The fact that Brother Siawn was involved at all was disconcerting too. All things being equal, Gareth would have kept whatever questions Gwen had about the poison plant within Gwynedd. Though he hadn’t dismissed his wife’s concerns, the idea of Meleri or Old Nan having anything to do with murder was absurd.
And yet … Gwen’s instincts were usually good, and he’d be a fool to ignore them. Especially if she turned out to be right.
“I can’t leave. Cadell will notice.”
“Why would he?” Gwen’s eyes were on Hywel, who’d remained on the steps of the church next to Lord William. “Prince Hywel and my father are going to sing something beautiful, and nobody will be wondering what happened to the captain of Hywel’s teulu or the Dragons.”
“We’re lucky nobody has yet wondered why there aren’t six Dragons,” Gareth said, feeling sour.
“We keep moving so nobody can count us,” Evan said in all seriousness.
“Has Angharad said anything about where Gruffydd and Stephen have gone?” Gwen asked him.
“She noticed they were missing, of course, but I told her I would tell her everything when we reached Aberystwyth.”
Gareth laughed. “And she’s newly in love enough to have accepted it.”
“Have you seen Old Nan?” Gwen stood on her toes to look for herself, but there were too many tall men around her to see much of anything.
“No, but I saw Meleri,” Evan said.
Gwen glanced again to Prince Hywel, who’d been joined by Angharad. The girl’s eyes were on their little group, but Evan gave her a quick shake of his head, and she stayed where she was.
“Can we go now?” Gwen asked her husband.
“I still don’t have a good idea as to how. My horse is in the stable, as is yours.”
“Ours aren’t,” Evan said. “We’ll ride double.”
It wasn’t that Gareth didn’t want to pursue Gwen’s idea. He wanted nothing more. But his—and now Gwen’s—encounter with Anselm had made him very wary. What’s more, he didn’t see Anselm here, which meant he was out there, somewhere, causing mischief. Gwen might be right that the treasure—or even the poison—could be found in Old Nan’s garden, but if Old Nan was there alone, she would be vulnerable to Anselm. The spy was up to something, and all day Gareth had felt as if at any moment he might find an arrow between his shoulder blades.
Evan motioned with his head and, without having to do anything more, caught the attention of the other Dragons.
Taking Gwen’s arm, Gareth led her around the edge of the crowd, which was growing larger by the moment as everyone from village, castle, and farm arrived for the service. A mass would be sung, they’d bury the dead, and then attend another meal up at the castle—though Gareth didn’t know how many people would actually eat. He still hadn’t eaten anything produced by that kitchen other than bread. But perhaps everyone would come anyway, trusting, as they had to, that their king would keep them safe.
Fortunately, Hywel had far more men to guard him than just the Dragons. As the captain of Hywel’s teulu, Gareth had fifty men at his disposal, and he found Rhodri and Goch near the stable. “Prince Hywel is in your hands.”
Rhodri narrowed his eyes. “Anything we need to know about?” His tone was so flat it almost wasn’t a question.
“Not yet.”
The corner of Rhodri’s mouth twitched. “We’ll take good care of the prince.”
“I know you will.”
They had to fight against the flow of people in the courtyard in order to reach the main gate. Gareth had caught Hywel’s eye before heading out, and he could see the frustration in the prince’s face that Gareth was going and he wasn’t. In the end, the size of the crowd turned out to be an advantage because there were just too many people to keep track of, and they arrived on the road where one of the stable boys was standing with the Dragons’ horses without being hailed or stopped.
Except by Prince Rhys, who stepped out from behind a tree and glared at them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Solving your brother’s problems for him, that’s what.” Gareth wasn’t feeling particularly charitable to Rhys at the moment, though in truth he liked this young prince. “You can come if you promise not to get in the way.”
The look of surprise on Rhys’s face, in and of itself, was almost worth any inconvenience having him along might cause. Gareth grinned, turned to boost Gwen onto a horse, and then mounted behind her. Siawn and Saran shared a mount, and then the Dragons shared the final two horses. Cadoc and Aron rode off at a canter, soon disappearing around a far bend. They were the advance guard, few as they were.
