“You must know that I’m not happy about any of this.” Hywel paced to the table upon which Tegwen’s body lay, flicked back the cloak, gazed at her body, and then covered her up again. Every time he looked at her, he was torn between the knowledge that he was among those who’d failed her and the wish that they could all go back to a day ago when they were blissfully ignorant of her death. “All we have so far is hearsay after hearsay and no hard evidence of any kind other than Tegwen’s body.” He spun around to look at Gwen. “Where’s Brychan?”
“Lady Alice approached me the instant I entered the hall. I didn’t have a chance to look for him.”
Hywel took in a long breath through his nose. “Lady Alice—” He shook his head. “That woman is as much of a menace as Cristina. Do we believe any of what she told us? I certainly don’t want to.”
“Why would she lie?” Gareth said.
“Alice has been married to a consummate liar for years,” Hywel said. “You tell me.”
“She was straightforward with us about wanting to protect Cadwaladr,” Gwen said, “but to go so far as to defame Queen Gwladys…”
“It was a bold move whether or not it was the truth,” Hywel said. “Gwladys wasn’t my mother, but she was kind to me and didn’t seem to mind that her sons would inherit Gwynedd after Rhun and me.”
“What is important about Alice’s information,” Gareth said, “is where it leaves us.”
Hywel pressed both hands to the sides of his head, trying to force his thoughts into some kind of order. He’d been caught off guard by the appearance of Tegwen’s body and been distracted by the disparate evidence ever since. He knew—and wasn’t too proud to admit—that the presence of Cadwaladr in the middle of this had diverted his attention and clouded rational thought.
Hywel had always prided himself on not having inherited his father’s temper, but this investigation had him seeing red. Under normal circumstances, when he tried to find a murderer, everyone lied to him as a matter of course. He expected it and didn’t take it personally. He’d taught himself not to care a long time ago. In this investigation, however, the only person he could be sure was not lying to him was his hated Uncle Cadwaladr. It was just too much.
What the three of them needed to do now was clarify among themselves what they knew and create a plan for moving forward from there.
“Let’s assume that everything we’ve learned so far is at least partially true,” Hywel said. “What do we know?”
“We know from the condition of the body that Tegwen has been dead a long while,” Gwen said. “We also know that she was estranged from her husband and that she had a lover, Brychan, whom she asked to run away with her.”
“But he refused.” Hywel nodded. “What else?”
“According to the legend, five years ago, a maid and a guard reported—to whom, I have never heard—that they’d seen her get into a boat with a Dane,” Gareth said.
“Cadwaladr, Bran, and Brychan used Wena’s hut for trysts,” Gwen said.
“When Wynn found Tegwen’s body yesterday, he and Cadwaladr arranged to leave it on the beach this morning,” Gareth said.
“It stuns me to say it, but I am grateful to my uncle for that last point,” Hywel said. “At least I don’t have to go trailing around to determine if he was in his bed last night.”
“That would be embarrassing,” Gareth said with a straight face.
Hywel rolled his eyes at his captain. If Cadwaladr had been upset at being questioned by Gwen, he would have been furious to know they were tracking his whereabouts.
“Cadwaladr openly admitted his involvement, and since he’s never covered up for anyone else in his life, we can take him at his word.” Gwen laughed. “Did I just say that?”
“So where does that leave us?” Gareth said.
“It leaves me going to Rhos,” Hywel said.
Gareth and Gwen gaped at him.
Hywel snorted laughter. “What? That surprises you? The people of Rhos will not be coming to Aber to celebrate Calan Gaeaf. They have their own festival at Bryn Euryn. If I am to discover more about these events, I have to go there.”
“I don’t object to the need to go to Rhos,” Gwen said. “Of course someone has to. But that you would leave Aber the day before Hallowmas …”
“All the more reason to start now,” Hywel said.
“I will come with you—” Gareth said.
Hywel held up one finger. “No, you won’t.”
“But my lord—”
“You will stay with Gwen. The bulk of the investigation is here,” Hywel said. “This is a little journey. I can see to it myself.”
