Seeking to murder his own father was another matter, but again, what would Hywel gain from such a move? It was Rhun to whom the people of Wales would turn first and the notion that Rhun was involved in something treacherous should have been a nonstarter before the idea could fully form. Hywel might be a duplicitous bastard, but he knew as well as anyone that at only twenty-three, he was not ready to rule Wales the way his father did. Were King Owain to die now, the other barons would tear the country apart between them. Hywel would be lucky to hold onto Ceredigion.
“Why would Enid lie?” Jane said.
Jane’s question snapped Gareth back to the garden. “I’m sorry to ask this, Lady Jane,” Gareth said, “but did Enid lie … often?”
Jane pressed her lips together and looked away. Gareth had touched a nerve. From what her expression gave away, Jane didn’t even have to answer, though she eventually did. “Enid was a bit wild. But so loving, so kind to everyone. It was just that sometimes the truth got in the way of the stories in her head.”
Hywel held out his elbow to Jane. “Let me escort you to the solar, Lady Jane. Afterwards, I’ll send a servant to you with a cup of wine. I promise that we will find the man who killed your daughter.”
Jane took Hywel’s arm with one hand and patted him with the other. “You always were a nice boy. I shouldn’t have called you a bastard.”
“I am one,” Hywel said, gently. “I was not offended.” As he walked away, however, he looked over Jane’s head to Gareth and mouthed the words my office.
Gareth nodded. But before he could meet Hywel there, Gareth needed to collect Gwen. After a quick survey of the stables, hall, and kitchen, he found her in one of the pantries, huddled among the cheeses with her brother, Gwalchmai. She looked up as he poked his nose through the curtain that provided the only door. It was a relief to see her smile at him. Every other person he’d encountered while searching for Gwen had greeted him with wary looks. Nobody had been glad to see him coming. Nobody wanted to answer his questions.
“We needed some place private.” Gwen sat on a low stool while her brother perched on an overturned crate. It was cold in the pantry and both had wrapped their cloaks around their bodies and tucked their hands inside to keep them warm.
“I can see that,” Gareth said. “No explanation is necessary, at least not to me. Did you discover something?”
“Gwalchmai has,” Gwen said.
Gareth gave him a hard look. Gwalchmai seemed to have grown two inches since Gareth had seen him last. That couldn’t be good news for Meilyr if Gwalchmai’s voice was about to change. Gareth hadn’t heard it in his singing last night, but from the boy’s changing shape, it was only a matter of time. “You’re not taking after your sister, are you?”
“Of course not,” Gwen said.
Gwalchmai shot Gwen a nervous glance before clearing his expression. Gareth looked from one to another. He took one step down into the room, and let go of the door frame. “You’ve been working for her, haven’t you, Gwalchmai?”
Gwalchmai swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Gareth turned on Gwen. “This isn’t a game, Gwen. What if he uncovered something that got him hurt? You were taken to Dublin because of such a misunderstanding!”
“I know that, Gareth.” Gwen’s voice was all patience. “But he was spying at the keyholes anyway. Nobody notices a small boy—”
“I was twelve two months ago!”
Gwen ignored the outrage in her brother’s voice “—even one as remarkable as Gwalchmai. I can’t stop him from listening in on conversations he shouldn’t be a party to, but I can teach him to be smarter about what he hears.”
Gareth chewed on his lip as he studied her. She’d crossed her arms across her chest and her chin stuck out. He turned on his heel to look at Gwalchmai. “All right. I’ll listen. What did you discover?”
Gwalchmai leaned forward eagerly. “You know what it feels like to stand at the front of the hall when it’s full, right? You can see everything. Everyone turns towards you and sometimes each face is a blur, and sometimes it’s like you can see what each person is thinking.”
Gwalchmai shot Gwen a nervous glance but she nodded to him. Gareth nodded too, though not with the same understanding as Gwen, who patted Gwalchmai’s knee to urge him on.
“Last night, during King Owain’s speech, I watched faces. Enid got up from her seat while King Owain was speaking and walked out of the hall. She didn’t return until after the attempted murder. Father and I were well into our singing by then.”
