The Fallen Princess

by Sarah Woodbury

“Why didn’t Tegwen’s murderer remove her necklace and cloak?” Gwen said.

  “Where would he have taken them?” Hywel said. “He must have thought it more prudent to leave them with her.”

  “Or he was squeamish,” Gareth said.

  “I wondered that too,” Gwen said.

  Hywel tipped his chin towards the front door to the hall. “We can’t put off my father any longer.”

  The walk across the courtyard felt like a march to the gallows. Hywel kept his head high, however, so Gareth squared his own shoulders and strode after him, Gwen in tow. The guard standing at the top of the steps to the hall opened the door for them, and a wave of warmth hit Gareth’s face.

  The hall was packed with people, every bench filled, but at the sight of the three of them walking through the door, the babble cut off abruptly. By now, everyone from Aberffraw to Rhuddlan knew that when Gareth, Gwen, and Hywel were seen consulting together the way they had been today, an investigation was underway. The crowd had been waiting to see them together in the hall ever since Tegwen’s body had arrived at Aber, and everyone was anxious to learn what they knew.

  King Owain nodded at Hywel, who saluted his father while Gareth and Gwen bowed. King Owain gestured them forward. As they paced between the tables the length of the hall, Gareth tried very hard not to look at anyone or anything other than the back of Hywel’s head.

  “We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” Gwen said.

  “I can’t say that’s a comforting thought,” Gareth said.

  “I can safely say that you won’t be thrown into a cell at the back of the stables this afternoon,” Hywel said.

  It was nice to see that Hywel still had his sense of humor, though Gareth’s incarceration in August of last year for a murder he didn’t commit hadn’t been at all amusing at the time.

  As they passed through the hall, murmured conversation broke out around them, a thrill of expectation rising among the diners at the prospect of news. Dinner wouldn’t be served until sunset, but Aber was full of people, and there was nothing like a dead body to bring out the curious. Even if Tegwen hadn’t been a princess, the word of anyone’s remains on the beach on the day before Hallowmas would have been enough to set tongues wagging.

  King Owain fixed his gaze on the trio as they approached the dais. Gareth tried not to look at Cadwaladr, but he instinctively glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Cadwaladr wasn’t looking at him, fortunately, but was in close conversation with his neighbor, a minor lord from southern Gwynedd. Gareth couldn’t help but think his detachment was feigned and that his ears were as attuned as anyone’s to what Hywel had to say to King Owain. Gareth’s would have been if he’d been wearing Cadwaladr’s boots.

  Hywel stepped onto the dais to stand opposite his father’s seat, put his heels together, and bowed. “Father, may I speak to you in private?”

  “Is that truly necessary?” King Owain put a hand to his breast bone, touching the thick cross strung on a chain around his neck. Gareth couldn’t help but think he was wearing it as if it were armor, or a talisman, but it wouldn’t protect him from the news Hywel was bringing him.

  Gareth’s eyes flicked again to Cadwaladr, who still wasn’t looking in his direction. Hywel may have done the same, because the muscles around his father’s mouth tightened, whether in concern or suppressed anger Gareth couldn’t tell. With King Owain, the latter was always a likely response.

  “We will speak in your chambers.” Without a word to anyone who shared the table with him, the King stood and headed towards the side door.

  The moment he passed into the corridor, the buzz of conversation in the hall rose behind him. To approach him so publicly had been a mistake. After this, the king would have to say something to his people, if only to ward off the wilder and more imaginative rumors.

  Once everyone was inside Hywel’s office, Gareth closed the door. King Owain had paced to Hywel’s chair, but the instant he sat in it, he was on his feet again, unable to stay still. He went to the window and looked out of it, his back to the room. “What have you found?”

  Gareth had no wish to sit himself, but he escorted Gwen to the bench against the wall. Hywel clasped his hands behind his back and stiffened his legs. He looked like he was bracing for a strong wind that, as it happened, bore a remarkable resemblance to King Owain’s temper.

  “We think we have found the place where Tegwen has lain all these years,” Hywel said.

  King Owain turned to look at his son, his expression clearing. “That was quick work.”

