Better that de Lohr hear it from her.
“In the vault of Brython,” she said quietly.
If that answer was surprising to Christopher, he didn’t show it. Not really. A flicker in his eyes perhaps suggested it, but that was quickly gone.
“I see,” he said. “May I ask why?”
Elle extended her empty cup to him, a silent plea for more. He took the cup and poured it to the rim before handing it back to her. As he waited patiently, she drained it again, and it occurred to him that starving out the castle might have done its job. She was very thirsty and probably hungry, so he went to the tent flap to summon food and more drink. But until then, he’dcontinue to fill her cup and hope that a tipsy daughter might spill more secrets.
He wondered if she was aware of that.
“Would you like some dry clothing?” he said. “My wife is about your size, and there are times when she has come on a battle march with me. I could see if there is something of hers, somewhere, for you to wear.”
Elle shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “You are polite to offer, but I will stay in my own clothing. This is who I am, wet or dry. I will not change it.”
“Nor would I,” Christopher said, pouring the last of the wine into the cup in her outstretched hand. “But I will admit that I am curious why your brother is in the vault. Will you tell me?”
The full cup was almost to her lips again when she paused. She wasn’t looking at him, but rather had a distant gleam to her eye.
“Because he was going to betray us,” she said simply.
“What do you mean?”
She took a big gulp of wine before replying. “Precisely that, my lord,” she said, her tongue loosening with the amount of wine she’d ingested in a short amount of time. “Gruffydd and my father shared the same loyalty.”
Christopher wasn’t going to play dumb when he already knew. “To England?”
“Aye.”
He was careful as he continued, because he wanted information only she could supply. “We had it on good authority that Llewelyn had taken Brython from your brother,” he said. “That was not true?”
“Nay,” Elle said before taking another drink. “But I did.”
His brow furrowed. “You took it?” he said, trying to clarify. “But it already belonged to your family.”
She tipped her head back and gulped down the rest of the wine. “Do you not understand, my lord?” she said. “My brother and father were fools. They were forsaken of everything the Welsh stood for. They pandered to the English. To warlords like you. They were subservient to the king.”
“And you are not?”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I serve Wales,” she said. “Not Llewelyn or my father, but Wales. An independent Wales.”
“And you have been trying to achieve that in this battle?”
“I have,” she said firmly. “I was doing well enough until your knights mounted the walls. I’ve managed to hold you off for an entire month, and I’m sure not many can make that declaration. Does that shock you?”
Frankly, it did, because he was coming to see that this slip of a woman had held off an entire English army. Worse still, she’d held off him. Him! Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about that, but, for some reason, he smiled. Then he started to laugh as if realizing he’d been the butt of a great joke.
He could hardly believe it.
When Elle realized he was laughing, her eyes narrowed at him. “Why are you laughing?” she demanded. “Have I said something humorous?”
He waved her off. “Nay, you have not,” he said. “But you remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“My wife,” he said. “You think you are the strongest, toughest woman on the marches? Think again. When I first met my wife, she fought me like a banshee until I married her. She did it to gain peace. I did it to gain a castle. I also have a daughter who has fought with men. More than that, she used to be a spy. So you see, my lady, strong women do not shock me. Not in the least. I am surrounded by them.”
Elle’s irritation took a dousing. “Ah,” she said, eyeing him with uncertainty as he continued to snort. “But what is so funny?”
