“Remember where you are,” the abbess reprimanded him. “It hardly matters how Robert learned of it.”
“Do you know where she is?” William asked the troubadour. He was willing to overlook the man’s transgressions if only he would tell him where to find her.
“Not yet,” the abbess answered for him. She patted the troubadour’s arm and said, “But my friend Robert is our best hope of finding out.”
Holding back the oath that had been on his lips, William asked, “How would you learn of my wife’s whereabouts?”
“Despite the rebellion, my troupe travels freely in both Wales and the Marches,” Robert said. “I can take my troupe into Wales and look for her without being suspected.”
“And why would you go to such trouble for my wife?”
Robert’s eyes danced with amusement. “We are great friends. Did she not tell you?”
“Don’t be foolish,” the abbess chided. “Lord FitzAlan, tell us what you can about what happened.”
Stephen and William told them all they knew. Robert asked a number of questions. He had the good sense, however, not to remark on the unusual nature of the ransom demand.
“The possibilities are not good,” Robert said, shaking his head. “Let us hope Glyndwr doesn’t send her to the Continent with the French forces for safekeeping. It would be as bad, though, if he takes her to Aberystwyth or Harlech castles.”
God help him if Glyndwr held her at either of those castles. They were on the west coast of Wales, far from English soil. Both castles were considered impregnable, or very nearly so.
“I will follow Glyndwr’s trail until I hear news of her,” Robert said. “I will be discreet, of course.”
Spying appeared to come easily to this itinerant bard. He hid a fine mind behind that handsome face and glib demeanor.
William looked back and forth between Robert and the abbess and raised an eyebrow. “The two of you helped Catherine with her spying?”
They smiled with the look of well-fed cats.
“Rayburn did not have a chance,” William said.
“That devil’s spawn did not deserve one,” Robert said, showing a flash of anger for the first time.
William wondered who this singer of ballads truly was. The man was not raised by a peasant or tradesman, to be sure. He showed too much ease conversing with an abbess and a lord. Whoever he was, William was profoundly grateful for his help.
“The part we occasionally play in the conflict must remain a secret,” the abbess advised William. “Robert can be of no help if his collaboration is suspected.”
“We will tell no one,” William promised. He gave Stephen a severe look to be sure his brother understood.
“Not even Edmund,” Stephen said.
Chapter Twenty-two
Catherine felt very much alone traveling in the midst of a Welsh-French army of thousands. Even the Tudor brothers would have been a welcome sight to her now.
She certainly would have felt safer under their protection.
She braved a glance at Rhys Gethin, whose heavily muscled thigh was uncomfortably close to hers as he rode at her side. He’d taken Maredudd’s place as her primary keeper. “The Fierce One,” as she had come to think of him, had neither the fine looks nor the courtly manners of the Tudors.
Everything about the man was rough, from the well-worn tunic that reeked of sweat and horses to the long hair that fell to his shoulders in matted knots. He was built like an ox, with a broad chest and thick neck. Though he rarely spoke, the other Welshmen paid heed when he did.
He turned and fixed his intense gaze on her. With eyes as black as his soul, he was the most frightening man she had ever met.
“What is it, sir?” she asked sharply, though it was she who had stared at him first.
He nodded ahead to where the path narrowed and grunted something she took to mean he wanted her to ride in front. She spurred her horse, grateful to put a little distance between them. A shiver crept up her spine. When she looked over her shoulder, his eyes were on her like hot burning coals.
At least she was free of The Fierce One at night. Rhys Gethin camped out with the army, while Catherine was taken into Welsh homes as Glyndwr’s guest. The homes were humble, but at least she had a roof over her head.