Morgan the Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page A

replied.  'I am glad to have such favour shown me.  It was kind of Owain to single me out for the honour.'
                  'Well, I dare say it was yours by right as there are no other ladies here,' her father told her gruffly.  She must not be allowed to become swollen headed after all.  'There are two young men at board with us tonight.  Master Rhys Llewelyn and one of Owain's kinsmen, though the relationship is more distant than our own – Morgan Gruffudd's mother is a second cousin of Owain's through her father's side.'
                  Morwenna nodded her understanding.  Recounting the ancestry of one's relations was a very important Welsh tradition.  People often spoke of a man as being the son of someone who was the son of someone else, tracing their ancestry back in time to the Welsh princes and lords who had once held these lands in their own right.  It was the bards who travelled the country singing their songs and stories of the past that kept these traditions alive, and the same thing happened in families where father's repeated the history of their lineage to their sons.
                  'I see,' she said, hoping that the man who had seen her watching him on the bank was not Morgan Gruffudd, or that if he was he would not recognise her this evening in all her finery.  She had deliberately worn her best things to blind him to the truth, for surely a girl of her standing would not sit on a riverbank and stare at a naked man!
                  Her hand trembled a little on Hywell's arm as he led her towards the high table on the raised dais, where chairs had been set for three persons – Owain's own elaborately carved chair in the centre and plainer ones to each side.  Everyone else sat on stools or benches, their importance denoted by their position above or below the salt.  Several boards had been set on trestles ready for the feasting that evening, for Owain's men joined him in the Great Hall at night, and many had already taken their places.
                  Morwenna was aware that eyes followed her the length of the room, but she was used to it for she had felt the attention of a hall filled with men before this night, and it did not distress or frighten her.  She was frightened only as she approached the high table and saw that Owain's guests had already taken their places there.  One of them was to his left but not given the place of honour next to him.  He was a handsome man of perhaps twenty summers with fair hair that was cut neatly about his ears and eyes that reminded her of a spring sky, not blue or yet grey.  He smiled at her as she approached, but there was no knowledge or malice in his eyes, and she knew that he had not seen her clearly enough that morning to recognise her.
                  'Morwenna, this is Rhys Llewelyn,' her father said.  'Newly come to the service of the lord of  Glyndyfrdwy – and this is Owain's kinsman, Morgan Gruffudd.'
                  Morwenna's heart stood still as she looked into the eyes of the young man who had stood so boldly on the bank of the river and laughed at her when he discovered her staring at his nakedness.  His eyes were even brighter blue than she had thought at the time, and deep within them she saw the knowledge she had dreaded.  A smile lurked at the corners of his mouth for an instant, though it was quickly hidden as he scowled at her and slouched down on his stool to her right.
                  'Sir,' she said in a voice hardly above a whisper.  'I am honoured to meet you.'
                  She received no more than a grunt in return and sat down as a page attended her chair.  Morgan Gruffudd clearly had no manners, and his dress left much to be desired.  His chin had been shaven recently for there was but a shadow of a beard, but his hair was long and looked in need of a trimming.  His clothes were dark of hue and the same ones