“Mostly,” Gareth said. “Is Hywel here too?”
“Yes.” Gwen gestured to the west. “Further down the line. He was really worried. We all were. Even King Owain didn’t need any persuading to send out a search party for you.”
“I’m sorry you were worried,” Gareth said.
“Given the events of the last two days, we were afraid you’d been murdered.”
“I almost was.”
“Oh, Gareth!” Gwen wrapped her arms around Gareth’s neck and pressed her cheek to his.”
“I’m glad you have Braith with you,” Gareth said. “Where did you find her?”
“She came to us at sunset, at the same time as King Owain’s hunting party,” Gwen said. “She had burrs in her coat and was a little wild-eyed, as if she’d had a rough time of it.”
“How is it that you are here?” Not that Gareth was sorry, or even genuinely surprised. The question really was how hard Hywel had tried to stop her.
“I was watching for you from the battlements,” Gwen said. “Braith intercepted the hunting party at the bridge across the Aber River. I recognized Braith and ran to meet Hywel.”
“And he didn’t balk at your coming?”
Gareth didn’t need to see her face to know that Gwen smiled. “I was dressed in cloak and boots, prepared for the outdoors. He pulled me up behind him. But what happened to you?” Gwen patted down Gareth’s arms. “Are you sure you’re not injured?”
“My head hurts,” Gareth said.
Gwen ran her fingers gently through Gareth’s hair and along his scalp. She stopped at Gareth’s hiss of pain. “You’re bleeding!” Her voice went high.
Gareth grasped her hand and pulled it from his head. “It’s a surface wound. Braith carries bandages in her saddle bags. I’ll let you use them on me before I leave you.”
Gwen had already turned toward the horse but stopped in the act of loosing one of the ties. “Leave me? Why would you leave me?”
“Because it’s safer that way. I was sent to Aber to warn the cooks that we’d killed a boar.” Gareth pointed with his chin towards the trail upon which he’d ridden earlier. “On my way home, I encountered a tree which had fallen across the path. I had to dismount to go around it, at which point a branch hit me on the head. I fell down a steep slope into a ravine.”
“Was it an accident?” Gwen said.
“No. A man wielded that branch.” Gareth wiggled his toes inside his boots. While he’d been standing talking to Gwen, his feet had turned numb from the cold, but at least he still had boots. “He left me for dead.”
“Sweet Mary.” Gwen rested her forehead against Braith’s neck. “Who is doing this?”
Gareth shook his head. “I wish I knew. It has to be someone in the hunting party.”
“Couldn’t it have been the assassin? He could have seen the company ride into the woods and when you left by yourself, followed you? You dismounted and he saw his chance.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Gareth said. “But wouldn’t it have been better for him just to hide and let me pass?”
Gwen sighed. “You would have thought so.” She put her hand to Gareth’s cheek. “I can’t believe I could be happy you fell into a ravine. Is this why you don’t want anyone to see you now? You want the culprit to think you are dead, so he thinks himself secure?”
“That’s the idea,” Gareth said.
“What if it only increases his confidence and he kills again?”
“If he has acquired a taste for murder, that is a very different matter,” Gareth said. “But I’m hoping my death makes him feel safe, and encourages him to believe he has literally gotten away with murder. If that’s the case, we’ll have a better chance of catching him.”
“What if it makes him act rashly?” Gwen said. “Cadwaladr abducted me because he thought we were closing in on him.”
Gareth shrugged. “He’s already acted rashly. But I’m not dead. If this doesn’t work, I can always come to life and we can try something else.”
Gwen took in a deep breath and let it out. “All right. What do you want me to do?”
“Can you convince Hywel to meet me near the hay barn at dawn?” Gareth said. “I’ll head there now and hide until I’m sure it’s safe to come out.”
Gwen put a hand to Gareth’s cheek. “Hywel and I will meet you at dawn. Will you be all right until then? It’s at least eight miles home.”
