Morgan the Rogue by Lynn Granville Page B

she had not been struck blind by the strange phenomena she had witnessed.  But what could it have meant?  She was certain that it had been a star of ill omen, and coupled with her dream, which was still vivid in her mind, she was suddenly very afraid – for herself but even more so for Richard.
                  In her dream she had seen him shut in some dark prison, and then the dream had changed and she had seen that she too was a prisoner, though here her dream was not so clear.  She could not tell what kind of a prison she was in, but she knew that she felt a great sadness that lay on her like a heavy weight, oppressing her with sorrow.
                  That feeling of oppression had stayed with her on waking and was making her feel as if she could not breathe.  It was no good, she could not stay here in this small airless chamber!
                  Leaving her room, she went down the spiral staircase that led to her solar, leaving the tower, which housed her, and going out into the night air.  It was cool and sweet, and now she saw that the frightening blackness had been no more than heavy clouds, most of which had since moved aside so that the stars sprinkled the blackness in a comforting familiarity.  She smiled to herself, thinking how foolish she was to let herself be swayed by a dream, then turned as she heard a soft footfall behind her.
                  'Are you ill, my lady?'
                  Rosamund recognised the voice before she could see his face.
                  'I was restless and could not sleep,' she replied.  'I see that you too are wakeful, Morgan Gruffudd.'
                  'I seldom sleep for more than short periods – unless I have drunk too well of strong wine.'  There was a hint of laughter in his voice and she moved closer so that she could see his smile.
                  'Do you often drink too well, sir?'
                  'I have been known to,' he replied and she heard the self-mockery.  'But that was when I had too much time and too little to occupy it.'
                  'Time can hang heavily,' she agreed.  'I have known that feeling, Morgan, though I did not drink to forget my sorrows.'
                  'Perhaps my lady hath more patience than I.'
                  'Perhaps,' she agreed and laughed huskily.  'Though my father would not have agreed with you.'
                  He heard the wistful note in her voice and glanced at her.               'Do you still miss him, my lady?'
                  'On nights like this, when I am alone,' she said and then realised she had been betrayed into revealing too much of her thoughts.  'What are you doing here, Morgan Gruffudd?  I think there is some mystery about you.'
                  'Mayhap I am running from myself,' he replied.  'Or trying to find myself.'
                  'As usual you answer a question with another,' she said.  'But 'tis no matter.  For some reason I trust you, Morgan – though my good William might think me a fool.'
                  'Rest easy, my lady.  Whatever I may do in the future I shall not betray you.  You have my word on that.'
                  'Then I shall continue to trust you,' she said.  'And now my restlessness has gone and I shall return to my chamber.  I bid you goodnight, sir.'
                  'Good night, my lady.'
                  Rosamund could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.  She did not know why but their brief time together had eased her fear of the future.
     
    *
     
    They had been at Conway for some days when the news came that Henry of Bolingbroke had taken Chester and it seemed that he had reached the city on the day that Richard had come to Conway.  Conflicting reports reached them, one saying that the city had been stoutly defended,