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“Unless something has gone awry, he should be here soon.”

“Aye.” Gwilym’s gaze moved from the closest castle tower to the dense vegetation behind him. “And in the meantime, the men are well hidden should any guards be on the turrets.”

Rhys was grateful that so many of his men had responded to their request to return to camp. Their numbers had doubled in only five days. Maredudd had arrived back with the welcome news that Margaret was with child and that Catrin’s maid, Beti, was caring for her. He had also brought with him two of Catrin’s gowns, given to him by Beti and perfect for the role Catrin was to play as the rebellion’s messenger to Hotspur. Rhys’s concerns for her safety had not dimmed, but Maredudd and Emyr were to remain with her, and he had to trust that they would protect her while he and Gwilym fought for their freedom.

“Over there!” Gwilym said, pointing to two men on horseback exiting the north gate. “That looks like Glyn’s mount.”

Rhys waited until he had positively identified Glyn for himself, then he and Gwilym rode out to meet them.

“Marshal Rhys, Marshal Gwilym, this is my brother, Elis,” Glyn said. “Elis, this is Rhys ap Tudor and Gwilym ap Tudor.”

The stranger looked familiar. With flecks of white dusting his dark hair and weariness lining his face, he was an older version of Glyn.

“Well met, Elis,” Rhys said.

“’Tis an honor, Marshal,” Elis replied, inclining his head. “I’m glad to do what little I can to help the Welsh cause.”

“We welcome your support,” Rhys said. “Especially now.”

“Of course.” Elis cleared his throat nervously. “Glyn and I have a cousin who’s a hosteller in town. He’s agreed to stable your horses. And there’s two other carpenters who will join us before we reach the castle. Even if your men are all dressed as laborers, it would seem wise to have a few familiar faces for the guards at the gate.”

Rhys nodded. “And you have a cart ready?”

“Aye. We’ve unloaded it of all but a few tools to make room for your weapons. Once the swords, bows, and arrows are in, we’ll cover them all with a cloth and put a few of our tools on top to hold the fabric in place.”

“Then we should be on our way.” Rhys turned to Gwilym. “Take half the men, and go with Elis. Once you’ve stabled the horses, meet up with the other carpenters. I will lead the others into town. Glyn can guide us to his cousin’s stable, and we shall reconvene outside the castle.”

Gwilym gave a crisp nod and put his fingers to his mouth. The clear, distinctive whistle of a song thrush reverberated through the air, and seconds later, Welshmen started to appear through the trees. Leaving Gwilym to divide them into two groups, Rhys wheeled Castan around and rode to the nearby sycamore, where Maredudd and Emyr stood watch.

“Go to her,” Maredudd said. “She is waiting.”

Rhys urged Castan forward, ducking his head while they passed under the large tree’s limbs and raising it again when they entered the small clearing beyond. Catrin was standing beside Seren, watching his approach. Wearing her blue silk gown beneath her cloak, and with her golden hair twisted and pinned around her head in a crown, she took his breath away.

“It is time,” she said softly.

He slid from his saddle and stepped toward her. “Aye.”

She came to him then, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He closed his eyes, imprinting this moment into his heart and mind.

“Promise me that you will be safe.” Her voice was unsteady, and his chest ached. It was a promise he could not make, no matter how much he wished it.

“Watch for the signal,” he said. “It will tell you that I am well.”

He felt her nod, then she leaned back and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes, and he knew he could not bear the agony of this farewell much longer. Gently, he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. She responded, melding into his arms as he expressed everything he’d left unsaid in his deepening kiss.

Castan stirred behind him, and he pulled away.

“I must go,” he said, running his fingers across her cheek.

“Godspeed,” she whispered.

He nodded. Then before he could talk himself into lingering longer, he climbed into his saddle and turned Castan around. “Farewell, Catrin,” he said.

She raised her hand, and he left the clearing without looking back.

A quick glance at the road told him Gwilym and his men were already well on their way to the north gate, and a few yards distant, Glyn sat astride his horse at the head of the other group of waiting men. Maredudd and Emyr moved their horses up to join him at the tree line.

“Mind her well, Maredudd,” Rhys said.