“I’ll make it.” He wished for a cloak, or that he’d had the foresight to pack a blanket, but he hadn’t. And Gwen needed her cloak if she were to remain out here until they gave up the search. “Do you have anything to eat?”
Gwen shook her head. “Not if you didn’t pack anything. Let me see to your head and then I’ll find Hywel. I found the linen bandages. Did you think something like this would happen?”
“I always carry them,” Gareth said. “Hywel made me a captain in his teulu in Ceredigion. I was the man who had what we needed, when we needed it, or knew where to get it.”
Gwen made him sit on a fallen log and began to roll a bandage around his head. “It might be good to ask King Owain if riding out to search for the assassin was his idea or if it was suggested by someone else.”
Gareth groaned—partly in pain, but partly at the enormity of their task. “Can you ask him?”
“I’ll try to find an opening. Or Hywel can,” Gwen said. “Nobody has talked to him about his honor guard yet, or why Enid would want to lure Lord Goronwy away from guarding his room.”
“Lady Jane said that King Owain knew Enid at one time, and that she introduced him to Cristina,” Gareth said. “It would be nice to know how well he knew her.”
“I didn’t know Enid at all in life, but I’m thinking I don’t like her in death.”
“I’d be surprised if you found any woman who liked her, barring her own mother,” Gareth said. “Lady Jane claims she was sweet and loved by everyone.”
Gwen loosed an unfeminine snort of irritation. “Loved is right.” Gwen finished wrapping his head and pressed her lips to the now-covered wound.
“Gwen—” Gareth caught her wrist. “You stay safe. No midnight rendezvous with anyone anywhere—not in the stables, in the kitchens, or outside your door. If someone wants to speak to you in private, make sure you get Hywel to come with you. You’re vulnerable alone.”
Gwen sat back on her heels. “I will do as you say.”
Gareth gazed at her. He’d been very husbandly in his warning and she’d taken it better than he’d expected. At his continued silence, Gwen added, “I promise. You’re right and I won’t argue with you about it.”
“Thank you. I’ll feel better about the work before me if I know you’re safe.”
“What are you going to do?” Gwen said.
“While you keep an eye out for our killer at Aber,” Gareth said. “I’m going to find out what our would-be assassin was doing earlier this week, and where he came from.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Stay safe, Gareth.”
They’d allowed themselves only a little more time to talk. Gareth had imparted all that he knew or had discovered that day and Gwen had done the same. Then, Gareth took Gwen’s face in his hands, kissed her, and turned away to melt into the woods, heading east. Gwen stood in silence for another dozen heartbeats, thinking of all they’d talked about and what it meant, before turning away. She tugged at Braith’s bridle to get her moving. Fortunately for Gwen, the horse hadn’t balked when her master departed nor insisted on going with him.
Gwen hadn’t needed to ask which ‘hay barn’ Gareth had meant. Hundreds dotted the countryside, but he could mean only one building, and it wasn’t really a barn. It was one of many outbuildings connected to Aber. Although King Owain was rebuilding much of Aber in stone, and its walls enclosed a space some seventy yards in diameter, it could hold only a limited number of buildings, people, and horses. Some of the less noble guests who’d come for the wedding had found lodging in the village tavern, hard by
the Aber River, but space had been made for others in a manor house that also had extensive stables, fields, and barns associated with it.
The hay barn, however, was Aber’s most remote possession, and sat over the top of Aber’s greatest and least well kept secret. In addition to the bath room that Cristina and Gwen so enjoyed, the Roman who’d originally built Aber had built escape tunnels beneath it. One led north, to the beach, and a second led south, into the mountains. The hay barn had been built over the top of the southern exit.
It was a good choice as a meeting place and would allow Hywel to gain access to Gareth without appearing to leave the castle. It might be more difficult for Gwen to get away from prying eyes, but somehow she would do it. Perhaps they could openly lodge Gareth’s horse there, since Gwen knew for a fact that the stables inside Aber and those at the manor house were full. Gwen could excuse herself to check on Braith.
