"Your word, lord, is my command" came the reply, "but why here, and why me? This is a great honor you do me, entrusting me with the care and safety of your offspring."

"You were Vala's blood kin, Morgan, and besides, I didn't want to exhaust them by taking them farther. They have never, until today, been off the hillock where Vala had her cottage."

"What about your brothers' households?" the captain queried.

"Few knew of Vala. And no one knew until today that I had children by her. Now you know, Morgan ap Owen. You and I and a priest of my choosing. You know the danger. My enemies would kill the lad and use Rhonwyn as a pawn in some marriage. I am far past my youth, and if I do not many, Glynn will one day be my heir. As for Rhonwyn, it will he her lather who arranges her marriage, not strangers." He smiled at his longtime friend. "They are small, Morgan. Surely you can find a place for them here."

"There is a bedspace for important visitors near the fire pit. They can have that," Morgan ap Owen answered his overlord. "But what am I to do with them?"

"They are children. They will amuse themselves. Just keep them safe for me, warm, and well fed," ap Gruffydd said.

"What am I to tell my men?" the captain asked.

"Just say these children are of special importance to me" came the reply. "They will draw their own conclusions no matter, but admit nothing to anyone."

"Will the children speak?" ap Owen wanted to know.

"Rhonwyn, Glynn, to me!" their father commanded, and the children came to stand by him. "You are my offspring, my blood, and 1 am proud of it; but you must not admit our relationship to any. Rhonwyn, I know you understand, but you must make your brother comprehend the danger. Can you do it, lass?"

The green eyes met his, and she said briefly, "I can."

"Good girl," he praised, and gave her a quick kiss atop her head, chuckling at the surprised look that encompassed her features. Then he arose. "I must go now. I am expected elsewhere this day, and while I may be late, I must get there."

"Will you return?" Rhonwyn asked him.

He nodded.

"When?" she demanded.

"When the time is right, lass. You will be safe here at Cythraul. Morgan ap Owen is blood kin to your mam. He will guard you with his life. Promise me you will obey him, both of you."

"Aye," Rhonwyn said dispassionately.

"Aye, Tad!" little Glynn piped, eager to please his sire.

Ap Gruffydd lifted up the little boy and kissed him on both cheeks before setting him down again. Then he looked at his daughter. She met his gaze straight on, her look neither warm nor cold. "You haven't made up your mind about me yet, have you?" he gently teased.

Rhonwyn shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I don't really know you, but I am grateful you came yesterday, and I am grateful you have brought us to a place of safety. More than that I do not know, nor can I say, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd."

He nodded. "You are my daughter and honest to a fault," he told her. "Take care of the lad, Rhonwyn. I will be back." Then ap Gruffydd turned and, in his captain's company, left the hall of the tower.

"Tad!" Glynn called after the retreating figure.

"He'll be back soon," Rhonwyn comforted her brother. "Let us explore this place that is to be our new home, Glynnie-lad," she coaxed him, turning his thoughts from ap Gruffydd. "It is a tall tower."

When the day had finally waned, and the hall filled with the men-at-arms, the two children felt almost lost for a time, but then Morgan ap Owen set them up upon the high board and told his men, "These wee ones are of great importance to our lord Llywelyn. They are to be kept safe and not mistreated. I am going to appoint eight of you to be their particular guardians. Lug, Adda, Mabon, Nudd, Barris, Dewi, Cadam, and Oth. I choose you. Just make certain these two younglings don't fall off the walls."

There was much good-natured grumbling among the eight, but they were all good men and secretly pleased to have been so honored. It didn't take an educated man to figure out that these were the lord's children, even if Morgan ap Owen hadn't quite said so. The lad had his stamp, and the girl, for all her fair hair, was obviously his.

"They're his, aren't they?" his lieutenant said to his captain.

"I have not said so" was the response; "Nor should you" came the Veiled warning.

Rhonwyn listened to this exchange as she sat feeding her little brother. Their sire was obviously a very important man. After the meal the chosen men gathered about them like a pack of kindly, grizzled watchdogs. Rhonwyn was mostly silent, letting her little brother capture the men’s hearts, for Glynn was, and always had been, a very winning child. When he began to grow sleepy, one of them, Oth, picked up the boy and tucked him in the bedspace.

