Her words made Gareth suddenly wary. “Do you have a reason to suspect him of wrongdoing?”
Gwen lifted one shoulder and looked away. “I suppose it’s time to tell you, though the circumstances could hardly be worse.” She pushed off the door. “Then again, maybe it’s better to get all the bad news over with at once.”
Gareth was glad his misdeeds were no longer the topic of conversation, but her intense look worried him. “What is it? What do you know about Hywel that you haven’t told me?”
“It has to do with last summer.” Gwen grasped the lapels of Gareth’s coat, clenching the leather tightly in her fists. Did she fear he might run away before she’d finished?
Gareth’s stomach sank at what might be coming. “Are you about to tell me that you and Hywel were lovers?”
Gwen blinked. “What? Don’t be ridiculous!”
This time, Gareth wanted to punch the air in relief. He eased out the breath he’d been holding. He could hear anything now. The look of blank shock on Gwen’s face told him everything he needed to know. Neither she nor Hywel had lied to him about their relationship.
Gwen scoffed under her breath. “No. No. That isn’t it at all.” She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “When you and Hywel rescued me from the Danes, Hywel handed me his knife so I could finish cutting through the ropes that bound me. Do you remember?”
“I remember,” Gareth said, hopelessly at sea. This wasn’t going where he’d thought it might—feared it might—and now didn’t have a clue as to where Gwen was leading him.
“The knife he gave me had a thin blade and a notch in the edge.”
Gareth’s jaw dropped. “Wh-what did you say?”
“The knife Hywel gave me was the one that killed Anarawd.”
If he hadn’t been listening closely, Gareth would have been sure he’d misheard her. “Why didn’t Hywel tell us he found the knife?”
“He didn’t find it, Gareth.” Gwen’s voice was gentle. “The knife was his all along.” Gwen gripped Gareth’s coat tighter, knowing him so well, knowing that he would have pulled away if she wasn’t holding on so tight.
“You’re saying that Hywel killed Anarawd?”
“He admitted it to me.”
“But what about Cadwaladr? He hired the Danes to kill Anarawd. We know that.”
“Yes, Cadwaladr was a traitor,” Gwen said. “He ordered the ambush of King Anarawd and his men but when the Danes failed to murder Anarawd, Hywel, who happened to be in the area, stepped in to finish what Cadwaladr had started.”
“How could he have—” Gareth couldn’t get the words out. He almost swallowed his tongue as he tried to force down the denial that rose into his throat.
“Hywel and several of his men tracked the original Danish party across Gwynedd. Hywel came upon the ambush just as you did—while it was in progress. You went for help; Hywel saw Anarawd run away and went after him.”
“Why?” Gareth couldn’t keep the anguish out of his voice.
“I really should let him tell you the rest,” Gwen said. “But he explained his reasons. Chief among them was that he’d seen Anarawd murder his own father during the fighting in Ceredigion seven years ago.”
Gareth ran a hand across his eyes. “I find this so hard to believe.” He loosened Gwen’s hands on his coat, reached for the stool behind him, and sat, his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen said. “If there was a way I could have told you sooner, I would have. I haven’t seen you …”
Gareth waved a hand to dismiss her apology. “It’s not your fault. But it explains the wary looks Hywel has directed at me since we returned to Aber. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done to displease him.”
“You haven’t done anything. It’s what he did,” Gwen said. “At the same time, he should have told you. He’s had months to do so.”
“But instead he left it to you. Unbelievable.” Gareth shook his head. And then against all expectation, he found laughter bubbling up in his chest.
“You find this funny?” Gwen said.
Gareth managed to get his amusement under control. He gestured to Enid’s body. “There’s a dead girl on the floor. My choice is to laugh or to cry.”
Even Gwen smiled at that.
“All right.” Gareth leaned back on the stool so his back touched the wall, clasped his hands behind his head, and stretched out his legs. “Because Hywel murdered Anarawd, you think that he might have murdered Enid?”
