“You are here now because he allowed you to leave. I wonder why he did that. Just as I wonder why you are so curious as to our numbers.”

His sarcastic tone, and the implications of his words, infuriated her. “Do not forget who I am, Carwyn, or that you can count what numbers you have only because of me. Think long and hard before you insinuate that I am a traitor.”

“I know who you are. Every man in these hills knows. It is good that you have joined us. When we move, you will come, and the sight of you will be better than any banner. However, if you have come to betray us, I will see that you do not. You will not be leaving my side, or speaking with any person who can carry a message for you.”

He intended to treat her as a prisoner. She leashed her outrage about that, and repeated her warning. “You must retreat, and wait for word from Scotland. Battles on the northern border will draw off the English forces that might be called here. That was always my father’s plan, and you must hold to it or there is no chance for success.”

“If your sister had not left, and we could be sure that alliance would unfold, your advice would make sense. If Marcus had not brought this army here, we would have waited longer until our numbers grew. But we cannot retreat now. Once gone, these men will not return, nor will they live in these hills into the winter. Events have conspired to force this, and so it will be.”

“You will be slaughtered.”

“Then future generations will know of our bravery, and bards will sing about us.”

“No one will know or sing about you. Your blood will leach into these hills as so much other blood has, wasted. This will not be a great war, fit for songs, or even a great battle. Somewhere in London a clerk will note in his accounts that some shillings were paid to knights who punished thieves, and then he will turn the page.”

He held up a hand impatiently. “Enough. I think that Marcus sent you to us so that you could argue for our submission.” He took her arm, and pulled her toward one of the tents. “You will stay in here, away from the others, so you do not poison their thoughts. Do not presume to lecture me further. You might be Llygad’s daughter, but you are merely a woman, and, I think, Anglesmore’s whore as well as his betrothed. If so, that might prove useful.”

Men slept on benches and pallets all around the chamber. Marcus was still awake, watching the flames in the hearth, facing the fact that a battle had become inevitable. Scouts had arrived in the afternoon with reports of men moving in those hills, aiming east toward Llygad’s old manor.