"You had best go, too," Oth told her.

"I am older," Rhonwyn replied. Then she looked across the hall at several of the men who were kneeling on the floor. "What are they doing?" she asked Oth.

"Dicing," he answered her. "It is a game."

"I want to learn," Rhonwyn said.

"Do you?" he answered with a chuckle. "I don't know if the captain would approve, lass."

"Why not?" she demanded.

" ‘Tis a game of chance," he explained.

"I don't understand, Oth," she told him. "I am very ignorant of the world, you see, having lived all my life on the hill with my mam."

He nodded. "I see," he said. "Well, then, perhaps I shall teach you to dice myself, but not tonight. You have had several hard days, and you need your rest. I will wager you have never before today ridden. There is a small mare in the stables that no one uses. I can teach you to ride, too. Would you like that?"

Rhonwyn nodded eagerly. "Aye, I would!"

"Then crawl into bed with your wee brother, who is already asleep. Tomorrow will be a very busy day for you." Oth led her, unprotesting now, to the bedspace in the stone walls of the tower. Lifting her up, he tucked Rhonwyn in beneath the furs next to Glynn. "Good night, lass," he said, and then left her.

"Well done," Morgan ap Owen praised him quietly.

"What in Jesu's name does ap Gruffydd mean by leaving those two wee children here?" Oth said. "What kind of a place is Cythraul for wee ones?" He picked up a wooden cup and drank down his beer.

"He'll be back soon enough for them," Gamon ap Llwyd replied. "They're his only offspring, unless, of course, he has a few others hidden about the countryside."

"He was faithful to my cousin Vala," Morgan ap Owen said quietly. "I will wager there are no others, and did I tell you not to speak of them thusly?"

"We all know they are his," Gamon ap Llwyd said.

"Poor lad and lass," Oth replied. "Their mam gone and them brought to a place like this. Still, if we are not to have them long, we must make their time here a good one. The peace is holding for now."

Aye, Morgan thought to himself, the peace is holding, but for how long? And if it broke, Cythraul would be in the thick of it, being located so close to the border, guarding a mountain pass between what was known as the "Welshry" and the "Englishry" sections of the Marches.

It had been blessed providence that the prince had arrived at Vala's cottage when he did. Had he not, the children would have died as well. Oh, Rhonwyn would have tried hard to survive and keep her baby brother safe, but she was only a wee girlie. Their tragic end would have been inevitable. But ap Gruffydd had come in time and saved his offspring. Yet Morgan ap Owen knew that the prince would not be returning soon. He had other, greater problems. God only knew how many years these two children would remain at Cythraul.

There were several things to consider. Clothing was the first. Dewi, one of the men he had appointed to look after the children, was the fortress's tailor. He must clothe both Rhonwyn and Glynn in boy's attire. That way anyone spying on them or sheltering with them would see the children, assume them to be the sons of one of the men at Cythraul, and think no more on it. Anyone seeing a little girl among them would assume there were women at Cythraul also. Such a notion could prove dangerous to the safety of the fortress.

And what was he to do with the children during the day? He could neither read nor write, nor could anyone here. If Rhonwyn was to make a good marriage one day, she should know something, but who was there to teach her? Well, that would be ap Gruffydd's problem. The men at Cythraul lortress could hardly be expected to raise two children as a gentle dame would. Why hadn't ap Gruffydd taken them to his sister, the Abbess Gwynllian? They would have had a far better opportunity at Mercy Abbey than at Cythraul; but ap Gruffydd took the easiest route where his son and daughter were concerned. His passion was for his country, which was why he had put off the matter of his marriage. Even now, approaching forty, he had no idea of finding a wife and siring a legitimate heir.

Morgan ap Owen shook his dark head despairingly. Two small children to care for. What had ap Gruffydd been thinking? He looked about the hall. Most of his men were now wrapped in their sheepskins as near to the fire pit as they could get. Rising, he went outside and checked the preparations for the night. The gates were barred and locked. The watch stood upon the walls. All was quiet and peaceful. Above him the skies had finally cleared, and the stars shone brightly. A crescent moon had already set. A cold wet nose pressed itself into his hand. Absently he reached out and stroked 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."