Morgan the Rogue (37 page)

             
Morgan prayed that he would not break under torture.  He would rather die than betray Owain and his friends, but he knew that a man could endure only so much pain.

             
He turned as the door of his cell was unlocked and a young man entered.  His gaze narrowed in surprise.  This man was no common soldier, his features lean and aristocratic, his jaw jutting, lips compressed – but there was also intelligence and something finer.

             
'You are Morgan Gruffudd they tell me?'

             
'Yes, sir.  I fear I do not know you.'

             
'Yet you rebel against my father.'

             
'King Henry's son…' Morgan stared at him, surprised that he should come to this wretched cell.  'I am honoured, sir.  I ask you to forgive my lack of hospitality, for I can offer you nothing – not even a place to sit.'

             
'It distresses me that you have been given such poor accommodation,' Prince Henry said and smiled as if he appreciated Morgan's jest.  'Had you been my guest I assure you it would not have been so.'

             
'I have been told you want to question me, sir.  I must tell you now that I shall not confess to you the whereabouts of my friends.  I would prefer that you give me a clean death – but I shall die on the rack rather than betray those I love.'

             
'I see no rack,' the prince replied.  'Nor have I asked Sir Philip's men to prepare the hot irons, which is what I understand he intended next for you – before you were condemned to the flames.  No, I have come to see if you will talk terms with me, Morgan Gruffudd.  I have heard much of your work in the Brecon and believe me I admire men of courage and intelligence.  I should like to offer you the hand of friendship.  This foolish feud has gone on long enough between our two countries.'

             
'I do not believe the Welsh can ever willingly accept bondage, my lord.'

             
'Nor should they,' the prince agreed.  'I would have us unite as one, become stronger to fight our enemies abroad.  Our nations have both known what it is to fight the foreign invader, to have our villages raided and our women stolen, our young boys taken to make slaves of them.  With a common heritage why should we be not become one nation?'

             
For a moment Morgan saw the sense of his argument, and for a brief time he was tempted.  He believed the prince was sincere – why not take what he offered and avoid a painful death?  Other men had surrendered honourably.

             
'I thank you for the offer, sir,' Morgan replied carefully.  'There is in me something that responds to your words – but it cannot be.  I have sworn to serve Owain while we both live and I cannot forsake my oath to him.  Perhaps if you and I had met in other circumstances I should have been honoured to serve you.'

             
'You are an honest man, Morgan Gruffudd, and a stubborn one,' the prince said with a frown.  'Very well, I accept that your mind is set.  I must say farewell now for I have work to do here in Wales.  If your people will not come of their own will they must be dragged into the future that awaits them.'

             
'May God go with you, Prince Henry,' Morgan said.  'For I believe that in another life we might have been friends.'

             
The prince looked at him in silence for a moment, inclined his head and went out without speaking.

*

Rosamund paced the floor of her chamber.  She had risen after a restless night spent dreaming of Morgan.  In her dream she had seen him consumed by fire and the fear that he might have been executed in this most barbarous and cruel way was on her.

             
'Morgan…Morgan, my love,' she whispered.  'If my prayers can bring you comfort let them reach you…wherever you are.  I pray that if you are dead you did not die in great pain, and that we shall meet again one day.'

             
She was at her devotions when Bethan came to her with the news that Alicia's time was close.

             
'She is in great pain and asks for you, my lady,' Bethan said.  'And Richard has a stomach-ache.  I told him you were resting, but he cries for you.'

             
'Then I shall come to him,' Rosamund asks.  'For a moment only, and then I must be with Alicia, for I know how she suffers.'

             
Rosamund put her fears away from her, for that was all they were.  She did not know where Morgan was or what he faced and it was foolish to dwell on wretched thoughts and dreams.

             
Kestrel had told her to be at peace, and she wished that she might believe in his words, for then she would know that nothing could happen to her beloved lord.

*

Morgan woke from another night spent sleeping on the hard floor of his cell.  All that night he had slept peacefully, though the previous day had been one spent in imminent expectation of his death.  He had not thought it would be long delayed after his refusal of the prince's offer, but the summons had not come.  Mayhap they had merely wanted to prolong the agony of waiting a little longer.

             
The door was opening now.  Four soldiers had come to escort him to his final examination and then his death.

             
'Forgive me, sir, we have been told to bind your hands,' one of the men said and came forward with a thick rope.  'Will you put your hands behind your back, sir?'

             
'I would sooner go with you of my own free will…but you have your orders.'  Morgan put his hands behind his back, feeling the bite of the thick rope as he was bound tightly.

             
He had made no attempt at escape for he could see other men waiting outside and realised that they were making sure of him.  On the other occasions that he had been questioned by Sir Philip, he had been taken to another part of the dungeons, but this time he was being pushed up the stone steps that he had been brought down while he was still unconscious after being almost crushed by his horse.  He felt the rush of cold air as they came to the outer door and then he saw they were in the courtyard of the castle where he had been held these past ten or more days.  The ground was hard with frost for it was a bitter winter day. He was not quite sure how long he had been here for he had lost count, and his eyes felt odd as the daylight dazzled him.

