Dismay and confusion warred within her. “I fear you mistake my importance, Your Grace,” she said, clutching her hands together. “The king would never trade your son for me. He is not… a sentimental man.”
She gave up trying to find a diplomatic way to explain it and said, “The king would sacrifice me without a second thought.”
She felt disloyal for her frankness, but she saw what looked like appreciation in Glyndwr’s eyes.
“Rayburn was a fool not to realize he had such a perceptive wife. You are right, of course. Henry would not, on his own, make a sacrifice for you.”
“My husband will not be able to persuade him otherwise,” she said. “I believe Lord FitzAlan would, however, be willing to pay a handsome ransom for me.” She no longer cared how much William had to pay, just that he pay it quickly.
“I will not make my demand to FitzAlan,” Glyndwr said, “but to the king’s son.”
Catherine was stunned. “To Harry?”
“I have heard troubadours sing of your beauty, Lady FitzAlan.” Glyndwr smiled at her for the first time. “ ’Tis no wonder you have a prince besotted with you.”
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“I will send a message informing Prince Harry I will take no payment but my son in exchange for his lover.”
“But I am not the prince’s lover!” Catherine said, finally finding her voice.
When Glyndwr looked at her skeptically, she attempted to explain. “We were childhood friends. We are friends yet. Besides, I am a married woman.” Her face flushing hot with embarrassment, she said, “He would never… he would not…”
“Surely you do not believe your wedded state would stop a man from wanting you,” Glyndwr said, raising an eyebrow. “And an English prince would never think such rules applied to him.”
Glyndwr looked past her and nodded. Maredudd, whose presence she had forgotten, came to her side.
“Let us hope you are as precious to the prince as I’ve heard,” Glyndwr said, dismissing her. “For you will not see your home again unless he persuades the king to release my son.”
Maredudd touched her elbow and whispered, “Make your curtsy.”
She did so numbly and let him lead her out to where Stephen and the other Tudors waited.
When the doors to the hall shut behind them, she broke down into sobs. “I fear I shall never see my son or my home again!”
“You shall,” Maredudd said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “All will be well in the end, you will see.”
“Your prince misunderstands everything!” She clenched her fists and cried out in frustration, “This ransom demand to Prince Harry will make my husband believe I have been unfaithful.”
“Nay, he will not,” Maredudd said, squeezing her shoulders. “He will just be happy to have you back.”
She shook her head. “You knownothingof my husband.”
Maredudd escorted her up crumbling stairs to a room crowded with chests—probably pillaged from the town. Through the open window, she saw soldiers gathering in the yard below.
“Will the battle be today?” she asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” Maredudd said as he came to stand beside her at the window. “We’ve been at a standstill for a week. I cannot see it lasting much longer.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“We have a slight advantage in numbers, though both armies are large,” he said matter-of-factly. “And the English are tired, coming from weeks of hard fighting in the North. Still, anything can happen. All I can say for certain is that there will be a great many deaths on both sides.”
He excused himself to join the men below.
She watched the soldiers ride out the gate, looking magnificent in their full armor. As she watched, she thought of the three hundred Welshmen whose capture and execution Glyndwr blamed on her, and she wept for them.
And what of the fate of the English soldiers today? Of William? And Harry?