Morgan the Rogue (40 page)

             
'If only your vision could come true,' she said and pressed herself against him as the heat of his passion told her that he wanted her again.  'I so want to be with you, to live as your wife…'

             
'I cannot promise that we shall ever be wed,' Morgan replied, holding her closer as he began to stroke her quivering flesh.  'But you are the wife of my heart and when the situation becomes more stable you shall be accepted as my wife by all who are our friends.  You have been too much alone here at Caris, my love.  Once it is safe to leave here we shall visit friends and your time will pass more pleasantly I promise you.'

             
She lifted her face for his kiss, offering a silent prayer that his vision was true, for the life that he spoke off glittered before her like a golden prize and she longed for it with all her heart.'

             
'Then I am content,' she whispered into his shoulder.  'As long as I know that we shall be together soon I can let you go to Owain with a glad heart.'

             
Morgan smiled as he gathered her to him, their passion flaring so that all time for talk was done.  His visions had shown him the future and he knew that it would be good.

FIFTEEN

‘I am bigger and stronger than you,’ Richard Morgan boasted to his half-sister.  At eight years of age, Morganna was several months older but he was the taller of the two.  Richard liked his half-sister better than Ellen and Anne, perhaps because she was a rare visitor to their home and he could impress her.  His true sisters always told tales to their mother.

             
‘But I can run faster than you,’ Morganna replied.  For her Richard was a beautiful, shinning being and she adored him, but the rivalry between them was fierce and she would not let him have all his own way.

             
‘You cannot!’

             
‘Yes I can!’

             
‘Race you then…’

             
Richard started off as soon as he had thrown down the challenge but Morganna had expected it and she was after him at once.  Her boast had not been idle and soon she had caught and passed him.  For a while she sped on, glorying in the freedom and sense of exhilaration running gave her, her bare feet flying over the mossy floor of the forest.  The sun was filtering through the canopy of overhanging branches, its rays bringing warmth to pierce the chill of the thickly ranged trees.

             
At home she often ran as far and as fast as she could, away into the forests or up into the mountains she loved the most, but her mother scolded her if she was away too long.  Here at Caris she was hardly ever scolded.  The lady of Caris was very kind to her, even though Morganna’s mother had told her that she was wicked and had stolen her father away from them.  But then, her mother was always telling her unkind stories of her father and his lady, but Morganna had long ago learned to ignore them.

             
Reaching the lake, Morganna threw herself down on the dry grass at its edge and rolled over on to her stomach, inhaling the scent of the wild flowers that grew here in profusion.  She picked a stalk of grass and chewed the end, smiling to herself as she waited for Richard to join her, knowing that he would be disgruntled because she had won their race.  He arrived seconds later and stood glaring down at her, his mouth sulky, and clearly annoyed to have been beaten.

             
‘So not look so cross,’ she said to appease him.  He was her only true friend for at home she had none, because her mother did not like her to play with the children of the servants, and her half-sisters did not seem to like her very much.  ‘I can run fast but you are better at everything else.’

             
‘Yes, I am,’ Richard agreed and grinned at her, his sunny humour restored.  ‘I can shoot an arrow straighter than most men and I am learning to be a great soldier like my father.’

             
‘
Our father
,’ Morganna reminded him.  She clung to her relationship with Morgan Gruffudd, for it meant a great deal to her even though she did not often see him.  His visits to Gruffudd over the past years had been few enough, but there were the special times when he took her with him, and for those times she loved him.  ‘Your mother says that he was responsible for the str..atgey that took Harlech Castle.’ She struggled over the difficult word. ‘She says it was only because he urged Owain Glyn Dwr to keep faith that we won so many victories.’

             
‘Father is the bravest and the cleverest of them all,’ Richard boasted.  ‘Owain told me so himself.’

             
‘Have you met Owain?’  Morganna looked at him in awe.  Owain Glyn Dwr was her hero.  His many victories since the year of 1403 and the fall of Harlech at the end of the following year, had given him control of much of Wales and he was a legend to the people.  These past four years or so he had truly been prince in Wales, holding court and passing laws, negotiating with the French and even some English nobles who held a grudge against Henry.  Morganna’s mother had told her that her grandfather, sadly killed in a battle with the English long ago, had been Owain’s kinsman.  Yet Morganna had never seen Owain.  He did not visit them and she had never met any of her mother’s family.  Morwenna hardly ever left the house these days, unless it was to walk down to the stream to pick herbs for her simples.

             
‘Yes, of course,’ Richard said a little pompously.  ‘We stay with him sometimes and he visits with us at Caris when he can, though he is always so busy.  Owain says that I shall be as brave a soldier as my father one day.’

             
‘So shall I!’

             
‘Girls don’t fight.  They stay home and embroider things.  You would be afraid to go into battle.’

             
‘No, I wouldn’t!’

             
‘You are afraid to swim in the lake.’

             
I’m not,’ Morganna said but she lied and he knew it.  ‘I just don’t want to.  Besides, your mother told us we were not to swim.  She says the lake is too deep and too dangerous.  And the water is cold.’

             
‘Too dangerous for you,’ Richard taunted.  ‘I’m going to swim.  You can just sit there and watch because you’re only a girl and scared of water.’

             
‘I am not!’

             
‘Come with me then.  I dare you!’