             
He looked for the pyre he expected to consume him but could see nothing and his spirits lifted as he thought that perhaps he was to be hung after all.  Yet now he saw that there were horses waiting, and a small group of ten men-at-arms.  Was it possible that he was being taken somewhere else?  He stiffened as he saw Sir Philip come towards him.

             
'So, I am not to have the pleasure of seeing you burn,' the Englishman said, an angry look in his narrow set eyes.  His mouth twisted with spite. 'Prince Henry says that it would be wiser to hold you prisoner at Conway.  He hopes to bargain with my wife for her surrender and perhaps your kinsman Owain Glyn Dwr.'

             
'Owain will not surrender for my sake – and nor will Rosamund.'  The prince must surely have known that, Morgan thought, wondering what more lay behind the change of plan.

             
'Be that as it may,' Sir Philip replied.  He was snarling like a caged beast that sees its prey but cannot strike and it was clear that he was angry at being robbed of his revenge.  'Your fate is out of my hands now – but when my wife surrenders be sure that I shall make her suffer in your stead.'

             
'You are a fool,' Morgan said, remaining cool though he could cheerfully have wrung the other's scrawny neck with his bare hands.  His spite was that of a frustrated coward and unworthy of notice.  'Do you know so little of her?  She would die rather than surrender to you.'

             
He received a blow across the face that split his lip.  Morgan raised his head, looking into the other man's eyes, challenging him to do it again, but it was not repeated, and he knew that he had been charged to deliver his prisoner safely to the prince's men.  He smiled, mocking his captor for his impotence and Sir Philip stood back, scowling as he gestured to the men to carry on.

             
One of them came to help him mount, which he could not do unaided as his hands were tied.  His eyes met Morgan's for a moment as he helped him to the mounting block, swinging him into the saddle, where Morgan sat shoulders and back straight, his hands still tied behind him.  It was the soldier who had brought him food and spoken fairly to him, and that gave him a source of hope.  Perhaps even yet there was a chance that he might escape.

             
'It is my task to lead your horse, sir,' Jack Errin said.  'They are afraid that if they untie your hands you will take the opportunity to escape.'

             
'And if I gave my word?'

             
'They would not dare to take it.'

             
'So be it,' Morgan said and smiled.

             
If he had given his word he must have kept it or lost all honour, but as it was he would find some opportunity of escaping from his captors on the ride ahead.  They were nervous now and on their guard, but it was a long journey and there were only ten of them.  If he could just free his hands …

FOURTEEN

Morwenna was in the stillroom making a tisane when she heard the sound of booted footsteps and suddenly Rhys burst in.  He looked stunned, frightened, and she felt her heart catch with fear as she sensed what he was about to tell her.

             
'Morgan – you have news of him?  They have not let him go?'

             
'No – but I have heard that terms were offered for his surrender,' Rhys said.  'Prince Henry ordered that he be been taken to Conway Castle and be held there.  Sir Philip is furious and will not pay the other half of the reward.  He says that he has been cheated of his rights and the money will compensate him…'

             
Morwenna's lip curled in scorn.  'I told you he would cheat you,' she said.  ''Tis a wonder that he did not demand the return of what he gave you.'  She laughed as Rhys turned pale.  'Tell me, when is Morgan to die?  For I know he did not surrender.'

             
'Some say the prince will not hang him,' Rhys said and his colour was a ghastly yellow.  'They say Prince Henry admires brave men and that if he chose he could enter his service…'

             
'And you fear he will take the prince's offer and come back to kill you?'  Morwenna looked at him with disdain.  'You are a coward, Rhys Llewelyn.  Morgan is twice the man you are.  I was a fool that I did not know it sooner.  Think again, my coward.  Morgan will never betray Owain.  He would sooner face the fire they planned for him.'  She smiled coldly.  'If I were you I should run now, before Morgan comes to find you.  While they had him in that cell they could contain him, but the road to Conway is long and Morgan knows it better than most.  I will wager that he escapes his captors before too long, and then he will come here – and he will kill us both.'

             
Rhys swallowed hard, his forehead glistening with beads of sweat.  It was clear that he feared Morgan's revenge.

             
'Are you not afraid?' he asked.  'You were as much in this as I, Morwenna.'

             
'I do not fear to die,' she answered, her eyes meeting his scornfully.  'Rather I fear life.'

             
'I do not understand you,' Rhys growled.  'You are trying to make me run away.  You want this place for yourself and you think that Morgan would let you stay if I was not here.'

             
'Think what you will,' Morwenna said.  'I care not what you do.  But I tell you that Morgan will escape those English fools – and he will come here.'

             
She had no intention of leaving without Maire's gold.  Rhys had refused to leave the house since that night.  He came to her chamber when he pleased, forcing her to submit to him, which she did without a fight.  Better to let him have his way than risk being beaten.  She had no illusions about him now.  He was a bully and a coward and she cursed the day she had met him.

             
But for Rhys Llewelyn…but it was useless to think that way.  For the moment she was tied to him, for she would never leave this accursed house without the gold Maire had hidden.

             
Her search for it had been hampered by Rhys's presence for she did not want him to guess there was gold here.  She believed it must be in the house.  Maire had been too ill to leave the house for weeks before she died, and the gold had been there only three weeks prior to that night.