The Fallen Princess (13 page)

“When the fire was lit, the smoke was sucked
right out of the house through that hole. Clever, really.” Hywel
had always valued cleverness in people more than any other
quality.

Gareth found a lantern on the shelf next to
the cups. He lit it and brought it over so it could shine into the
opening. While the surface of the wall was dirt, he saw now that it
was of variable width and backed up by solid rock. This opening was
a channel through the rock that went straight up before curving
away into the hill. He could feel the breeze on his face as it
passed through the house from the door.

“Wena thought that a stream might have run
through the rock long ago,” Hywel said. “It’s why the door slammed
shut and the candle blew out. A time or two Gwen and I tried to
find the exit point further up the mountain, but we never
could.”

After one last look into the hole, Gareth
moved to the only other feature of the hut that looked interesting:
a ladder, the top of which disappeared into the ceiling above them.
“Where does that go?”

“There’s a second level above us. Sometimes
Gwen and I would play among the jars and boxes of herbs that Wena
stored there. She always said that they would keep forever because
it was so warm and dry and safe from wet.”

Holding the lantern with one hand, Gareth
climbed the ladder until his head poked through the opening in the
ceiling. As wide as the floor below, the loft no longer stored
Wena’s herbs and in fact held nothing at all. The air was warmer up
here, as Hywel had said, and the wooden floor held a layer of dust
and dirt that could have been years old, if not decades, but
probably wasn’t. Wena seemed the type to keep a neat house.

Gareth held up the light. “Someone has been
here recently.”

“That’s good news, I think.” Hywel came to
the base of the ladder and looked up at Gareth.

“More than one someone, if I’m not
mistaken,” Gareth added. Many footprints marred the dust. Starting
at the ladder, they crossed the floor to a stone retaining wall at
the back of the loft and then returned, crisscrossing back and
forth as if their owners had made multiple trips. Dirt and
footprints marred the ground around the wall too. Gareth climbed
all the way up the ladder to get a better look.

Hywel’s head appeared through the opening,
and he took in the room with a sweeping gaze. “What happened to the
retaining wall?”

“I was waiting for you before I found out.”
Gareth cat-walked across the floor, staying to the left of the line
of footprints. The wall had been built to a height of six feet.
Stones at the top of the wall had come down, such that one section
rose only to slightly below Gareth’s chest. He peered into the gap,
careful not to disturb any more stones.

“Wena had trouble with dirt and rock
crumbling off the back wall. She liked things neat,” Hywel
said.

The builders had piled debris to waist
height in the space between the hillside that made up the back wall
of the house and the retaining wall. For most of its length, that
space was six inches to a foot, but where Gareth stood, a natural
curve in the hillside made the gap more like two feet. His brow
furrowed. “There’s something here.”

In a moment, Hywel was beside him. His
candle flickered over the scene but didn’t go out. The draft in the
loft wasn’t as strong as downstairs but indicated that more
fissures and tunnels besides the large one downstairs wound through
the hill.

Gareth reached over the wall and lifted out
a deerskin cloak, crumpled as if someone had balled it up and
thrown it over the wall. It was heavily stained too, though it was
hard to tell with what in this light, and had a Druidic look to it.
If it had been Wena’s, it was no wonder the children had thought
her a witch. Gareth shook it out and held it up to Hywel, who
studied it while chewing on his lower lip.

“Is everything all right up there?” Llelo’s
voice wafted up to them from below in a somewhat higher register
than normal.

“We’re fine, Llelo,” Gareth said.

“I know what you’re thinking but not
saying,” Hywel said, glowering at Gareth.

Gareth stayed where he was, simply looking
at his prince.

Hywel sighed. “We have found Tegwen’s
shroud.”

Hywel

“Y
ou can see it
too, can’t you? Finding himself with a dead princess on his hands,
the killer wrapped Tegwen’s body in Wena’s deerskin and threw her
over the wall,” Hywel said.

“It’s what I’m thinking,” Gareth said. “It’s
perfect. The wall should have been high enough such that it wasn’t
possible to see over it. Nobody would ever have looked there if it
hadn’t come down.”

