A Memory of Love Read Free Page B

in the stables that no one uses. I can teach you to ride, too. Would you like that?”
    Rhonwyn nodded eagerly. “Aye, I would!”
    “Then crawl into bed with your wee brother, who is already asleep. Tomorrow will be a very busy day for you.” Oth led her, unprotesting now, to the bedspace in the stone walls of the tower. Lifting her up, he tucked Rhonwyn in beneath the furs next to Glynn. “Good night, lass,” he said, and then left her.
    “Well done,” Morgan ap Owen praised him quietly.
    “What in Jesu's name does ap Gruffydd mean by leaving those two wee children here?” Oth said. “What kind of a place is Cythraul for wee ones?” He picked up a wooden cup and drank down his beer.
    “He'll be back soon enough for them,” Gamon ap Llwyd replied. “They're his only offspring, unless, of course, he has a few others hidden about the countryside.”
    “He was faithful to my cousin Vala,” Morgan ap Owen said quietly. “I will wager there are no others, and did I tell you not to speak of them thusly?”
    “We all know they are his,” Gamon ap Llwyd said.
    “Poor lad and lass,” Oth replied. “Their mam gone and them brought to a place like this. Still, if we are not to have them long, we must make their time here a good one. The peace is holding for now.”
    Aye, Morgan thought to himself, the peace is holding, but for how long? And if it broke, Cythraul would be in the thick of it, being located so close to the border, guarding a mountain pass between what was known as the “Welshry” and the “Englishry” sections of the Marches.
    It had been blessed providence that the prince had arrived at Vala's cottage when he did. Had he not, the children would have died as well. Oh, Rhonwyn would have tried hard to survive and keep her baby brother safe, but she was only a wee girlie. Their tragic end would have been inevitable. But ap Gruffydd had come in time and saved his offspring. Yet Morgan ap Owen knew that the prince would not be returning soon. He had other, greater problems. God only knew how many years these two children would remain at Cythraul.
    There were several things to consider. Clothing was the first. Dewi, one of the men he had appointed to look after the children, was the fortress's tailor. He must clothe both Rhonwyn and Glynn in boy's attire. That way anyone spying on them or sheltering with them would see the children, assume them to be the sons of one of the men at Cythraul, and think no more on it. Anyone seeing a little girl among them would assume there were women at Cythraul also. Such a notion could prove dangerous to the safety of the fortress.
    And what was he to do with the children during the day? He could neither read nor write, nor could anyone here. If Rhonwyn was to make a good marriage one day, she should know something, but who was there to teach her? Well, that would be ap Gruffydd's problem. The men at Cythraul fortress could hardly be expected to raise two children as a gentle dame would. Why hadn't ap Gruffydd taken them to his sister, the Abbess Gwynllian? They would have had a far better opportunity at Mercy Abbey than at Cythraul; but ap Gruffydd took the easiest route where his son and daughter were concerned. His passion was for his country, which was why he had put off the matter of his marriage. Even now, approaching forty, he had no idea of finding a wife and siring a legitimate heir.
    Morgan ap Owen shook his dark head despairingly. Two small children to care for. What had ap Gruffydd been thinking? He looked about the hall. Most of his men were now wrapped in their sheepskins as near to the fire pit as they could get. Rising, he went outside and checked the preparations for the night. The gates were barred and locked. The watch stood upon the walls. All was quiet and peaceful. Above him the skies had finally cleared, and the stars shone brightly. A crescent moon had already set. A cold wet nose pressed itself into his hand. Absently he reached out and stroked