He yanked hard and turned the steed, then headed back to the road leading to Tower Wenlock. Morgana closed her mind to the feel and scent of him. Her heart was thudding in fear, and her stomach was tied in painful knots as the horse picked his way along the mist-shrouded road.
Saints in heaven, what would her father say?
Chapter Four
“M’lord, there are visitors!” Geoffrey’s voice was muffled by the thick door.
A loud noise — harsh pounding — startled Daffyd from a pleasant sleep. Instinctively he reached for his sword, kept hidden beneath the straw of his mattress.
“Visitors?” he repeated, feeling his wife stir beside him. She found her clothes as Daffyd slipped his tunic over his head and yanked on his hose.
“I will see who—” Meredydd murmured.
“Nay, wife,” he said irritably as he opened the door and slipped into the hall where the sentry stood holding a torch. Daffyd, in a foul mood, frowned angrily. “Tell the visitor he must wait until morning.”
“’Tis the baron himself, sir. Garrick of Abergwynn.”
Daffyd froze. “The lord?”
“Aye, sir. He has with him Mistress Morgana.”
“Morgana?” Daffyd repeated, the cobwebs clearing from his mind. “But she is asleep in her room.”
“Nay, she is with the baron and none too happy about it.”
Daffyd’s rage boiled up from within him as he realized that Morgana had disobeyed him. Lord, but she was stubborn and prideful! “She was not in the castle tonight?” he demanded, his incredulity mixed with fury.
The sentry shifted uncomfortably, the flames from his torch casting restless orange shadows against the walls. Obviously the man did not want to speak ill of Morgana.
“Out with it,” Daffyd thundered, “or you will be punished as well as she!”
Reluctantly the guard said, “The mistress let herself outside by climbing down a rope that was hung over the castle walls.”
Daffyd swore angrily, and his mood grew foul. “If this be so, she will be punished! Give the baron entrance and tell Morgana, if it is really she, to wait for me. And bring me that rope!” Taking a candle from the hallway sconce, he stormed down the long corridor to his daughter’s room and threw open the door.
Glyn was scurrying across the rushes to her bed. No doubt she had been eavesdropping. Morgana’s bed was empty; her wolf dog paced beneath the window. “By all that is holy, what is wrong with that girl?” he roared, then glared at his younger daughter. “What know you of this?” he demanded suspiciously as he swept one hand toward the empty bed.
In the flickering candlelight, Glyn trembled. “I know nothing, Father.”
“Nay?” he countered. “Yet you are awake and can see very clearly that Morgana is not here.” His voice grew low and shook. “Mayhap, daughter, you should think again.”
Glyn licked her lips. “She promised to curse me should I tell you.”
“I shall punish you if you don’t. I promise you, daughter, my punishment will be much more severe than any of Morgana’s spells!”
The damned wolf growled.
Glyn cowered all the more. Finally, eyes round, she whispered, “Morgana … she went off to cast her spells again.” Glyn crossed herself speedily. “She swore to cast an evil spell against me should I betray her.”
“And you believed her?”
“Morgana is … is not sound, father. Her mind—”
“Ah! She fools even you, though you have grown up with the sprite! ’Tis Enit’s fault. I should never have let my mother tell me of the old ways!” Disgust flared his nostrils. “Stay in your bed until morning. Elsewise you’ll get the same punishment as she.”
Glyn swallowed hard, and her hand, already near her soft lips, touched the edges of her teeth, as if to be sure they were still in her head. In her own way, Glyn was as much trouble as Morgana … well, nearly. By the ghost of his father, Daffyd didn’t know what to do with his girls!
He strode back to his own room, donned his best tunic, and spoke quickly to his wife. “We have a guest, it seems, the baron himself. Have the servants make the best rooms ready for him and order the cook to prepare a feast.”
Meredydd was already braiding her hair. “Aye,” she agreed. “What brings him here?”
“God only knows.” Daffyd sighed. “The sentry claims Morgana is with him.”
“With the baron?” Meredydd exclaimed.
“Aye.” Daffyd made an impatient movement with his hand. “Though I’m not sure why or how. Glyn says Morgana left the castle to cast more of her foolish spells.”