Two miles later, the rest of them turned into the yard in front of Old Nan’s house, only to hear screeches and shouts coming from behind the garden wall. Gareth hastily dismounted from his horse and ran to the entrance to find Old Nan, a shovel raised above her head, raging at Aron, who’d fallen on his back in the dirt. Before she could bring the shovel down, Gareth caught the handle just above where she held it in her fists.
“What is going on here?” He looked into her eyes and saw rage looking back at him. Gareth was shocked enough to step back, but not so much that he released his hold on the shovel.
“He attacked me!”
Aron gasped. “I found her digging up that patch. There’s silver in there.” He pointed with his chin to a wheelbarrow set to one side of the garden plot where a silver candlestick stuck up from the dirt.
“The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Old Nan said. “All I was doing was digging in my patch, working the soil, when he grabbed me from behind!”
Between one breath and the next, Old Nan had wrapped herself up again in her cloak of blindness.
But Gareth couldn’t forget what he’d seen in her eyes. She’d seen him. “Who are you, really?”
“I’m Nan.” The reply was tart, and she stared at a point over his right shoulder, just as she’d done the day they’d met.
Gareth set her on her bench by the wall while the Dragons set to work on the garden plot, working quickly to haul silver pieces and gold plate out of the ground.
Before Prince Rhys could get to work too, Gareth pulled him away from the treasure. “How long has Old Nan lived two miles from Dinefwr Castle?”
“I don’t know exactly. I do know that her sister lived here, and she came to stay with her before my stepbrother died,” Rhys said. “Her sister died at some point later, and she stayed on.”
That was not very specific, but Gareth left the prince overseeing the treasure and found Gwen, Saran, and Siawn standing in front of a two-foot-high bush growing behind a row of trellised beans.
“That’s Daphne?”
Siawn sighed. “Indeed.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t have made a difference had anyone remembered it sooner.” Gareth stared at the plant, trying not to sound accusatory. “It’s really that poisonous?”
“In my defense, it is rare.” Saran approached the plant and reached down to feel the soil. “Does it look to you like someone tried to dig it up recently and gave up?”
Gareth bent and ran his fingers through the earth as Saran had done. Like the plot where the treasure had been hidden, the soil was freshly turned. “Perhaps halfway through trying to remove it, the murderer decided it was best to leave it where it was rather than risk the attention caused by its absence.”
Then Gareth looked to where Old Nan was sitting, up against the garden wall but fifty paces away. “She has to be fooling us. She can’t really be blind.”
“She seems blind, Gareth,” Gwen said.
“You didn’t see the way she looked at me earlier when she was in a rage.”
“She’s very protective of her garden.” Gwen took in a breath. “You have to admit that if she can see, she has maintained an incredibly convincing act for many years. Why would she do that? Why would anyone?”
Gareth looked at his wife. “If she can see, it’s an incredibly effective front. She can go an
ywhere, do anything, everyone is solicitous, and nobody questions her or her motives.” He was suspicious enough of Nan at this point that he was considering the idea she’d been sent into Deheubarth on the trail of the treasure all those years ago—by Empress Maud perhaps, or Earl Robert, or even King Stephen in the same way Anselm spied for Cadell or Gwen for Hywel, though Gareth would never put his wife in the same category. A blind old woman was the perfect disguise, allowing her a freedom of movement afforded to few others.
Gwen still looked uncertain—and maybe even a little concerned about Gareth’s sanity.
“It has to be her,” Gareth insisted. “She’s a more likely candidate than Meleri!”
“I don’t know, Gareth—”
“Let’s find out.” He cast around for something to throw that had weight to it, but not so much it would hurt. He came up with a round seed pod and walked to within ten paces of Old Nan. He studied her for a moment, and then called her name, “Old Nan!”
As her head swiveled towards him, he threw the pod towards her face. Old Nan’s hand came up in an instinctive move only a sighted person would make. As she caught the pod, her face was again transformed by hate—and then she made a dash for the door.