  “One of the fisher boys heard and saw a cart pass by his house in the early hours of the morning, before low tide and the clammers were out. He recognized the horse pulling it, though he couldn’t make out the driver. After we questioned him, we found the horse and cart at a homestead close to Aber village. It was old Wena’s place.”

  “I haven’t thought of her in years.” Now that they’d started talking, King Owain seemed to relax. He went to Hywel’s chair and sat.

  “No one lives there now, but I understand that the house and the land it’s on belong to Uncle Cadwaladr,” Hywel said.

  King Owain rocked back in the chair, the front legs lifting off the floor. “Cadwaladr was not in Gwynedd when Tegwen disappeared. None of us were.”

  “I know that, Father,” Hywel said. “We were fighting in Powys, Cadwaladr at your side, and as it turns out, Tegwen’s lover, Brychan, fought there too. I have no mind to accuse my uncle of anything so perverse as the murder of his niece.”

  “But you suspect your uncle of something.” King Owain tapped a finger to his lips. “Gwen implied as much to me earlier.”

  “I believe it was he who left Tegwen on the beach.” Hywel signaled to Gareth, who stepped forward.

  Gareth would rather have faced down a wild boar without a spear than pull the pendant coin from his scrip. But he did as Hywel bid him and held it out to King Owain.

  “This was found near her body this morning,” Hywel said. “It belongs to Uncle Cadwaladr.”

  “I see.” King Owain eyed the pendant. “Is that all? He could have dropped it on the beach at any time. Weeks ago, for that matter.”

  “Father—” Hywel was struggling to keep impatience out of his face.

  King Owain brought the legs of his chair back to the floor with a thud. “Let me see if I am understanding you correctly. You think that someone killed Tegwen five years ago and left the body in old Wena’s hut, but your uncle discovered it and decided—instead of informing me, or you, or Rhun—that he should deposit her on Aber’s beach this morning.”

  “Yes,” Hywel said.

  King Owain scrubbed at his hair with both hands, cursing under his breath.

  “Father, I would like your permission to speak to Uncle Cadwaladr,” Hywel said.

  King Owain took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out. “I accept the need. Cadwaladr should come here now so we can get this over with.” Then he hesitated as he contemplated the three of them. “But I can’t send any of you to fetch him.”

  Gareth looked at Gwen. Because he knew her so well, he recognized the light in her eyes and that she was trying to constrain her mirth. The king was right: if any one of the three of them walked up to Cadwaladr as he sat on the dais in the great hall, he would refuse to accompany them. Even if he didn’t have half of Gwynedd watching his every move, he would still have viewed his brother’s choice to summon him by means of Gareth, Gwen, or Hywel as an insult.

  The animosity among them ran deep: Cadwaladr had dismissed Gareth from his service six years ago; he’d abducted Gwen last year, spiriting her away to Ireland, after which Hywel had burned his castle at Aberystwyth and then taken over his lands in Ceredigion. If Cadwaladr were to name the residents of Aber Castle he hated the most, their names would top the list.

  King Owain gave a snort of disgust and rose to his feet. “Just as I thought. None of you can disagree.”

  “Perhaps I could fetch Lord Taran,” Gwen sa
id. “He could then ask Prince Cadwaladr to join us?”

  “More to the point, my lord, perhaps meeting in this space is not advisable,” Gareth said.

  King Owain opened the door to Hywel’s office. “I agree. I will speak to Cadwaladr in my chambers.”

  “But Father—”

  King Owain made a dismissive gesture. “Son, the presence of you and Gareth will only inflame matters. Gwen alone can attend to us.”

  Gwen opened her mouth to protest too, but Gareth put an arm around her shoulders and spoke for them both. “Surely, my lord—”

  “Unless you don’t think you’re capable, my dear?” King Owain said, baiting her.

  “I am perfectly able, my lord,” Gwen said.

  The king blithely ignored her glare. “Good. I will see you there shortly.” He strode away.

  The three of them stared after him. Hywel muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. It sounded like he was cursing Cadwaladr, possibly his father, and circumstances all at the same time.