“Perhaps she cast a spell for a husband and the baron appeared,” Meredydd joked.
“Nay, wife, this is no time for jest,” Daffyd nearly barked. “’Tis your fault that she has been allowed to run wild and free.”
“But not the fault of your mother?” Meredydd asked evenly. “Enit is the one who showed Morgana the powers of nature. As for Morgana’s freedom, who taught her to use a bow and arrow and fight with a dagger, hmmm?”
“Aye, wife,” he admitted, swatting at the air to shove aside her arguments, “that blame ’tis mine.”
“Let us not lay blame, husband. Let us only find out what the lord wants and what he has to do with our daughter.”
“Aye, I shall find out,” he promised, striding to the door as Meredydd found her crimson tunic and began to dress quickly. The baron of Abergwynn was a most handsome man, a widower who had yet to claim a new wife. Perhaps Morgana … Meredydd thought as she adjusted a silk belt around her waist. Why not? The girl was beautiful, spirited, and well past the age of marriage.
Meredydd twisted her hair beneath her wimple. ’Twould take a strong man to tame Morgana’s spirit and gentle her serpent’s tongue. What man would be more likely than the baron himself? With that thought she smiled and decided that Baron Garrick of Abergwynn would be a most welcome guest, a most welcome guest indeed.
Morgana squared her shoulders as her father, his face etched with fury approached her in the great hall. Firelight and rage gleamed in Daffyd’s eyes.
The giant of a man who was the baron stepped closer to her — as if to protect her! Morgana shot him a scathing look. She did not need his protection from her own father.
Daffyd, jaw clenched, turned to the baron. “Welcome to Tower Wenlock,” he said tightly. “I’ve awakened the servants, and they will offer you food, the best room in the castle, and whatever else you may need.”
Garrick’s eyes glinted, his lips twisted into a lazy, disarming grin. “I accept your hospitality.”
“What’s mine is yours.” The tension in Daffyd’s shoulders eased a bit at the baron’s manner. Mayhap there was no trouble at all.
“Are you saying, Daffyd, that I can have anything I would like?”
“Aye. As I am your vassal, all you need do is ask.”
Morgana felt the tension in the great hall, and when Garrick’s gloved fingers surrounded her shoulder, she held herself firm, refusing to quiver.
A smile crossed Garrick’s face. “Then I thank you, Daffyd,” Garrick said, “for all I want is your daughter — Morgana.”
Morgana nearly fainted. Her breath lodged in her throat. Nay! Nay! Nay! “Father, please—” She heard a rustling on the stairs and watched in horror as her mother descended the steps. Another smaller figure followed her, and Morgana died a thousand horrible deaths as Glyn, her blue eyes shining, crept into the room.
Meredydd’s face was flushed, her eyes bright. “Did you hear that, Daffyd?” she asked, smiling at her elder daughter. “The lord has asked that Morgana be his wife.”
“No!” Morgana cried instinctively, drawing away from this arrogant man.
“Hush!” her father ordered. “You have no right to speak. Look at you!” He motioned to her scratched and muddy tunic, her tangled black hair. “That you are my daughter brings me only shame!”
“Father!” Morgana cried, h
er throat closing, her eyes burning when she saw the disdain in Daffyd’s eyes.
“You have disobeyed me for the last time, Morgana. As for me” —he cast his eyes on Glyn— “you, too, have disobeyed me this night. Did I not tell you to stay in your room?”
“Aye,” Glyn whispered, blushing as she gazed up at Garrick, “but I could not stay away when I knew that the great lord had chosen to visit us.” She smiled prettily, dimpling. “Forgive me, Father.”
“Let us not talk of this now,” Meredydd said swiftly, a smile creasing her pretty face. “You heard Lord Maginnis, Daffyd.”
Garrick held up his palm. “’Tis not my wish to marry your daughter.”
“But” —Meredydd gulped, and her hand flew to her throat as she took in Morgana’s disheveled appearance— “Morgana is a lady.”
Daffyd snorted, and Morgana had to bite her lip to keep from shouting at them all.
