The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) (6 page)

“The English are coming,” Gareth said. “Perhaps not this year, but eventually. Hopefully by the time they get their affairs in order, King Owain will be ready.”

“I’m not so much worried about the English today,” Gwen said. “This ambush of Anarawd indicates that King Owain has a very angry, very dangerous enemy.”

Gareth took in a breath. “Perhaps it’s time he knew of it.”

They urged their horses the last yards to the gatehouse. Gareth’s face gained them admission and in the shelter of the courtyard, they faced off in the darkness. At this hour—nearly midnight by Gareth’s reckoning—most of the torches had been allowed to die, leaving two by the front door to the hall and two by the gate. The bulk of the garrison slept in the barracks, while the peasants and craft workers had settled into their huts and stalls. Dawn came early in August and they and their animals would be up before it.

“Should we speak to Hywel first?” Gwen said.

Gareth glanced towards the great hall, some thirty paces away. The King kept odd hours, but midnight was as late as Gareth had ever seen him leave the hall. If he held true to form, Gareth would have to wake him, which thrilled him not at all. Better to take the cowardly route. He grasped Gwen’s arm and tugged her towards a side entrance to the main building, for which the hall formed the central room, with offices, storerooms, and sleeping quarters leading from it.

“Hywel’s rooms are along here.” Gareth opened the exterior door and entered a long passageway. Still tugging Gwen with him, he halted in front of a half-closed door and knocked.

“Come.”

Gareth pushed through the door, with Gwen at his heels. For once, Hywel was alone, though that wasn’t to say a woman wasn’t lounging on his bed in the room adjacent, waiting for him to return. Hywel’s charm and appearance—black hair, deep blue eyes with long lashes (ridiculously long if Gareth’s female observers could be trusted), and muscular physique—had drawn women to him from before he’d even become a man.

One of the most treacherous battles Gareth had ever been in was when he’d ended up defending Hywel from a horde of angry farmers, roused by a cuckolded husband. They’d been outnumbered twelve to one, and yet managed to escape by luck and the timely appearance of a priest who told the farmers off. Had he known the reason for their anger, he might have felt differently, but at the time, all he’d seen was peasants confronting a prince.

As they entered, Hywel looked up from the household accounts on his desk in front of him. A grin split his face. “This is a surprise.” Hywel’s eyes tracked from Gwen to Gareth.

Gareth gritted his teeth. His lord had a tendency to perception and just now, his relationship with Gwen was not something Gareth wanted acknowledged, or worse, discussed. “My lord.” Gareth put his feet together and gave Hywel a stiff bow. Gwen curtseyed beside him.

“I hoped to have seen Gwen earlier today—and you not until tomorrow, Gareth,” Hywel said. “How is it that you arrive together, and so late?”

Gareth and Gwen exchanged a look. Her expression told him that she’d prefer him to speak. Choosing nobility, he plunged on: “We’ve ridden through the night to tell you—and your father—of a terrible event that has transpired. King Anarawd was ambushed by Danes on the road just north of Dolwyddelan. He is dead.”

“What!” Hywel was on his feet. “By the Saints, say it’s not true!”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Gwen said. “It is true.”

“Who, what—tell me more!”

Gareth and Gwen relayed the story, including their search and the second ambush, taking turns with the parts they knew best. By the end, Hywel had settled into his chair again, a horrified expression on his face. Made worse by his news for them: “You should know that I and some of my men tracked these Danes across Gwynedd today, nearly to the road from Dolwyddelan where you tell me Anarawd died.”

Gareth took a step forward. “But, then—”

Hywel shook his head, in what Gareth interpreted to be stunned disbelief. “You know those hills are full of paths. We thought we had them—we followed them for some distance—but lost them when they backtracked west. Or, rather, we thought they went west. By the time we reached the Roman fort, we found no sign of them. Instead, they must have taken a different route north to ambush you.”

“You heard nothing?”

“There is a river there, running through a series of falls. The path runs beside it. It would have drowned out any noise of battle. And since the Danes didn’t ever reach the road, or so we thought…”

“But they did,” Gwen said.

Hywel sighed. “Why was Anarawd even there? He shouldn’t have been. He wasn’t due until tomorrow.”

“He was in a hurry to reach his bride, apparently,” Gareth said.

