“You should be dead.”
Cadell ran a hand through his hair. “When did you learn about the treasure?”
“Meicol told me. He followed Alban to it. He wasn’t sneaking around Caron.” She snorted. “He found the treasure and stole some coins he hoped wouldn’t be missed. He gave a few to me out of pity. Pity!”
Gareth stepped closer. “Meicol told you about the treasure, and you poisoned him and everyone else for it. Why didn’t you leave with it the night of the feast?”
“I meant to.” She spat on the ground in disgust. “I’d arranged with Lord Walter for three of his men to help me move it, but they never arrived.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. “You overheard Prince Rhys telling me about their deaths. That’s why you left when you did.”
“Smart girl.” Old Nan nodded. “Instead, I fetched Meleri from where she was hiding, and we moved the treasure to my garden that night. I didn’t dare take it farther, not with so many patrols on the road.” She canted her head. “Besides, I wanted the rest of it.”
Cadell’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Silver and gold plates and candlesticks are all well and good, but where are the gems? The coins?”
Cadell turned to look at Gareth. “You found none?”
“Not in the garden,” Gareth said (disingenuously). “If there was more at one time, it’s gone now.”
“Perhaps Caron can tell us what happened to it.” Evan strode through the doorway with Caron in tow. Her eyes were puffy from weeping, though it was unclear whether that was from her husband’s burial service or from being hauled to the guesthouse for questioning.
Evan led her towards a seat near Meleri and sat her in it. She didn’t look up, instead gazing steadily at her hands in her lap.
“Where’s the rest of the treasure?” Cadell was clearly fed up.
“What are you talking about?” Caron’s eyes were wide.
With more patience than Cadell, Gareth related how they’d arrived at the conclusion that there was more wealth than what Old Nan had buried.
“I don’t know! I mean—” Caron hunched her shoulders, “—we took a few things and a few coins, but not many. It’s like Barri and Alban agreed from the first: we had to manage it.”
“How many coins were there last you saw?” Cadell said.
“A king’s ransom.” She shook her head. “So I was told. I never saw any for myself. Alban didn’t like me to look at it. He was afraid someone would come upon it by accident, so he allowed the shed to decay and went there rarely, usually just to make sure it was still there.”
“And gems?”
“A hundred?” She frowned. “That’s what Alban said. He made a necklace for me out of one.” Caron brought it out on its long chain and showed it to Cadell.
He harrumphed and turned away.
Caron looked pleadingly at his back. “You think it was easy, acquiring that kind of wealth? How does one keep people from knowing? It was a bigger burden to sell it than to keep it a secret all these years. Every new dress I wore was talked about from here to Aberystwyth! Barri spent most of his share on clothes and that dagger.” Then her rising defiance was dispelled by a sudden burst of tears. “Did he use it to kill Sir Robert or my husband?”
“No,” Gareth said. “Neither was stabbed, and Barri was wearing it when we captured him. He prized it too much to murder Sir Robert with it.”
“We’ve heard rumors that he is the father of your child,” Gareth said.
“Who, Barri?” Caron’s head came up at last, horror in her eyes.
Gwen scoffed. “Not Barri. Sir Robert.”
Caron gaped at her. “He was my uncle! What do you take me for?”
Gwen let it go. It was the least of their concerns. “Could the men have buried some of the treasure elsewhere and not told you?”
“If so, I don’t know where.” Caron glared at Meleri. “I can’t believe you took it without telling me! I can’t believe you didn’t confide in me at all! You ungrateful wretch! After we took you in and everything.”
Meleri cowered before Caron. “Old Nan told me not to tell anyone, so I didn’t.”
Caron sniffed her disapproval. “Look where listening to that woman got you.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Llelo
Llelo spoke both French and English, in addition to Welsh, but he decided not to take offense at the presumption that he spoke neither. “I don’t need you to translate, but I would appreciate the introduction. I don’t want to scare her.”
