“I would say so, since she has already done it.”
“She what!” William sighed and shook his head. “She has not changed, I see. Catherine would step right into it, once she decided that was the thing to do.”
“I was shaking in my boots for fear she misjudged the man,” Robert admitted with a grin.
“Since you returned alive, I take it this Tudor is willing to make a deal?”
“So he says, and your lady wife believes him,” Robert replied with a shrug. “He will meet you in a wood along the road between here and Plas Penmynydd to give you his terms. He says he will come alone, and you must do the same. He wants to keep this quiet so Glyndwr does not catch wind of it.”
Robert paused, then said, “You know this could be a trap.”
“Aye, but I have no choice,” William said. “When are we to meet?”
“On the morrow, an hour past dawn.”
It was still cold when William set out the next morning, but the rain had lessened to a light drizzle. As directed, he traveled alone and put his fate in the hands of God. And Maredudd Tudor. He thought of Jamie and Stephen and prayed he could bring Catherine home to them soon.
As he came to the copse beside the dip in the road that Robert described as the meeting place, a hooded rider crested the hill before him.
“FitzAlan?” the rider called out.
William started. The voice was a woman’s. As she pulled her horse up, he saw that the voice belonged to a pretty dark-haired woman.
“I am FitzAlan. Are you here for Maredudd Tudor?”
“I am his wife, Marged,” she said.
What sort of man was this Tudor to send his wife out alone on such an errand?
“Maredudd went with the men who are taking Catherine to Harlech.”
“What!” he exploded. “The devil’s spawn is taking her to Harlech?”
“There is little time, so listen,” she snapped. “A dozen men rode up to our gate this morning with orders from Glyndwr to take Catherine.”
William told himself he had plenty of time to catch up to them. The ride to Harlech was long.
“What route did they travel? How far ahead are they?”
“They left not more than half an hour ago, but they are taking her by sea! Their ship is to the west, eight or nine miles from here.”
Beaumaris was in the opposite direction. There was no time to ride back for his men. Even if he rode straight to the ship, he might not catch them.
“Maredudd will try to stall them, but you’d best ride hard.” She quickly gave him directions.
“Are you safe riding back to Plas Penmynydd alone?”
She smiled. “Aye, these are Tudor lands.”
“God bless you, dear lady.”
He spurred his horse and rode like the wind. He had to get to the ship before it set sail. His heart seemed to beat in time with the pounding of his horse’s hooves. Faster, faster, faster.
After what seemed like hours, he reached the coast. A half mile north, he found the manor house where Marged Tudor said Glyndwr’s men had borrowed horses. He spotted the ship offshore, just visible in the morning fog.
He turned his horse off the road and pulled up in the low trees to count the figures on the beach. One man in the water, guiding a rowboat to shore. Two in the rowboat. Eight on the shore. He narrowed his eyes, searching for Catherine.
Two more men emerged from the wood dragging a woman between them. She struggled against them as they hauled her toward the rowboat.