Garrick said, “I have no need of a wife. I have but a mission for your daughter. Because of her sorcery and powers I wish Morgana to help me find my son.”
Meredydd’s smile fell. Her gaze darted from Morgana to Garrick, and Morgana cringed inside when she realized that her mother thought she had lain with the lord — the twigs in her hair, her torn and dirty clothing, the late hour.
“Mother, ’tis not as it seems,” Morgana tried to explain.
Her mother said woodenly, “I do not understand.”
“’Tis not my intention to wed Morgana, but to use her powers, if they exist, to find Logan. For this, I am prepared to bargain with you,” Garrick said, his handsome face reflecting his silent agony over his son. Morgana did not doubt that he suffered, yet she did not trust this warrior from the north, baron or no. The vision had been too clear. This man promised death for Wenlock.
She drew away from the lord who would be her master and had to fight to keep her sharp tongue from betraying her true feelings. “I will help you, my lord, but I will not leave Tower Wenlock.”
Garrick’s gaze moved from her face to Daffyd’s grave countenance. Did her father also believe that she had lifted her skirts to the baron? Shame caused her cheeks to flame crimson, and Morgana’s insides twisted. A glance of understanding passed between the two men, and Morgana realized that her fate had been sealed — by this beast who would use but mock her powers and by a father she had disobeyed. Her voice trembled. “I will not—”
Her father threw her a dark look for her impertinence.
Garrick removed his gloves and, as if there had been no interruption from Morgana, said to Daffyd, “Not only will I pay you well, but I will keep Morgana at Castle Abergwynn for a year and, with the help of my sister, Clare, turn her into a proper lady. Several of my knights would willingly wed her, though she is older than most would prefer. One man has already talked to me of her, and I promised to speak to you.”
A yelp escaped her. What man? The lust-filled eyes of Garrick’s knights came back to haunt her again, and Morgana could suffer his indignities no longer. “Father, you cannot barter with my life,” she said, but even as the words passed her lips, she knew she had no choice in the matter. Her father and the baron could choose her destiny. “By the teeth of the dogs I’ll not—”
“Nay,” her father commanded. “We will have no chanting of spells or curses within this hall!” He tilted his head up to meet the power of Garrick’s gaze. “I will accept your offer,” he said, ignoring Morgana’s swift intake of breath. “My daughter is wayward and untamed, and I have protected her.” His angry gaze swung to Morgana. “But this night she has not only lied and disobeyed me but has also cast off her home, leaving it open to attack.” He motioned to his vassal, and the knight tossed a rope onto the floor to tangle in the rushes.
Morgana felt as if her heart had dropped through the smooth stones of the floor. Tears of regret threatened her eyes, though she would not shed even one small drop — not in front of this beast who would take her from her home.
“Did you, Morgana, escape this castle by this rope and leave it dangling unattended?” Daffyd asked, his face florid, his lips white.
She nodded bravely. “Aye.”
“Did you know that an enemy could scale the castle walls and take us unawares?”
“I did not think—”
“’Tis obvious you did not think!” Daffyd roared, his voice rumbling to the timbers overheard. “Did you disobey me?”
“Aye, Father, but ’twas to protect the castle—”
“Enough, daughter!” he said, deeply wounded, his face twisted by disappointment. “You leave me no choice. This will be your punishment. You shall ride with Baron Maginnis whenever he decides to leave, and you will not be welcome back to this tower. You will marry a man the baron chooses for you, and you will not argue! Nor will you ever set foot in Tower Wenlock again!”
Meredydd’s face drained of color, and her fingers tightened in the sleeve of her husband’s tunic. “Do not do this, Daffyd,” she pleaded, her voice a rough whisper. “You are angry now, and you should be, but ’twill fade. Do not cast aside our firstborn. Do not!”
Daffyd shook his head. “Hear you me, Morgana?”
Morgana nodded stonily, unbelieving. Surely her father would forgive her. Yea, she had disobeyed, but this banishment with the lord of Abergwynn from the north? Nay, this could not be happening. In the morning, when Daffyd’s anger had passed, he would retract his hastily spoken words. “Banish me if you will, Father,” she said bravely, her throat thick, her chin thrust forward, tears beginning to form. “But please be merciful and do not send me to Castle Abergwynn.”
