Morgan the Rogue (49 page)

             
'We have not yet prepared your chamber for your comfort, my lady.'

'No, matter.  I would rest and think for a while.'

'Is there something more I may do for you, my lady?'

             
'Yes, you may send Master Baldry to me.'

             
Rosamund walked over to the window to gaze out as the woman hurried away, looking towards the forest.  The view had become hateful to her for a time, but now she was remembering the happy days she had spent there with Morgan during that first summer.  He had been so vivid in her thoughts these past days.  It was almost as if he was calling to her, trying to reach her.

             
'Morgan…' she whispered and turned away from the window as her steward spoke behind her.  'Ah, Master Baldry, I would have words with you.'

             
She could hear loud voices in the courtyard below but her thoughts were centred on the man who had served her so faithfully for so many years.  He was looking anxious, his manner slightly uneasy as if he had guessed what was in her mind.

             
'Yes, my lady.  How may I serve you?'

             
'When I left here with the King I signed a letter for Morgan Gruffudd, which you were to have given to Master Errin for safekeeping.  You did not do so – why was that?'

             
William was silent for a moment as he stared at her.  He had destroyed the letter before they left Caris, believing it was better if she never saw the Welshman again.  Indeed he had hoped that they would never return here to Caris.

             
'I must have forgotten in the hurry to be ready, my lady.'

             
'Then give it to me now.'  She held out her hand but saw by his expression that he was discomforted.  'But you cannot, can you?  Did you destroy the letter, William?'

             
He could not lie to her, though he sensed that she was very angry.

             
'I burned it.  He had caused you so much pain.  I believed that you would forget him when you left this place – that you would never want to return.  The whole of England is open to you now and you could marry where you will.  I believed you would want to put the past behind you.'

             
'Then you believed wrongly, William.  I am very angry with you for deceiving me…'

             
'I did not mean to deceive you, my lady.  I acted for your good.'

             
'I know that you believed you were acting for my good, and for that reason I shall not dismiss you,' Rosamund said.  'But you exceeded your duty, William, and you have lost my good opinion.  I am not sure that you may continue as my steward for I must be able to trust those who serve me in such close capacity.  I shall think on this and…'

             
She broke off as she heard running footsteps and then Jack Errin burst into the room.  'Forgive me, my lady,' he said and he was breathing hard.  'But you said that I was to bring any message from Gruffudd to you and the news is ill…'

             
'What?'  Rosamund's face turned pale as she took the sealed packet from him, opening it with shaking fingers.  'Oh no!  Morgan is desperately sick and calling for me in his fever.'

             
'The lad told me so,' Jack said.  'Shall you go to him, my lady?'

             
'At once,' Rosamund replied.  'I shall take nothing but what we need for our journey, anything more can follow.  Go you and prepare an escort, Master Errin – and William, you will ask Bethan and the other ladies to come to me at once.  I would be ready to leave within the hour.'

             
'But it is late,' William protested.  'Your journey may wait until the morning.'

             
'My journey will not wait a minute longer than it takes to be ready,' Rosamund said.  'My love may be close to death and I must see him – must beg his pardon for the hurt I have given him these past years since Richard's death.'

             
'But it was he who hurt you…'

             
'No!'  Rosamund lifted her head, her face pale but proud.  'I was the one at fault.  Morgan tried to reach me, to ease my grief – but I shut him out.  I knew that he was grieving as deeply as I but I could help neither him nor myself.  Now I am punished indeed, for if he dies I shall have nothing left to live for…'

             
William stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then bowed his head and left to do her bidding.  Rosamund felt the sting of tears as she reread the letter.  His condition must be serious or Morganna would not have sent – and therein lay another source of guilt, for she had not treated the girl well after Richard's death.

             
'Forgive me,' she whispered.  'I have been such a fool to let my grief for Richard destroy all else that was good.  Give me one more chance I beg you.'

             
Once before she had been desperate as she prayed.  Kestrel had come to her then to comfort her, but there was no sign now.  She could only wait until her journey's end was reached and pray that she would be in time to see him.

*

'You will be ill yourself,' Gwenny warned as she found Morganna lying on a mat beside her father's bed, covered only by a thin blanket.  'Have you been here all night, you foolish child?'

             
'He was so ill and calling for her again,' Morganna said as she got to her feet and stretched.  The floor was hard and cold and it had made her bones ache.  'I did not want to leave him and I could not lie on the bed for he tosses and turns all the time in his fever.'

             
'I should think not,' Gwenny scolded shaking her head.  'Go and rest, Morganna.  You cannot do it all. I shall take your place now.'  She bent over the sick man, laying a gentle hand upon his brow.  'I think he seems a little cooler this morning.  If we are lucky the fever will break soon.'

             
'I shall go and make more of the tisane that seems to ease him,' Morganna said.  'You must call me if there is any change.'

             
'The only change will be for the better,' Gwenny said confidently.  'Make your tisane then since nothing else will content you, but then you should rest.'