Chapter Thirty-two
Gwen
While Rhys stayed behind with Iago, Aron, and Cadoc to finish digging up the treasure, Siawn, Saran, Gareth, Evan, and Gwen took Old Nan back to the monastery. Gwen was relieved the mass hadn’t ended, so they didn’t have to bring Old Nan through a crowd.
Once inside the main gate, Gareth and Evan led Old Nan towards the guesthouse, which had a large common room that would serve as their interrogation chamber for now, and Gwen ran to the entrance to the church. The vestibule was deserted except for men of Hywel’s teulu, and she approached Rhodri, who was standing guard at the entrance to the nave. “I’m looking for Meleri.”
“Who?”
Gwen gritted her teeth in frustration. Most of the people from Gwynedd who’d met Meleri yesterday had been left back at Old Nan’s place. Then Gwen spied Richard de Clare, who was standing just inside the entrance to the nave, rather than up at the front with the other lords. She sidled up to him. “Have you seen Meleri?”
Richard raised his eyebrows, giving every indication that he was ready for adventure once again, and tipped his head to the right. “She’s standing among Dinefwr’s servants.”
This group was clustered at the back of the nave, the few of them that were still alive, since their ranks had been hard hit by the poison. Gwen didn’t see Meleri at first, but then she turned her head, in the way people do when they’re being watched, even though Gwen had done nothing to draw attention. At the sight of Gwen, Meleri smiled beatifically and waved like Tangwen might.
Gwen waved back, motioning that Meleri should come to her, and when she reached Gwen, she whispered. “Do you like my dress? Caron gave it to me.”
“It’s lovely,” Gwen said sincerely. There was no point in disturbing Meleri’s equilibrium and a great deal to be gained by keeping it. The mass was ending anyway, and as Meilyr raised his voice in song, the people began to follow Abbot Mathew and a line of monks out the door that led to the graveyard rather than the courtyard. Gwen caught Meleri’s elbow. “Come this way with me.”
Meleri followed happily, crossing the courtyard to the guesthouse. Her cheerful demeanor remained until just across the threshold, when she faltered at the sight of Old Nan sitting in a chair pulled out from the long table.
Gwen, who was holding Meleri’s elbow, spoke to her gently. “It’s all right. She can’t hurt you.”
Old Nan glared across the room at Meleri, proving without a doubt she could see just fine.
“What’s going on here?” King Cadell spoke from behind Gwen.
Gwen turned to see the king with Richard, who gave Gwen a sheepish look, implying it was his fault the lords were here instead of at the burial.
“We’ve found your murderer, my lord,” Gwen said, moving with Meleri to one side to allow him to enter. “You’re just in time to hear the story.”
A quarter of an hour later, the guest hall common room was full of angry men suffering through various shades of disbelief as Gwen and Gareth took turns relating each step of the investigation, up to the finding of the treasure in Old Nan’s garden. Siawn, backed up by Saran, even came forth and spoke of the Daphne, the nature of its poison, and what would have been needed to turn the berries to poison.
All the while, Old Nan glared at all and sundry in angry defiance.
Cadell planted himself in front of her. “Who do you work for?”
She laughed up at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Cadell backhanded her across the face, an act that was met with shocked silence by everyone else in the room. She was a murderer and a liar, but everyone had spent years thinking of her as a blind old woman. “Tell me!”
Old Nan pressed her wounded cheek to her shoulder and didn’t answer. Her hands were tied behind her back, but if they hadn’t been, Gwen was sure she would have made a rude gesture at the king.
Gwen had sat Meleri in a chair by the fire, and after Siawn had finished his part of the story, he’d hurried off to his workshop to find the salve for her rash that Gwen had promised her earlier. Even Cadell, whose face was as red as the fire, knew better than to shout at Meleri, and so he allowed Gwen to put the first questions to her. “How did you hurt your hands?”