Gwen tried again. “What about Mari—”
“Not now, Gwen.” Hywel turned on her. “I will attempt to return in time for Tegwen’s funeral tomorrow or, at the very least, for the feast at Hallowmas. I can’t miss it. My father would have my head. Meanwhile, you two should see if you can track down Brychan and anyone else who might be able to tell us something about Tegwen’s death.”
“Or Bran’s,” Gwen reminded him.
“Or Bran’s,” Hywel agreed.
Gareth folded his arms across his chest. “It is odd, my lord, this situation with Bran.”
“How so?” Hywel said.
“He died in an ambush,” Gareth said.
“Alice’s father was killed in an ambush on the way home to Ceredigion,” Gwen said. “And Cadwaladr paid Danes to ambush Anarawd near Dolwyddelan last summer.”
Hywel frowned. “What are you getting at?”
“Nothing in particular,” Gareth said, “except that the ambush that resulted in Bran’s death seems very sketchy. He was the king of Rhos, it’s true, but that’s not a position that normally puts a lord in danger, not in Gwynedd. He tithes to your father, after all, and doesn’t have the power to wage war or expand his lands.”
“While you’re in Rhos, it might be a good idea to speak to someone who rode with him and was there when it happened,” Gwen said.
“That was my thinking too,” Hywel said.
“You really should take me with you,” Gareth said.
“And me!” Gwen said. “Though I admit if I rode with Gareth, Mari would want to come with us too.”
“None of you are coming with me.” Hywel’s thoughts returned to his wife. A knot formed in his stomach.
“My lord?” Gareth peered at him.
Hywel schooled his expression; he’d wandered in his mind in the middle of a conversation and given himself away. He didn’t often do that, not even in the presence of his two closest companions.
Gwen put a hand on his forearm. “Mari will be fine. She’s just having a baby.”
Hywel glared at her. “No reading my mind. I won’t have it.”
Gwen didn’t cease with the knowing look.
Laughing to himself, Hywel ran a hand through his hair. Lately, he’d allowed it to grow long, so it now stuck straight up in the air. “I admit the idea of becoming a father has shaken me. I worry for her; I worry for all of us.”
“I’ll keep her company, my lord,” Gwen said.
“Would you mind seeing to her right now?” Hywel said. “Gareth and I will finish up here before I go.”
“Of course, my lord.” Gwen curtseyed and left the room.
Gareth wasn’t as easily put off. He didn’t move to the body to continue their examination of it, just stood looking at Hywel. Hywel laughed again, dismissing his need to hide his true self from Gareth, who knew him all too well. “Murder I can handle. I can even understand it much of the time. But to lose Mari—”
“Mari will be fine. Gwen is going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” Hywel said.
Gareth set his jaw. “I have to believe it.”
“Now, that it is the truth. You and I—” Hywel’s eyes flicked to the door through which Gwen had gone, “—we go into battle confident. We train for it all our lives. I have come to see childbirth as similar for women. Each woman tells herself that she’s goi
ng to come out alive. But some don’t: Gwen’s mother. Mine. Eira and her babe.”
The ache of that loss settled on Hywel’s shoulders, though he’d not allowed himself to feel it for several years. He’d had many lovers, but Eira had been Hywel’s first real love. She’d died birthing their child. The pain wasn’t as raw as it had been, but it was waiting to rise up and threaten him with Mari’s death.
“You’re right, of course,” Gareth said. “But we can’t stop living, can we? And Mari needs you as Gwen needs me, because she’s afraid too.”
Hywel let out a breath. “I know that.”
“Tegwen, at least, didn’t die in childbirth,” Gareth said. “Which is why we have to find her killer.”
Hywel looked down at his boots, though he wasn’t seeing them. He knew he couldn’t bargain with God, but he found himself doing it anyway: find Tegwen’s killer and in return, Mari’s life will be spared. Hywel straightened the cloak covering Tegwen’s body with a quick tug. “Let’s get some air.”