“If you’ve killed once …”
“Now, that is funny,” Gareth said. “You do realize that Hywel has killed far more than once and so have I? So have half the men here. More than half.”
“We just have to consider the possibility,” Gwen said. “If he lied to us once, he can lie to us again.”
“Not without feeling guilty about it,” Gareth said, “and having it show in his face. Because that’s what I’ve sensed from him, although I didn’t know it until now. Guilt.”
“I didn’t know Hywel was capable of feeling guilt,” Gwen said.
Gareth coughed a laugh. “He wouldn’t feel guilt for the murder, mind you. But for the lie. I imagine he feels Anarawd’s death quite justified.”
“That’s what he said.”
Gareth studied Enid’s body. “Would Hywel have paid to have his own father murdered?”
“He wasn’t here when the other incidents occurred,” Gwen said. “He could have orchestrated them, I suppose, but he was far away.”
“And why should he wish death upon his father?” Gareth said. “He would gain little from the loss of King Owain. It is Rhun, as the elding, who’d inherit the bulk of Gwynedd, for all that it will be split among every one of the sons.”
“In which case, do you think the attacks on King Owain, and Enid’s death, are related events?” Gwen said. “Absolving Hywel of the one would absolve him of the other.”
“From the first, I assumed it,” Gareth said. “Two murders, or near murders, within a few hours of each other have to be related, don’t they? But your tale of Hywel’s treachery does have me questioning that assumption.”
“Hywel took advantage of Cadwaladr’s duplicity to fulfill his own agenda,” Gwen said. “Might someone be doing that again, even if that someone isn’t Hywel?”
“Gah!” Gareth’s head hurt. All the while he’d been speaking with Gwen, his insides had been going around and around. Did he even care what Hywel had done? If Gareth had seen a son murder his father, he could imagine killing that son and covering it up too. Gareth couldn’t condone the lie, however, and it irked him to recall on what a merry chase Hywel had led them. At the same time, if Hywel had accepted fault, Cadwaladr would have gone free. That would not have been the preferred outcome.
Gwen had been watching Gareth’s face as he thought. “It’s hard to take in, isn’t it?” she said. “I remember sitting across the table from Hywel, listening to him tell me what he’d done, and all the while seeing my world come crashing down around me.”
“But it didn’t, did it?” Gareth said. “In the end, nothing has changed.”
“Nothing except my knowledge of Prince Hywel,” Gwen said.
“Every day, we grow a little older and wiser.” Gareth studied Gwen for a moment, taking in her loveliness. Her hair had come loose from her night braid, the ties on her dress weren’t threaded evenly, and one boot was unlaced. He would spend the rest of his life, striving to deserve her.
Gareth got to his feet and swept Gwen into his arms. “I love you, Gwen. I would never knowingly hurt you.”
“I know that.” To his enormous relief, she returned his embrace.
Then his eye caught Enid’s body yet again. He kissed Gwen’s forehead. “Can we talk about this later, though, when we’re not sharing a room with a dead girl?”
Chapter Seven
Having the truth out in the open allowed the pit of sickness in Gwen’s stomach to ease, just a little. She eyed Gareth as he crouched over Enid’s body. Tha
t he’d been with Enid years earlier offended Gwen to the core. The idea of sharing Gareth with anyone caused her blood to boil.
Still, Gwen could swallow her annoyance and her jealousy. Hadn’t Gareth known from the day they reencountered each other last summer that Gwen herself had almost married another man? Wasn’t marriage to another, with or without love, worse than what Gareth had done? Besides, most people would mock Gwen for chastising Gareth for his actions at all. What soldier hadn’t done as he had? In truth, Gwen didn’t know of any, least of all their lord, Prince Hywel.
Gwen consoled herself with the fact that even if Enid had still been alive, she would have proven no rival to Gwen. Gareth swore it, and even in her misery, Gwen believed him. Enid certainly didn’t pose a threat to Gwen now that she was dead.
And Enid had information to give them.
“She was strangled, wasn’t she?” Gwen said.
