“What of my castle?” she asked. “What has happened to it?”
Seeing that she no longer looked as if she was preparing for an offensive, he went over to the table to see the remnants of the meal. There was still wine in the pitcher, and he poured himself a cup.
“It belongs to me now,” he said. “Your men are prisoners. Now, we begin the damage assessment and plan the repairs.”
He sounded as if it was the most normal situation in the world. Casual, even. Elle watched him drain the cup of wine, feeling more despair sweep her.
“Where… where are my men?” she asked.
Curtis poured himself another cup of the watered wine. “I told you,” he said. “Dead or dying or captured. Those that are captured are being held in the encampment.”
“What will you do with them?”
He looked at her. “What would you have me do with them?”
She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or if it was a genuine question. “I hope you will treat them fairly,” she said, forcing her bravery. “They are good men, loyal to their people.”
“That may be, but they have tried to kill me and mine,” he said. “I will ask you again—what do you want me to do with them?”
“Are you asking that question to be cruel? Because you do not truly wish for my guidance on the matter.”
“I am asking for your guidance on the matter.”
Now, her puzzlement was being overtaken by surprise. She stared at the man, studying him closely, looking for any hint that he was trying to demean her or betray her somehow. Because she couldn’t answer right away, he spoke again.
“Let me ask you a question, my lady,” he said. “Let us look at the situation from your perspective. If you were the victor and had three hundred English soldiers as your prisoners, what would you do with them?”
She hesitated. “Put them in the vault.”
“All of them?”
“What else should I do?” she said. “Send them home so they can rise up against me again?”
He shrugged. “Mayhap you should simply kill them and be done with it.”
She shook her head slowly. “Nay,” she said quietly. “Because more would rise up in their place.”
“And more would rise up in their place if you put them in the vault.”
The argument was becoming circular, and he was making good points, which was starting to frustrate her. “Then what should I do?” she said. “You seem to have all the answers. You tell me.”
Curtis had to lower his head so she wouldn’t see that he was struggling not to smile at her annoyance. “Would mercy not be the right course of action?” he said. “Show mercy and send them home. They will remember that if, and when, they are in a conflict against you again. They will know you are a woman of mercy, and they will behave kindly toward you.”
“Not kindly enough not to take up arms against me again.”
He shrugged. “That is the nature of the situation we find ourselves in,” he said, pouring himself a third cup of watered wine, now with the dregs at the bottom of his cup. “The English and the Welsh find themselves in a battle cycle. It has not always been this way, and it will not always be this way, but for now, it is the way of things. We will continue to fight until someone shows wisdom and bravery and decides to negotiate a truce against the enemy rather than a show of force. I do not think there is any man, or woman, alive that would rather fight than live in peace.”
By this time, she was listening carefully because he sounded a great deal like his father in the conversation they’d had earlier. Hereford had left the tent, and she had no reason to believe he hadn’t spoken with this man, his heir. Of course he had. That was why the man was here now, speaking of peace, when at the time of their first meeting, he’d been ready to throttle her. But now, he wasn’t.
He was speaking of peace.
She knew why.
“Your father has told you about me, hasn’t he?” she asked.
He had found a half loaf of bread on the table and was now pulling it apart. “He has,” he said as if it wasn’t anything to be shocked or astounded over. “You are Gwenwynwyn’s daughter.”
“I am.”