“There was a plant,” Meleri said immediately. The exchange between Cadell and Old Nan had widened her eyes, but the display of violence directed at Old Nan appeared to have made her less afraid of the older woman rather than more. “Old Nan had me help her collect the berries. She didn’t want to touch them.”
Gwen could see why. “What did she do with them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you do other things for her, Meleri?”
“I put a vial in Meicol’s pack.” She smiled, proud of herself. “And I gave him a tart.”
“A tart Old Nan made?”
She nodded. “I told him I made it, though.”
“Why would you tell him that?”
“Old Nan told me to.”
Gwen glanced quickly around the room. Several of the men were standing with their hands to their chins, well aware of the significance of what Meleri was telling them. “Did Meicol know about the treasure, Meleri?”
She frowned as she thought. “I don’t know.”
“How did Old Nan find out about it?”
“I don’t know.” Then Meleri smiled sweetly. “I did a good job helping her move it though.” She looked up at Gwen, her eyes bright. “She’s not really blind, you know.”
“So we gathered,” Gareth said dryly.
Gwen shot him a quelling look and then turned back to Meleri. “I’m sure you were very helpful. This was from Alban’s cellar to her garden?”
Meleri nodded. “So many pretty things.” She brightened again. “She gave me my own tart as a reward, but I don’t like currants, so I didn’t eat it.”
Gwen’s breath caught in her throat, knowing how close to dying Meleri had come.
Meleri went on, unaware of the horror in the room. “I didn’t tell her because Caron says when you tell people you don’t like something they give you, it makes them feel bad.”
“Caron is right.”
“She also says it’s wrong to take other people’s things or reveal their secrets.” Meleri smiled up at Gwen. “I keep everybody’s secrets, don’t I?”
“You do.”
Meleri’s innocence was unfeigned and had all the men in the room believing every word she said. Her story, though very different from Barri’s, made perfect sense.
Then Gwen saw Gareth whisper in Evan’s ear. Evan nodded and left.
What they needed now was Old Nan’s story, and maybe that would finally tell them why Meicol had died. Barri hadn’t even known he was involved. To that end, Cadell planted himself in front of Old Nan. “We have enough
to hang you now, and believe me I will if you don’t talk.”
“You will anyway.”
“Perhaps.” Cadell canted his head. “You are a spy, and if your master wants you badly enough, I might have the need to ransom or trade you instead.”
Equally with hanging, that would be a Norman thing to do. Rhys moved to his brother’s side. “Tell us what you did, Nan. You kept yourself hidden all these years for a reason. For someone. Who?”
Nan’s eyes narrowed at the young prince. “I’ve always said you were too clever by half.”
“So are you, apparently,” Rhys said. “Come on. What do you have to lose? Tell us what you did and what you planned. Let us see how clever you were. You certainly pulled the wool over our eyes all these years.”
Nan laughed mockingly. “I did that.” Her eyes went past Cadell and Rhys. “Where’s that smart young man from Gwynedd?”
Gareth raised a hand from where he was leaning against the wall, out of the way. “I’m here.”
“You’re the only one who guessed. Are you proud of yourself?”
“People are dead. Are you?”
Old Nan burst into laughter. Then she gestured with her head. “Look at all of you. So serious! So blinded! Yes, I gave the tart to Meleri to give to Meicol. Yes, I poisoned a castle full of people. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“We want to know why,” Gwen said from beside Meleri.
Old Nan snorted. “Because I could! I volunteered!”
Gareth unfolded his arms and came closer. “Who do you work for?”
“Who do you think? Walter FitzWizo!” Then she cackled at the looks of consternation that crossed the faces of the people looking back at her. “You didn’t see that coming, did you? I was sent to spy on you, Cadell. And I did.”
Cadell lifted his chin. “You couldn’t save your lord from defeat.”
For the first time Old Nan deflated a little. “You kept that close to your chest, didn’t you? Brought in men from the outside to do your dirty work and put out that you were off to Chepstow.”
“I knew I had a spy in my midst. I just didn’t know who.”
The Worthy Soldier Page 23