“Ah, but one has,” he replied genially. “I am married to a remarkable woman named Marged.”
“She is remarkably trusting to let you out of her sight.” She surprised them both by speaking the thought aloud.
“I do enjoy your company,” Maredudd said, slapping his thigh. “Marged knows I am devoted to her. Fortunately, she has the wisdom not to expect the impossible from me. In sooth,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “she is quite content with me.”
Catherine wanted to roll her eyes at the man’s vanity, though she suspected he spoke the truth. Maredudd Tudor was charming and devilishly handsome. Despite the circumstances, she also trusted him to protect her in this camp of armed men.
“May I speak with my young friend now?” She was anxious to talk with Stephen.
“We know the lad is Stephen Carleton, FitzAlan’s half-brother,” Maredudd said.
They could have guessed who she was. They found her near Ross Castle, and her family was well known in the Marches. But how did they know Stephen?
“Do not fret over the lad. He’ll be returned safe and sound,” Maredudd said. “If it had not been plain the boy would follow us, we would have left him where we found him.”
At the sound of a scuffle, she peered through the growing darkness. A moment later, the younger Tudor brothers appeared with Stephen kicking and twisting furiously between them.
“God’s beard, can you not see the lady is well?” one of them shouted at Stephen.
“We Welshmen are not the savages Englishmen are,” the other complained. “Besides, no man here will dare touch her while she is under the protection of a Tudor.”
Stephen saw her and ceased to struggle. The men dropped him to the ground.
“He does not believe you will be safe, m’lady,” one of the brothers explained, “unless he is the one who guards you.”
She saw the flash of Maredudd’s white teeth in the rapidly falling darkness. “It is encouraging to find chivalry still lives in at least one young Englishman,” he said. “Stephen, you can make your bed next to the fair lady. That will make it easier to keep watch over the two of you.”
Leaving them in the care of his brothers, Maredudd left to talk with some of the other men. Catherine and Stephen sat huddled together while the younger Tudors cooked a supper of small game over the fire. The two men were too near, however, for them to speak freely.
They waited until after they had eaten and lay down on the blankets spread for them close to the fire.
“The Welsh commanders fear their army is too strung out,” Stephen whispered. “Gethin and the Tudors backtracked from Worcester to make sure the king did not send part of his army behind them, to cut them off from their base.”
Catherine was not surprised Stephen had managed to overhear so much.
“They did not come for you,” Stephen continued. “But when they caught wind you would be outside the castle this morning, you were too great a prize to miss.”
This made much more sense than that the Tudors and Rhys Gethin would leave Worcester to take a single captive for ransom.
“Did you hear them say how they knew I would be outside the castle walls today?” She still could not understand this part.
“Nay, but it must mean we have a traitor at the castle,” he whispered. “Who do you think it is?”
Who, indeed.
Chapter Nineteen
Catherine awoke with the prickling sensation that someone was watching her. She opened her eyes to find Maredudd standing over her.
“Good morning,” he said, and nodded toward Stephen. “I see your gallant protector gave up the fight and took his rest.”
Embarrassed to be talking with Maredudd while lying down, she sat up. Shivering, she pulled her blanket tightly around her shoulders. The early morning air held a chill.
“We are near Worcester, a few minutes’ ride from where Glyndwr is encamped,” Maredudd told her. “I sent word last night that I would bring you to him as soon as we break our fast.”
She had not expected to be taken to Glyndwr himself. Unconsciously, she reached up to touch her hair. With no maid—or even a comb—she did not know how she could make herself presentable to the man the Welsh called their prince.
“Glyndwr understands rough travel. He’ll not think it amiss that you did not have a maid to dress your hair,” Maredudd said with a smile. “ ’Tis a sin that custom requires such lovely hair be hidden.”