Daffyd’s mouth opened and closed. “’Tis the best place for you.”
“Nay.”
“I will ensure her safety,” Garrick said.
“He is from the north, Father. He will destroy us all!”
Daffyd drew back as if to slap her, but clamped his fist closed and banged it against his open palm instead. “Lord Maginnis is our baron. You will do as he says. If you do not, Morgana, you will be dead to me. Glyn and Cadell will be my only children!”
Morgana gasped as her father motioned to the very sentry who had retrieved her cursed rope. “Take her to her room and see that she escapes not.”
“Nay! Father, I beg you—”
“Do not beg, Morgana. ’Tis weak,” Daffyd ordered.
Morgana crumbled inside. Her own father, the man she respected and loved … though her soul ached and her pride and love were battered, she tossed back her head and walked stiffly up the stairs.
“Now, Lord Maginnis,” she heard her father’s voice following her like a ghost up the stairs, “let us rest. Tomorrow we shall talk of payment.”
She turned cold as stone inside. Would her father sell her so easily?
Aye, Morgana, have you not endangered this keep you love so dearly?
She nearly stumbled as the sentry flung open her bedroom door. She walked inside, and the door banged shut behind her, echoing like a clap of thunder through the old stone halls. I am doomed, she thought desperately, walking to the window and staring out at the familiar castle walls and the gardens she had known all her life. The sun was just beginning to crest the hills to the east. Pale lavender light flooded the valleys, and the morning breeze brought with it the smells of spring — new-sown oats and barley, fresh-turned earth and wildflowers. Wolf, whining, padded over to her, and she stroked his broad head.
Aye, she had been foolish, she thought wretchedly. She had to pay.
But this banishment from that which she loved? How could her adoring father be so harsh?
“I will return,” she vowed, sending a prayer to the skies to ask for forgiveness as tears studded her lashes. “I shall find Garrick’s son, pretend to become a lady, and protect the tower as well.”
For if the danger and death were to come from the north, what better way to thwart the fates? Before the death swept down upon Tower Wenlock, Morgana would halt it in the northlands.
r /> Closing her eyes, she felt a breath of wind against her face. Tell me, she pleaded silently, her fingers curling in wolf’s thick fur. Tell me how Garrick of Abergwynn will harm us.
She waited, squeezing her eyes shut, listening for the voice.
Please tell me more of the death and the danger.
She strained to hear as the breeze caught in her hair and rustled through the rushes.
But though she listened a long, long while, the wind said nothing.
Chapter Five
“God will punish you!”
The door to her room swung open, and Glyn, wearing Meredydd’s favorite blue tunic and white mantle, swept into the room.
“He already has.”
“Aye, and now mayhap you’ll be more devout. You didn’t even come to mass this morning,” Glyn said, her eyes filled with smug satisfaction.
Morgana cared not what Glyn thought. While her sister slept she’d spent the few hours before dawn in abject misery. As Glyn and the servants awakened and the familiar noises that were a part of every morning seeped into her room, she’d stood at the window. A cock crowed, and she heard her servant girl, Tarren, throwing seed to the chickens, clucking at the roosters and hens. As the sun climbed over the hills, Morgana had seen the chaplain scurrying across the bailey. Stable boys had swept the stables, and the smith had begun pounding out horseshoes, his hammer clanging loudly. The laundress had soaked sheets and clothes in a wooden trough near the candlemaker’s hut, and old Berthilde had waddled into the shop. Morgana had spent the hours filled with remorse.
Then the soldiers had come bearing the crest of Maginnis. With rustling chain mail, the creak of wagon wheels, the shouts of men, and the continual thud of horses’ hooves, Garrick Maginnis’s army had arrived and made camp outside the walls of Tower Wenlock. Her home. Her throat clogged when she remembered her father’s anger, his hasty words of banishment.
Glancing up at Glyn, she asked hopefully, “Has Father changed his mind?”