Authors: Lynn Granville
'There is a whisper that he escaped from the English soldiers,' she said and glared at him. 'You should go, Rhys. He will kill you first. Why don't you run now while you have the chance?'
'You are a cold bitch,' Rhys said anger flaring. 'I should teach you a lesson, Morwenna.' He moved towards her, grabbing her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh. 'I could kill you…' He put his right hand about her throat and she felt the pressure cutting off her breath, making her gasp. 'One squeeze and that would be the end…'
'Do it,' she croaked, staggering as he suddenly pushed her away from him violently. 'No, you haven't the courage.'
'Do not test me too far, Morwenna,' Rhys said. 'One day I shall not stop – now help me examine this wall. We shall search for Maire's gold together.'
Morwenna watched sullenly as he tapped the wall. He was more thorough than she had been and tapped harder for he did not care who heard. She was reluctant to go on with the search for she knew that if they found the gold he would take it from her. Rhys would never let her leave him.
Damn him! She was beginning to hate him now. It was his fault that her life had turned sour. If she had never met him she might have been happy as Morgan's wife.
'Come on,' Rhys commanded. 'Help me, Morwenna. If you don't you won't see a groat of the money when I find it.'
*
Rosamund read the brief message from Morgan. He was safe and she was to remain at Caris until he came to her. He promised to come soon but there was something he must do first.
She read his words again, her lovely eyes lit with relief.
I shall be with you soon, my love
, Morgan had written.
I am well
and there is no need for you to be anxious
.
She had heard that Morgan had escaped from the English in the forest a short distance from Conway, and for a while they had doubled the guard at Caris in case they were attacked in revenge. So far it had not happened. Word had it that the English were thinly stretched and suffering reverses. For the moment no one had the time or inclination to bother about one defiant woman; she was not important when so much else was at stake.
Smiling, she folded Morgan's letter and put it away in her coffer. It seemed that Kestrel had spoken truly after all and her fears had been foolish.
'Come back to me soon, my love,' she whispered to the empty room. 'It grows so lonely here without you.'
*
Morgan stood on the mountain gazing down at the house below. The moon had come from behind the clouds, which had partially obscured it, seeming to shed its light benevolently over the old stone manor. He had never liked it for it was gloomy and dark. With Maire gone he would have been content to leave it to his daughter and Morwenna – but she and Rhys had betrayed him to the English.
He scowled in the darkness as the moon hid itself again. Owain was right, there was a soft streak in him. He had left this reckoning too long. While Rhys lived Rosamund and their children were at risk, and his own life was endangered by the other man's treachery. He had no choice. His one-time friend must die.
His expression was grim as he began the descent. It was not in anger or for revenge that he sought Rhys' death but so that there would be no more plotting, no more attempts to murder Rosamund.
The doors had been barred against the night as he had expected, but that had never kept Morgan out when he returned under cover of darkness. There was a cellar, forgotten and neglected, home to broken casks and rats. The servants always locked the door leading from the cellar into the house at night, but Morgan had a spare key hidden.
It took but a moment to find for no one came near the disused cellar. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The air in here did not grow sweeter with time.
Letting himself into the kitchens, Morgan saw a wench lying on a rush mat by the ovens, huddled up to her sweetheart for warmth. It was a bitter night and he did not blame them for seeking what comfort they could. He grinned as he realised they were sleeping soundly, having helped themselves freely to Maire's home brewed ale.
But Maire was no longer here to keep her servants in check and it seemed that they did not respect their new mistress. The smile left Morgan's face as he recalled that he had not even had time to bury his mother. Rhys and his wife had not even allowed him that in their haste to betray him.
Rhy's deserved his fate! Morgan's expression was grim as he trod softly up the stone steps leading to his wife's bedchamber. He suspected what he would find and moments later his lip curled in scorn as he gazed down at Morwenna lying with her head against Rhys' shoulder. She had wasted no time in taking her lover to her bed.
He reached out, dragging the fur covering from them. Beneath it were yet more coverlets of woollen material for it was always bitterly cold in this house in winter. He wrenched these too from the sleeping couple and saw they were both naked. Yet still they did not stir.
His top lip curling back in a sneer, Morgan fetched cold water from the pitcher and emptied the contents over Rhys. Morgan's sword was drawn and he held it to the man's throat as he woke, swearing fiercely until he saw Morgan and the breath left him in a little hiss.
A faint light was shining in at the window, but Morwenna was awake now and lighting a taper beside the bed, its smoky flare shedding light over Rhys' waxy face. She gave a gasp of fear and reached for a cover to hide her nakedness from her husband's contemptuous gaze.
'It was Rhys,' she said and there was a strange excitement in her eyes. 'He betrayed you to the English. Then he came here and forced himself on me. I told him they would not hold you. I warned him to run but he is a fool.'