Hywel shook his head. He had both wanted to
find Tegwen’s grave and not wanted to. But now that they thought
they had, he couldn’t back away from it. His next step must be to
speak to old Wynn. Gareth sent Llelo back to the castle to recover
from his ordeal, and he and Hywel entered the village. They stopped
first at Wynn’s hut, but he wasn’t home, and his daughter pointed
them to the tavern. They found Wynn seated on a stool at one of the
tables, well into his cups.

“How many has he had?” Hywel asked Huw, the
tavern-keeper.

“He started early today, my lord,” Huw
said.

As the sun was still high in the sky, he
must have started early indeed. Hywel regarded the old man, who so
far hadn’t looked up and was gazing into his cup, which was half
full of mead. “How early is early?”

“I don’t usually see him until
mid-afternoon, but he arrived just after the morning meal. I was
about to call for his daughter to take him home,” Huw said. “I
don’t want him collapsing on the green and hurting himself.”

“Give us some time with him first. We need
to talk to him,” Hywel said.

“Yes, my lord.” Huw touched his forehead
with two fingers in a sign of respect, accepting that Hywel’s
suggestion was actually an order.

Gareth and Hywel dragged stools to either
side of Wynn, who looked blearily from one to the other of them
over his cup of mead. “What’re you looking at?” He didn’t seem to
recognize Hywel, or at least he gave no obeisance to him as
befitted Hywel’s station as a prince of Gwynedd.

Hywel didn’t take offense. Wynn’s
befuddlement amused him. He didn’t need Wynn’s respect, only his
attention. Hywel reached out and gently removed Wynn’s cup from his
hand. “I think you’ve had enough, my friend.”

“You’re no friend of mine.” Wynn made to
grab at the cup but ended up knocking Hywel’s arm. Hywel lifted the
cup high and managed not to spill what remained of its
contents.

“I will give your drink back to you as soon
as you answer a few questions.” Hywel set the cup two feet away
from Wynn on the opposite end of the table.

Wynn peered blearily at Hywel. “Have I seen
you before?”

“Many times,” Hywel said.

Wynn waggled his finger at Hywel. “I
remember now. I’ve heard you singing up at the castle.”

Gareth was trying not to laugh at Wynn’s
befuddlement. “Our good prince might be singing for us today.”

Wynn cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s
that?”

Gareth leaned in. “We have questions,
Wynn.”

“Aye.” Wynn made another grab for the cup.
This time, it was Gareth who whisked it away, though he wasn’t as
agile as Hywel, and a measure of mead slopped onto his hand.

Hywel tapped his fingers on the table in
front of Wynn to regain his attention. “We want to talk to you
about where you went today.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been here.” Wynn
hunkered down over his elbows, which rested on the table.

“What about before the tavern opened?” Hywel
said.

Wynn didn’t answer, just shook his head.

Hywel tried again. “Why did you decide to
drink breakfast and dinner today?”

Wynn eyed his cup, but Gareth kept an arm
across the table to block his access to it. Any more lunges from
Wynn and Hywel would return the cup to Huw at the bar.

“That’s mine. I paid for it,” Wynn said.

“I find that highly unlikely.” Hywel glanced
at the tavern keeper, who was smirking as he dried a flagon with a
cloth. “Shall I ask Huw what you owe him?”

Wynn cleared his throat and sat straighter
on his stool. He adjusted his tunic with a look of righteousness on
his face. “I can’t remember what I did this morning.”

“If I ask your daughter where you were, will
she tell me you were in bed?” Hywel said.

Wynn couldn’t maintain his dignity for more
than one sentence. He stuck out his chin. “I was asleep. That’s
where I was.”

Hywel rubbed his jaw. “And before that? At
what hour of the night did you find your bed?”

Wynn smiled slyly. “Wouldn’t you like to
know? But I don’t kiss and tell.”

Hywel blinked. The image of Wynn sneaking
home after carousing with one of the village’s widows had his
eyeballs burning. Gareth seemed to be having the same problem.

Hywel decided to change tactics. “I
understand that you maintain old Wena’s hut for Prince Cadwaladr,
is that right?”

Wynn nodded, and now he really did look
wary. “So?”

“Did you visit the hut yesterday?” Hywel
said.

“I always do,” Wynn said. “I have to care
for my horse, don’t I?”

“Did you notice anything unusual there
yesterday?” Gareth said.