Gareth turned to Gwen. “Why would Enid leave in the middle of King Owain’s speech?”
“There’s more.” Gwalchmai looked down at his feet and Gareth could see his toes wiggling beneath the leather. “I … uh … asked around a bit afterwards.”
“You didn’t!” Gwen said. “I told you not to stick your neck out!”
Gareth didn’t say I told you so, though he would have been justified in doing so. Instead, he said, “You might as well tell us what you discovered.”
“She met with a man, by the corner of the stables. Alun was just coming from the latrine when he saw them. It was dark and the man had his hood up so Alun didn’t recognize him.”
“That’s not so unusual—either the meeting with the man or Alun not knowing him,” Gwen said. “Enid met with many men, apparently” (she had the grace not to look at Gareth) “and Aber is full of men I don’t know.”
Gwalchmai shrugged. “Maybe so, but Alun said the man pressed something into her hand and disappeared back into the stables. Alun was in a hurry, since he knew he was missing King Owain’s speech too. He didn’t think of it again until I started asking questions.”
“Of whom did you ask questions, Gwalchmai?” Gwen said.
“Not too many people,” Gwalchmai said. “All I had to do was bring up the dead girl, and that she was beautiful …”
“Did you mention that you saw her leave the hall?” Gareth tried to keep the urgency out of his tone so as not to scare the boy, but by the wary look on Gwalchmai’s face, he didn’t think he was entirely successful.
“Only after Alun said something about seeing her last night,” Gwalchmai said. “I swear it!”
“Who else was with you when you spoke to Alun?” Gwen said.
Gwalchmai’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Iorwerth, of course, plus some other men in the garrison who sat at the table. Prince Rhun stopped by at one point, I think. Lord Taran and Lord Tomos were sitting at the far end with several men from King Owain’s teulu. Nobody to worry about. I wouldn’t have said anything at all if Prince Cadwaladr had been there.”
Gareth eyed Gwalchmai. He was innocent enough that he hadn’t balked at saying that name, the one they’d been trying so hard not to think on. “Have you heard anything to suggest that Cadwaladr is behind the attack on the king, or the murder of Enid?”
“I don’t know if he killed Enid, but rumor has it that he hired the man who tried to kill King Owain,” Gwalchmai said. “It has to have been him. That’s what everyone is saying.”
Gareth clapped Gwalchmai on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gwalchmai. Your information is extremely helpful.”
“I do know how to be discreet. I promise,” Gwalchmai said.
Gareth grunted his not-quite-approval and held out his arm for Gwen to take. As they headed back through the kitchen, she said what he’d been thinking. “I wouldn’t be sorry if it were him, but Cadwaladr does make a convenient scapegoat, doesn’t he? It would be easy enough to whisper Cadwaladr’s name here and there and get people talking.”
“Makes you wonder if the real killer has thought of that, doesn’t it?” Gareth said.
Chapter Nine
Gwen and Gareth stopped dead in their tracks as they entered the great hall. If they’d thought it full when they’d left it with Hywel and Taran to inspect the assassin’s cell, it was packed to the rafters now. It appeared as if everyone had been waiting for one of them to come through the hall, because their join
t arrival brought half the crowd to their feet, craning their necks to see who had come in, while the other half elbowed a neighbor in hopes of discovering one tiny scrap of information that they hadn’t known before.
“What’s happening?” Prince Rhun had been seated on the dais with several of Cristina’s bridesmaids—Mari and Rhiannon among them—but now scooted back his chair and approached Gareth and Gwen. “We have to tell our guests something.
“I don’t know what to tell them,” Gareth said. “A man—a boy, really—tried to murder your father last night, and now we have the dead body of Cristina’s cousin, Enid, to deal with.”
“And I hear the assassin has escaped and Lord Goronwy was found in the cell in his place!” Rhun said. “I was assuring Rhiannon just now that it couldn’t be true.”
“It is true that the assassin escaped,” Gwen said. “But I have no idea how the nonsense about Lord Goronwy got started. He was ill this morning, but is in his own room.”
