Morgan the Rogue (25 page)

             
'We are with you, Morgan,' Gwilym Gruffudd had cried out.  'Since you left us there has been nothing to do but stand aside and watch the English strip our land of its riches.  'Tis time we stood up for our rights – or died in the attempt.'

             
Amongst his friends that attitude had been universal.  Morgan guessed that they had not dared to make the lightening raids on the English tax collectors since he left them, for it was always he who planned their escapades.  It had begun out of boredom and frustration, but for some months they had made the enemy fear them.  If he had his way they would do so again, but to an extent they had not dreamed of in the past.

             
Morgan was on his way now to visit some men he believed of like mind.  They had been faithful servants of King Richard while he reigned and were disgruntled with the new order.  These men were the kind that Owain needed to inspire his followers, men who knew how to organise and fight.  They had already risen in support of the revolt, but were lying low for the moment.  Morgan had an idea that had been forming for the past several months and with the help of Rhys ap Tudur and his brother Gwilym he hoped that it might be possible to do something that would make the rest of Wales sit up and wonder.

*

Rosamund felt the ache in her back and sighed as she got up to wander about the room, stopping to glance out of the window.  There was so little of interest to see in the courtyard and she was tired of being confined to her chamber, but it would not be wise to venture far in her condition.

             
From time to time news reached her of Morgan.  She knew that he had been working for Owain and that there was a price on his head.  The English wanted him dead or alive, and that terrified her though she would never have let him know it.  But Kestrel had told her their destinies lay together and she would try to believe that.

             
'Are you in pain, my lady?'

             
Rosamund turned as Alicia came into the room and smiled.

             
'No, it was merely a backache and it is going now that I am moving about.  I think I grow weary from sitting too long.  I shall come down and walk in the courtyard for a while.  Perhaps you will walk with me?'

             
'You know that I will,' Alicia replied.  Take my arm, my lady.'

             
Rosamund did so, feeling the comfort of her friend's presence.  'I do not know what I should do without you,' she said.  'But tell me, has Thomas asked you to be his wife yet?'

             
'No…' Alicia blushed.  'He seems to care for me but he has not spoken yet.'

             
Rosamund chuckled.  'It seems to me that Master Bridger needs some help, Alicia.  We must give him a little push in the right direction.'

             
'Oh no,' Alicia said and laughed.  'I dare say he will speak when he is ready…' She broke off as she saw William Baldry waiting for them at the foot of the steps.  'Is there news, sir?'

             
'No, none,' William said and cursed inwardly as he saw the look of disappointment in his mistress's eyes.  'I came merely to see how the Lady Rosamund was today.'

             
'I am well enough,' Rosamund replied, lifting her head proudly for she would show no one that she lived in hope of a message from Morgan.  It was foolish of her to expect him simply because her time was near.  Having a baby was a woman's work and he had far more important things to see to.  'I am going for a walk in the fresh air, my good William – if you will excuse us now please.'

             
William frowned as they walked away, their heads together as they laughed over some trifle.  He knew how much Lady Rosamund suffered from Morgan Gruffudd's neglect and he cursed the day the Welshman had come into his lady's life.  She would have been far happier if she had never met him!

*

'You are a master strategist,' Gwilym ap Tudur said and slapped Morgan on the shoulder.  ''Tis a clever plan and we are the men to carry it out, Morgan Gruffudd.'

             
'I noticed how vulnerable the castle was when the garrison was at its devotions,' Morgan said.  'I doubt that the English will be on alert now that so many months have passed since the attacks on Ruthin and Oswestry.  They think they have crushed us but this time we shall not be so easily stopped.'

             
Rhys ap Tudur looked at him, eyes narrowed.  'You are saying that we should be able to simply walk in and take the castle without a fight?'

             
'There will be some small resistance, but I believe Conway is vulnerable at this time – as perhaps are a dozen others.  The English are careless.  They leave many of their strongholds with nominal garrisons.  Strike now and I believe you will succeed.'

             
'And you will be with us?'

             
'If you wish it, though I shall leave you after we have taken it, for I have other work.'  Morgan frowned for he had hoped to go to Rosamund after he had visited with the brothers.  Her time must be near and she might need him, but having brought this plan to Gwiylm he could not refuse to be a part of it.

             
Gwilym laughed and slapped him on the shoulder again.  'We have heard whispers of you, Morgan Gruffudd.  When I was privileged to work in King Richard's household I heard of English taxes being stolen and a name was mentioned, but I thought it best to forget I had heard the whisper.'

             
Morgan grinned at him.  The brothers were both Tudur ap Goronwy's sons and had found preferment in Richard's household.  They were also relatives of Owain and bold, brave men. In the year 1386 they had led a force of Welsh archers to guard the English coast against French attack, and had gone with Richard to Ireland in 1398.  For this service they had both been given life pensions of ten pounds a year, and had good reason to dislike the man who had stolen Richard's crown. 

             
The rumours that Richard had been murdered had grown of late and there were new claimants to the throne.  Even amongst the English, many muttered beneath their breath that Henry Bolingbroke was no true king but merely the Duke of Lancaster.