             
Morganna smiled at her scolding.  Gwenny had always loved her, but she had been as worried as they all had that Morgan would die.  He had lain in the fever for ten days now and they had begun to think that it would never break.

             
When she reached her stillroom Morganna discovered that she had no more of the leaves from which she brewed her healing drink and she decided that she would go and pick some by the stream.

             
It was a pleasant morning, warmer than it had been of late, and she believed that the change might help her father to recover – providing the fever was breaking at last.  She had been so afraid that he might die, for his fever was very like that that had killed Richard.

             
She was fortunate to find the plant she sought by the stream and gathered as much as she could into her basket before setting off towards the house.  As she drew near she saw that a small party of people had arrived and gave a little cry, running towards them as she saw and recognised the woman she had prayed would come.

             
'Lady Rosamund…' she called as the woman dismounted, helped by one of her grooms.  'You came...at last...'

             
'Morganna…'  Rosamund stared at her for a moment in disbelief.  'But you have grown, my dear.  Such a beautiful young lady!  I am so glad to see you, Morganna.'

             
She had opened her arms and Morganna ran to them, her tears falling as she was gathered into a warm embrace.  All the anxiety of the past few days came welling out of her as she sobbed of her fears, and Rosamund comforted her.  At last, when she had calmed, she drew back, looking at her shyly.

             
'Forgive me, my lady.  I did not mean to weep over you.'

             
'I understand, my dear,' Rosamund said.  'You have had so much to bear and all alone – but that is at an end.  I am here now and you shall not be alone again, I promise.'

             
'My father calls for you all the time,' Morganna said, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her tunic.  'It is he who needs you and I waste your time…'

             
'He still lives?'  Rosamund's hand was shaking as she touched the girl's face.  'God be praised!  I thought I might be too late…'

             
'No, though I was afraid that you would not come in time,' Morganna said as she led the way into the house and towards the stone steps that led to his chamber.  'He has been so ill and I thought he might die but I think he is a little better this morning.'

             
'May I go up to him?'

             
'Yes, of course.'  Morganna took a step back.  'Go up alone, my lady.  I have a tisane to make.  I shall come later to see how he does.'

             
'You are generous, Morganna,' Rosamund said.  'I shall not forget this kindness in you.'

             
'He loves you so,' Morganna told her.  'I do not know if you have quarrelled, but it has hurt him.  He has been low of spirits and I think it was that that brought him down as much as the fever.  Forgive him if you can, my lady.  He needs you.'

             
The tears were trickling down Rosamund's face as she met the girl's pleading look.  'It is I who must ask his forgiveness,' she said.  'For I love him far more than I ever knew…'

*

Rosamund's heart was racing as she went softly into the chamber at the top of the stairs.  A woman was bending over the bed, bathing the sick man's forehead with a cloth wrung out in cool water.  She looked up as Rosamund approached and curtsied.

             
'I think he is a little better, my lady.  He is cooler than he has been.'

             
Recognising her now as Morganna's nurse, though grown stouter with the years, Rosamund nodded and smiled.  'Thank you, Gwenny.  I believe he has been very ill?'

             
'Yes, my lady.  I shall leave you now, but if you need help you have only to call.'

             
Rosamund nodded.  She bent over Morgan as the older woman left, stroking his forehead lightly with her fingertips and then she bent to kiss his brow.

             
'My dear love,' she said.  'It seems that God is just for you are not dead.  Return to me, Morgan Gruffudd, for my life is nothing to me without you.'

             
His eyelids flickered and he made a little moaning sound in his throat.  His lips moved as if he wanted to form a word but found it too difficult.

             
'Do not try to speak, my love,' Rosamund touched her lips to his.  'Your daughter has cared for you devotedly and I am here to share her task now.  I promise that we shall make you well again.'

             
'Rosamund…forgive me.  Always loved you…'

             
Morgan's eyes were open but though he looked at her she did not think he knew her.

             
'You should not beg my pardon.  It is I who should beg yours, my love.  You tried to comfort me but I turned from you in my grief and pride.  Forgive me for hurting you.'

             
He made a moaning sound and his hand clutched at the bedcovers as he closed his eyes.  She reached out to stroke his forehead, listening to the harsh sound of his breathing as the seconds passed, and then he stirred once more.

             
'Rosamund?'  Morgan was conscious now and staring at her in disbelief.  'Where am I?  I thought I was at Gruffudd…'

             
'And so you are, my love.  You have been very ill.  Morganna has nursed you, but you called for me and so she sent to Caris and I came.'

             
'Morganna sent for you…but you had left Caris.'

             
'Only for a time.  I left a letter to tell you I would return but it was mislaid.'

             
'I thought you wanted to forget…that it was over.'

             
'I could never forget all that had been between us.  Ah no,' she said as he tried to sit up and failed, falling back against the piles of downy pillows.  'You are not yet recovered, my lord.  You must lie there and not tire yourself.'

             
'Then sit beside me, give me your hand.'

             
Rosamund did as he asked, smiling at him tenderly.  His fingers curled about hers, though not as strongly as they would have once.