Page 53

Rhys helped her to the chair. “You are shaking with cold,” he said. “Take off your cloak. Nerys has gone for a dry cover.”

Catrin attempted to do as he’d asked, but her numb and shaky fingers refused to cooperate. “F-Forgive me,” she said. “I c-cannot.”

Bending over her, Rhys deftly released the clasp at her shoulder and slid the cloak off her shoulders. When he saw that her gown was almost as wet as her cloak, he frowned. “How long have you been out in this rain?”

She shook her head. “It m-matters not. I c-came because H-Henry is s-setting a t-trap for you, and f-for your m-men.”

His gaze sharpened. “A trap?”

The door to the longhouse flew open again, and this time, Gwilym and Maredudd walked in.

Gwilym took one look at Catrin before turning on Rhys with fists clenched. “Would you care to explain to me exactly what she is doing at Owain Glyndwr’s military camp?”

“Show some civility, Gwilym,” Rhys growled.

Anger sizzled between the two brothers, and Maredudd placed a restraining hand on Gwilym’s tense arm as Nerys reappeared carrying a blanket. She offered it to Rhys, who took it without dropping the furious glare he was directing at Gwilym.

“Leave us now, Nerys,” Maredudd said.

The young woman bobbed her head and scurried out of the longhouse, closing the door behind her. When the large room was empty of other people once more, Maredudd cleared his throat.

“Mayhap Lady Catrin would be willing to tell us why she is here.”

“I c-came to w-warn you.” At her stuttered words, Rhys seemed to recollect why he had requested a blanket and handed it to her. Catrin wrapped it around her shoulders and tucked her hands into its woolen folds, hoping that if nothing more, it would hide her trembling.

“Warn us?” Gwilym’s tone dripped with disbelief. “Or would ‘ensnare us’ be closer to the truth?”

Rhys took a threatening step toward him. “That is enough.”

Gwilym rolled his eyes. “Have you so fully lost your senses, Rhys? Need I remind you that Lady Catrin is the daughter of Lord Buckley, the English constable of the very castle where Henry has taken refuge?”

“That is right,” Catrin said, drawing herself upright in the chair. “I-I am indeed the d-daughter of an English n-nobleman.” She clutched the blanket tightly, her rising indignation somehow overpowering her chattering jaw. “I am also the d-daughter of Alwenna ferch Ioan, and in case you hadn’t n-noticed, we have been conversing in fluent Welsh since you walked in.

“My Welsh mother’s grave was d-defiled by the English king less than a week ago, and the good friars who lost their home and their life’s w-work to Henry’s malicious act are my friends. I admit that I have much yet to learn, but I have come to appreciate the Welsh people’s d-desire to be free of an oppressive English m-monarch. And so, no matter your low opinion of me, Gwilym ap Tudor, I am not willing to s-sit idly in the south tower of Beaumaris Castle when I have information that may save the lives of countless Welsh fighters.”

When she finished speaking, there was a moment of deafening silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Catrin saw Rhys’s lips quirk upward, but her focus was on the dumbfounded expression on Gwilym’s face.

Maredudd spoke up once more. “I, for one, would be most interested to hear the news you bring, my lady.”

Gwilym folded his arms, but his look had softened from hostile to guarded. She glanced at Rhys. He gave her a reassuring nod.

“Henry is leaving Beaumaris by ferry today,” she began. “He believes that when word reaches the Welsh that he is on the move, they will follow behind to ensure that he goes directly back to England.”

“He’s planning on that, is he?” Gwilym muttered. “At least he has grasped that he’s not welcome here.”

Catrin ignored him. “He intends to lead your men somewhere called Horseshoe Pass, where the soldiers he left at Conwy Castle will be waiting. As soon as you have entered the pass, his men will block your retreat and initiate a surprise attack.”

“You heard Henry specifically say Horseshoe Pass?” Rhys asked.

She looked at him. “Yes. Do you know it?”

He exchanged a look with his brothers. “Aye. We know it.”

“And just how did you happen upon this information, Lady Catrin?” Gwilym’s arms were still folded. No matter what Rhys’s unspoken message had just been, his brother was not yet convinced.

“When I was returning from the stables late last night, I overheard Henry discussing his plans with the Duke of Bedford.”

“Last night?” Gwilym eyed her skeptically. “Then there was no ferry crossing before the one you assert Henry designed to take. If this all took place when you claim, how did you come to Llanrwst so quickly?”