Morgan the Rogue (28 page)

             
After so many lonely months at Oswestry, Morwenna discovered that she was looking forward to some company.  There was after all no hurry for Maire to die, for unless Morgan was also dead she would not be able to claim the estate.

             
No, Morgan and his woman must die first and then she would decide what Maire's fate would be…

*

Morgan was slightly uneasy as he left his mother's house that night.  Was he wronging his wife in thinking her sly and not to be trusted?  Perhaps he had jumped to conclusions at Oswestry.  There were many reasons why a horse might be tethered in the woods for a while, and why Morwenna might go there.  He remembered that she had always been fond of walking alone.

             
There was nothing more he could do for the moment.  Maire seemed to understand the girl and perhaps they would be friends.  Besides, he had other things on his mind.  He had his duty to Owain, which would keep him here in the Brecon for the rest of the summer, and after that who knew what might happen next?

             
For a moment his thoughts turned towards the woman he loved.  Rosamund was often in his thoughts, for he knew that her days must be lonely shut away in that castle when she had been used to a far different life.  He wished that he might go to her, sweep her and their child up on his horse and ride away with them – but it could not be.

             
Owain's cause was gathering momentum.  Excitement was reaching into every corner of Wales as more and more men decided to join them.  Now the English would begin to realise that this was not just a group of hotheads taking a petty revenge but a serious uprising.

             
Their cause was just and had been a long time festering in the minds of men.  If Merlin's prophecy was ever to come true surely now was that time…

*

It was as the leaves were beginning to change their colour that the news came.  Rosamund's heart caught with fright as she heard the words that she had expected yet dreaded for so long.

             
'How long before my husband's men can reach us?'

             
'An hour or so at most,' Thomas Bridger told her.  'Our spies sent word at once, but they were on foot and your husband's men are mounted.  The village has been alerted.  Those who wish will come inside our walls, the others will drive their beasts into the forest and take their chances there.'

             
Rosamund could hear shouting in the courtyard below as the castle was prepared for a siege.  She glanced out at the confusion, knowing that the news must have cast fear into the hearts of her people.

             
'You are needed elsewhere,' she said.  'But before the bridge is drawn up you should send word to Morgan.  He told me that Owain Glyn Dwr had pledged support should we need it and it may be that the time has come.'

             
'A messenger is already on his way,' Thomas assured her.  'And now, my lady, I must leave you.'

             
Rosamund bade him go.  She stood at her window gazing down at the courtyard as servants and men-at-arms scurried about securing the castle.  Some of the villagers had brought livestock with them: a pig, two sheep and a few hens were adding to the general chaos.  They might be needed to help feed the garrison if Philip de Grenville was determined to starve them out.

             
'Oh, my lady,' Alicia came hurrying into the room.  'I came as soon as I could when I heard the news.  What shall we do?'

             
'For the moment there is little we can do,' Rosamund replied.  'Once the fighting starts we may be able to help with the wounded, but until then we should carry on as always.'  She saw the anxiety in Alicia's face and smiled at her.  'Do not be too alarmed, Alicia.  Caris has stout walls and we are well prepared.  I believe that Philip will soon tire of this fight and then he will go away and leave us in peace again.'

             
'I pray God that you are right!'

             
'Come, sit with me,' Rosamund invited.  'Take up your needlework, Alicia.  It may be that Philip means us no harm.  He may merely be on route to somewhere else for his master King Henry.'

             
Her mouth twisted with scorn for she had never forgiven her husband for siding with Henry Bolingbroke against King Richard.

             
Alicia sat down and took up a piece of needlepoint but then in a few seconds she was on her feet as she heard shouting below.  She went to the window and looked out.

             
'A messenger has come,' she said.  'Thomas is speaking with him from the ramparts above the gate.'

             
Rosamund refused to be drawn to the window, though her heart missed a beat.  Determinedly, she set another stitch in the hanging she was embroidering.

             
'Then we shall know very soon what my husband intends,' she said calmly.

             
Within a few minutes her steward, William Baldry came hurrying into the chamber.  His expression was grave, his eyes anxious as he looked at his young mistress.

             
'Thomas bade me tell you – Sir Philip has brought his men to the gates and demands entrance in the name of King Henry.  He says that he has an order from His Majesty and that you will be guilty of treason if you deny him.'

             
'My lady!'  Alicia looked at her in fright.  'The punishment for treason is death.'

             
'I thank you, my good William.  You may carry this message back…' She raised her head proudly, her expression defiant.  'I hold this castle for King Richard of England and for Owain Glyn Dwr the true Prince of Wales,' she said.  'Ask Thomas to convey my words to my husband's messenger.  And add these – we do not treat with traitors.'

             
Alicia turned paler than before when she heard her mistress's brave words.  Her defiance would cost her dearly if the castle should fall.

             
'Do not be afraid,' Rosamund said as the steward departed.  He had not commented on her choice of words for he had expected no less.  'Philip will not trouble us for long.  We are prepared to stand a siege of several months and I believe help must come long before we are broken.'

             
'I pray that you are right, my lady.'

