The Pledge (20 page)

Cumhal lifted a shoulder, a smile on his face. “You know how men will talk.”

“Fools, all!”

Cumhal’s smile widened. “Your Llywelyn character has surfaced, cousin. You’re a fighter.”

“I am.” And no one will undercut Hugh MacKay, or gainsay him in her presence. The pledge that spurted from her being in sudden
and fiery commitment all but rocked her.

“Cousin? Why do you dream?”

“I wish my husband were here. He would understand my decision.”

Cumhal nodded. “It went against my grain, if truth be told, to consider plundering Trevelyan. Ruric was my friend. Our cousin,
though closer to you, was dear to me.”

“And more dear to me than anyone can ever know,” Morrigan whispered, her words not carrying to her cousin.

“I liked it not that Felim is being wooed by those who wish for the power and monies of Trevelyan.”

Morrigan frowned. “Who might they be?”

Cumhal shook his head. “I know not, as I have said. As always Felim is secretive with his many plans. More than once I’ve
wished he would discuss his plots and stratagems. He thinks his mind can devise such. ’Tis not been my experience that he
has the wit to do so.”

Morrigan’s mouth lifted. “Even as a child, his games were always full of twists and turns, had no beginning and a rattle-tail
end.”

“Goll could keep him steady. And we need a good, strong leader now. The two Edwards think to control us. I think they mean
to devise a way to thread us through their schemes. If ’twere my chore, I’d not let them.”

Morrigan wondered, not for the first time, why he was
never chosen as a leader for the eastern branch of the family. Stolid he might be, but he could factor and he had never put
the family in peril. Some of Felim’s schemes could do that.

“More often than not you outwitted Felim and Goll in the games we played as children, Cumhal.”

Startled, he blinked at her.

She laughed. “Did you not know you had abilities?”

“Aye, I knew. I didn’t think anyone else did.”

Morrigan chuckled. “Come, we’ll sup and ready ourselves. Try not to worry, cousin. We’ll manage and the name of Llywelyn will
keep its honor.”

“And you will accompany me?”

Morrigan sighed, thinking of Hugh. “We’ll leave before light on the morrow.”

The laird of Castle MacKay was in a rage. No one could approach him without getting the rough side of his tongue. He stomped
about like a maddened destrier. Curses streamed between his lips.

Toric tried to placate him. “Fret not, Hugh—”

Hugh glared. “I come home after days and nights at court, bent double with ennui, riddled with expectations that Clan MacKay
could be a target of English Edward, and you think I should be calm. I was expecting to see my wife, and she’s not here.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing! I want to know where she is,” Hugh spat, his mind painting too many horror scenes. Fright
was making him ferocious. Either she was coerced or she went of her own free will. The latter seemed more likely, since there
hadn’t been a battle, and MacKays would have fought to a man to protect her. Neither would she have gone and not left a note
with some sort of veiled warning if there was trouble. Instead the missive was short and not informative. His wife was canny.
He respected her abilities. Right now he wanted her in front of him, explaining all. Then he would carry her to their bed
where she belonged.

Why in Christ’s name had she left? “There’ll be war, lest I find her.” He smacked the scroll she’d written her cryptic note
on, the crackly papyrus all but ripping. As though he realized it could be destroyed, he looked away from Toric smoothing
the surface over and over again. She’d touched it, scribed upon it. It was his link to her.

“Find me something, Toric, anything that will direct me. Our runners so far have taken us to the Firth of Forth. There the
news falters.” He ground his teeth. “If they’ve taken to boats, and I think they have, they’re not manned by any of the clans
close to me.” He shook his head. “I should know more.” He banged the trencher board again. “Find me anything that will set
me on my path.”

“I will, Hugh. I promise.”

Toric hated to leave him. Never had he seen his stalwart leader so torn, so ripped with frustration and trepidation. When
Dilla had confided to him that Hugh loved his wife greatly, he’d smiled, thinking it romantic prattle.
In the last two days since their arrival back at Castle MacKay, he’d changed his mind. Hugh was mad for her.

He left the great room at a run. Rounding the rear tower, he saw Dilla by the large baking ovens and approached. “Our laird’s
soul is fair ripped. He grieves for her.” Surprise, awe, and questioning were in his tone.

