue (33 page)

             
'Owain's cause rides on a tide of victory,' Morgan told Rosamund when he visited her in the autumn and discovered that she was big with their second child.  'I believe that all we desire shall be ours one day.'

             
'I am glad that all goes well for you,' she said and looked at him with love in her eyes.  The content of bearing her second child was on her like a blessing, making her more beautiful than ever.

             
'I wish that Kestrel was here to see it,' Morgan said.  'I should like to talk to him…'

             
'Do you not think he sees what we do?'

             
'Perhaps…'  Morgan had told Rosamund of his vision but it had begun to fade after so many months and there were times when he doubted.  He had tried to call Kestrel to him but to no avail.  He had neither heard nor seen him and wondered if he had been dreaming that day on the mountain.  'But enough of these things.  How are you, my love?'

             
'I am very well.  Much better than I was when I carried your son, my lord.  Your daughter is much more considerate.'

             
Morgan laughed and drew her into his arms, kissing her forehead.  'I am glad to hear that, but it does not surprise me.  Our son has too much energy.  His nurses tell me he is never still.'

             
'That is why I took another girl from the village to help care for him,' Rosamund replied with a fond smile.  'Bethan is very young and she can run as fast as Richard.  He would be too much for any one nurse to cope with.'

             
'So I have heard.'  Morgan chuckled.  'Let us hope that our daughter will be less trouble, Rosamund.'

             
'I believe she will.  She is very quiet and only kicks now and then to remind me of her presence.'

             
Morgan nodded, thinking briefly of his eldest child.  Morganna was like her half-brother, determined to have her way, brave and full of energy.  His mother had told him that she was a pleasure to have in her home.

             
'Promise me that you will not forget her, Morgan,' she had begged him when he'd visited her in her chamber.  He had been shocked by the change in her for her skin was yellow, her eyes dull. 'I know you hate her mother but you must not hurt the child.'

             
'I feel nothing for Morwenna, not even hate.'

             
'Poor Morwenna.  She is very bitter, my son.'

             
'She must blame herself for the way things are between us.  Rhys tried to kill Rosamund – why would he do that, Mother?  He might want me dead but he can have no reason to hate her.'

             
'You think Morwenna…surely not?'  her face creased with pain, part physical but partly of the heart.  'She has been good to me, Morgan, and I feel for her loneliness.'

             
'Then perhaps I wrong her,' he said, not wanting to distress her further.  'Rhys may have acted from his own malice.'

             
They had spoken no more of Morwenna, though both knew that Rhys must have had good reason for what he did.

             
'What are you thinking?' Rosamund asked, breaking into his thoughts.  'Was it of Morganna?'

             
'If it were possible I would like her with us one day.  Could you accept that, Rosamund – perhaps for a part of the year?'

             
'Yes, of course, for as long as she and you wish it,' she replied.  'But is it fair to take her away from her mother?'

             
'If Morwenna were to go with Rhys…'

             
'Then your daughter would always be welcome in my home.'

             
'You are always so generous.'

             
'But I have so much,' Rosamund said.  'Morwenna has so little.'

             
'Perhaps she has all she deserves.'

             
Rosamund said nothing more.  She knew that he was sometimes troubled that he could not see his daughter more often.  She took his hand, placing it against her swollen belly so that he could feel the child kicking inside her.

             
Morgan smiled and put his thoughts of Morganna away.  She had her nurse Gwenny to love her and perhaps he had wronged his wife in his thoughts.  Perhaps she was not the vengeful witch he had come to think her.

*

Morwenna was gathering herbs at the edge of the stream.  She sometimes brewed a drink from them, which helped to dull Maire's pain for a while. Hearing a twig crack beneath someone's foot behind her she was startled and swung round in alarm.  Her fear left her as she saw and recognised the man who stood a short distance away and was watching her warily, as if he feared she might scream at him.

             
'What are you doing here?' she asked coldly.

             
'I wanted to see you,' Rhys said.

             
'You have taken your time in coming.'

             
'I have been hunted like a beast,' he said.  'Owain has offered a reward for my death – ten gold nobles.'

             
'Morgan's price is one hundred.'

             
'You hate me for failing you.'

             
It was on the tip of her tongue to agree, but something made her hold back the bitter words.  Maire would die soon and then she would be alone apart from the servants and the child.

             
'I hate Morgan,' she said.  'The woman is not so important, though it would hurt him if she were to die – but it is him I would see dead.'

             
'He is too powerful for the moment,' Rhys said.  'Owain values him highly and unbeknown to him he is constantly watched over and guarded lest anyone should try to assassinate him.'

             
'And if that were not the case?'

             
'If I had the chance I would betray him to the English and take their gold.'

             
'Yes…' she smiled at that.  'I would betray him if I could.  The money would help us to live as I would wish, Rhys.  I do not want to lose Gruffudd Manor.  It could be a part of the bargain that I am allowed to keep it.'

             
'Then you still want me as your husband?'

             
'Of course.  I have always loved you, Rhys.'  She lied easily, moving towards him, her lips parted enticingly.  'You may kiss me and touch me – but there must not be a child until Morgan is dead.'