“No.”

“Have you seen Prince Cadwaladr in the last
few days?” Gareth said.

“I saw him.” Wynn’s voice was sullen.

This was as painful as pulling teeth. Hywel
glanced at Gareth, who shrugged and said, “What do you think?”

“I think he knows something he’s not
telling,” Hywel said. “I’m not sure we’re going to learn what that
is until he sobers up.”

And then, to prove Hywel correct, Wynn
rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Within a count of
ten, he was snoring gently. Hywel gave a snort of disgust and
gestured that Gareth should remove the cup so Wynn wouldn’t knock
it over if he startled in his sleep.

“We’re left with the same questions we had
when we left Wena’s house,” Gareth said.

Hywel scrubbed at his hair with both hands.
“At least we can confirm with the daughter that he was in his bed
all night.”

Gareth handed off Wynn’s cup to Huw,
promising to inform Wynn’s daughter of the state her father was in
and ask her to collect him, and the two men strolled back to Wynn’s
house. Hywel found the back and forth from one informant to another
most irritating. They’d already spoken to the daughter, but she
hadn’t mentioned her father’s absence in the night, and they hadn’t
asked her about it because they’d wanted to speak to Wynn
first.

They found her hanging the laundry on a line
that stretched between two posts, taking advantage of the rare
sunny day to dry her linens. “My lords!” She dropped the cloth she
was holding into the basket of wet items. “Is my father—?”

“He’s fine, Elen.” Hywel put out a calming
hand. “Drunk and sleeping it off at one of Huw’s tables. Huw asks
that you collect him at your convenience.”

Elen let out a sigh. “I worry about him ever
since my mother died.”

“Was he out last night?” Gareth said.

A wary look came into Elen’s eyes. “What do
you mean?”

“Was your father absent from his bed at any
time in the night?” Hywel said.

“He left to use the latrine at one point,”
Elen said.

“Was he gone long?” Hywel watched Elen’s
face carefully for any sign of deception.

“I-I don’t know.” Elen looked away. “I fell
back asleep, and when I awoke, it was morning, and he was snoring
in his bed.”

“Huw says that your father doesn’t usually
visit the tavern until later in the day. Do you know why he is
drinking so heavily today?” Gareth said.

“No,” Elen said. “Can you tell me what this
is about?” When Hywel and Gareth didn’t answer immediately, she
added, “Has my father done something wrong?”

“We won’t know until we find out where he
was before dawn,” Gareth said.

“Is this about the body on the beach? My
father couldn’t have had anything to do with that. He
couldn’t!”

“We are making inquiries at this point, that
is all,” Hywel said. “Calm yourself.”

Elen had taken several steps towards them,
but she subsided, the wary look returning. “I’ll finish up here and
go to him.”

“That would be best,” Gareth said.

Then Hywel bent towards Elen. “If your
father can tell us where he was last night, if he went anywhere
besides the latrine, we would be grateful. We aren’t accusing him
of any wrongdoing. We simply need to know what he knows.”

Elen swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord.”

Hywel nodded at Elen. “We’ll take our
leave.”

“Ceri thought he may have seen two men with
the cart,” Gareth said as they walked back to where they’d tied the
horses.

“If Uncle Cadwaladr was one, it makes sense
that Wynn was the other,” Hywel said. “Let’s check in with Gwen,
and then I’m afraid it’s time to speak to my father.”

Hywel wished he could avoid that
conversation, but it seemed he had no choice. “We may have to
pretend we know for certain that Cadwaladr is a part of this.”

“He is a part of this,” Gareth said.

Hywel shot Gareth a quelling look. “I am
certain my uncle was on the beach this morning, but we have no
evidence of his further involvement.”

“If he didn’t murder Tegwen himself,” Gareth
said, “he can at least confirm that her body was found in Wena’s
hut.”

“True,” Hywel said. “If we’re very
convincing, he will be anxious to absolve himself of any other
crime and will have seen something or know something else that will
help us. We must get whatever that is out of him.”

Hywel wasn’t sure how he was going to do
that. Cadwaladr was an accomplished liar. In fact, he lied as well
as Hywel himself did. Hywel was grateful that if Gareth had the
same thought, he chose to keep his observation to himself.