Gareth had his hands on either side of Enid’s head, turning it to one side and then the other. Her skin had purpled with bruising and a thin line ran across the width of her neck. “A man put his hands here.” Gareth mimicked what the man might have done, though Gareth’s fingers didn’t line up exactly with the bruises. Gareth’s hands were much larger than those of the killer.
“Let me.” Gwen knelt on the other side of the girl and put her hands where Gareth’s had been. “The murderer’s hands were only slightly bigger than mine.” And then Gwen shot Gareth a look, wondering if the moment could bear a jest about Gwen strangling Enid out of spite. Inappropriate laughter welled in her throat at the thought. She swallowed it down. “Could the killer have been a woman?”
Gareth reached forward and lifted the bird-shaped, golden pendant Enid had worn around her neck. “I suppose it’s possible, though killing by strangulation requires more strength than even some men possess.”
“Maybe that’s why Enid wears both the bruises and the serration,” Gwen said. “Our killer tried first to strangle her with his hands, and when she struggled or he feared she might wake the household, he got behind her and choked her on her own necklace.”
Gareth traced the bloody line at Enid’s throat with one finger. “You can see the indentation of the pendant in her skin.”
“It did have to be someone strong, then,” Gwen said.
“Even more, he must have been angry,” Gareth said.
Gwen stared down at Enid’s body. “We should do all we can right now. No putting it off. We don’t want to give someone a chance to steal the body before we’ve examined it fully.”
Gareth grunted as he rolled Enid onto her stomach. “Like what happened with Anarawd? You and Hywel examined him, but I didn’t get the chance.” Then he froze and looked at Gwen. “He didn’t—” At the rueful expression on Gwen’s face, Gareth added, “It was Hywel who stole Anarawd’s body?”
“He did it to hide it from you,” Gwen said. “He thinks very highly of your skills or he wouldn’t have risked it.”
Another grunt from Gareth, this time in acknowledgement.
Gwen wondered what words might be exchanged in the near future between Gareth and his lord. She’d had months to come to terms with Hywel’s treachery. She just hoped Hywel wasn’t involved in Enid’s murder. She’d be more than annoyed if he wasted their time muddying the waters with false leads or allowing them to trail after pieces of the crime he’d committed himself.
Gareth was thinking along the same lines. “I’ll speak to him. He owes me that.”
“He does,” Gwen said. “It’s as if I both trust him, and don’t trust him. I don’t know what to think about him most days.”
“It would be easier just not to know what he’d done,” Gareth said. “Why did he give you the knife, do you think? He could have snapped the blade and thrown it in the marsh.”
Gwen picked up one of Enid’s very white hands. The blood had pooled in her torso, not her extremities, indicating she’d probably died where they found her. “Because he wanted me to understand him better, to serve him with my eyes open, and because lies only beget more lies. The truth is almost always better. You said as much just now yourself. Would you rather I hadn’t told you what he’d done?”
“No,” Gareth said. “I’d just rather it wasn’t true.”
Gwen could only agree with that. “Look at this.” She’d been examining Enid’s hands, looking for signs of struggle. Enid had skin and blood under the nails of her left hand.
“She marked him,” Gareth said.
Gwen turned over Enid’s hand to look at her palm. “More than that. He marked her.” Something rigid and round, about half an inch in diameter, had pressed deep enough into the fleshy palm of Enid’s hand to leave a permanent impression in her skin.
“Is that a lion’s head?” Gareth turned his head this way and that, trying to make it out. “It looks like it was made by a seal.”
Gwen groaned. “Don’t say that!”
Gareth ignored her. “Is there anything in the trunk that could have caused it?”
Gwen rifled through the clothing at the bottom of the trunk. “Not that I can see.” The killer had all but emptied the trunk so he could fit Enid inside of it. Gwen ran her hands through the linens he’d piled on the floor. The stack had been knocked over and she straightened it while at the same time making sure nothing was hidden among the cloths.
“If she was pressed into it after she died, would the spot be so bruised?” Gwen said. “Isn’t it more likely to have been on the body of the person who killed her?”