  “Why does he want me there?” Gwen said. “I didn’t find the pendant and didn’t even go to Wena’s house. I know what you saw only because you told me about it.”

  “Gareth raises my uncle’s hackles by his very presence,” Hywel said. “I took his castle and his lands. You, on the other hand, merely annoy him.”

  Gwen choked down a laugh. “I can safely say that the feeling is mutual.”

  “You’re my secret weapon.” Hywel went to the door. “You can do this.”

  Gareth and Gwen stood together for a moment after Hywel left, looking at each other with the same surprise at Hywel’s candor.

  Gwen lifted one shoulder. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep King Owain waiting.”

  The pair hastened to catch up with Hywel, detouring into the courtyard by a side door and coming back inside through a different door on the other side of the keep to avoid the great hall.

  “No matter how long the interview lasts, I will be waiting for you outside,” Gareth said.

  Gwen’s morose expression didn’t change.

  Hywel grinned to see it. “We both will.”

  Chapter Ten

  Gwen

  In general, whenever she was forced to occupy the same room as Cadwaladr, Gwen avoided him: she didn’t look at him, she didn’t talk to him, and she looked for any excuse to leave the room before she had to do either of those things. Thus, the idea of questioning him about his recent whereabouts had her stomach in knots, and she clenched her hands together to stop them from trembling. Cadwaladr was a snake in human form. He had abducted her. It wasn’t something she could forgive. Not today. Maybe not ever.

  Gareth stayed beside her until King Owain and Cadwaladr passed through the doorway from the great hall into the corridor that led to King Owain’s rooms. Then he kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand, and departed. Gwen tried to slow her pounding heart. She opened her hands wide and placed them flat at her sides against her skirt. She was glad she had taken off the plain homespun she’d worn to the beach and replaced it with one of her two finer dresses, this one green with a white underskirt. It was a kind of armor against the unpleasantness to come.

  “What is this all about, Owain?” Cadwaladr’s voice echoed down the corridor towards her. “I was just about to—” He pulled up short as he spied Gwen standing outside King Owain’s door.

  King Owain took his brother’s elbow and urged him forward.

  Cadwaladr’s face screwed up in disdain. “What is she doing here?”

  At times, King Owain wasn’t as good a judge of people and situations as Hywel, but he’d been right in this instance. If Gwen’s presence sent Cadwaladr into sputtering protests, the presence of Gareth and Hywel would have thrown him into apoplexy. Even if they had remained silent and allowed King Owain to question him, Cadwaladr would have hated to have them witness his interrogation.

  “We have identified some … irregularities regarding the finding of Tegwen’s body and hoped that you could help us with the investigation,” King Owain said. “It seemed preferable to have this conversation in my chambers rather than under the watching eyes of everyone in the hall.”

  “I didn’t kill Tegwen.” Cadwaladr came to a full stop.

  “We know that,” Gwen said, daring to speak. It wasn’t strictly true. They didn’t know anything of the sort, but it seemed politic to appease the prince on the chance this admission might encourage him to be more helpful. “But someone killed her, and we were hoping that you could help us discover who that might have been.”

  The pinched look remained in Cadwaladr’s face. “I have been on the receiving end of another of your investigations, girl, and it wasn’t pleasant. Why should I help you now?”

  “You should help because I am asking, not Gwen. This way, Cadwaladr.” King Owain practically shoved his brother into his receiving room. “As Gwen said, we aren’t accusing you of Tegwen’s murder. We know already that you didn’t kill her.”

  Cadwaladr straightened his tunic with a jerk. “I should hope so.”

  Gwen followed, closing the door behind her. She felt rage boiling up inside her and was afraid that if she opened her mouth, it would come out. That wouldn’t be good for anyone. Needlessly antagonizing Cadwaladr—and King Owain—with Cadwaladr’s past sins wouldn’t help them find Tegwen’s killer. When Gareth had shown her the coin pendant, she’d had a moment of wild hope that Cadwaladr was the murderer, but even between the pendant and his ownership of Wena’s hut, she couldn’t construct an argument to hang him for it yet.