“You are bringing her bad news. Today won’t be a good day no matter how you try to soften the blow.” The woman bobbed a curtsey. “I’m Alus and this is Rory. I’ll take you there now.”
Llelo chucked the baby under the chin. “I appreciate your assistance.”
They set off at a walk, Llelo leading his horse while Alus wrapped Rory and herself up in a long cloth and tied it at her shoulder, allowing her to carry the baby on her hip without using her arms. Before becoming part of his new family, Llelo had spent absolutely no time thinking about women and babies, but he knew them now, with Tangwen born after he’d come to Gareth and Gwen, and now with the new baby due in the autumn.
As the woman had explained, they didn’t have to walk far down the road before a house came into view. Unlike Alban’s manor, Jane’s house was rigorously maintained, with grass cropped so short Llelo assumed a goat had eaten recently. The trees and hedges were neatly trimmed, and the one-story house was newly whitewashed and thatched. As they approached, a woman exited the front door. She was middle-aged, but even Llelo’s young eyes appreciated her dark curly hair that couldn’t be tamed by any scarf, gray eyes, and red lips that looked naturally colored.
At the sight of Llelo and Alus, she came forward. “What is it?”
Alus gestured to Llelo and said in halting French, giving the impression that she had learned it specifically to speak to Jane, “This is a man-at-arms from the castle. He asked to speak to you.”
Llelo put a hand on his chest. “I’m Llelo ap Gareth. I have been sent to trace the movements of Sir Robert this week, and I understand he was your friend.”
To Llelo’s dismay, Jane leapt at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “Where is he?” She was panicked already, and he hadn’t yet told her the bad news. “You said was. He’s dead isn’t he?” And right there in the garden, Jane began to sob. “I knew it the moment his horse arrived without him.”
Alus pulled Jane away from Llelo and put her arms around her shoulders, though not without a glare in his direction.
Llelo drew in a breath, pleased at least to have solved the little mystery of the horse as well. “I’m sorry, madam.”
“Was he among those poisoned? Is that why he didn’t make it? He fell ill on the road? I’ve been worried sick for the last three days.”
“Why didn’t you come to the castle to see for yourself?”
“He told me never to go there. We were keeping our relationship a secret, you see, until he could speak to King Cadell about it.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, and her sobs lessened. He sensed that his news was no more nor less than what she’d expected and feared, and the outburst of pain had been building for three days.
“Madam—” Llelo brought out the key his father had given him. “Do you recognize this key?”
Jane reached out a trembling hand. “It’s Sir Robert’s, of course.” Before Llelo could say anything more, Jane put a hand on Alus’s arm. “Thank you for bringing this young man and the news of Robert’s death. I know you must get back to your own hearth now.”
“But—” Alus wanted to stay, but she couldn’t argue with Jane’s gentle dismissal. “Of course.”
Alus tightened the cloth at her shoulder, hitched the baby higher on her hip, and set off back down the road to her house. Jane watched her until she was out of earshot, and then she turned back to Llelo. “He left me a strongbox and a key of my own. The box ca
n only be opened with both keys.” She looked up at him with the saddest eyes Llelo had ever seen. “He is really dead?”
Llelo nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Jane sighed and started to walk away. “Come. If he died, I was to use the keys.”
Llelo tied his horse to a post by the door. “What’s in the box?”
She didn’t answer, and he didn’t press the matter, because it seemed he was about to find out, since she led him inside her house. Such was the wealth of Sir Robert—and this woman—that she had a fireplace built into the side wall rather than a central hearth with a hole in the roof to let out the smoke.
This time of year, the fire was not lit. Jane crouched to the stones that made up the base of the hearth and pulled them from their places, revealing a hole underneath. From the hole, she hauled a foot-wide chest and then lugged it to the well-scrubbed table. One glance told Llelo the table was also the work of Meicol, given the carved edges and paws for feet.