Gwen picked her way through the trees, leading Braith, keeping alert for a sign of Prince Hywel. Because she’d delayed so long with Gareth, she’d fallen far behind the last line of men. Someone would notice that she had disappeared and start a search for her. It would be best if she forestalled that problem by finding Hywel first.
It was Rhun, however, whom she ran into. Literally. She was following a path that dead-ended at a screen of bushes. She heard what she thought was Hywel’s voice coming from the other side, and pushed through the brush, only to bump into Rhun’s back. He and Evan were standing together under a large, leafless oak.
“My apologies, my lord!” Gwen said.
“Gwen!” Rhun turned around, a forced smile on his face. “We were just speaking of you. Braith shook her head and snorted. Rhun patted her nose absently. “You miss your master, don’t you?”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Evan pressed his lips together in a thin line, his eyes on Gwen.
“I don’t believe Gareth is dead,” Gwen said. “I would know it if he were.”
“He was headed home,” Prince Rhun said. “He has to be somewhere in these woods.”
“But we don’t know where he fell, if he fell.” Evan kept his eyes on Gwen. “What if he was abducted, as Cadwaladr abducted you last summer?” He was speaking a painful truth and she longed to tell him that Gareth was alive. Shout it, in fact.
Instead, she said, “I know, Evan. Gareth could be miles from here by now. Without Braith, if he was conscious and was well enough to start for Aber, he’d be walking.”
“Are you saying we should give up?” Rhun said.
Hywel stepped out from behind a tree not far from where Gwen stood. “We shouldn’t give up, but perhaps we can do a better job of retracing his steps. If some of us return to the site of the hunt, we might discover the actual path he took.”
“We should have done that from the start.” Rhun’s eyes lit. The bright blue reflected the light of the torch he held, which he handed to his brother. “I’ll go.”
“I’ll gather the others.” Evan glanced once at Gwen, sorrow clear on his face, and departed with Rhun, glad to leave her presence. Gwen’s heart contracted for him, and she regretted the deception she and Gareth were going to play on everyone. At the same time, Evan had inadvertently given her exactly what she’d needed: a chance to speak to Hywel alone. Hywel glanced behind him, as if he too wanted to flee, so Gwen stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “He found me.”
Hywel ducked his head so his nose was inches from hers and matched her whisper for whisper. “What did you say?”
Gwen tugged Hywel away from the bushes in case an unseen hunter passed by close enough to hear. “I’ve just seen Gareth. He was hit on the head on purpose—and left for dead. Gareth thinks it best if he stays dead.”
Hywel glanced away, his brow furrowed. “What’s his plan? How can he be useful to me if he’s dead? It would mean he can’t return to Aber.”
“Exactly,” Gwen said. “If the murderer thinks he’s safe from detection, he’ll remain at the castle, leaving Gareth free to hunt for clues he’s left behind.”
“What do you mean—clues?”
“From whence did the poppy juice come, for example? And if our lost assassin is who you think he is—yes, Gareth told me just now—then he must have left traces of himself across Gwynedd. He had to sleep somewhere, right? Talk to someone?”
Hywel nodded. “So that’s it. He hunts our murderer from the outside, while we keep asking questions on the inside. I approve, but—” he gestured to the woods, “I have a dozen men and dogs here. He would have me hunt in vain to keep up his masquerade?”
“Yes.”
Hywel snorted a laugh. “Gareth has spent too long in my company.” But then he nodded again. “He’ll need supplies.”
“He wants us to meet him at the hay barn at dawn.”
“Then we’d better hurry. We have much to do before then.” Hywel turned and raised a hand to his mouth. “Gruffydd! Where are you, man? Come here!”
Ten heartbeats later, a man entered the clearing from the east and trotted up to the prince, breathless. “Yes, my lord?”
“Find my brother and tell him that I have escorted Gwen back to Aber. She can’t—” he glanced at Gwen, calculation in his eyes, “—she can’t search anymore.”
Gwen hastily arranged her features in a mask of grief.
