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Seren nodded his head as though agreeing with her, and Aldwin chuckled. “Cleverest horse I’ve ever known, that one.”

Catrin gave Seren’s neck an affectionate pat and turned to the stablemaster. “How has he been? Did he show any signs of distress after being in that terrible smoke?”

“Not that I noticed, my lady. I kept a close eye on ’im for a good twenty-four hours, and other than a few sneezes to clear his nose at the start, he’s been in good form. He’s been anxious to get out, but given the lingering smoke in the air, it’s not been a bad thing to keep ’im in for a bit.”

Relief brought a smile to her face. “I’m grateful to you, Aldwin.”

“Not at all, my lady. And if I may say so, ’tis right good to see you lookin’ more like yerself.”

“I thank you. My recovery took a little longer than Seren’s, but I am grateful to be out of my sickbed.”

Aldwin nodded, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “The Duke of Bedford came in inquirin’ after Seren again, the day afore yesterday.”

On Seren’s neck, Catrin’s hand instantly stilled. That had been the day after the fire. “What did he wish to know?”

“Whether the horse had been much affected by the ash and smoke.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That it remained to be seen, and that Seren was in isolation, with no visitors permitted.”

“And did that satisfy him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘satisfied’ exactly, my lady.” Aldwin scratched his head. “He weren’t altogether happy that he couldn’t come back ’ere to see the stallion fer himself, but he didn’t stick around much after that.”

“He shows all too much interest in Seren,” Catrin said, biting her lip anxiously. “I wish I knew what he was scheming.”

“Well, unless it involves learning that dialect you whisper in Seren’s ears, he’s out o’ luck. That stallion is mighty proud of his Welsh bloodline and won’t ever take kindly to an English nobleman’s demands.” Once again, Seren nodded his head, and Aldwin grinned. “You see, my lady. There you have it.”

Catrin felt some of the tension in her shoulders give way. “You may be right, Aldwin. Seren is as stubborn as he is astute.”

“He is that, my lady. He is that.” The stablemaster stepped away. “If there’s nothing more you need, Lady Catrin, I’ll leave you be. You know where to find me.”

Catrin spent about an hour alone with Seren before wishing him and Aldwin a good night and starting back toward the south tower. Now that the smoke in the air had dissipated, the skies were clear. Moon and starlight lit her path across the inner ward, and a lone cat searched for food near the kitchen. Other than the men on guard duty atop the castle walls and at the gate, the soldiers had retired for the night, and the courtyard was quiet.

Entering the south tower, she took the stairs quickly. She had just passed the entrance to the great hall when she heard voices coming from within.

“And so, it is done. The trap is set.”

At the sound of the Duke of Bedford’s voice, Catrin froze. It had to be that the door to the great hall was not completely closed.

A second man gave a short laugh. “Indeed it is. The Tudor brothers shall be caught completely unawares. And once their leadership is gone, Glyndwr’s uprising shall disintegrate overnight.”

Inching her way back down the four stairs that separated her from the arched doorway, Catrin focused on keeping her breathing even.

“’Tis a brilliant plan.” The duke’s unctuous tone told Catrin exactly to whom he was speaking. “To employ the very strategy the Welsh attempted less than a week ago, and use it against them.”

“Yes,” the king said dryly. “The men I left at Conwy have already removed to Horseshoe Pass to take their positions. Knowing that I am at Beaumaris, the rebels will be watching this castle for any sign of movement. They will expect that when I leave, I will travel to the English border, but they cannot know which route I aim to take.”

“Until it is too late.”

Catrin could visualize the duke’s smarmy smile and pressed her trembling hands against the cool stones behind her.

“Until it is too late,” the king repeated. “The moment they follow me into Horseshoe Pass, they will be surrounded, and there shall be no escape.”

This time, the Duke of Bedford’s laugh was wholly malevolent. “Glyndwr’s men have no idea that when the ferry sets sail on the morrow, it marks the beginning of their end.”

“No, they do not.”