The Pledge

by Helen Mittermeyer

  She brought the kettle and mugs to the trencher and poured for both of them. “We have so much more able help in Scotland,” she observed, hoping to find a chink in her cousin’s armor.

  “You’re richer up there. The reivers are more agile.” Felim laughed at his joke.

  “Mayhap they are. I know I don’t have to wait on myself because my help are in the kitchen downing the church wine.”

  “Are they?” Felim looked more surprised than displeased. “Oh well, the priest doesn’t come until Sunday.”

  Morrigan closed her eyes and counted backward again, hoping it would calm her. It didn’t. “That was a jest, cousin.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  He frowned at her. “Do you know, Morrigan, I think you’ve become addled from living in the north. The mad Scots have made you one of them.”

  Frustrated, she was about to throw back a stinging retort when there was a flurry at the door.

  Felim looked up from his sassafras tea. He blinked. “Well, by the gods, look who it is, cousin. Your favorite, I’ll be bound.”

  Morrigan put down her cup and rose to her feet, eyeing her longtime friend. It seemed another age when she pondered being his wife. Relief that it hadn’t happened almost made her smile. What would Hugh have to say if he knew that she preferred him to all others in Wales or Scotland? She missed him sorely, quite sure he would’ve made short work of Felim’s evasions. She had to get home to her husband and to Rhys. She moved toward him, her hands held out in greeting.

  “Tarquin! How good of you to come. I’ve been visiting Felim as you can see.”

  Tarquin approached, bending over her hands, his mouth lingering there.

  Felim grinned. “Easy to see where your interest lies, eh, Tarquin?”

  Morrigan looked over her shoulder at her cousin. “Since I’m now Lady MacKay, that shouldn’t be a concern.”

  “That can be changed.” Felim chuckled.

  Morrigan frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “He means that your marriage is at this moment being absolved so that we might wed, beloved.” Tarquin bent to kiss her cheek.

  Felim chuckled. “See, our ruse brought you, Morrigan, now you can be happy.”

  Reeling, Morrigan grabbed at the kernel of disbelief that was mushrooming into horror. “Then Goll is not incarcerated?”

  Felim nodded. “He is, but he’ll be freed when you marry Tarquin. Then the regent of Trevelyan will pass to him and the gold will be given to Wales, as it should be.”

  “This can’t be,” she whispered. “No marriage can be dissolved. Only the pope can do that, and only under special circumstances. Generally the wife goes into the convent, or the man to the priesthood—”

  “Not this time. ’Tis arranged. Your marriage to Tarquin will take place on the morrow, right here.”

  Morrigan stared at her cousin, shaking her head. “It can’t be done. MacKay didn’t give his sanction to this. ’Tis infamous.”

  “No, ’Tis right, beloved. You’ve wanted to be my wife, and I’ve wanted it as well. You’re overset, but nothing shall stop our union.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Shh, you’re overset. I will get you something.”

  “No! I have tea.”

  “Good. I’ll bring it to you.”

  Felim went to Morrigan, bending down to her. “You’ll see. All will be well.”

  She shook her head. “Conspiracy! Can’t you see it? You and Tarquin have been fooled. This will bring war—”

  “Here you are, Morrigan. Drink this. ’Twill help.”

  She gulped the tea, feeling as though she was a hare in a snare. Swallowing the entire cup, she looked up at the two men. “You must see that this is the wrong way…. Oh!” Dizziness assailed her. “I…I should sit down.”

  Tarquin took her arm, leading her to the dais and the bench. He kept a hold on her, looking at Felim over her head. “ ’Tis a tisane to quiet her. She is honor bound to MacKay, so she thinks. When she wakens all will be over and she’ll be wed to me.”

  Felim studied his cousin. “I think this is the right thing.” He frowned. “In some ways I think we should wait until she wakens.”

  “No! It goes as planned.”

  Felim glowered. “Don’t give me commands. This is my castle.” He looked down at Morrigan. “Strange. One would think she was fond of the Scot.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Felim glowered. “Don’t gainsay me! I say she acted as though she loved him.” He leaned over Morrigan. “Are you sure she’s all right? Her breathing seems shallow.”