Prince Rhun gazed at the two of them, his hands on his hips and his mouth working, though no sound came out. So rarely was this prince discomfited that Gwen didn’t know how to respond to him. “People are wondering if they should fear for their lives,” Rhun said. “We could have a panicked run for the gate if we’re not careful.”
“Your father can’t allow everyone to leave,” Gareth said. “The one thing we do know is that one of them—one of the people in the hall right now—is the killer.”
Rhun smoothed his mustache along his cheeks. The motion caught Gwen’s attention and she focused on his fingers. She’d never noticed how small Rhun’s hands were. Gareth’s were like serving platters in comparison. She stared at them, finding her throat closing over the words of comfort she’d been planning to say. To her relief, Rhun neither wore a raised ring nor had fresh scratches along his left forearm, which his open sleeve revealed.
“Gwen?” Rhun looked at her closely.
She shook herself. “For what it’s worth, we don’t believe everyone is in danger. These attacks were not random, my lord. They have purpose. We will find the pattern. It’s just that it’s only been a few hours since we found Enid. We need more time.”
Rhun turned his head to gaze at the crowd of guests, who seemed to have settled somewhat as Gwen and Gareth talked with Rhun. “My father is worried. We have to do something.”
“We’re doing all we can,” Gareth said.
“Of course you are.” Although Rhun’s jaw clenched, he forced a smile—perhaps to show confidence and unconcern to his people who were watching him—and clapped a hand on Gareth’s shoulder. “And I’m keeping you. Continue your work.”
By the time Gwen found a stool in Hywel’s office, she’d convinced herself that she was crazed to think Rhun had anything to do with Enid’s murder. The man was as close to an innocent as a prince could be.
Gareth leaned against the wall by the window, his arms folded across his chest. The silence between them stretched out as they waited for Hywel to return from settling Lady Jane. Gwen studied the grains in the wood floor. She could keep herself entertained for a long time with them if it meant she didn’t have to think difficult thoughts. While she and Gareth had been busy over the last hours, they’d had no trouble talking, but now that they were alone and quiet, it wasn’t so easy.
Gwen picked up a biscuit from the remains of the breakfast Hywel had left on his desk. “Do we know anything at all, for sure?”
“I know I want to marry you,” Gareth said.
Gwen stopped with the biscuit half-way to her mouth. She set it down. “Do you really?” All of a sudden, tears pricked at her eyes and she bent her head to hide them. A fat droplet plopped onto the fabric of her dress.
Gareth left the wall and knelt on one knee in front of her. “Yes, Gwen. My feelings for you haven’t changed. Not in five years. Do you believe me?”
Gwen nodded, though she still didn’t look at Gareth. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Why did all this have to happen now?” A wail of self-pity rose in her throat.
“Murder and treachery has never been rare in a royal court, Gwen. You know that.” He reached up and caught a tear from the tip of Gwen’s eyelash. “It’s just our bad luck to have two so close together that require our attention.” Gareth ducked his head. “Do you still want to marry me?”
“Yes,” Gwen said, sure of that at least, if she was sure of nothing else.
Gareth stood, lifting her to her feet. He ran a finger along the line of her jaw, and then bent his head to kiss her.
She clutched at his shoulders, her head spinning as he released her. “It is a little strange to think we could be married in a few days,” she said. “Owain and Cristina have had nothing but uproar around their wedding plans.”
“What would a wedding at Aber be without a murder?” Gareth said.
Gwen gave him a teary smile. “True.”
“Do you want a big wedding with many guests, too?” Gareth said. “We could delay as long as needed to prepare—”
Gwen shook her head. “No, no. I don’t want that.”
Gareth took her face in his hands. “I want you to wear my ring. I want you to be my wife. How that comes about matters not at all to me as long as it does.”
“Have you spoken to my father since you returned?” Gwen said.
Gareth barked a laugh. “I knew I’d forgotten something.” He rolled his eyes, making Gwen laugh too. “With all this going on, I never mentioned it—”
Pounding feet and shouts came along the corridor, reaching a crescendo as they neared their door.
