Maredudd Tudor gave him a broad smile full of humor. William would not trust the man farther than he could throw him. Still, he felt he owed some debt to him.
“What were you going to ask in exchange for my wife, before Glyndwr’s men changed your plan today?” William asked.
Maredudd Tudor went still. “I sought a promise for a later time.”
William nodded for him to continue.
“Under Glyndwr’s leadership, we have succeeded in taking control of all of Wales, save for a handful of castles. Still, I fear we will not be able to maintain our hold.”
“You won’t,” William said. “You cannot prevail against us without the help of the French. The French will promise, but they’ll not send their army again.”
Maredudd Tudor nodded. “Even without the French, we might outlast King Henry. His enemies are many and they divert him. But Prince Harry is another matter. He will defeat us in the end.”
William sensed what this admission cost the proud rebel. He waited for the man to make his request.
“Before the rebellion, we Tudors held high offices in the service of English kings. When this is over, I want my son Owain to be able to make his way in the English world. What I intended to ask was your pledge to assist him when the time comes.”
William respected the man for seeking a means to protect his son in an uncertain world. He gave his promise.
“When you call on me, I will help your son.”
“I am grateful,” Maredudd Tudor said with a stiff nod. Then he said, “This is yet Welsh rebel country, so you’d best be gone before the men you chased off raise the alarm.”
William turned to Catherine. “He’s right. We must make haste.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said, throwing herself at Maredudd. “You were the best of wardens, Maredudd Tudor.”
Both of them were laughing as she stepped back.
“Give my love to Marged and Owain,” she said.
“We shall miss you, Catherine. Go with God.”
It began to drizzle again soon after they set off for Beaumaris. The last few miles, it turned into a cold rain.
When they reached Beaumaris, Robert was waiting for them at the gatehouse. William was anxious to get Catherine out of the rain and hustled her through the side door Robert held open.
“Sweet Lamb of God, what took you so long?” Robert said. “I expected you hours ago.”
“We’ll tell you the story later,” William said, stepping in front of Robert, who was about to greet Catherine with a kiss. “I must get her before a fire.”
He was grateful for all Robert had done, but the man did try his patience.
“You’ll take the horses, Robert?”
Without waiting for Robert’s answer, he took Catherine’s icy hand, grabbed a torch, and led her into the dark corridor that connected the towers and gatehouse through the castle wall.
Chapter Twenty-seven
As soon as they reached his chamber, William sat her on a bench before the dwindling fire and began to add kindling to it.
Catherine was content to watch the firelight play across the planes of his face and spark gold in his hair as he built the fire. How she had missed the sight of him! She smiled at him each time he glanced over his shoulder. She understood his need to reassure himself she was truly here, for she felt the same.
Once the roaring blaze drove the dank chill from the room, she stood to remove her damp cloak. William looked up as she turned and slipped it off. He stared openmouthed at her belly. Though she was not very big yet, anyone looking that closely could see she was with child.
She saw searing pain distort his face before he masked it. It hit her like a blow. How could she have been so mistaken? She had feared William might not be glad to see her. But the child? She never doubted for a moment he would be pleased about the child.
He came to her and took her hands. “You must not worry for the child. I will claim him and raise him as my own,” he said in a gentle voice. “I place no blame on you. You had every reason to fear I would never obtain your release.”