  “She’s fine.”

  The door opened beside the fireplace so quietly, neither heard it, though one had been waiting for it.

  The intruder moved up behind Felim with a truncheon, sapping him hard.

  “Come, we’ll take her out this way.”

  ELEVEN

  Always to be bravest and to be preeminentabove others.

  Homer

  Hugh didn’t even pause when he was accosted at the gates of Cardiff. Sweeping through, his men at his back, he heard the shouts and sighs of the populace.

  “Invasion! Scots!”

  He let Toric do the explaining. His eyes were on the castle. Morrigan was there! She had to be.

  Galloping through the barbican, then to the bailey, he didn’t pull up until his steed, sides heaving, slid to a stop in front of the ironbound wooden door to the castle. He slid off Orion, patting his neck, and gesturing to one of his warriors to take the warhorse.

  Men poured out of the door when the two parts of the castle door were pushed outward, swords at the ready.

  Hugh glowered at the guardians who dared draw near. “Stand back, or feel my wrath. Put up your weapons or be slain. I’ve come for my spouse, Lady MacKay, and none shall get in my way.”

  The warriors hesitated, looking at one another.

  “You can’t find her here. There’s nonesuch.” The one who spoke stepped back at the sudden flaring of fury in Laird MacKay’s face. When those large hands balled into threats, the warrior could’ve bitten his tongue.

  “What mean you?” Hugh’s query came on one angry breath.

  “She… she was here. Not now. No one… has seen her. Some say… she was spirited away by demons. The same who smote our lord into constant sleep.”

  Hugh glared, digesting the halting, fragmented explanation. “Foolishness!”

  “Nay, lord. ’Tis truth.”

  Hugh took a deep breath. Men scattered from the front of him as he drew his sword. “I would see for myself.” He knew without checking that MacKays would be at his back, that their weapons would be showing.

  The men in front of him melted back like softened wax, allowing a path into the castle.

  Hugh narrowed his eyes against the gloom and saw one figure in the great room, next to the fire. “You! You brought my wife to this miserable hole. For that your life is forfeit. First, tell me where she is.”

  Cumhal moved away from the fire, his hands at his side, his sword in the scabbard. “I would if I could. I’ve searched these two turns of the day for her, and find no trace.” He grimaced at the angry mutters coming from the MacKays. “I’ve been gone since the day after she arrived. When I reached the castle after leaving your men with Diodura, I rode here as fast as I could. Following Morrigan’s instructions to find her brothers, I left again, almost at once. I should’ve been back sooner. I know she would’ve waited for my response had she been able.” Cumhal paused. “Finally one of my runners found Drcq. Califb is in the Land of the Pharaohs. My cousin will be riding full speed this way.”

  Growling, Hugh moved forward, dropping his sword. “I’ll not wait for any other. I want my wife now, bastard. Speak now or I’ll tear the answer from your throat.”

  Cumhal put up his hands to defend himself, but didn’t try to draw a weapon. “And I tell you I don’t know.”

  Hugh would’ve flung himself upon Morrigan’s cousin, but Toric wa
s there, holding him back.

  “Stop! Hugh, listen.” Toric had both arms around his straining relative. Though he put every effort into it, Hugh was bearing him toward Cumhal. “Listen! I’ve questioned the staff, so have the men. She was here. Now she can’t be found. Runners have gone out all over the land. They can’t find her.” Toric eyed Cumhal in baleful study. “ ’Twould seem her cousin is telling the truth.”

  Hugh stopped, almost toppling Toric to the floor. He looked only at Cumhal. “When did you last see her?”

  “When I arrived the first time. We tried to talk to my brother. He was impossible. That’s when she sent me to search out her brothers. I did. Your men—”

  “They told me,” Hugh interrupted, his tone harsh.

  Cumhal nodded. “I’m glad they made it back to your holding.” He paused. “Morrigan and I couldn’t convince Felim to our way of thinking. We tried to get Felim to contact those who’d kidnapped my other brother, Goll—”

  “So? Get on with it.” Hugh strode up and down the great room.