             
'Morwenna,' he breathed, his face lighting up as he reached for her.  'I was afraid to come to you – afraid that you would hate me.'

             
She pressed herself close to him, feeling his manhood harden with desire for her, and she let him kiss her.  Then she took his hand and folded it over her breast.

             
'When Morgan is a prisoner of the English you shall take me to our bed, my love.'

             
'That time cannot come soon enough for me.'

             
'Or me,' she said.  'But if we must wait we shall be patient.  You may meet me sometimes like this but you must not come to the house.  If Maire knew that I had seen you she would send word to Morgan – and you know what he would do?'

             
'Yes, I know.'  Rhys bent his head and kissed her.  His body throbbed with desire and he groaned as he felt the agony of denial, but at least he had hope.  For many long months he had lived without hope, often cold, exhausted and sometimes desperate for food.  'I shall do as you command and ask only that I can see you…know that you will be mine one day.'

             
'When Morgan is taken by the English and we have the promise of their gold.  Then you shall be my husband, Rhys.'

             
She kissed him once more, then held him away from her as he pressed for more.  'I must go now.  Come to me here again. Rhys, but be careful.  If Maire knew you were here she would send to Owain and have you killed.'

             
She was singing softly as she began to walk back to the house, a song she had not sung in these many months.  She had thought that all hope of revenge had gone but it seemed that Rhys still wanted her.  She had no love for him, but she would use him and perhaps she would wed him if it suited her once Morgan was dead.

She laughed for sheer joy as she went into the house.  Gwenny was bringing the child downstairs. Morganna ran to her, catching at her skirts.

'Mumma pick up!' she demanded imperiously.

Reminded of her father, Morwenna pushed her away.  'I am busy,' she said her tone harsh.  'Go to Gwenny.'

Lost in her thoughts and excited by her new hope of the future, Morwenna did not notice that Gwenny was staring at her oddly.

             
'Come to Gwenny.  She loves you, sweeting.'

             
Gwenny burned with anger as she saw the child's look of anguish at her mother's thoughtless dismissal.  Morwenna was too often unkind to her daughter in the nurse's opinion.  She did not know what had happened to make Morgan Gruffudd despise his wife but she suspected that it was something Morwenna had done.

             
She had been spoiled by her father and too fond of her own way.  Something had happened for Morgan had been a kind and considerate husband at the start – and she had overheard heard a terrible quarrel between them one night.

             
She did not know why they had quarrelled but she had her suspicions.  However, the child was clearly his.  Maire was convinced of it and so was Gwenny.

             
Both women adored the brave, strong-willed child and Gwenny was determined to shield her from her mother's spite for as long as she could.  She was as old as Maire but had never suffered a day's illness in her life.

             
She would live long enough to see Morganna grow up – and pray God her father would not forget her.  Perhaps one day he would come and take her away with him.

*

'Henry has gone home with his tail between his legs,' Owain said to Morgan as they met for a council of war early in November.  'His march succeeded in destroying only a small village.'

             
Morgan smiled as he heard the note of triumph in the other's voice.  As he had forecast, the tide was turning their way at last.

             
'He has sent his son – that other Prince of Wales – to relieve the castles of Harlech and Caernarfon, and Percy won a victory at Homildon Hill,' Morgan reminded him.  'I think we should send again to the Percies.  I hear that they grow mighty discontented and we would do well to make allies of them if we can.'

             
Owain agreed.  'Have you heard that Richard Grey of Condor has been appointed as the King's lieutenant in the Brecon?  He is rumoured to have some seven hundred and fifty men in his service.'

             
Morgan grinned.  'It seems that we have pricked the English where it hurts, Owain.  They know it is a long struggle between us.'  He was thoughtful for a moment.  'I have been thinking that we should continue our campaign into the winter – give them no chance to settle.'

             
'Yes, perhaps.  It has been my habit to break off for the worst of the winter, but think what a blow it would be for them if we attacked when they believed they were safe.'

             
'I have thought,' Morgan said and a look of grim satisfaction had settled on his mouth.  'I have decided to visit Rosamund for a few days now and then I shall return to the Brecon.  Who knows, perhaps by next spring my price will reach two hundred nobles?'

             
'You see fit to jest,' Owain said and frowned.  'But I cannot afford to lose my good friend and able lieutenant.'

             
'Nor shall you,' Morgan replied.  'I know my enemies, Owain.  You accused me of having a soft streak in my nature and perhaps I have – but I have learned to be wary.'

             
'Then God go with you – and give my good wishes to your lady.'

             
Morgan smiled as he left Owain.  He knew that Rosamund had given birth to their second child for he had received word that all was well and he was not to worry.  He wanted to see her and the child for he knew that it would be a while before he could see her again if their campaign was to continue into the winter as he had planned.

*

'My lord, it is good to see you,' Rosamund greeted him with a kiss as he came to her.  She was sitting in her solar nursing her daughter – a red-haired, green-eyed tiny thing that made Morgan fear for her.  'I thought we might call her Maire – do you agree?'