A Memory of Love Read Free

asking once if his children desired to stop to rest, but they did not. He was pleased to see they were made of strong stuff. He would leave them at Cythraul, but after that, what? He needed time to consider their fates, for he had never expected to have their care. They were Vala's responsibility, but Vala was dead. He sighed aloud and unaware.
    He loved her, Rhonwyn thought. At least I know that to be truth. Both Glynn and I came from that love, but he has no feelings for us, I think. What will happen to us. A fortress? Why would he leave us in a fortress? What is a fortress? she wondered. I will not be afraid. If I show any fear, then Glynn will be afraid. He is already frightened by losing Mam. I must be strong for my brother. Mam would want me to protect him and see him safe. But I am afraid.
    Then before them arose a dark stone edifice that seemed to spring from the mountain.
    “Cythraul,” ap Gruffydd said, riding straight for the dark pile of rock.
    They heard his name being called from its heights as they drew nearer. Then they rode through the open ironwork of the entrance. Rhonwyn would later learn the ironwork was called a portcullis. The courtyard was suddenly alive with men. One took Addien's reins, while another reached up to lift both her and her brother down. Ap Gruffydd dismounted, giving orders that the beast be fed and rested. Then he said, “Where is Morgan ap Owen?”
    “Here, my lord!” a deep voice boomed, and a barrelchested man came forth. He was tall and had a black beard, and his hair was tied behind him although the top of his head was bald.
    “We must talk,” ap Gruffydd said, and walked toward a tower, which seemed to be the only building in the fortress. It was built into the walls at one corner of the structure. Inside, he told his children, “Go, and warm yourselves by the fire pit.” Then he accepted a wooden goblet of bitter beer, swallowing it down in several gulps, and seated himself in the lord's chair. “Vala is dead. These are our children. The girl is just five and called Rhonwyn. The lad is three and named Glynn. I want to leave them with you while I decide what is to be done for them,” he told Morgan ap Owen, the captain of Cythraul.
    “Your word, lord, is my command” came the reply, “but why here, and why me? This is a great honor you do me, entrusting me with the care and safety of your offspring.”
    “You were Vala's blood kin, Morgan, and besides, I didn't want to exhaust them by taking them farther. They have never, until today, been off the hillock where Vala had her cottage.”
    “What about your brothers' households?” the captain queried.
    “Few knew of Vala. And no one knew until today that I had children by her. Now you know, Morgan ap Owen. You and I and a priest of my choosing. You know the danger. My enemies would kill the lad and use Rhonwyn as a pawn in some marriage. I am far past my youth, and if I do not marry, Glynn will one day be my heir. As for Rhonwyn, it will be her father who arranges her marriage, not strangers.” He smiled at his longtime friend. “They are small, Morgan. Surely you can find a place for them here.”
    “There is a bedspace for important visitors near the fire pit. They can have that,” Morgan ap Owen answered his overlord. “But what am I to do with them?”
    “They are children. They will amuse themselves. Just keep them safe for me, warm, and well fed,” ap Gruffydd said.
    “What am I to tell my men?” the captain asked.
    “Just say these children are of special importance to me” came the reply. “They will draw their own conclusions no matter, but admit nothing to anyone.”
    “Will the children speak?” ap Owen wanted to know.
    “Rhonwyn, Glynn, to me!” their father commanded, and the children came to stand by him. “You are my offspring, my blood, and I am proud of it; but you must not admit our relationship to any. Rhonwyn, I know you understand, but you must make your brother comprehend the