  Cumhal’s glance slid to Toric, who grimaced and shrugged.

  “Hugh MacKay knows you tried to help his men. ’Tis his worry for Morrigan that makes him rash,” Toric whispered.

  Cumhal nodded. “I, too, fear for her. This is Castle Llywelyn. This should be the safest place on earth for her.” He watched Laird MacKay examine the lancets, then the fireplace, his hands pressing and thumping.

  “Except for Castle MacKay,” Toric muttered.

  Cumhal glared at him, then looked back at MacKay. “What does he do?”

  “He looks for—”

  Hugh’s growl of triumph sliced through the words.

  “What is it, Hugh?”

  “This is a way unknown to you?” Hugh turned his head, though he continued to press on the bricks nearest the tapestries.

  “What?” Cumhal expostulated. “I don’t understand…” Stunned, he watched the wall next to the fireplace swing open. “I…I never knew of this.” He shook his head.

  Hugh put his head inside, then went to the fire, pulling out a burning faggot, holding it high so that it shone into what appeared to be a narrow tunnel. “It seems someone has restored an old escape route.”

  Cumhal rushed to his side. He went down on his hands and knees and started to crawl inside.

  Hugh’s hand stopped him. “Where do you go?”

  “To the end,” Cumhal told him, his mouth grim. “ ’Twould seem there have been plans at Castle Llywelyn that are unknown to me.” He leaned into the tunnel again, and brought out a small piece of fabric, frayed as though it’d been torn. “I’m not sure, but this could be a scrap from Morrigan’s raiment.”

  Hugh snatched it from him, staring down at it. Then he looked up at Toric. “I want runners, going to every section of this holding. Get more men if you must. Send messages to the border. The Ferguson, Johnston, and Douglas clans will have spotters there. I want every hillock in Wales combed until I find her.”

  Toric nodded, speeding from the room.

  Cumhal stared at Hugh. “I cannot ask your forgiveness for leading your wife here. I truly thought it was to help my brother. Felim couldn’t have known anything about this—”

  “I want to speak to him now,” Hugh snapped.

  Cumhal shook his head. “My brother is upstairs, waiting to die. He’s not been sensate since the day I found my cousin gone. He doesn’t open his eyes, nor does he speak. His breathing is shallow. Only a little water has he had in three days because the women force it down his throat.” Cumhal swallowed. “I’m afraid the blow he suffered has rendered him at death’s door. I’m sure ’twas then that Morrigan was taken.”

  Hugh cursed, looking around the room. When he spied the decanter, he went to it.

  “I can bring you nourishment if you like,” Cumhal offered.

  Hugh shook his head, sniffing. “This has an elusive fragrance. Would it be the same poison that downed my men?”

  Cumhal frowned. “There was no poison. They were wounded. I was there. I saw the rabble that attacked us.” His mouth soured. “ ’Twould seem they ached to slay me as well. ’Twas Morrigan who saved my hide, for they didn’t want to kill me in front of her.” At Hugh’s speculative look he curled up his fists. “I give you my word I sensed infamy at the time, but didn’t see it directed at your men or Morrigan. I thought I was the target.”

  “Why?”

  “Among those who attacked us… I thought at first one belonged to a member of my family who holds me in antipathy.” He lifted his hands. “I’m sure now I was mistaken.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t see him, or his likeness, again while we fought or after that. Nor did I see him when I came to Cardiff and I looked.” He hesitated. “How did you save the men if they were so afflicted?”

  “You sent them to Diodura.”

  “I did.” Cumhal nodded. “She would’ve recognized the symptoms.”

  “She did. I’m in your debt for that. Had she not succored them they would’ve died soon after reaching Castle MacKay.” He glared. “She told me that the tincture was refined to cause the delayed death. She told us if they had begun to lose the use of their limbs they would’ve been beyond saving.”

  “What devil’s brew was this?”

  “She called it tincture of hellebore that’d been on the swords of the opponents.”