Gruffydd nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Hywel passed his torch to Gruffydd, flicked a hand at Gwen indicating that she should mount Braith, and pulled himself onto his own horse which he’d left to crop whatever grass the beast could find under the trees. “Let’s go.”
They rode the miles back to Aber faster than Gwen had ever ridden in the dark, faster even than when she and Gareth had come to Aber together last summer after the death of King Anarawd. Still, it was after midnight before the gatehouse loomed above them. King Owain had set a watch, as usual, and a man-at-arms was there to greet them.
“Rain’s coming,” he said as he let them through the wicket gate.
Gwen sniffed the air. It did feel warmer than an hour ago. She was glad for Gareth’s sake, since he didn’t have a cloak. She hoped that the rain would hold off long enough for him to reach the hay barn.
Once inside Aber, the extent of the garrison’s concern for Gareth’s well-being was clear in the number of men on watch and the bristling of spears on the battlement. A stable boy ran across the courtyard, his boots pounding hollowly on the hard-packed earth.
Even Gwen’s father had stayed awake. He came out of the guardhouse and caught Braith’s bridle as Gwen reined in. “You didn’t find him?” Meilyr tipped his head to look into Gwen’s face and his eyes glinted in the torchlight that flared on either side of the gate.
Gwen bit her lip. She hadn’t counted on an outright lie—to her father of all people—first thing.
Hywel came to her rescue. “The men found neither him nor his body.” He dismounted and then helped Gwen to the ground. She stood in front of her father, shivering, while the stable boy took Braith’s reins.
Hywel and she had agreed during the ride that they would meet in his office as soon as feasible. Gwen would collect food from the kitchen and clothing from Gareth’s room, and Hywel would see to his other gear—cloak, blanket, horse, and Gareth’s sword, which was at that moment disappearing into the stables on Braith’s back.
Hywel gave Gwen a knowing look and stalked after the stable boy. Gwen took a step towards the hall, but her father caught her arm, hauling her back. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
“Father—”
“Your impulse is to lie to me. Don’t.”
Gwen couldn’t remember the last time her father had looked at her so intensely. He was concerned—concerned for her, and for Gareth. “I don’t want to lie to you,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be awake, so I wasn’t prepared to answer you.”
Meilyr glared at her. “You thought I’d sleep while you—my only daughter—searched through the night for her betrothed, the man who will be my so
n? Do you think so little of me?”
“It’s not that—”
“I should hope not!”
But it was exactly that. She and her father could go for days without speaking more than a few words to each other in passing, usually having to do with the music they performed. Since her mother died, she’d felt little towards her father but animosity. It was only recently, since meeting Gareth again and after the events of last summer, that the frost that she’d thought permanent between them had begun to thaw.
It seemed her father intended to start a fire. “Father, please.” Gwen made a shushing motion with her hand and lowered her voice. “I am well. And so is—” She stopped and met her father’s eyes. He gazed back at her and understanding passed between them. “Please don’t ask about Gareth.”
The lines around Meilyr’s mouth eased. He released her wrist and stepped back. “Do what you must, my dear. Just tell me this … are you truly well?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then I am too. I will not question or hinder you.”
“Thank you.” The words caught in Gwen’s throat, and then she surprised herself by throwing her arms around her father’s neck and hugging him. He might have been as stunned as she because it took him a moment to respond. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
“You’re a good girl,” he said.
They released each other and Gwen hurried away, afraid to look at her father’s face. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched each other. It must have been years ago. She tried to swallow her emotions but found tears pricking at her eyes. These deaths, coupled with Gareth’s disappearance, had her off-kilter.
Just as she told herself this, she stopped, half-in and half-out of the side door that led to Hywel’s office. What if something happened to her father before she had a chance to clear the air between them? Touching him was only a first step. She looked back. Meilyr stood where she’d left him, gazing after her. Gwen hesitated, about to run back and say something—anything—that would let him know that she didn’t hate him anymore and had always regretted the long silence between them.
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