“Oh no,” Gwen said. “More? It’s not even noon!”
Gareth turned towards the door. Gwen plopped back onto her seat. They’d know soon enough what had happened and how bad it was. Sure enough, a moment later, Evan appeared in the doorway. “Lord Hywel said I could find you here. He requests your presence.”
“I bet he does,” Gwen said, under her breath.
Gareth shot Gwen a quelling look. She smiled back at him beatifically.
“What’s happened now?” Gareth said to Evan.
Evan shook his head. “Just come.”
They followed him into the great hall where King Owain was waving his hands above his head, trying to get the crowd around him to be quiet. At the sight of Gwen and Gareth, he gestured over the heads of the onlookers and the pair shoved forward to reach him.
“Look at that.” King Owain said, pointing to a twisted effigy of two dolls—him and Cristina presumably—hanging inside the massive fireplace. The dolls had been singed all along their length. “The curse again. It seems to have come as an uninvited guest to my wedding. I have no choice but to postpone the ceremony now.”
“Owain! My lord, no! Don’t say that!” Cristina edged through the far doorway and planted herself in front of the King.
Gwen had been thinking a great deal about her own wedding yet had all but forgotten that this wedding was supposed to take place by early afternoon that very day. Cristina must have been crawling the walls, wondering whether or not she should array herself accordingly.
King Owain took her arm. “Cristina—”
“It’s so unfair! I want to be married!” Cristina stomped her foot and then silenced the hall by bursting into tears. Gwen could hardly blame her, since she’d been weeping a moment ago herself. Cristina looked into the king’s face, tears tracking down her cheeks. “We could still marry this evening, couldn’t we? We don’t have to let this stop us.”
King Owain kissed Cristina’s forehead. He usually gave in to Cristina’s requests so Gwen thought he might agree, but he just shook his head. “It would be unseemly, Cristina. Enid was your cousin. And now this …” He looked as helpless as Gwen had ever seen him.
“But—”
“The church already opposes our union,” King Owain said. “What would the priests say if they knew we began our life together on the heels of a murder, not to mention an attempt on my life? It cannot be. Our marriage
will happen, but not today.”
“Oh, Owain!” Cristina threw herself into King Owain’s arms. “I love you so much!”
King Owain stroked her hair while Cristina dried her tears on his shirt. He glared at Gwen and Gareth over the top of her head. “Find him.” He pointed with his chin towards the open fireplace. “Someone is behind this. He must not be allowed to act again.”
Gareth and Gwen nodded. Neither would ever deny the reasonableness of one of the king’s requests, especially not with two hundred people watching. “Yes, my lord,” Gareth said.
King Owain leaned in so the crowd couldn’t hear him, his voice quieter but no less intense. “What am I to do?”
Gwen gaped at him, surprised he would ask them, but at the same time, whom could he ask? In this, even King Owain was in uncharted waters. The murders of last summer, though horrific, didn’t hit as close to home as Enid’s death did. A servant had died at Aber in August, but she was the woman who’d poisoned Gareth. They’d known why she’d been murdered from the instant they found her. It had just taken them some time to find out who had done the deed.
“We have suspects, my lord,” said Gareth. “Too many.”
“I’m not going to make the same mistake I made with you last summer. I will hang the culprit in the gallows field, but not without solid proof.” King Owain leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Not when the primary suspects are my friend and my brother.”
He meant Taran and Cadwaladr. “Perhaps my father and Gwalchmai could be persuaded to sing?” Gwen said. “It would give the people something to occupy their thoughts.”
King Owain snapped his fingers. “An excellent idea, my dear.” He was still holding Cristina, who sobbed quietly into his chest, and he squeezed her once. “A cup of mead and a song will calm everyone’s nerves.”
Then he waved a hand towards Gareth and Gwen, dismissing them. Obediently, they turned away, to find Hywel standing inches from them. They stopped. He flicked his eyes towards the front door and they followed him through it. He led them across the courtyard and into the barracks, to a tiny room in which a body lay face up on a narrow table.
The Uninvited Guest Page 8