“Was there any sign, any token, of who could have ordered this?” Hywel said.

“No,” Gareth said. “Not that we’ve found so far. I’d like to return to the initial site without the feet of fifty other men treading on it.”

“You’ll have that chance,” Hywel said, “if I have any say in it.”

“Whoever paid for this crime has incredible power and reach, my lord,” Gwen said. “The Irish connection is critical.”

Hywel got up and began to pace in front of the open window by his desk. They both knew better than to interrupt his thoughts, but then he halted in front of them. “This news cannot wait. We must wake my father. It will be worse for everyone if even one more hour goes by without him hearing of it.”

Chapter Seven

O
wain Gwynedd, however, was not asleep, though he was less than pleased to see Hywel stride into the room, interrupting his late night meal with Cristina. They sat together at the high table in the great hall, alone but not private, an odd paring at first glance, his middle-aged bulk a contrast to her petite youthfulness.

Gareth bent his head to Gwen’s. “As far as I’ve seen, she refuses to dally for more than a few moments alone with the King. She has her eye on the main chance.”

“He’s obviously smitten.”

“It seems to me since everyone’s here for Anarawd’s wedding,” Gareth said, “they might as well go ahead and marry themselves instead.”

“Don’t say that!” Gwen said.

“We’re all waiting for it.”

“Even if we’re dreading it,” Gwen said.

Their feet echoed in the hall, thudding hollowly on the wood of the floor as they made their way among the mostly empty tables. Hywel came to a halt in front of his father, with Gwen and Gareth a pace behind him to his left and right. “Sir. I bring bad news,” Hywel said.

King Owain studied his son, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, despite his earlier annoyance. “Let’s hear it, then.”

Gwen had the sense that they were playing out an oft-repeated scene—as if Hywel had often brought King Owain bad news, and this was the least painful way to relay it.

Hywel took a deep breath and let it out, still hesitating. His father leaned forward, perhaps realizing that this news was going to be worse than usual. “Anarawd and his men were ambushed on the road from Dolwyddelan by a company of Danes,” Hywel said. “King Anarawd is dead.”

King Owain surged to his feet, knocking back his chair, even Cristina forgotten. “How do you know this?”

“My man found him.” Hywel gestured to Gareth who stepped forward and bowed.

“Tell me,” King Owain said.

Gareth bowed again, and then related how he’d observed the start of the battle and returned with reinforcements to find King Anarawd and his men dead. He touched on the presence of Gwen and her family but didn’t emphasize it, and then described the second ambush. “The wounded are being cared for at Caerhun, my lord.”

King Owain gazed at Gareth, then looked past him to the few other knights and men-at-arms who’d gathered to hear the tale. “Arrest him.” He pointed at Gareth with his chin.

“What?” Gwen stepped forward. “You can’t—” She cut herself off as Hywel grabbed her arm.

“Hush,” he said, and then turned to the King. “Father, this is—” and then he broke off himself as three men surrounded Gareth and pinioned his arms behind his back.

“What are you doing?” Gareth cast a pleading glance at Hywel, looking for help. “I had nothing to do with this! I found them.”

“Did you not leave King Anarawd to die?” King Owain said, his face suffused with red and his voice thundering. “Are you not experienced in the use of a sword?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ve tolerated your presence up until now because my sons trust you, but I heard about you from my brother,” King Owain said. “The truth will out more easily from a cell.” He waved a hand. “Take him.”

Gareth’s jaw bulged. Gwen thought he was going to dig in his heels when his shoulders tensed, but then his eyes met Hywel’s. Gareth must have read something there that convinced him to back down, because he allowed the guards to turn him, his legs moving stiffly, and lead him away. He didn’t look again at Gwen.

“Father.” Hywel faced King Owain, his voice back to reasonable. “Gareth had nothing to do with this. He hasn’t the money to pay—”

But King Owain was still on fire. “I never said he paid for it! But he could have been bought and paid for! That I will believe!”

“Father—” Hywel tried again.

“You have something to say?” His voice thundered throughout the hall. “You question my orders?”

Hywel took a step back. “No, Father.” He ducked his head. “But I will discover the truth. Gareth has served both you and me well. He is not at fault here.”

