“Please, let me go home,” she said. “I want to see my son.”
Glyndwr’s eyes went flat, and he looked away from her. “As do I, Lady FitzAlan. As do I.”
Guilt stabbed her for reminding him of his pain.
But she had told her lies well. She could only pray she had been right to tell them.
Chapter Twenty
The English commanders awoke to find the Welsh-French army had disappeared during the night. None could explain the unexpected withdrawal. William, for one, was glad to save his men to fight another day. No good could have come from the battle for the English. Even if they prevailed, the field would have been awash with English blood. The loss of men would have made them more vulnerable to the French, their real enemy.
However, it was hard to understand why the other army had withdrawn. A French-Welsh victory on English soil might well have forced King Henry to sacrifice his claim on Wales.
William bid the king farewell and headed for home. Prince Harry rode with him as far as Monmouth. Until it was certain the French were retreating all the way to their ships, the prince would remain in the Welsh Marches.
William had come to like Prince Harry well enough, but he was glad when they parted ways. He was tired of talking of military matters. Riding in blessed silence, he tried to resolve the mystery that was his wife.
Would he always find her in hallways, sharing secrets with princes and troubadours? Good Lord, she even admitted to passing her lover’s child off as her husband’s. Yet, this same woman welcomed William’s young brother into her household with an open heart. She forgave William his harsh words, his lack of trust, and accepted on faith his promise to do better.
And she said she loved him.
Though he did not fully understand her, he knew for certain he could never be content without her.
A sense of well-being came over him when he saw Ross Castle in the distance. Even now, the lookouts would be reporting his arrival to the household. He looked forward to seeing Jamie and Stephen as well. He had grown attached to the boys.
He shook his head. Odd how life could change so quickly. Two months ago, he came here with no real ties. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt as if he had something to lose.
He remembered Catherine’s uneasy stomach the day before he left and felt anxious. He spurred his horse ahead of his men and rode through the open gate.
Most of the men he had left at the castle were waiting for him in the bailey. Catherine was not. Scanning the group, he saw that Stephen was missing, too. And where the devil was Edmund?
As he dismounted, a small figure shot out from between the men. He tossed his reins to a waiting stable boy and lifted Jamie into the air.
“Where’s your mother, big boy?”
“Didn’t you find her?”
Fear ran like ice through his veins.
“Lord FitzAlan.” He turned to see Hugh Stratton, one of the men he left with Edmund.
“What has happened?” William said, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “Where is my wife?”
“Lady FitzAlan wished to go to the abbey,” Hugh said. “Edmund and Stephen escorted her.”
William sagged with relief. His relief dissolved a moment later when Hugh could not meet his eyes.
“What is it? Out with it, man!”
“They were attacked.”
God, no!
“When they did not return when expected, we went out looking for them. We found Edmund, but he’s in bad shape.”
“What of Catherine and Stephen?” Would the fool not tell him if they were alive or dead?
“They must have been taken captive. Except where Edmund was, we found no blood, no piece of torn clothing…”
God have mercy. “When was this?”
“Two days ago. I had the men out searching for them all of yesterday and today,” Hugh said. “Edmund can speak now, if you wish to see him. Alys put a bed up for him in the keep.”
William was so intent on questioning Hugh that he forgot the boy in his arms until Jamie yelled, “I want my mother!”
Jamie looked at him with eyes big and wet with tears. “I want Stephen, too.”
“I shall bring them home,” William promised. And if either one is harmed, I will track the villains down and kill every one of them.
Jamie leaned heavily against his chest as William carried him to the keep. After handing the boy off to his nursemaid, William went with Hugh to see Edmund.
William paused at the door. He’d seen more than his share of wounded men. But, God’s blood, Edmund looked as if he’d been trampled by horses. Everywhere he wasn’t bandaged, he was black and blue.
When William knelt beside the cot, Edmund opened one eye. The other was swollen shut.
“I did my best, but there were six of them,” Edmund croaked. “I killed one before another caught me from behind.”
“What sort of men were they?”
“Welshmen, highborn,” Edmund said, and closed his eye.
Praise God they were not rabble! Noblemen were as violent as any men, but rarely so with women of their own class. If Catherine’s captors were indeed noblemen, it was likely they took her for ransom and would treat her reasonably well.
He turned and asked Hugh, “Has a ransom message come?”
Hugh shook his head.
When William started to get up, Edmund tried to speak again. William put his hand on Edmund’s arm and leaned over to hear him better.
“They were expecting us,” Edmund said in a hoarse whisper. “I heard them say her name.”
William left Edmund and took his men out to search for Catherine and Stephen. Though the kidnappers would have them deep in Wales by now, he ordered his men to search every wood and hut. They found no sign of Catherine, Stephen, or the men who took them. He continued searching alone long after dark.
When he returned, he was too dispirited to face his empty bed. Instead, he went up to Jamie’s bedchamber where he startled the poor nursemaid from her pallet. As soon as she scurried into the adjoining room, he slumped into the chair by the bed. Somehow, it soothed his troubled soul to watch the boy’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep.