Hywel found Gwen and Mari in their temporary chambers in the manor house. Mari was asleep; Gwen had found a christening gown to embroider and was cursing over it.
Hywel poked his head into the room. “I know I’m not fooling anyone, least of all you.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Gwen broke off a length of thread with her teeth. “Mari just fell asleep, but I’ll wake her if you like.”
Hywel warred with himself. Mari would be upset to know that he’d gone without saying goodbye, but sleep was so precious to her these days he couldn’t bear to wake her. “No. Let her sleep.” Hywel rested a hand briefly on Gwen’s shoulder. “Stay out of mischief while I’m gone, will you?”
Gwen smiled.
His next port of call was the great hall and his father, whom Hywel found holding court by the fire. Rhun was with him. At a gesture from Hywel, Rhun detached himself from the group.
“I was wondering when you would come to find me,” Rhun said. “What have you discovered?”
Rhun was Hywel’s level-headed older brother. Where Hywel was dark-haired, Rhun took after their father, with his shock of blonde hair and burly frame. He had the ability to wield a sword for hours on end. Hywel had never yet beaten his brother in a mock battle, even by trickery. Rhun was going to make a fine king one day. Hywel wasn’t jealous to have been born second. He knew his own strengths and happily left the diplomacy and long meetings to his father and brother.
“Not enough, I can tell you that much,” Hywel said. “Gareth and Gwen will pursue the investigation from Aber, and I’d like you to give them whatever support you can.”
Rhun laughed. “You mean you want me to protect them from Father.”
Hywel smirked. “Better you than me.” Then he sobered. “Mari was sleeping, so I left her with Gwen. Please reassure her that I will return tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Rhos.”
Rhun raised his eyebrows. “Tonight?” And at Hywel’s nod, Rhun added, “Is that really necessary?”
“I think so,” Hywel said. “I must speak to Ifon myself.”
“You could wait until after Hallowmas and the harvest festival,” Rhun said. “It’s only two days. The trail has been cold for five years.”
“But it’s warm now, isn’t it?” Hywel said and then amended, “at least it is here. People are thinking and talking about those days again, and I’m hoping that someone will remember something important, which is why Gareth and Gwen are staying here.”
“Father won’t like it,” Rhun said.
“He’ll have to let me go when I remind him that Tegwen was a lady of Rhos too,” Hywel said. “It would be unseemly for the news of her death to arrive there before I do.”
Rhun nodded. “Perhaps I should come with you. Ifon and I were friends of a sort when we were younger.”
“Father needs you here.”
Rhun scoffed. “No, he doesn’t, and besides, Cristina is due in the hall at any moment, and I would prefer to be far away when she arrives.”
“Is she matchmaking again?” Hywel said with sympathy. “You would do well to find yourself a wife all on your own, rather than reject the one our stepmother chooses for you.”
“Darling Rhun!” Cristina’s penetrating voice echoed off the rafters; Rhun couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard her. He grimaced at Hywel as Cristina glided up to him and took his elbow.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I must introduce you to my cousin.”
“My lady—” Rhun tried to tug away.
Cristina held his arm in a tight grip. “Surely you can spare a moment—”
“I was just leaving for Rhos with Hywel,” Rhun said through gritted teeth.
“My dear, that’s impossible.” Cristina’s lower lip stuck out in an artful pout. It made Hywel uncomfortable to see that look on his very pregnant stepmother. “I will speak to your father. It would be so unfair for you to leave us now.”
Hywel took a step back, grinning, intending to beat a hasty retreat. As he turned around, however, his father dismissed his courtiers with a gesture and summoned his two sons and his wife to him.
“Do you have something to tell me?” the king said.
“Rhun tells me that he and Hywel are riding to Rhos tonight, and they won’t be here for the feast of Hallowmas tomorrow,” Cristina said before Hywel or Rhun could speak. “I was so hoping he could sit with my cousin, Anna. She has never been to Aber before and needs an escort. I’ve been so busy …” Her voice trailed off as she batted her eyelashes at Owain.