“He loves her better than life. One day he’ll see that for himself.” Dilla tried to smile. “The boy is moping as well.” She
looked around her. “Since she left many of them”—she gestured to the twins playing with Rhys and others—“have smiled little.
Our Lady Morrigan was a sunshine on the dreariest of days.”

“What can we do? Where in Wales would she be? Why didn’t she tell us the exact location?” Toric knew that Dilla didn’t eavesdrop.
He also knew that others told her things, and that she was a favorite of Lady Morrigan’s.

Dilla took a deep breath. “I do not seek to know all of milady’s affairs. I do know she is honorable, that she would not betray
our laird.” When she saw relief flash across his features, she was irked. “Do you say that you suspect such?”

“No. I believe in our lady, too.” He exhaled. “I’d feel better if I knew where she was.”

Dilla looked thoughtful. “Mayhap we can find a trail.”

“What are you thinking, woman?”

“Your cousin Fergus, brother to Diuran. He’s closemouthed, and he might know a little. He and Diuran are
like two peas in a pod. Where one is, the other would follow. If Diuran spoke to anyone it would be he. Mayhap a word was
said. I’d be surprised if he knew much, but—”

“Where do I find him?”

“In the crofter’s hut, last I knew. He—”

Toric was gone on the run, the rest of Dilla’s words spilled into the wind.

The journey had been arduous. First they had the overland trip through some friendly clans. Since the MacKay tartan was well
known, ’twas necessary to stop and greet spokespersons who hailed them.

When they came to the outer islands they took small, shallow-bottomed ships across the heavy waters.

More than once Morrigan thought they’d be swamped. No one else seemed worried.

“They’re expert seamen,” Cumhal assured her.

Morrigan tried to smile. She wasn’t as worried about being overturned in the cold sea as she was concerned about Hugh’s attitude
when he found her gone. She had no doubt he would be in a temper. She longed to see him, whether he was angered or no. She
hadn’t gone into detail in her missive because she was quite sure he would come tearing after her. There was no need for that
because she wouldn’t be gone long. Besides, he wasn’t that long up from a sickbed and she didn’t want him pounding over the
countryside seeking her. She’d be home before he missed her.

Sighing, she tried to put him out of her mind. Instead she studied the isles they passed. Living there on many of them were
the pirates who preyed on shipping and the heavy purses carried by merchants. Only the Vikings were safe from the marauders,
since they were always heavily armed and were expert sailors.

“I think we took too few warriors with us,” Cumhal pondered as they made a stop for provisions.

“Surely not. We travel in Scottish waters. My tartan and men are respected. When we are on Welsh soil, the name Llywelyn will
guard us.”

“I trust you’re right, cousin.” He kept watch as they loaded their belongings and the gifts necessary to face Felim in Cardiff.

Morrigan, too, studied the waterways and terrain. “We should have enough men to protect us. Diuran is one of the most able
of the MacKays. He commands six strong men and true.” She frowned, seeing Hugh in her mind once more. “Besides, I’d not put
any more Mac-Kays at risk.”

Cumhal smiled. “You are smitten with the clan as well as its laird.”

She laughed, masking her morose feelings. It wasn’t Cumhal’s fault she missed Hugh so much, that she saw his face in front
of her, awake or sleeping. She loved the man and longed for his loving. If she hadn’t had so much faith in Dilla and the other
women she’d have fretted about Rhys and the twins, as well. No matter
what occurred in Cardiff, Hugh and the children were safe.

“You’re happy, cousin,” Cumhal said. “That pleases me. I shall do all in my power to find a plan that will placate Felim and
release Goll, so that you might return to your family with all speed.”

“Thank you, Cumhal. We will concentrate on Goll and where he could be kept. Once he’s found, you can handle the rescue and
I’ll return to Scotland.”

Cumhal nodded. “I’ve been thinking on that. If ’twere me trying to hide someone, I’d take my prisoner to Druida.”

Shocked, Morrigan eyed her cousin. “You can’t mean that. ’Tis an awful place, and has been abandoned by all.” She shuddered
as she envisioned the holding atop a rock cropping overlooking the sea. It had been abandoned by Llywelyns years ago and had
been allowed to go to rack and ruin. She had only been there once, taken there by her father, when an old relative had abided
in the castle. She had hated it then. It would be worse now.

“But no one can venture close without detection. That would be most important.”

