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Hotspur raised an inquiring eyebrow. “You believe the king was influenced in this matter?”

“Undoubtedly.” She paused, hoping she could present her argument in such a way that he would question the directive coming from London. “Henry surely believes that the English shall triumph in Wales, and the sooner that occurs, the smaller the drain on his coffers. To do anything that might cause the Welsh people to promote Glyndwr or the Tudor brothers to the position of martyrs would be pure foolishness. Why inflame his enemies further and risk extending the fight?”

Hotspur looked thoughtful. “Why indeed?”

“I submit that this recent move was made to placate a loyal supporter who has a personal vendetta against those very Welshmen.”

Hotspur steepled his fingers, his eyes narrowing. “Can you name a man who could wield so much power with the king?”

“Yes, my lord.” She met his gaze. “I believe the Duke of Bedford is actively engaged in becoming the king’s foremost advisor.”

With a muttered oath, Hotspur rose to his feet. “Do you have any proof of this?”

“I witnessed his interaction with the king myself in Beaumaris, my lord. And he personally swore vengeance on Rhys ap Tudor and Gwilym ap Tudor weeks before the king outlawed the brothers.”

“Why would the duke do such a thing?”

“Because they bested him.”

Hotspur ran his fingers along his beard. “I sense there is more to this story than you are sharing, my lady.”

Catrin’s heart sank. As much as she wished she could avoid it, she knew that she would lose any chance of gaining Hotspur’s trust if she concealed her part in this entanglement.

“I spurned the duke’s marriage proposal, and he retaliated by stealing my horse. Rhys and Gwilym ap Tudor happened upon him as he was returning to England. They relieved him of the stallion and returned it to my keeping.”

“Twice thwarted, then.” He did not sound the least sorry for the nobleman.

“I am come to Flint Castle because I owe the Tudors a debt of gratitude for saving my horse,” Catrin said. She made a play to his vanity. “They know of your diplomatic skills and that ’tis you, not the Duke of Bedford, who should have the ear of the king, so they wish you to advocate for their pardon.”

“Their pardon?” He shook his head. “Even if what you say is true, gaining a royal pardon is no mean feat.”

“Which is why they have decided to offer something in exchange.”

Humor shone in Hotspur’s eyes. It was obvious that he did not think the Tudors could produce anything sufficiently valuable to persuade Henry to alter his edict. “And what might that be?”

“Conwy Castle,” Catrin said.

There was a moment of stunned silence. “I beg your pardon.”

“As of this morning, Rhys and Gwilym ap Tudor and their men have taken possession of Conwy Castle. They will return it to King Henry only when he issues them a formal pardon.”

Hotspur’s gaze flew to Maredudd, who gave him a verifying nod.

“I am fully aware of the Tudor brothers’ skill with a bow; their service to Richard during the battles in Ireland is well-known. But I would require more than your word to believe that they have taken control of one of England’s mighty fortresses.”

“You need only send a man to Conwy,” Catrin said. “Glyndwr’s flag flies above the castle.”

Hotspur walked across the room and stared unseeingly out the small window. Catrin sat silent, barely daring to breathe as the nobleman who held the fate of Rhys and Gwilym in his hands pondered his choices.

“Very well.” He swung around, his tone abrupt. “I shall send a man to Conwy. If, as you claim, the castle is being held by the Welsh, I will go to London and discover the mind-set of the king.” His eyes bore into Catrin. “However, should I learn that your visit here is part of an intricate ruse, it will be further punishment, not a pardon, that is the subject of our discussion.”

Catrin clasped her hands tightly. Given the circumstances, this was all she could hope for.

“I thank you, my lord. I shall await your man’s report without misgiving, knowing that I have spoken true.”

“You and your escorts will stay at Flint Castle,” he said. “As my guests, of course.” He forced a smile. “There is no reason for any of you to leave until this matter is settled.”

No matter how agreeably he’d couched the words, there was no hiding Hotspur’s meaning, but Catrin refused to remain a prisoner here while Henry bided his time deciding the fate of the Tudors.