King Owain wasn’t listening. He turned and kicked the fallen chair out of his way. It skittered across the floor. Owain Gwynedd paced towards the fireplace and then back. “Who bought him? Who seeks to strike me in the heart, in my own lands?”

By now, Gwen had slipped away, fading into the background as much as she could, with her back against the wall out of reach of the firelight. It was clear that calling any kind of attention to herself would be a major mistake. King Owain, however, had not forgotten her and after haranguing Hywel Hywel a while longer, he spun towards her. “You tell me your father comes too! Was he injured in this fight?”

“No, sir,” she said. “Both he and my brother are safe at Caerhun.”

“I am besieged on every side.” King Owain returned to his pacing.

“Whoever killed Anarawd has enough money and power to buy a troop of men—from Ireland no less—and point them in whatever direction he chose,” Hywel said. “Either that, or this is an attack from Ireland itself.”

“Don’t tell me what I already know!” King Owain said, the storm returning. “Where’s Rhun?”

“At Aberffraw, my lord,” Hywel said. “He was to escort Elen here tomorrow.”

“
Coc oen
!” King Owain said. “This is just what I need.”

At his flagrant profanity, Cristina rose to her feet, risking his wrath far more than Gwen could have imagined she might, and put a hand to his arm. “There is nothing more to be done tonight. Madog will come from Caerhun tomorrow with Anarawd’s body. Until then, strategy is best conceived with a cool head.”

King Owain turned on her at the implied criticism of his temper but she stood steady before him, gazing unblinking into his eyes—and raising her standing considerably in Gwen’s estimation. He glared at her for another count of ten, and then his shoulders relaxed and he even laughed. “I bow to your wishes, my dear. We will retire.”

Hywel took a step forward. “About Gareth, my lord—”

“He will stay where he is,” King Owain said. “He has not told me as much as he will.” He strode from the room, Cristina on his arm.

It was as though the fire had gone out of the hall. It was colder, darker, and far, far calmer without King Owain’s presence. Gwen moved to Hywel’s side. “Is there something Gareth knows that he’s not telling the king?”

Hywel gave her a cryptic look. “Many things, but since you confirm his story, I don’t see what more he can tell us about Anarawd’s death.”

“Does Gareth really have to stay in a cell tonight?”

“You’re asking me to defy my father? You’ve spent all of a half of an hour in his company in the last six years but already you should know better,” Hywel said.

“But, my lord—”

“You’ve felt only a taste of my father’s wrath. I cannot release Gareth on my own accord—not yet—not until pressed to absolute need. Besides, it sounds worse than it is for him. We don’t actually have any cells here. This isn’t the Tower of London.”

“Yes, my lord.” Gwen cast her eyes down so she wouldn’t have to look at him—or embarrass herself with begging.

She could feel Hywel’s eyes on her. “We will speak in the morning,” Hywel said. “I’ll have my father’s steward find you a place to sleep.”

Chapter Eight

J
esus!
In his wildest imagination, it hadn’t occurred to Gareth that the result of being the one to tell Owain Gwynedd that King Anarawd was dead was that he’d end up here.
What if King Owain leaves me here? I’ll rot while Gwen is left to wander the castle alone.
The thought of her on her own amongst the garrison was enough to have him punching his fist into the wall again. That it was wooden and not stone was the only thing that saved him from a broken hand. Of course, it also showed him how easily he could kick his way out of his rickety prison if he had to. He could take some comfort in that.

His cell sat at the back of the stables. It was ten feet on a side with knot holes and slits in the wood that allowed him to see through the slats to the curtain wall. This section had already been replaced with stone, indicating that freedom, were he to pursue it on his own, wouldn’t be as immediate as he might hope. The pungent smells of horse and excrement were making him lightheaded in the confined space and he paced around his cell, trying to stay awake until someone came. Hywel? Gwen? A guard to beat the truth out of him? At the very least, he was looking for someone to talk to him, to come and tell him this was all a mistake.

Fortunately, the guards hadn’t yet roughed him up. Hell—they weren’t even guards, but friends. Evan had brought him a flask, a crust of bread, and dried meat, with an unspoken apology in his eyes. None of his friends had been happy with their appointed task, but they did it. They did it because their lord ordered it and it wasn’t their place to question Owain Gwynedd’s orders. If Gareth had learned that lesson sooner, he might have married Gwen. They might have had those three children she’d mentioned.