Morrigan thought of the holding that was adjacent to Trevelyan lands. They’d played there as children. Ruric had shown her
and Gwynneth a hidden entrance.

“What think you?”

She hesitated. “I feel we must put every effort forth to a scheme that would free Goll.” For some reason she
didn’t want to discuss the hidden entrance to Druida with Cumhal. Actually she didn’t want to think of the holding at all.

“I will do as much and have pondered the problem.” He smiled at her. “I thank you for your caring.”

“We are Llywelyns.” She touched his hand, then he put his over hers. She smiled widely. “Not since childhood have we been
so close, I’m thinking, Cumhal.”

“Aye. ’Tis a good feeling.”

For days and nights they made their slow way through the islands, the crafts seeming flimsy on the tossing sea. Sleeping on
the small crafts was well nigh impossible. Most nights Morrigan curled in her tartan near the bow.

When Cumhal approached and sat down beside her, he studied her. “I know you think of your family most of the time, but other
things bother you as well, Morrigan.”

“They do.”

“Are you worried about Felim?”

Morrigan bit her lip, a little surprised that her cousin had sensed her concern. “I am. I know how he can be influenced, and
how stubborn he is after adopting a plan.”

Cumhal nodded. “Goll was forever after him. In fact, I think he was the only one of us who could sway Felim.”

The words hung between them like iron weights. Morrigan inclined her head. “Is that why you think he’s being held captive?”

“The theme is not without merit.”

Morrigan didn’t respond. When her cousin left her she went over and over their words. She couldn’t find a solution, nor come
up with the name of the miscreants who held her cousin. Tired, wrung out, missing Hugh and the children, she settled down
on her pallet, her body aching. In moments she was asleep.

The sun was slow to rise the next day, the misty morning making the light opaque.

“Land Ho!”

The cry had all rushing to the rail. The foggy atmosphere was all but impenetrable. They sailed on, using oars only, watchful
of outcroppings that could pierce the hulls.

The mist lifted a bit, and the outline was clearer. Land! And it should be Wales. It seemed to take forever to maneuver closer.
Then they entered a small bay, the wind dying almost at once, the heavy seas slackening.

“This is not Bridgewater Bay, is it?” Morrigan frowned.

Cumhal shook his head, striding to the steering dais, and querying the captain. When he returned to her side, he was still
scowling. “ ’Tis said they cannot land farther south. There’s been a storm and trees have fallen into the bay, causing great
hazard. He’s been instructed to stop here. I told him he should have informed us of that, and we could’ve gone overland and
been more comfortable.” He glared at the steersman. “When did he get his information? And why wasn’t it brought to me at once?”

Morrigan bit her lip. “You raise good questions, cousin.”

“I like it not.” Diuran had moved up beside them. “I’ll question the fool.”

Morrigan watched her guardian flailing his arms as he quizzed the stoical steersman. “Diuran frets.”

“He reveres you, cousin. As do his men.”

Morrigan smiled and nodded. “They’re my clan.”

“Have you become Scot, then?”

Morrigan exhaled. “In some ways I’ll always be Welsh, as you are. In other ways I’ve changed.” Not even to her cousin could
she discuss the wonders of her marriage bed, the tenderness of her lover and husband.

Cumhal looked at the sky. “Dismal. ’Twill not be a comfortable ride after our docking. Then again, it shouldn’t be more than
five leagues along the sea to the Cardiff road.”

Diuran strode to their side. “The gomeril answered none of the queries to my liking. I like it not. Where are we to obtain
horses?” He glared at Cumhal. “Milady has to have a worthy steed.”

Cumhal nodded, surprising Morrigan by not taking umbrage. “I’ll talk to the head boatsman.” He was gone some time. When he
returned he was frowning, glancing at Diuran. “I like it less than you. The fool says there won’t be horses, then he assures
me there will be.”

Diuran bristled, gazing at the boatsman, then back at his men. MacKays began to rattle their swords, tightening
their leather jerkins, fastening their tartans at the shoulder and waist.

Cumhal’s eyes narrowed, then he saw to his own weapons.

Morrigan watched, then touched Diuran’s arm. “I’m sure there’s no need to worry.” If only Hugh were here. He would get information
and defuse tempers. She couldn’t wait to put this journey behind her and get back north to Castle MacKay.