to the coast, and from there across the Channel to England. Once across, I would again support the utmost secrecy with regards to her whereabouts until and if it becomes necessary to adopt the guise of a bridal cortege. At that time, if they are stopped for any reason, it will appear they are headed in the right direction, following the king’s command. As to any coincidences the king may or may not suspect, unless something goes dreadfully awry—and I pray we speak only in terms of supposition now—unless the men involved are captured or killed, the king will have no real proof as to the identity of the thieves. He may suspect. He may know. He may even accuse … but without proof …?” He shrugged and folded his hands together again. “Further to my hopes, by the time the castle guards finish scouring the niches and crannies of the castle, searching frantically for explanations that might keep them their heads, my niece will be well on her way into Wales.”
“When she fails to arrive at Radnor?” Alaric asked. “What then?”
William smiled tightly. “The king will be incensed. He will be livid and foaming and threatening to drench the land in blood … but again, he will not be able to lift a hand against her—not without risking the dissolution of the treaty he entered with Llywellyn ap Iorwerth. In truth, he will have no means of knowing when Ariel left Pembroke, or if she had any knowledge of the writ naming Reginald de Braose as the prospective groom. Since his envoy was waylaid by Lord Rhys, it might even be argued that it was the Welsh prince alone who knew of the king’s charter and, because he and I were already discussing terms for my niece’s hand, he thought it a fine irony —with the best romantic intentions, of course—to delay the writ until he and Ariel were safely wed. This is the story I will hold to. John will undoubtedly cry false and levy a large fine for both mine and the Welshman’s impudence, but he will do nothing to risk losing Llywellyn as an ally and opening the Marches to warfare again.”
“Has the Lady Ariel been asked her opinion of any of this?” Eduard wanted to know.
“I have every faith she will see her duty—and her salvation—and be only too willing to assist in any way she can.”
Henry looked dubious and Eduard felt a ridge of tension forming along his spine. “My lord, your motives are honourable, no question of that, but … to knowingly place your niece in such peril …?”
“My niece has put herself in peril, FitzRandwulf,” the earl declared, blistering the air with a moment of heat. “I am only trying to find her a way out. If, at the same time, there is an opportunity for something to be done for Eleanor of Brittany, then we must take the risk. I did not settle upon this plan lightly. Nor will I be entrusting her into your capable care with anything less than a blood oath that you will deliver her to Wales unharmed, untouched, unblemished by so much as a bruised fingertip. If you are unwilling or unable to promise me this, then I shall find another who will. I did not say it was of prime importance to have someone familiar to the princess in command of this rescue, only that it would ease the way. I have a score of knights in my own troop who would eagerly take charge without a single question asked.”
Eduard’s jaw flexed, the scar again standing out white and angry on his cheek, but it was the Wolf who responded coolly and calmly to the earl’s challenge.
“Neither my son’s abilities nor his willingness is the question here. What worries him—and me—is the state of Lack-land’s mind and the lengths to which he might go for revenge. You seem confident this Lord Rhys will protect your niece, but who is to say he will not turn his coat and sell the princess back to John in lieu of paying any fine, and well before she can safely cross Gwynedd’s lands into Powys? For that matter, there is Gwynwynwyn himself. How do you know you can trust him?”
“To answer the first part of your question, Lord Rhys ap Iorwerth will see that marrying my niece with my full knowledge and support will be of far more benefit to him than double-crossing me. And my niece, for her