Then she went to the sideboard and pulled open a drawer. Taking out a key, she brought it to the trunk and placed it in the lock. There were holes for two keys, and with a nod from Jane, Llelo inserted the key that had been Sir Robert’s into the second slot. On the count of three, they turned the keys, and the chest opened. Inside were a bundle of papers and two leather bags.
Jane turned away as if she wanted nothing to do with it. “See for yourself.”
So he did. Each of the letters was signed and sealed by Sir Robert himself, and the two bags contained gems and gold.
Llelo swallowed hard to see the coins. “This is Sir Robert’s wealth?”
“It is mine.”
Llelo fingered one of the coins. It was a match to the Roman coins he’d found in the dirt. “Why show it to me?”
Jane gave him a long look and then gestured that he could sit. “You are from Gwynedd?”
“Yes, madam. My father is Gareth, captain of Prince Hywel’s teulu.”
“The man who saved the life of Prince Henry?”
Llelo smiled. “The same. I was there that day too.”
Jane looked down at her clasped hands, and was silent long enough that Llelo worried he was dismissed, but then she lifted her head and spoke, “Four years ago after the siege of Oxford, Robert found me wandering beside the road, beaten and battered—and with no memory of my name or where I’d come from. I have never remembered.”
“You had this wealth on you at the time?” Llelo asked, and at her nod, he added, “How is it that you weren’t robbed of it?”
“The coins and jewels were sewn into my skirt.”
Llelo wondered privately how hard Jane and Robert had looked for the person she’d been, since they might have thought they’d find an abusive Norman husband at the end of that quest, whose gems and coins these were. Robert obviously hadn’t wanted that. Llelo gestured to the chest. “And those papers?”
Jane touched them gently. “A letter confirming Caron as his heir; another acknowledging that the child I bear is his; and the deed to this land, which he leaves to me, as separate from the manor for Caron.” She picked up the first document and handed it to Llelo. “Show that to the king, if you think it’s necessary.”
“What about you? Aren’t you coming to the castle with me?”
“Please tell the king that if he would like to speak to me further, I will be here, but I will not go there. This is my home.” She gestured around the room. “I see no need to leave it.”
Llelo stood, deciding in that moment he had no need to force her. He closed the lid of the chest over the gems and coins, carried the box to the hearth, and hid it again in its hole.
Then he turned back to Jane. “I will convey your regards. Thank you for the truth.”
“The truth is always best, don’t you think?”
“Unless it isn’t.”
Jane glanced at the repaired hearth before looking back at Llelo. Their eyes met, they both paused, and then she nodded. “Unless it isn’t.”
Llelo was convinced he’d found Maud’s missing lady-in-waiting, the one who’d been charged with conveying the treasure out of Oxford. But as he bowed his way out the door, his thoughts churned over what he was going to say when he returned to the monastery. He would tell the truth to his parents, as Jane had suggested. But it occurred to him that this might be another story King Cadell need not hear in its entirety.
Chapter Thirty-four
Gwen
Tonight they had forgone the hall up at Dinefwr and chosen instead to dine in Hywel’s pavilion, set up in one of the fields adjacent to the monastery. It was private, and they had the pleasure of Hywel’s voice, even if Meilyr was still tasked with singing to entertain the other lords at the castle.
Evan and Angharad were both there too, at her uncle’s request, since it was her last night at Dinefwr. He had given her a small bag of silver coins as dowry, but her inheritance from her father was actually an estate in Ceredigion, which he’d lost when Gwynedd had annexed the region. Thus, it fell to Hywel to award it to her—an odd circumstance for the niece of the King of Deheubarth, but somehow appropriate too, since she would now be in his retinue.
Contented from a full meal cooked over an open fire by Hywel’s own men, Gwen put down her empty cup. “Meicol should have said something to someone other than Old Nan.”
She had seen what they’d collected from Old Nan’s garden. Having dug a pit ten feet on a side and six feet deep, as if it were a large grave, Meleri and Old Nan had placed crates of valuables in it and then covered the whole thing with dirt. Nobody would have ever found it, especially once Old Nan started her plantings.