He awoke at dawn, stiff from sleeping in the chair.
Chapter Twenty-one
Stephen felt the lookouts’ eyes tracking him as he rode across the empty fields toward Monmouth Castle in the bright moonlight. As soon as the gate was opened, he was surrounded by a dozen armed men.
“I have a message for the prince’s eyes only,” Stephen said to each man who questioned him as he was passed up the chain of command. “The prince will want to see it tonight.”
It was well past midnight when Stephen was finally delivered to the prince’s private rooms. To his relief, Prince Harry did not look as if he had been roused from bed. Stephen bowed low, as his mother had taught him.
“So, young Carleton, what brings you to travel alone at this late hour to see me?”
“Lady Catherine and I were taken captive by Welsh rebels, Your Highness,” Stephen said.
“Lady Catherine?” The prince gripped the arms of his chair. “They’ve taken Catherine?”
“Aye, they have. They released me to bring you this message.” Stephen pulled it from his belt and handed it over. “I was told to put it in no one’s hands but yours.”
The prince broke the seal and scanned it quickly. With an impatient wave, he sent his manservant from the room. He did not speak until the door was shut again.
“You’ve had a rough journey and must be hungry.” The prince gestured to a platter piled high with bread, cheese, and fruit on the table next to him. “Come, sit and eat.”
Stephen took the chair on the other side of the small table and accepted the cup of mulled wine the prince poured from an ornate silver decanter.
“They treated you well?”
Stephen nodded and took a long drink from the cup.
“I must consult FitzAlan on this matter,” the prince said
. “Lady Catherine is, after all, his wife.”
Stephen’s mouth was full, so he nodded vigorously. “I’ll go with you,” he said as soon as he swallowed. “ ’Tis best you don’t go alone to speak with my brother.”
The prince raised an eyebrow. “You know the content of the message?”
Stephen nodded again.
“These rebels are bold,” the prince said. “Can you tell me why they sent a ransom demand to me, rather than FitzAlan?”
Stephen fidgeted in his chair and looked toward the door.
“Out with it,” the prince commanded. “I shall not blame the messenger.”
Stephen shifted his gaze back to the prince and tried to discern if he meant what he said.
“Owain Glyndwr has heard you are fond of Lady Catherine.” Stephen really did not want to say this, but he saw no way around it. “More than fond.”
When the prince did not react, Stephen began to wonder if he was a little slow in the head. He judged the distance to the door again, then decided to get it over with.
“Glyndwr believes Catherine is your mistress.”
He watched the prince, waiting for a violent reaction.
Prince Harry rested his chin on his clasped hands. “This is unfortunate,” he said quite calmly. “Glyndwr is mistaken if he thinks the king would release her for my sake, no matter what she is to me.”
The prince appeared to be lost in thought for a moment.
“There must be talk about Lady Catherine and me for Glyndwr to have heard this.” He looked at Stephen and lifted an eyebrow. “Tell me, Stephen Carleton, what do you believe?”
“Lady Catherine is an honorable lady,” Stephen said at once. “She would never do it.”
The prince smiled. “I am glad to hear you share my high opinion of her.”
Forgetting his earlier caution, Stephen added, “But I did hear talk among the men at Ross Castle. It is well known the two of you are close.”
“Damnation,” the prince muttered.
After that, the prince made Stephen recount every detail of their capture and the events since. By the time Prince Harry dismissed him, Stephen was dizzy with fatigue.
Stephen paused at the door. “If we both tell William it is not true—about you and Lady Catherine—perhaps he will believe us.”
The prince smiled. “You are a brave man, Stephen. I shall be glad to have you at my back.”
Why did the men who took Catherine and Stephen not send a message yet? William was nearly mad with worry and frustrated past bearing.
Edmund was more alert today. Though he was not out of danger, he seemed likely to survive. William pressed him about why he thought their attackers did not just happen upon them.
“Why would a half-dozen well-armed men on good horses be on that quiet path to the abbey at just that time?” Edmund asked.
Men of that ilk should have been at Worcester, whether they be Welsh or English.
“I tell you, William, they knew her name.”
“But I’ve questioned every man, woman, and child in the castle,” William said, pacing the sickroom in frustration. “If we have a traitor in the castle who passed the word you were taking her to the abbey, someone should have heard or seen something.”
After a long pause, Edmund said in a low voice, “She’s run from you before.”
William stopped his pacing. She’s run from you before. The words were like a knife in his belly.
He turned slowly to face Edmund, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Are you suggesting Catherine arranged this herself?”
“All I’m saying, ’tis peculiar,” Edmund said.
He remembered what she said the night before he left for Worcester. It is you I need rescuing from now, William. You bring me misery of a kind Rayburn never could.
“She wouldn’t leave Jamie,” William said.
“She meant to take the boy, but I told her no.”
“You’ve been against her from the start!” he shouted. “I tell you, she wouldn’t do it.”
