A Memory of Love Read Online Free

his favorite dog, a large Irish wolfhound.
    “Well, Brenin, 'tis a fine responsibility we have been given. I'll be expecting you to watch over our young guests. The lad is small yet and less likely to mischief, but I fear for his sister. Headstrong like her tad, she is, and clever, I'm thinking.”
    The dog whined as if in agreement and pushed his master with his massive head.
    Morgan chuckled. “You're getting old, Brenin, that you would go in on a fine night like this, but I'm ready for my bed, too.” Together master and beast returned to the hall. Morgan ap Owen found his bedspace, but to his surprise the dog went and lay before the two children. The captain smiled. He always knew Brenin understood him no matter what anyone else said.

Ap Gruffydd's children were no better than peasants, Morgan ap Owen thought as he watched them over the next few days. They had known nothing but their cottage and their hill. They hadn't even had a pet to keep them amused. They were at first wary of Brenin, but the great wolfhound quickly won over the bolder Rhonwyn and her shy little brother. Soon he was carrying Glynn about on his back as the child tried to emulate his sister, whom Oth was teaching to ride.
    “We ought to get the laddie a pony,” Oth remarked one evening in the hall. “He's wearing out poor old Brenin, and we all know how the captain will feel if the dog dies.”
    There was a nodding of heads in agreement.
    “Hold still, you wee vixen,” Dewi said as he measured Rhonwyn for her tunic. “You're worse than water running over rocks.”
    Rhonwyn giggled. “Lug says I have very little feet. He measured me for boots of my own yesterday. Will I like boots, Dewi? I've always gone barefoot, I have.”
    “You must learn to wear boots,” Dewi told her. “I'll make you some nice hose to wear under them.”
    “What are hose?” she asked curiously.
    “A cloth covering for your legs and feet,” he told her. By the rood, these children knew so little! “Hose will help keep your feet warm in winter and the bugs from biting your legs in summertime, lass.”
    “You're making her hose?” Lug interrupted. “I'll have to wait then to make the boots, for I must measure her again when she is wearing the leg coverings, Dewi. You might have told me before I made the pattern.”
    “You've not cut the leather yet, have you?”
    “Nay, you told me just in time,” Lug said.
    Morgan ap Owen restrained a chuckle. His men, all of them, were absolutely besotted with the two children. He needn't have appointed a guardianship, for they were all eager to look after ap Gruffydd's offspring. They carried the boy about when he tired, which he seemed to quite easily. They made certain the choicest bits of the meal were put in Rhonwyn's and Glynn's bowls.
    A bit subdued at first, the children began to grow more comfortable with their new home. At one point later, Morgan did not ask how, a dappled gray pony was found along with a small saddle. Glynn joined his sister in her riding lessons. On his feet Glynn was sensitive and timid, but astride the pony he quickly became an excellent, even daring horseman, frequently besting Rhonwyn, who had absolutely no fear of anything at all.
    Both youngsters roamed the fortress at will. After they had been seen several times playing with sticks as they would swords, small weapons were forged for them, and the lessons began, as well.
    Glynn was easily wearied with the rough games that Rhonwyn so liked. He preferred the company of the fortress cook, Gwilym, who kept him amused with wonderful and fanciful tales of fairie folk, warriors, and beautiful maidens—some pure, and some devilishly wicked. Gwilym often told his tales to the men in the hall on winter evenings. He had a deep rich voice that could call forth magical and mysterious stories. Sometimes he would sing the history of the ancient Cymri, accompanying himself on a small lute. Glynn attached himself to the cook like a winkle to a rock. No one