'Do not waste your breath,' Morgan told her. 'I have come here to kill him but you mean nothing to me. I care not what you do, Morwenna. Stay here if you wish. For Morganna's sake I shall spare you but not him.' He lowered his sword. 'But I shall not kill you where you lie, Rhys Llewelyn – for our past friendship it shall be a fair fight.'
Rhys rose from the bed. Unlike Morwenna he did not try to cover his nakedness but stood straight and tall, facing Morgan proudly.
'Take my life then,' he said defiantly. 'I deny nothing. I wanted her. She has been my destiny and my downfall. Yet I do not regret it. All that was yours has been mine. You can kill me but you cannot deny what has been done.'
'You took nothing from me that I wanted, though it was your intention,' Morgan said. 'You tried to murder the woman I love and you betrayed me to the English. Yet I shall give you a chance. Dress and come downstairs and we shall settle this for good.'
He turned away, but then, alerted by Morwenna's gasp, swung back as Rhys lunged at him, a long thin dagger in hand. Morgan struck out with his sword, thrusting it deeply and cleanly into Rhys' side before pulling it free. The blood gushed in a tide of crimson as Rhys sank to his knees, froth on his mouth, an odd smile in his eyes.
'You were right,' he muttered. 'I took nothing from you that was worth the taking.' And then he fell to one side, twitched for a few moments and lay still.
Morgan whirled round as Morwenna moved but she had no weapon and fell to her knees beside Rhys' body as it finally lay still.
'He was a coward and a fool,' she said looking up. 'Yet he loved me. You never loved me even when you stole my heart and made me love you.'
'You forfeited any right to love when you lay with him,' Morgan said. 'I would be within my rights to kill you where you stand, Morwenna. I shall spare you for your child's sake. A child needs its mother. Be good to her. If I hear otherwise you will be sorry.'
She rose to her feet, meeting his harsh gaze without flinching. Beneath her bare feet the floor was icy cold and she shivered as the chill went through her but suppressed it as best she could.
'I do not fear you. My life means nothing to me – but I shall teach my daughter to hate you, Morgan. She shall hate you as much as I do. You would do better to kill me and take her with you now if you care for her.'
'No, I shall not make it easy for you,' he said. 'You will live here with your crimes, Morwenna, and may you remember what you have done in your dreams; it is a more fitting punishment than death. Hate me if you will but have a care what you teach Morganna. I shall visit her sometimes, mayhap take her with me for a time if I can. She will learn to know me and judge for herself and it might be that she learns to hate you instead.'
Morwenna stared after him as he left the room. She felt the surge of hatred rise in her and laughed. He little knew that he had given her back her reason to live.
She was free now. Free to live as she pleased, to search for Maire's gold and to hate. Hating Morgan was better than the emptiness his death would have left in her.
*
Rosamund felt as if she flew on air as she ran down the steps of her solar. She had caught sight of her lover from the window as he dismounted in the courtyard, and was in the Great Hall when he came hurrying to meet her. He swept her up in his arms, whirling round with her in a rush of excitement as they both felt the relief and love overwhelming them.
'I thought you were dead.'
'And I thought they would kill me. I believed I should never see you or my children again.'
'Oh, Morgan. I was close to despair when I knew they had taken you prisoner. Did Kestrel come to you there? Did he help you to escape?'
'He gave me strength to hope for the future,' Morgan said. 'But he told me that each man's destiny is within his own making. He did not show me the way to escape but without him I might have given up for I had begun to despair.'
'Yes, that is how it was for me,' she told him. 'He seemed to tell me that I must not despair but then he disappeared and I began to doubt that I had ever seen him.'
'Kestrel has told me many times that I should trust my visions…' Morgan smiled at her. 'But why dwell on what has passed? We have the future to look forward to, Rosamund.'
'How long can you stay with me?' she asked. 'I know you must go to Owain but…'
He touched a finger to her lips. 'Do not be anxious, my love. I must join Owain soon, but for now I want a little time with you and my children.'
*
They lay entwined in the aftermath of love, whispering long into the night, holding each other, both aware that this night might never have come. Their loving had been sweet, urgent and satisfying, and now they were content just to lie this way.
Rosamund was the first to speak.
'It seems that this war drags on so long,' she said, pressing her lips to the salty dampness of his shoulder. 'Will the time ever come when we can live together in peace, Morgan?'
'Do not lose faith, my dear one,' Morgan said and stroked the satin arch of her back, cupping her buttocks as he held her pressed close to him. 'In the visions that Kestrel has shown me I see great things for Owain. I see that we shall be victorious in the coming years, that castles and towns will fall to us, that Owain shall rule in Wales – and that we shall be together.'
'Do you say these things to comfort me?' She reached up to touch his face. 'If it were never to be I should still count myself fortunate to have known your love, Morgan – but happiness breeds greed and I long for more.'
'I must leave you again soon,' he told her and kissed her throat as he felt her body move in protest. 'But soon I believe we shall be able to live freely outside Caris. And then you shall be with me, Rosamund. In my vision I saw us riding in a great procession. It was a celebration of the New Year and we had taken Harlech Castle.'