“You would not let her leave the castle on her own,” Edmund persisted, “so she might have used the kidnap as a ruse to get away.”
If Edmund wasn’t bandaged from head to foot, he’d pick him up and slam him against the wall.
“There is another explanation,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “There has to be.”
She promised she would not leave again. She gave her word.
“She deceived her last husband for years,” Edmund said. “You’ve known her, what, three months?”
Less than that. But he knew her. He loved her. And she loved him. Didn’t she?
He looked at the crusted blood on the bandage around Edmund’s head and the seeping wound on his neck. “If you think so little of her, why would you nearly get yourself killed trying to protect her?”
“Out of loyalty to you, of course,” Edmund said in his croaking voice. “You entrusted her to my protection, and I have an inkling of what she means to you.”
Edmund could have no notion of what she meant to him.
“I will pay whatever ransom they ask,” he said more to himself than to Edmund. “There is nothing I will not do to get her back. Nothing.”
“Women are fickle. Perhaps she’ll change her mind and return,” Edmund said. “Or the men she trusted to take her away will play her false and hold her for ransom.”
“Enough of your poison tongue!” William said, shaking with anger. “I swear to you, Edmund, injured or not, I will throw you out if you speak another word against her.”
“What do I know about women?” Edmund’s breathing was labored now, and his words were punctuated by long pauses. “I’m sorry… I won’t say it again… No one will be happier than I… to be proved wrong about her. I…”
William couldn’t berate an unconscious man, so he left.
He tried to push what Edmund said out of his head. But the damage was done. Against his will, the doubts and questions came. They raced through his mind, around and around. Was Jamie’s father not dead after all? Did she go to him? Was he one of the rebels? Or that damn troubadour?
Nay, it could not be true. Surely she would not have taken Stephen with her?
William was in a poor state by the time the prince and Stephen arrived. The moment Stephen slid down from his horse, William took hold of him. It was the first time he had embraced this young brother of his.
“Your lady wife is well,” Stephen said.
“Who has her? Where is she?” William demanded.
“The Tudors will take good care of her,” Stephen said in a rush. “They are good men, for rebels.”
“Sweet lamb of God!” William thundered. “The Tudors! Are you saying the Tudors have her?”
The prince stepped forward and put a hand on William’s arm.
“Let us go inside,” he said, and cast his eyes meaningfully toward the men and servants gathered around them. “We will tell you all we know, but it is a tale too long for the bailey yard.”
William escorted Prince Harry and Stephen into the keep and upstairs to the family’s private rooms. As soon as they were seated in the solar with the door closed, William looked at them expectantly.
“Tell FitzAlan what happened when you and Lady Catherine were captured,” Prince Harry directed Stephen. “Give him the shortened version now. Later, he will want to hear it with all the detail you can remember.”
Stephen’s abbreviated recounting of events relieved William’s worst fears. In his darkest moments, he had imagined his wife lying raped and murdered in a wood somewhere.
He had so many questions, he did not know where to start. “Why did they take you to Monmouth?”
Stephen looked uneasily at the prince.
“I was as surprised as you,” Prince Harry said, pulling a letter from a pouch at his belt and handing it to William. “This is the message they sent with Stephen.”
He noticed the prince and Stephen exchange glances before he began to read. As he read
the message, signed by Owain Glyndwr himself, the blood drained from his head.
“Can you please tell me,” he addressed Prince Harry in a coldly polite tone, “why my wife’s captors would present a demand to you, rather than seek ransom from me, her husband?”
Prince Harry met William’s eyes with a hard look of his own. “I am your prince, FitzAlan. I answer to no man, save the king. Still, I will tell you what you want to know. But listen well, for I’ll not speak of it again.
“I care too deeply for your lady wife to dishonor her by making her my mistress,” the prince said, enunciating every word clearly. “And Catherine would never consent to it. She respects me as her future king, but she loves me as a brother. A younger brother.”
“And you, sire?” William asked in a tight voice. “May I ask the nature of your feelings for my wife?”
“I will not tell you I’ve never felt desire for her,” Prince Harry said, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze. “But I have known since I was twelve I could not marry her. While a woman as astute as Catherine would be an asset, I must make a marriage that is an alliance for England.
“Since I could not make Catherine my queen, and I would not make her my mistress,” the prince said, “I remain her friend. And happily so.”
With his speech finished, Prince Harry considered the question settled and the subject closed. He moved at once to the problem before them.
“ ’Tis useless to ask the king to trade Gruffydd for her,” the prince said, rubbing his chin. “I am not certain my father would give up Glyndwr’s son even if it were me the rebels held.”
William did not disagree.
“So we must think of another means to gain her safe return,” the prince said. “Stephen says she remained with Glyndwr’s army, traveling west, when the Tudors split off to deliver him to Monmouth.”
In the end, they agreed Prince Harry would send a message to the rebel leader advising him that the king could not be persuaded to release Gruffydd. The prince would enclose a letter from William offering a monetary ransom.
Knight of Desire Page 19