Hywel couldn’t believe his father could fall for this act, but he did—yet again. “Hywel can go to Rhos, Rhun. I need you here,” King Owain said.
“But—” Rhun swallowed down his protest. His father’s words had been decisive. Both brothers knew better than to argue when he used that tone of voice.
Hywel put a hand on Rhun’s arm. “Good luck.”
Rhun growled back. “You too, you dog.”
Hywel gave Rhun a cheery salute and left the hall, in a better mood than when he’d entered it. There was something to be said for being the second son. Outside, Evan had gathered ten of Hywel’s men-at-arms, and they stood waiting for him by the gate.
Gareth stood with them, giving last minute instructions to Evan. They both greeted Hywel, and then Gareth held the horse’s bridle while Hywel mounted. “I should be riding with you.”
“No,” Hywel said. “You should stay here.”
“We have so many questions—”
“And I shall ask them,” Hywel said. “Don’t be an old granny. I will be fine, and when I return, we will pool our knowledge and solve this.” He leaned down. “You might rescue Rhun from my stepmother.”
“It would be my pleasure, my lord.” Gareth stepped back.
As Hywel turned his horse and rode out of Aber, he felt his whole body relax. It was good to be moving and to have a plan. With Uncle Cadwaladr no longer on the list of possible suspects, he needed to know who else to put on it. The answers might lie in Rhos.
And whatever his father’s hopes in keeping Cadwaladr close, Hywel knew as surely as he knew that the sun would rise tomorrow that his uncle would betray Gwynedd again. Hywel intended to be there to catch him—and stop him—when he did.
Chapter Fourteen
Gareth
Gareth wanted to be riding with Hywel—with Gwen too, of course—because movement was better than no movement, and it was difficult to be left behind. He could understand just a bit of what Gwen must feel every time she watched him ride away.
“Mari is asleep and her maid is watching over her, so can I at least walk if I can’t ride?” Gwen slipped her hand into his.
He looked down at her upturned face. “What do you mean?”
“We’re going back to Wena’s hut, right?” she said. “I know you’re itching to see if you can find any evidence there that you missed the first time.”
“You ar
en’t going anywhere today,” Gareth said. “The sun will set within the hour.”
Gwen’s face fell. “I suppose you’re right.”
Gareth looked carefully at her. That capitulation came way too easily. “Have you seen Rhun?”
“I passed through the hall on my way to find you. He was being introduced by Cristina to a very pretty girl,” Gwen said, “one of her many cousins, I believe.”
“Hywel described him as in need of rescue,” Gareth said. “Perhaps he’d like to accompany me to Wena’s hut.”
Gwen laughed. “Then we’d better see to it. If we didn’t have Tegwen’s funeral tomorrow, Cristina would have him married off by All Saints’ Day.”
It was nice to laugh with Gwen. Gareth felt some of his tension leave him. Then a call went up from the gatehouse tower.
“Danes!”
Gareth swung around. The guard was pointing towards Aber’s beach. Shouting at the men to close the gate, even though they were already doing it, Gareth took the steps up to the wall-walk two at a time and came out at the top. Skidding to a halt beside the sentry, he looked to where the guard pointed: three longboats were approaching Aber’s beach, not far from where Tegwen’s body had been found.
Gwen stood in the courtyard below. Other guests had clustered around her. “How many come?” she said.
Gareth squinted through the late-afternoon sunshine, his heart racing—and then he laughed out loud. A beefy, fair-haired Dane had raised a long pole with a white flag on it. He waved it back and forth above his head in broad sweeping motions. The white flag wasn’t a traditional symbol of peace among the Danes, not that they ever surrendered and so would have had no cause to use it anyway, but they knew what it meant. Their leader had known the peril inherent in approaching a Welsh beach. Too many Danes had raided Welsh shores for too many years for any Welshman to look upon a Danish longship with anything but dismay.
As the boats approached the shore, Gareth grinned again as certainty grew within him about who was leading them. Danes were blonde and large as a matter of course, but none were quite as blonde and large as the man with the white flag.
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