“I’m not sure … Yes! There they are!” Laura began to climb the bank but as she did so she could see that there were only three figures slithering down the slope toward them.
“Where’s Angus?” Steph called up from behind her.
And where is Rhys? Laura asked herself.
Dan had Hamish on his shoulders and a firm grip on William’s hand. All three looked exhausted and the boys were plainly upset. Hamish began to wail the second he saw his mother. Dan passed him to her, not breaking his stride as he hurried on to the house.
“Can’t stop, have to get to the phone.”
“Dan?” Laura picked up William. “What’s happened? Where are the others?” she shouted after him, but he had already disappeared inside. It was William who tried to explain.
“Mummy, Daddy fell over. He hurt his head,” he told her.
“Oh, my God.” Steph clutched Hamish a little tighter.
“Rhys stayed with him,” he went on. “I didn’t want to leave Daddy, but Uncle Dan said we had to come home to get help.”
“Why didn’t you use Daddy’s phone?” Steph asked.
“He squashed it when he fell,” said William starting to cry. He buried his face into Laura’s shoulder, his little body shaking with sobs.
The two women exchanged worried looks.
“Let’s get them inside,” said Steph.
In the kitchen they found Dan finishing his phone call to the air ambulance service.
“Mountain Rescue say they’ll be with him very soon. The mist has cleared now, so the helicopter can get up there and fetch him.” He waved a sweet wrapper with numbers scribbled on it. “I wrote down the map coordinates. They know where to look.”
“What the hell happened?” Steph demanded.
“Angus had a fall. He hit his head.”
“How bad is it?”
“He was unconscious when we set off for home. Rhys stayed with him. We weren’t very far away, but the mist … it came down so quickly.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I still can’t work out how one minute we were walking along happily and the next…”
“Trust my bloody fool of a husband,” said Steph, distractedly taking off Hamish’s poncho and dropping it onto the kitchen floor. Laura reached over and gave her shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.
“Daddy is going to be all right, isn’t he Mummy?” asked William.
“We couldn’t wake him up,” said Hamish.
Steph’s eyes were filled with tears, but she made a fair job of sounding confident and reassuring. “He’s going to be just fine. You know Daddy. He’s tough as old boots.”
“Oh, Steph,” Laura whispered. “I am so sorry.”
“Please,” Steph said as she started gathering up wet gear. “Don’t be nice to me, Laura. I can’t keep it together if you’re nice to me.”
Laura took Hamish’s hand. “Come on boys, you must be starving. Who wants fish fingers?”
“And Smiley Faces?” pleaded Hamish.
“Sure, why not. You can help me. Come on William, you too.” She led them away, pausing only to exchange anxious glances with Dan as he poured himself a brandy.
“Look, don’t worry,” he said. “Mountain Rescue can handle it. And the helicopter will find him. It’s the easiest and quickest way to get him to hospital.”
Steph spoke quietly as the boys left the room, but Laura was still able to hear her strained conversation with Dan.
“Tell me how it happened.”
“He fell onto some rocks, Steph. It was all so silly. We weren’t anywhere dangerous. The mist had come down, but we were on a good path. I was in front, Hamish was holding my hand, then came William, Angus was behind him, and Rhys bringing up the rear. There was a shout. He must have slipped. When I turned round he was lying on the rocks. He only fell a few feet. He landed awkwardly.”
“You think it’s serious, don’t you, Dan? Please tell me the truth.”
Dan could not keep the emotion out of his voice as he answered her. “He didn’t look good, Steph. I’m so sorry.”
Within an hour of Dan’s return the Mountain Rescue team had located Angus, and the Air Ambulance had flown him to the nearest accident and emergency unit at Abergavenny. Rhys had returned looking tired and concerned. Laura offered to look after the boys and insisted Dan drive Steph to the hospital. She had not reckoned on Rhys staying at the house and was unsettled to find him still in the kitchen when she came down from putting the children to bed.
“Are they asleep?” he asked.
