Enchantress (Medieval Trilogy 1)

Wenlock! Glorious Wenlock! For a brief instant her heart felt unbound. She rode through the open gates, and before Luck slid to a full stop, she hopped lithely to the ground, the boy in her arms.

“Morgana?” Daffyd of Wenlock’s brow was furrowed as he approached. “Where is Lord Garrick or Sir Strahan? Don’t tell me you’ve—”

“Father!” she cried, wanting to throw her arms around him. Tears threatened her eyes. “Please, Father, before you cast me out, hear what I have to say.”

“You’re as dirty as a forest dweller!” Daffyd said, his eyes dark with worry. “This child … is it …?”

“Aye! ’Tis Garrick’s son! Oh, Father, I have so much to tell you! We must make ready for battle—”

“Morgana!” Meredydd flew down the stairs of the great hall, her skirts billowing behind her, a smile brightening her smooth face.

“Mother!” Still holding Logan, Morgana embraced her mother. Overcome with relief, she was suddenly unable to speak, for how was she to tell of the horrors at Abergwynn? Responding to the warmth of her mother’s arms, she wanted to cry yet again.

“You’ve found the boy. I knew you would!” Meredydd’s voice rang with happiness. “But where is Lord Garrick? Tell me all. Glyn — is she learning her lessons? What of Cadell? He is not making too much trouble at Abergwynn, is he?”

“Oh, Mother,” Morgana whispered, tears raining from her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to remain strong, feeling the curious gaze of the servants and sentries upon her. For Tarren and Nellwyn, Berthilde and Cook, the smith and several huntsmen, the stableboys and carpenters, had stopped their work and gathered around to watch the reunion between father and wayward daughter. Even the provisioner had ventured out into the bailey. “I have sad news,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper.

Once in the castle, Morgana told her story carefully, and Meredydd upon learning of Cadell’s death, could not be consoled. Grief-stricken, she screamed and cried, and only after the maidservants had taken her to her quarters and Logan to be bathed and fed, was Morgana able to continue her conversation with her father. Daffyd, too, was grief-stricken, but he shed no tears. His eyes narrowed in fury and vengeance.

“We must hurry to Abergwynn,” she told him, but Daffyd was immovable.

“No daughter of mine will return to that place of death — at least not until Garrick is lord again!” Daffyd pounded his fist so hard against the table that the silver rattled and several cups of wine overflowed. Wolf growled from his position under the table, and several of the dogs lying in the rushes next to Daffyd answered him.

“But, Father—”

“Nay. I’ll send a message to Nelson Rowley at Castle Pennick. We shall meet two days hence, and together we’ll lead our armies onward and attack Abergwynn.”

“What if Strahan decides to kill Glyn?” Morgana asked, cringing inside when she saw her father blanch. “Or Garrick? Or Clare?”

Her father glowered, anger snapping in his eyes. “Then I’ll personally cut out his black heart. But I’ll not have you sacrifice yourself!”

“Father, please,” Morgana begged. “I must go back. ’Tis the only way.”

“So now you are a soldier, eh?” Daffyd scoffed. “I think not. Stay here, daughter, with your mother. She needs you, as does the son of the baron. War is for men.”

The discussion was over. Morgana knew that any further argument with her father would be futile, for Daffyd of Wenlock was a very stubborn man.

He intended to take all the soldiers Garrick had left at Wenlock, as well as some of his strongest men, and attack the fortress that was Abergwynn.

They didn’t have a chance. Morgana knew that as well as she knew that she loved Garrick. The only way to ensure that Strahan would spare the lives of those left at Abergwynn was for her to sacrifice herself and become his bride.

Daffyd insisted she eat, and she forced Cook’s food over her tongue. After the meal, she hurried upstairs to her grandmother’s room. A servant was just removing a tray from the bed where Enit rested.

“Ah, child, I heard you were back,” Enit said, her wrinkled face filling with happiness. “Knew you were coming, too,” she said. “You brought the boy.”

“Aye, Grandmother, but I bring bad news as well.”

“I know. I, too, have seen Cadell’s face” —her cloudy eyes fell to her hands— “but there is hope, for the soldiers of Hazelwood have found neither his body nor that of the brother of Garrick.”

“You think they live?”

Enit sighed. “I know not,” she said sadly. “My eyes have grown dim, and my power, so vibrant in my youth, has all but seeped from my body.”

“Oh, Grandmother, no!”

Enit held up a veined hand to silence Morgana. “I have had Cook bring up some herbs for healing, and Berthilde was kind enough to give me some candles. They are for you.”

“Why?” Morgana asked, but she guessed the reason.