*

Morgan rode with Gwilym that day.  It was on the first of April 1401 that they came to Conway Castle, surprising the English while the garrison was at prayer.  It was Good Friday, one of the Holiest days of the year for Christians and the guards were absent from their posts.  A few did realise what was going on as the small raiding party rode in, but it was too late to do more than put up a token resistance.  Those who drew their swords were soon dealt with and the others surrendered without resistance.

             
Morgan's knowledge of the castle and its customs had allowed them to take it by a ruse, for the drawbridge was always down on this special day to allow those who wished to visit and join in the prayers.

             
The Tudur brothers were jubilant at having so easily captured the castle, and Morgan celebrated with them.

             
'This will be sung of in the mountains for a thousand years,' Gwilym cried in triumph.  'They will talk of this in every valley – and 'tis due to you, my friend.'

             
'Nay,' Morgan denied.  'It is not my name that will echo through the mountains, Gwilym Tudur.  I merely gave you my knowledge of the castle and the English ways.  It was you and your brother who took the garrison.  My own men have not yet come to me.  I go to meet with them in a few days.'

             
'The English will not be so easily surprised again,' Rhys ap Tudur said.  'They will reinforce their other garrisons.'

             
'They will do whatever they can to stop us,' Morgan said, his eyes bright as he looked at the two men.  'But I believe that we shall have victory in the end.  The way may be long and hard – but we shall make it as hard for them as it is for us.'

             
'Have you other tricks up your sleeve?' Gwilym asked.

             
'Do not ask,' his brother warned.  'What we do not know we cannot be accused of telling.'  He gave Gwilym a warning look.

             
Morgan pondered on that look as he rode away from the castle the next morning.  He had found the brothers receptive to his suggestions but he was not sure of their reasons.  He thought Gwilym eager for the fight against the English, but Rhys seemed less inclined.

             
It did not matter.  Their bold action would breathe new life into the revolt no matter what they did next.  Once word of the capture of Conway Castle spread throughout Wales it would give others the courage to come forward.

             
Morgan knew that much of the fighting in the next few months would be in the form of swift strikes against the enemy followed by retreat into the forests and the mountains.  He had been forming his own plans and would have much to discuss with Owain when he next saw him – but now that his mission was complete for the moment he had other things on his mind…

*

The drawbridge was lowered at his approach.  Morgan saw Thomas Bridger almost as soon as he dismounted and eager hands came to take the reins of his horse.

             
'We expected you,' Thomas said.  'You are in good time, Morgan.  Lady Rosamund went into labour early this morning.  Alicia told me that she is suffering greatly.'

             
'Kestrel is here?'  Morgan knew that it must be so for how else would they know he was coming when he had only known it himself that morning?  'I must go to her…'

             
He heard her cries of pain as he ran up the spiral stone staircase to her solar.  Two of her ladies were with her, and Kestrel was standing at the foot of the bed, directing the women as they bent over her.

             
'Rosamund…' Morgan cried, his heart twisting as he heard her scream terribly just as he entered the room.  'Forgive me.  Forgive me, my love…'

             
'Ah…' Kestrel turned and saw him, a smile on his lips.  'I told her you would be here for the birth – and now you see I am right.'

             
As Morgan's eyes turned towards the bed he saw that Rosamund's body was heaving with the pain, and then a child's head appeared between her thighs.  He went to her at once, reaching for her hand as she screamed in agony and pushed once more at the urging of her women.  Then the child came slithering out as he grasped her hand holding it tightly.

             
'Morgan…' she whispered, clearly almost spent, her strength gone.  'You came to me…'

             
'Forgive me, my love,' he said.  'I should have come sooner.'

             
'You had work to do.  Kestrel told me that when I needed you, you would be here.'

             
He bent to kiss her brow, smoothing back her damp hair and stroking it as he gazed into her eyes.  'I love you, Rosamund.'

             
'You have a son, my lady.'  Alicia held the babe wrapped in a white cloth for them to see, then laid it in Morgan's arms.  A loud wail issued from the tiny red-faced babe, making both Rosamund and Morgan smile.  'Stand back, my lord, for we need to attend your lady now.'

             
'I am in the way.'  Morgan looked ruefully at his love.  'I shall come back soon, Rosamund.'

             
He carried the child to a nurse who stood waiting to receive the precious bundle.  For a moment longer he held the child, gazing down into the face of his son –
his
son.  He knew that this child was his flesh, though he would never be certain that Morwenna's child carried his blood.

             
'Take good care of him, Gwyneth,' he said and gave the bundle to the nurse.  'He shall be called Richard Morgan in memory of a friend.'

             
With a glance towards the bed, he left Rosamund to the care of her women and went out.  It was as he reached the bottom of the spiral staircase that Kestrel came to him.

             
'She will be well,' Kestrel said.  'Are you pleased with your firstborn, my lord?'

             
'My firstborn…' Morgan frowned.  If Kestrel knew as much as he claimed, that meant Morwenna's child was not his but Rhys's.  'I am pleased with my son.  I thank you for your care of my lady.'

             
'It is my destiny to care for her,' Kestrel replied.  'As it is yours to love her.  You will have other children, Morgan, but the others will not be sons.  Guard Richard well for a time will come when he may be in danger.'