“Hamish is. William is fighting it, but he’s exhausted. Poor little mites. It must have been awful for them, seeing their father like that.” She put the kettle on the Aga, not trusting herself to drink alcohol. She felt she needed to keep what shredded wits she had about her. “Do you want tea before you go?” she asked Rhys.
“I thought I might stay here with you.” He stood behind her, resting his hands on her waist. “I could keep you company until the others get back. You don’t want to be on your own at a time like this. You know I can help you feel better.”
Laura wished she could be sure his motives were kind and altruistic, but she feared he was considering using the opportunity for something more basic. She turned to face him.
“Rhys, you can’t seriously expect that we might … Look, I’m very tired. The boys might wake up at any moment…”
“I know, I know. Hey, I wasn’t suggesting anything. I just want to be here for you. What sort of a person do you think I am? I know you won’t be thinking about sex while poor Angus is dying in hospital.”
Laura let out a scream. “Dying! For pity’s sake, Rhys, he’s not going to die!” She stared at him, the thought taking shape in her mind. “He’s not! Tell me you don’t think that.”
“I don’t want to scare you, Laura, my love. But, well, you didn’t see him. He was pretty badly hurt. Head injuries like that…” he said with a sigh. “I don’t want to give you false hope.”
Laura put her face in her hands and wept. It was too much to bear. As she cried she realized how much tension and anxiety she had been under for weeks. She let Rhys hold her and rub her back as she sobbed, but she was surprised to realize she would actually prefer it if he were not there. Somehow, his presence was not appropriate. It was unsettling, unnecessary and, in some way she did not fully understand, in poor taste to have him there. She sniffed, pulled away a little, and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“I think it would be better if you went,” she told him.
“What? But that’s silly. I can help.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Rhys, it just doesn’t feel right, you being here. Not now. Not like this. I’ll be fine, really. I’ll come up tomorrow and tell you how Angus is. OK?” She looked at him with as bland a smile as she could muster. She didn’t want him to know how disturbed she felt, didn’t want him to get any further inside her head than he already was.
He looked back at her for a long moment, seemingly sizing her up, trying to read her face. At last he shrugged and said a little tetchily, “All right, if that’s what you want. I’ll go.” He stooped to pick up his things. “Look after those wonderful boys, won’t you?” he said, recovering himself enough to smile.
She nodded and smiled back, relieved he was not going to protest further. When the front door shut behind him she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her. Realizing this, she made herself a promise. As soon as Angus was better, as soon as things returned to somewhere near normal, she would tell Rhys it was over between them.
10
MEGAN BEGAN TO wake up. She had the strangest sensation, that she was underwater, and that some heavy weight was holding her down. She fought to free herself, gasping for air as she opened her eyes. She was in an unfamiliar room. A fine room, with carved furniture and elaborate tapestries on the walls. At first she saw everything as if looking through the very water in which she had been drowning. Nothing was clear. Nothing would remain still
long enough to be properly seen. Megan tried to sit up. Kind hands urged her to stay laying on the large, high bed. A pain stronger than any she had known before gripped her head as if it were in some torturer’s instrument. Megan gasped, her hands flying to her skull to find it tightly bandaged.
“Be still.” The woman’s voice was familiar.
“Bronwen? Is that you?” Megan had known Dafydd’s wife for many years, and knew she sometimes worked as a maidservant in the castle. Now she recognized the bedchamber as Lord Geraint’s own. “What has happened to bring me here?”
“Do you not recall, Megan?”
As Bronwen’s face began to form more sharply before Megan’s confused eyes she could see the grave concern written there.
“I can’t remember … I was riding. Not Hazel. Midnight? Why was I riding Midnight?” Despite Bronwen’s protestations Megan sat up. “Merlin? We were being chased…” At last the memory of that terrible night came rushing back. She let out a cry, “Oh! My father! My poor, dear father!”
“There now, child, do not upset yourself. You took a bad fall. You must rest, give yourself a chance to heal.”