“I’m just trying to think of everything,” Gareth said.
“Can you really tell what made it?” Gwen said. “I can’t make out the image at all. It just looks like a bunch of squiggles inside a more clearly defined circle.”
“To me too,” Gareth said. “It looks like a lion’s head only when I squint. To make a case against a man, we’d have to have the ring in our possession and match it to her palm.”
“It’s a clue, though,” Gwen said. “We’ll keep an eye out for anyone with a trio of scratches on his forearm and a ring with a raised design.” Gwen removed a linen sheet from the stack on the floor. “Let’s wrap her up.”
“Can’t we leave the servants to do it?” Gareth said, though he followed her lead by helping her spread the sheet on the floor and then lifting Enid onto it.
“This symbol, whatever it is, is too crucial a clue. I don’t want information about that impression getting out before we have a chance to question the inhabitants of the castle.”
Gareth twitched the sheet over Enid’s face and then looked into Gwen’s. “You don’t even want to show it to Prince Hywel?”
“I want to show him,” Gwen said. “But—”
“You can’t continue working for Hywel unless you can be honest with him, Gwen, even if he isn’t always honest with you,” Gareth said. “Either we trust Hywel or we don’t.”
“You haven’t had enough time to absorb all that I’ve told you—or to talk to Hywel himself,” Gwen said. “It’s not that easy—”
“If we don’t share what we know,” Gareth said, “we’re hampering ourselves before we’ve even started. To do so could put King Owain’s life at risk.”
Gwen looked down at her feet while she thought, scuffing the toe of her boot into a crack between two planks in the wooden floor. She wanted to believe Gareth. Maybe she hadn’t come to terms with Hywel’s betrayal as well as she’d thought. “All right, Gareth. We’ll do it your way.” Maybe she couldn’t trust Hywel, but she trusted Gareth, and for now that might be enough.
“We should get him to look at the mark now,” Gareth said. “The impression might fade from her skin as time goes on and her blood settles. Perhaps he’ll even recognize it.”
“First, could we—could we try something?” Gwen said. “I’ve a mind to mime what might have happened here.”
Gareth looked at her warily but pulled her closer to him. “You want me to pretend to strangle you?”
At the look on Gareth’s f
ace, Gwen laughed. She faced away from him and twitched her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn’t impede his hands. “I’m not wearing a necklace, though.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean, not ye—?” Before Gwen could finish her sentence, something dropped over her head to rest on her chest. She looked down. Gareth had placed a chain strung with a garnet ring around her neck. She twisted to look up at him and he grinned down at her. “I was going to give it to you in a few days, anyway. You should have had it years ago.”
“Gareth.” Gwen picked up the ring and studied it. The stone was the size of a pea, set in gold.
“I don’t know that this is the most appropriate time for me to give it to you.”
“I want to wear it,” Gwen said. “And solving murders is what we do, right?”
Gareth cleared his throat and then bent to kiss the base of Gwen’s neck. “Right.” The word came out a whisper. His breath sent a shiver down Gwen’s spine and she clenched the ring in her fist.
Then Gareth straightened and the moment of intimacy passed. He lifted the chain and pulled back on it until the ring just touched Gwen’s throat. “That’s good.” She felt at the ring and then along the chain. “Can you tell how it might have been? Your ring would leave a mark on my neck, the same way the pendant did on Enid’s.”
“For her pendant to mark her, he would have had to pull her back against him,” Gareth said. Because of their difference in height and strength, Gareth had little trouble clutching Gwen to him with his left arm wrapped across her chest and his right pulling on the chain. “Enid could have hung on to her killer’s left hand, trying to pry it off her right shoulder as she struggled not to choke, and possibly scratching his forearm with her nails.”
“Enid couldn’t have lasted long like this,” Gwen said.
The door behind them swung open. “Gareth!” Hywel bounded into the room.
Neither Gwen nor Gareth moved, but they did gaze at Hywel with curiosity. He stared at them for a count of three, and then slapped his thigh and laughed. “I thought—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
The Uninvited Guest Page 6