  “You know more than you’re telling,” King Owain said. “I realize that the body just came to light this morning, but to clarify your role in these events would allow us to pursue more profitable leads.”

  Gwen looked down at her feet, trying not to laugh at how easily King Owain had adopted Hywel’s way of speaking. Profitable leads, indeed.

  Cadwaladr put his nose into the air. “More profitable leads than what? Than dragging me in here? I can guarantee you that I had no role—”

  “You own the farmhouse where Wena used to live,” King Owain said.

  “What of it?”

  Gwen sighed. “We found where Tegwen’s body has been hidden all these years, in the loft, concealed behind the retaining wall.”

  Cadwaladr’s face went completely blank. Then his expression hardened, and he glared at Gwen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  King Owain shot Gwen a warning look and put a hand on his brother’s arm. “The cart that delivered Tegwen’s body to the beach this morning was seen and recognized as the one stabled at Wena’s former steading to the west of the village. The cart and horse belong to old Wynn, who maintains the house and lands for you. Brother, you are familiar with the house. Don’t deny it.”

  King Owain didn’t remind Cadwaladr that he brought his women there. It turned Gwen’s stomach to think about the prince with any woman, even his wife, who had to be a saint to put up with him. Under Welsh law, Alice could divorce Cadwaladr if she caught him with another woman three times. Alice was Norman, however, and might not feel the option was truly hers. If she left Cadwaladr, she would have to return to her family in England. The English Church would never accept her divorce as legitimate nor allow her to remarry. Still, Gwen would have accepted that shame over having to live with Cadwaladr for the rest of her life.

  “Do you think that I would ever have entered the house if I had known that Tegwen’s body was hidden there?” Cadwaladr said. “What do you take me for?”

  Cadwaladr was putting on a very good show of ignorance. Could it be that he knew nothing about this? Gwen shot King Owain a worried look, but he was observing his brother with an amused expression.

  “I know you wouldn’t have,” King Owain said. “When did you find the body? Only yesterday? Or was it old Wynn who found it and ran to tell you of it?”

  Cadwaladr still had his nose in the air. “You should be speaking to Wynn, not me. I have had nothing to do wi
th the place for years.”

  King Owain’s expression was one of complete disbelief. Gwen took out the coin pendant, which Gareth had given to her before he left, and showed it to Cadwaladr. “We would believe that if this hadn’t been found on the beach this morning. It is yours.”

  “We? Who’s we? Hywel and that … that bastard husband of yours?” Cadwaladr said. Facing a question he didn’t want to answer, Cadwaladr had gone on the attack. It was typical behavior for a cornered man. Or dog.

  Gwen didn’t flinch and fought back the image of Cadwaladr as a wolfhound, barking and gnashing his teeth at her, having surged to the end of his leash. But it was a leash that King Owain still held. The king lifted the pendant from Gwen’s palm by its leather thong. “The girl is right, Cadwaladr. This is yours.”

  Cadwaladr took a step back, his hands reaching for the table behind him. He leaned against it. “I haven’t seen that coin in years.”

  “From all the to and fro that occurs daily on the beach, it couldn’t have been lying in the pathway longer than a few hours. It was sitting up in the sand and was picked up by one of the village boys on his way to clamming,” King Owain said. “It would have been obvious to anyone walking by.”

  “It has nothing to do with me,” Cadwaladr said.

  “Cadwaladr, how came it to the beach?” his brother said.

  “I have no idea.” Cadwaladr snatched the pendant from King Owain’s hand. “The man who stole it from me must have dropped it.”

  King Owain heaved a sigh. He gazed at his brother through several heartbeats. Cadwaladr set his jaw and glared defiantly back. The king walked to his chair and sat in it, leaning back and resting his elbows on the arms. Cadwaladr was forced to turn around and now stood before the table like a supplicant while King Owain observed him over hands steepled together in front of his lips.

  Gwen recognized that silence was the best option for her, and she backed away slowly towards the side wall to sit on a bench underneath the lone window.

  “This might go better if I told you what I think happened,” King Owain said and continued without waiting for agreement from Cadwaladr. “I think your man, Wynn, discovered the body recently—maybe as recently as yesterday.”