“I cannot believe he is dead!” She began to weep. “I should have been quicker to warn him. I knew of the danger. It is my fault.”
“No, no, that is not the case, and this you know. It was Lord Geraint’s wickedness that brought your father’s life to an end.” Bronwen glanced in the direction of the heavy door as she spoke. She lowered her voice, “On one count you may rest easy—Merlin made good his escape.”
Megan wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “They did not catch him? Oh, thank the heavens!” She paused, searching for more details in her mind. She looked at Bronwen. “Midnight is dead, the trap…”
“He could not be saved.”
“I killed him, too.”
“Now, you must stop this.” Bronwen put an arm around Megan’s shaking shoulders. “It was Lord Geraint’s wish that you be kept here until you are recovered. Then you are to go to him. When I heard I offered to nurse you myself.”
“But what of Dafydd? He helped me.”
“Lord Geraint assumed you took the horse on your own account. We have not told him otherwise.”
Megan sank back onto the pillows, the enormity of all that had taken place, of the consequences of her own actions and her own failings, almost too much to bear. Bronwen offered her a sip of wine but she turned her face away. At last she asked, “Why has Lord Geraint seen fit to keep me here? Why am I not in the castle dungeon?”
Bronwen shook her head. “If I understood the workings of that man’s mind I would be a very wise woman indeed. All I know is he is to be informed when you are well enough to speak with him. Beyond that, we can only guess.”
“He will be angry that his plan failed, that Merlin still has his freedom. What more can he want of me?” Megan struggled against deepening despair. The loss of her beloved father was such a heavy blow. If it were not for Merlin she would happily go to her death herself. But he at least was safe, and must by now know that she had been taken back to the castle. While he still lived she could not give up. She would not, whatever base motives Lord Geraint had for keeping her in his quarters. A timid knock at the door made both women tense. They exchanged worried glances, Bronwen bidding Megan remain silent with a finger to her lips.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her hand on the door latch.
“It is only I, Bronwen,” came the soft reply.
“Master Huw?” Bronwen opened the door quickly and let the boy in. “What on God’s earth are you doing here, child?”
“I came to see Megan. Is she going to die?”
Megan found herself smiling again at the sight of the dear little boy. “Not just yet she isn’t,” she told him, propping herself up on one elbow.
“Megan!” Huw ran to her, throwing his arms around her neck.
“Now then,” Bronwen said crossly. “Have a care, Master Huw, we want Megan well, not strangled!”
“Don’t fuss, Bronwen,” said Megan. “What better cure could there be for my ills than the love of this fine young man?”
“I heard such terrible things, Megan.” Huw scrambled onto the bed beside her. “Midnight lost a leg and bled to death. The soldiers were out riding all night, but they did not catch the magician. And you were brought home near dead. Oh, Megan!”
“Hush now. As you see, I am all in one good piece, save for a bump on my head, which will no doubt knock some sense into me.” Megan realized as she hugged the child how glad she was to be spending time with him again. It was as if something small but good had come from all the terrors of that dreadful night. “You must take care, Huw,” she said, stroking his fair curls. “Your father would disapprove of you coming to see me.”
He sat up and looked at her with wet and anxious eyes.
“What will happen, Megan? What will Father do next?”
“That I do not know.” She pulled him close again and closed her eyes against the fear that was building inside her. “We must bide our time and be prepared to face whatever comes.”
Two hours later Megan followed Bronwen down the passage that led to the great hall. As instructed, she had been dressed in a fine gown, her hair washed and braided, and in every detail prepared to look her best. If this were some trick to make Megan feel ever more uneasy and less herself, it succeeded. The strange garments and fine ribbons made her feel brash and immodest and were most definitely not befitting a maid who was in mourning for her father. The amethyst ring Lord Geraint had pressed upon Megan was cleaned, polished, and replaced on her finger. As beautiful as it was the sight of it made her stomach turn. As they passed the open windows in the main part of the castle she glimpsed the mountains outside. The autumn sun gleamed gold on the hilltops, and she longed with all her fractured heart to be out there, riding free, with the cool October air on her face. As if reading her mind the two armed guards behind her stepped a little closer, reminding her that escape was impossible. She wondered how far away Merlin was, and whether they would ever be together once again.