             
Alicia's fear was very real, not only for herself but also for Rosamund and for the man with whom she herself had fallen in love.  If there was fighting Thomas might be killed and that would break her heart.

             
'I think that we should all pray,' Rosamund said.  'I shall instruct my chaplain to bless the garrison at their posts and say prayers in the courtyard so that all may hear them.  We must ask for God's help in this struggle.  It is all we can do.  I believe that our cause is just and in the end we shall prevail.'

             
Alicia noted how pale her mistress was.  She had more to lose than any of them for it would be upon her that Philip de Grenville's vengeance would be vented if the castle fell to his men.  Rosamund's own lover was somewhere beyond those walls fighting for the cause he believed in so passionately, and they had had no word of him in months.

             
If her mistress could be brave, then so must she, Alicia decided.  Besides, it was true that the walls of Caris were stout and could be defended for a long time.

*

She would pay dearly for her defiance!  Philip de Grenville scowled as the trembling messenger repeated the words he had been bidden carry to his master.  Philip's anger was such that he struck the man a heavy blow with his mailed fist, sending him crashing to the ground, where he lay in a daze, blood trickling from his ear.

             
'Get rid of that fool!' he snapped and two servants darted forward, afraid that they might be next if they were tardy.  As the luckless man was carried out, Philip turned to the captain of his men-at-arms.  'Send another messenger, Frobart.  This time to the garrison.  Freedom will be granted to those who surrender but if I am forced to fight there will be no quarter given when the castle is taken.'

             
'But are we not to go on to Carmarthen and the Brecon?'

             
'All in good time.'  Philip scowled at him.  'We were ordered to subdue the rebels where we found them.  You will do as I bid you, damn you!  Question me again and I'll hang you with the rebels.'

             
'Yes, my lord.'

             
'Do it now!'

             
Philip growled low in his throat as the man departed, clearly reluctant to obey his order.  The scurvy rogues were reluctant to fight against a woman they had once served, curse them!  He knew that his men respected Rosamund and that they considered the men they must now fight against were old friends.  But they would do as he bid them or he would have a few of them hung as an example to the rest.

             
He had expected Rosamund to seek sanctuary with Richard.  It was a part of his plan to rid himself of a wife he did not want and still hold the inheritance she had brought him.  He had imagined it would be easy to cast her off once she had refused to return to him, but Henry was insisting that he must come to terms with her.  It seemed the King respected her show of defiance, despite the fact that she stubbornly refused to accept that Richard had been deposed.

             
In that she was not alone, for there were many voices raised against it – and his subsequent disappearance.  The conviction that he had been murdered was growing and it had created much dissension, not least amongst those who believed they had as much right to claim his throne as Henry Bolingbroke.

             
'Your wife is loyal and I am told beautiful,' King Henry had told him when he entered his claim to throw her off.  Himself a sturdy, squat man with more strength than favour in his features, Henry was yet an admirer of beauty.  'It is up to you to persuade your lady to come out, Sir Philip.  When you have done so you may bring her to me and I shall see if I can win her to my cause.'

             
'As you wish, Sire.'

             
Philip had told no one that his wife had borne a son to another man.  A year of marriage to him had brought no sign of her quickening but a few months with that damned Welsh singer…He clenched his fists as he realised the man had fooled him.  Morgan Gruffudd was no bard but one of Glyn Dwr's most trusted lieutenants.  And he might have hung him months ago!

             
Some said it was Morgan Gruffudd who had roused the various regions to revolt and there were other, more sinister rumours.  During the summer there had been a series of daring raids in the Brecon and throughout a wide area of the surrounding districts, spreading over most of South Wales.  As it was the richest area, from which the highest rents and fines had been elicited, it was the more damaging that much of the money was either going astray or being withheld out of defiance.

             
Sometimes robberies took place within hours of each other, which meant that more than one group of bandits was at large.  Yet all the raids were meticulously planned and carried out, almost as if the robbers had prior knowledge of the routes the English collectors planned to follow.  No matter how they varied them, the robbers were waiting for them and it was making the English population very uneasy.

             
It was to search out and destroy these robber bands that Sir Philip had been despatched.  His decision to attack Caris first was a personal one and in direct contradiction to the King's order, but he had thought Rosamund might give in once she knew that he had actually come in person to demand her surrender.

             
Damn her!  She had always been too independent and it was time she was taught a lesson she would not soon forget.

Morwenna saw the blood stained cloth that Maire had tried to hide from her and shook her head.  The older woman was very ill but she would not admit it, her spirit refusing to give in.

             
'You should rest more,' she told her.  'I can see to things, Maire.  There is no need for you to concern yourself about the house.'

             
'You are young yet and you have the child to care for,' Maire replied. Wiping her mouth once more as she tasted the blood in her saliva, she faced the younger woman bravely.  'I am not dead yet, though I do not know if I shall see another winter out.'

             
'You must not die,' Morwenna said, fear betraying her.  'Not yet.  If you die…'

             
'The English will confiscate the estate – is that what you fear, Morwenna?'