  “Hellebore? How would the rabble I saw know about such concoctions? Only the wisest of witches can brew poisons to react as they wish. Surely…”

  The noise at the entrance pulled Hugh’s gaze. “Speak!” he demanded of Seamus, one of his men.

  “An old one who makes basket from the reeds on the edge of the sea”—Seamus sputtered each word, out of breath—“approached me, saying he saw men from the castle come out as though from the wall, carrying something to the river.”

  “Whence?”

  “He knew not the exact time or place, Hugh. It might’ve been a day or more past. More importantly he did say there was an old castle on the river, abandoned by the Llywelyns many—”

  “Druida Castle!” Cumhal yelled. “I know it.”

  “Horses!” Hugh bellowed. Then he turned to Cumhal. “You’d better remain here. Your brother may need you—”

  “And you think I might take my sword to you when you attack my relatives. Is that it?”

  Hugh shrugged. “I’ve no time to argue.”

  “Neither have I. I’ll set attendants on Felim.” His smile was grim. “I didn’t think to question if my brother had been given a potion and this is what makes him sleep. I’d thought it was the lump on his head that held him in thrall. I’ll talk to the attendant who minds him, then I’m coming with you. Morrigan was set upon. She’s your wife, but my cousin. Llywelyns don’t take to backstabbing.”

  Hugh inhaled. “’Twould seem there’s a question about some.”

  Cumhal reddened but said nothing. He left the chamber on the run but was back in moments. He listened as the Laird MacKay rallied his men, then he followed him as he entered the narrow tunnel behind the fireplace.

  Morrigan knew she ailed. If she could keep her scattered wits in place she might be able to factor why, and how to neutralize. She had skills! Use them. Her foggy thoughts couldn’t seem to bring energy into play. When she lifted her head the world spun. Hugh! Come to me.

  In a sudden misty memory she recalled their lovemaking. At once there was a quickening of her blood. How her chest hurt with desire.

  She could feel his hands going over her, his mouth following the hands, carrying her into ecstasy. Her arms reached up to enfold him, to bring him closer. She closed her eyes, feeling his kiss—

  “What think you? Can we take her down and have her sign the papers?”

  “She must.”

  The chamber door shut.

  Morrigan didn’t open her eyes. Her wits, though not sharp, told her she was safer pretending to be sleeping and listening than trying to convince Tarquin and Goll to
release her. Tarquin had talked of bedding her! Exchanging vows with her! He was mad. She’d not allow him to touch her. Only Hugh could. As cloudy as her mind was, she would’ve known had Tarquin or any other man touched her. If any tried, she’d do all she could to kill them.

  Why? Why had they set upon her? What did she have they could want? Trevelyan? Edward Baliol wouldn’t allow it. Nor would she allow anyone to touch Rhys’s legacy.

  “Once she signs the holding over to you, we’ll be done with her,” Goll said.

  Tarquin shook his head. “I think not. I would have the vows spoken between us and keep her as wife.” He frowned. “Even Felim said I was to be wed to her two days past. I will not wait on this.” He glared. “Had you not decided to eliminate Felim he would’ve put his arguments for my marriage before Morrigan. She would’ve been easier to handle.”

  “ ’Tis nonsense, man. Felim believed she was to be married to you at his castle. I fed him such to lever him to our side. How could you have spoken vows with her? She’s been insensate since we took her, in and out, not able to speak most times. We’ll put her signature on the papers and have done with it.”

  “I would have her as wife. I would know what draws the Scot to her.”

  “ ’Twould be foolish to keep her, she would know too much and might talk to the wrong person.”

  “I want her.” He shrugged. “Maybe not for long. Who knows? She might bore me. I will try her. Besides, she will be the winning roll of the ivories if the Scot declares war upon us.”

  “Then make sure she’s neutralized.”

  “Where do I keep her until I can inform MacKay that she’s no longer his wife? He’ll come at us hard and fast. His reputation is bruited about all over Scotland and Wales. When he makes war, he wins.”

  “Not this time. The plan calls for him to die as well.”