There was a sizeable fire in the hearth in the great hall. Megan was surprised to find Lord Geraint was not alone. She might have expected Llewelyn, or one or two of his Lordship’s manservants, but it was unusual for Lady Rhiannon to be present on such an occasion. Megan was all too aware of her mistress’s harsh gaze upon her as she was made to stand in front of Lord Geraint’s chair. He looked at her for a moment before speaking, openly appraising her. Megan felt repulsed by the intimacy of the examination, more so, somehow, because it was in front of his wife. At last he stood up with a sigh.
“Well, Megan, I have to say I am disappointed in you.”
“My Lord.” Megan could not trust herself to look him in the eye. The memory of her father’s decapitation, while she had watched helplessly, and the knowledge that it was done at her master’s behest, made her hate the man with such intensity she wanted to leap at him and claw his eyes from their sockets.
“I had you marked as that rare creature—a woman of good sense. It seems I was mistaken.” He stood close to her, spittle landing on her face as he spoke. Megan refused to let herself so much as flinch. “You might salve your conscience by blaming me for the death of your father, but I warned you. You knew what the consequences would be if you did not act as I wished. You brought about your father’s execution, Megan, not I. I cannot allow my authority to be so challenged and go unpunished. You surely must see that. I was acting only in accordance with my position. You, however—you acted out of your own selfish desires, out of your wanton longing for the mad magician. How does it feel to know your father paid for your lust with his life?” He paused, enjoying her discomfort. While he waited for a reaction he walked slowly around her, running a hand down her back and over her buttocks. Still she did not move. Lord Geraint came to stand before her again.
“So, it seems I must make the best of the situation. My soldiers were not able to capture Merlin. It is cl
ear he does not intend to be of assistance to me. I must ensure he does not instead go to the aid of my enemy. Therefore I have a plan I believe will bring me to him, and you are going to help me. I understand the magician is a man of honor. He will not suffer to leave you here indefinitely. One way or another, he will no doubt come for you. And when he does, I shall be waiting for him. He will not escape me a second time. You, Megan, I shall allow a little choice. You will remain here, of course. It is up to you to decide how … comfortable your stay is to be. I can have you incarcerated, shut away from all daylight. Or I can install you as my mistress.” He could not resist a smile as Megan raised her head to look at him now, eyes blazing. “Personally, I prefer the latter option. Aside from my own pleasure, I believe news of your position would inflame the seer beyond endurance. What say you, my dear? Prisoner or lover?”
Megan could not remember ever having felt such fury. This vile man had murdered her father, was planning to use her as bait in a trap set for Merlin, and was now suggesting she share his bed. She glanced at Lady Rhiannon. The purpose of her presence was clear now. By making his intentions plain in front of his wife Lord Geraint was showing Megan that there was no one left for her to turn to. Any appeal to her mistress for help would fall on deaf ears. Either the woman cared nothing for her husband’s infidelities, or she would not show any such feelings if they existed. Megan was merely being used in a game which had little to do with her and everything to do with the way Lord Geraint exercised his power, be it over his servants, his army, his villagers, or his family. Megan took a steadying breath and met her master’s eye.
“I have seen my father cut down before my eyes, at your command. I have seen the man I love driven from this valley, at your command. Lock me where you will. I would rather share a bed with death than with a man possessed of such a black heart. My Lord.”
Lord Geraint’s face hardened at her response. Megan fancied she saw Lady Rhiannon smiling behind her hand. She was reminded that her mistress was as much under Lord Geraint’s rule as anyone else. Megan thought back to what Merlin had told her about Huw’s parentage. How much did Lady Rhiannon have to bear in order to protect her son?
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