             
Morganna watched as he began to strip off his thick wool tunic and long boots.  He waded into the shallow water at the edge of the lake wearing only his hose and then dipped down into it, splashing out like a puppy with arms and legs flailing.  Her heart catching with fright yet not wanting to be outdone, Morgan lifted her tunic and tied it under her legs to keep it out of the water, then took a wary step into the lake.  It felt sharp and sandy beneath her feet, unlike the smooth pebbles in the shallow stream that ran in the meadows near her home.  The water was icy, chilling her legs and making her shiver.

             
‘Get right down in it,’ Richard urged, his eyes bright with excitement now that he had goaded her into joining him.  ‘It’s lovely and you can’t drown in this shallow bit.  I’m going to swim out further but you should stay here until you’ve learned to swim.’

             
‘Please don’t,’ Morganna begged him, genuinely frightened.  ‘The water is deep further out and you might get into trouble.’

             
‘I can swim right across,’ Richard boasted and set out to prove it.

             
‘Come back,’ Morganna called, wading to the edge now and climbing back on to the bank.  She was trembling all over and not just because the water had chilled her.  ‘Oh, please come back, Richard.’

             
Richard had gone no more than a few yards and he seemed to be in difficulty.  Remembering what Lady Rosamund had said about the dangers of the lake, she screamed out for help, and pointed frantically at the water for she knew that someone would be watching over them albeit from a distance.  They were never alone in the forest for Lady Rosamund’s servants kept a watch over them always.

             
‘Help Richard!’ she screamed and saw two of the men-at-arms burst out of the trees and run towards the lake.  One of them plunged in and swam out to Richard, who was going under for a second time, clearly in trouble now.  Morganna was sobbing, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched helplessly from the bank.   She would not be able to bear it if anything happened to Richard.  ‘Oh, please help him…don’t let him drown.  It’s all my fault for making him cross…it’s all my fault…’

             
‘Don’t you worry, little mistress,’ the soldier on the bank reassured her kindly.  ‘Jack Errin will get him.  Jack’s a good swimmer.  See, he’s got him already.’

             
Morganna was crying as she saw Jack Errin carry Richard from the lake.  Richard’s head was lolling back and he looked terrible.  She was afraid that he was dead, and she felt her guilt swamp her.  If he died it would be her fault.  She should have stopped him swimming somehow.  She knew that his mother had forbidden it, and she believed he had only disobeyed his mother’s orders because she had beaten him in their race.  She ought to have let him win, because then he would not have needed to show her how clever he was.

             
Richard was lying on the grass where Jack Errin had put him, and now the soldier was doing something to him, pumping on his chest, turning him as the water came rushing out of his mouth and he choked.  He was alive.  Oh, thank goodness!  Richard was alive.

             
‘I don’t know what the pair of you were up to,’ Jack scolded as he looked at Morganna.  ‘You know you shouldn’t have gone into the water – either of you.  It isn’t fitting for you, Morganna – and Richard knows his mother has forbidden it.  I dare not think what Lady Rosamund will say about this.’

             
Morganna looked at him unhappily.  She had never wanted to go into the water, but Richard had goaded her into it.  Yet she was unwilling to blame him, especially after he had come so close to death.

             
‘We didn’t mean to be wicked…’

             
‘Never mind that now,’ said the soldier who had comforted her on the bank.  ‘Give the lad to me, Jack, and get yourself dry.  We’d best take Master Richard home before he catches his death of cold…’

*

'It was a foolish thing to do,' Lady Rosamund said as the two children stood before her, their heads downcast, awaiting just chastisement.  'You could have drowned, Richard.  I want your word that you will not swim again unless your father is with you.  Do you give it?  If you will not I shall not let you go to the forest again.'

             
'I give you my word,' Richard said and looked contrite.  'I am sorry, Mother.'

             
'I am glad that you are ashamed of having caused me so much worry.'  Rosamund looked at Morganna, seeing the shame and guilt in her eyes.  She needed no scolding for she was already ashamed of her disobedience.  'I shall not punish you, child.  I know that my son was the instigator of your downfall – but I want your promise that you will not do anything so foolish again.  If something had happened to you while you were in our care your mother would never have forgiven us.'

             
Morganna felt her cheeks burning but made no reply.  She did not think her mother would care if she never went home, for all she ever did was scold her, but she could not say so.  Even if Morwenna did not love her, Morganna was loyal to her mother and she loved her.

             
'Don't scold us, Mother,' Richard said and coughed.  There was pride in his face as he raised his head to look at her. 'A soldier's life is always in danger and I'm going to be a soldier like Father one day.'

             
'We shall see,' Rosamund said, frowning as he coughed again.  He did not like her to fuss over him, but she could not help worrying because he was so very precious to her.  'Perhaps it may not be necessary for you to fight.  The wars will be over and finished when you grow up.'

             
She prayed that she was right as she spoke the words, but in her heart she knew that there was still trouble.  Morgan was away even now because there had been some fighting, and she feared that the English would never give up, never go away and leave them in peace.  Perhaps if Hotspur and his father had not been killed during their short rebellion at Shrewsbury they might have forced concessions from the English, but though their cause was also Owain's the loss of such important men had been a blow. She was so tired of all these years of war, even though for the last four years they had seemed to ride on a crest of glory.  She knew that of late Morgan had started to worry, that he was concerned Owain's grip on the regions they controlled was beginning to slip.