“He had spent many years feeling unhappy and unworthy. The beatings Cadfan and Alban gave him may have confirmed his decision that he couldn’t go to them about the treasure.” Gareth’s long legs were stretched out in front of him. “Meicol had nobody he could trust.”
“Unlike me.” Having finished singing for now, Hywel sat beside his captain, his arms folded complacently across his chest.
Gwen rested her head against her husband’s shoulder. She could fall asleep at any moment. “Are we thinking Meicol was the one who buried the coins, to be retrieved at a later time?”
“That is very a good question, Gwen, and not one we should be asking out loud before we reach Aberystwyth.” Gareth pulled her closer. “The location of the rest of the treasure is King Cadell’s problem now. He will find answers or he won’t.”
“And we aren’t going to help him anymore. Though I never thought I’d say it, good luck to Anselm.” Hywel raised his cup in a toast and took a long drink of mead. He was always careful not to let down his guard, but he was drinking a little more freely tonight. The mead had come from a barrel they’d brought from Aberystwyth.
“Even without FitzWizo’s men, Old Nan should have run. She was a fool to stay.” Llelo was half asleep on the other side of the table with his head resting on his arms, but by speaking he showed he was listening.
Gwen was immensely proud of the work her foster son had done, proving Gareth had been right that he was a good choice to follow in their footsteps. Some might think it foolish to trust someone so young with such a big secret, but by now Llelo had earned their trust.
“She thought she was smarter than everyone else. She’d fooled everyone for this long. Why not a few days longer?” Hywel set down his cup. “As your father also says, Gwen, at the end of the song comes payment. The thief will pay in due time.”
“Does that mean we will too?” Gwen said softly, though nobody but Gareth heard her.
Then a horse whinnied at the entrance to the pavilion, and they turned to see Prince Rhys dismounting. He entered the tent and, at Hywel’s gesture, found a seat on the bench beside Llelo. “So where is it?”
Gwen narrowed her eyes at the young prince. “Where is what?”
“The rest of the treasure.” Rhys’s lips twitched. “Nobody survives around here without identifying who knows things others don’t.” He bowed from a
sitting position in Hywel’s direction. “My lord. Please. I know you told my brother that you and your men are leaving in the morning, but I would ask you to stay.”
Hywel unfolded his arms. “I’m all ears.”
Rhys put his elbows on the table, the endearingly eager expression that he’d worn often in the last few days filling his face. “How did you know the treasure was buried in Old Nan’s garden?”
“We didn’t. It was a hunch.” Gwen canted her head. “As it turned out, it was a good one.”
“And that Old Nan wasn’t blind?”
“It was the only thing that made sense,” Gareth said.
Rhys nodded. “I want to go back. I want all of you to go back with me.”
Gareth let out a pfft of air. “We ransacked the garden, the hut, her house, Meicol’s house … there are no trap doors and no secret compartments. That we haven’t found it is not from lack of trying.”
“It’s there. I know it. We’ve missed something. Old Nan didn’t know about it because Meicol hid it from her.”
“Based on what evidence?” Gwen said.
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Rhys was growing agitated, and he leapt up to pace back and forth in front of the table. “What would you have done if you’d found it? He gave a few coins to Old Nan and kept nothing for himself?”
“He would have taken what was easily portable,” Gwen said.
Rhys nodded. “The missing gold and jewels are somewhere close. They have to be. It’s the only explanation.”
Hywel rubbed his chin and looked at the others. “What does your gut tell you, Gareth?”
Gareth pushed to his feet. “I’ll get the others.”
Prince Rhys put out his hand before Gareth could leave. “Not too many. I’d like to limit the number of people who know about this. It’s why I came here alone.”
Gareth gave him a long look, and then he nodded and headed out.
It was nighttime. Gwen was exhausted. But she certainly wasn’t going to be left behind. She looked at Rhys. “You don’t trust someone at the castle?”
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