She read her scratchy words when she was done. They would change nothing. They could not undo the past, or stop the river that now flowed. They would have such little effect on the outcome, that there was really no point in sending them off.

She would anyway. She owed it to him.

Calling the elder’s granddaughter in, she handed over the message and gave instructions on its delivery. The young woman had dressed as a boy, and seemed unfazed by the danger she would face. She headed out of the village at a run as the feast got under way.

Nesta stayed in the village another night, but before dawn the next day she was back on her horse. Long before anyone else stirred, she was gone.

She rode with a new energy, and a new sense of purpose. It was time to do what she had been born to do. She did not doubt that Mark would understand.

Her horse suddenly broke its gallop and reared. She clung to its mane as the world blurred. When she regained control, she found herself facing four spears held by bearded, wild-looking men.

As she had at the village, she held up her arm so that the armlet showed. “I am Nesta verch Llygad. Take me to Carwyn Hir.”

The camp was neither large nor well provisioned. A few tents had been pitched, but most of the shelter consisted of rough lean-tos constructed of saplings and boughs.

The crudeness of the scene surprised her. This was not Carwyn’s stronghold, of course, where men lived for years on end. That was high in the mountains. Presumably it was more impressive.

At most three dozen men looked toward her as her escort led her out of the trees. She had not expected an army to greet her. The Welsh forces would not gather in one place until called. All through the hills, there would be other camps like this, many of them, full of men waiting for the word. Still, she had expected more than this to be encamped with the leader.

She dismounted and walked her horse toward the large fire circle, noting the weapons and equipment. Her eye caught very little armor, no more than ten swords, and a dozen longbows. An enclosure for horses contained only a few animals. The image of Marcus’s camps, of the swords and helmets and well-fed men, lived in her head as she observed her father’s rebels.

Carwyn sat at the fire with several other men. He did not rise until she approached very near, even though he had noticed her as soon as she stepped from the trees.

“You escaped?” he asked.

“He allowed me to leave.”

“It is a generous man who permits his bride to join the enemy.”

“He thinks I have left the region, and gone into hiding. The English lords with him know that I sent information to you.”