The Unexpected Ally

by Sarah Woodbury

  Mathonwy gestured helplessly to the barn. “It’s just terrible.”

  “It seems that we have involved ourselves in something beyond the usual, and this is not your fault unless you were the one to set the fire,” Gareth said.

  Mathonwy gaped at him. “No, my lord! Of course not!”

  “Do you have any idea how it started?” Gwen said. “Did you leave a lantern behind?”

  He ducked his head in a quick, though not entirely perfunctory, obeisance. “Madam. I don’t bring fire to barns if I can help it. That’s why I’m always anxious to finish the milking before the sun sets.” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t mean to be rude, my lord, but you and Sir Conall would be better off asking these questions of yourselves. Other than my presence last night and this morning, you two were the only men to visit the barn since we found the body.”

  Conall raised his eyebrows. “You think so? I highly doubt it.”

  Mathonwy turned towards him. “Why? What do you mean?”

  The question elicited a laugh from Conall, though his expression was somewhat morose. “I strongly suspect the barn has been visited on and off for two days.” He glanced at Gareth. “I didn’t think it was important to set a watch to take an accounting of those who visited.”

  Gareth shook his head. “I didn’t either.”

  Mathonwy was bewildered. “Why would anyone come here?”

  Gwen knew the answer to that. “To gawk. Murder was done here, and evil draws people to it.”

  Gareth added, “It is possible that the murderer was among them.”

  Conall scoffed under his breath. “Certainly the man who set the fire was.”

  That made Mathonwy frown. “The fire could have been an accident.”

  Gareth, Gwen, and Conall just looked at him, not bothering to actually express their disbelief in words.

  Conall sighed. “We hate coincidences, Brother Mathonwy. How likely is it that the day after a body is discovered in the barn, it burns to the ground?”

  Mathonwy spread his hands wide. “Coincidences are not unheard of. They happen all the time.”

  “Maybe in your line of work,” Gareth said.

  Gwen put a hand on Gareth’s arm, quelling his uncharacteristic abruptness. His wounds must really be paining him. “Speaking of coincidences, we have a few questions to ask you about your visit to the treasury with Abbot Rhys the other day.”

  Mathonwy blinked at the change of subject. Gwen had to admit that from Mathonwy’s perspective, it was an odd question to be asking with the barn burning behind him.

  “Uh … what is it that you want to ask me?”

  “What was your role in the accounting?”

  “I went through the items in the treasury side by side with Abbot Rhys while he checked the items off his list.”

  “What was Prior Anselm’s role?” Gareth said.

  Mathonwy shrugged. “He counted the coins, and then Abbot Rhys and I counted the coins. I think one of the reasons the abbot chose me that day was because I can count.”

  “From your years of counting cows in order to keep track of them?” Gwen said.

  “Cows, sheep, chickens.” Mathonwy nodded. “I’m not much good for reading or writing, but I like numbers, and I remember them.”

  “At the time did the number of coins in the record match the number of coins counted?” Gareth said.

  “Yes.” Mathonwy was very sure, though as he spoke he looked warily at Gareth, who’d just implied that they no longer did. Mathonwy didn’t ask for more information, however—just had a look in his eye as if he was putting that thought away to take out later to examine further.

  “Thank you.” Gareth nodded at Mathonwy, who returned to the line of monks and his bucket.

  Gwen still had the idea that she should be working alongside them, but Gareth kept her hand in his. “It’s a lost cause, Gwen.”

  “They’re working on it as a matter of principle.” Conall yawned and immediately bent over in a fit of coughing.

  Gwen moved to him concerned. He had cracked ribs and possible internal bleeding, so she’d been keeping an eye on him since Shrewsbury, fearful that any one of his numerous wounds would fester.

  He put up a hand. “It’s just the smoke. I’m all right.”

  “What do you think?” She turned to look up at Gareth.

  “About Conall, Mathonwy, or the barn?”

  “Any. All.”

  Conall straightened. “I’m fine.”

  Gareth shot him a skeptical look but then answered Gwen’s question. “I don’t think Mathonwy is lying about either the barn or his work in the treasury. I have met men like him who remember numbers. If he says that the coins matched the record book, it only corroborates what Abbot Rhys himself told us. If Rhys is lying to us, I don’t want to know.”

  Conall made a huh sound deep in his chest that wasn’t quite a cough, the implication being that Gareth should know better than to dismiss anyone as a suspect.

  Gareth gave a noncommittal motion with his head. “Neither Gwen nor I can seriously contemplate wrongdoing on Rhys’s part. Some people you just have to trust, and if they betray you in the end, so be it. The love and trust along the way are worth it.”

  “All right. I was just asking.” Conall swallowed hard, and Gwen had an instant thought that Gareth’s words weren’t only about Rhys—and Conall knew it.

  “It seems to me that what we have here is a string of second thoughts,” Gwen said. “Erik is murdered and the body discarded, but then stolen later. In the same way, the body is returned, but then the barn is burned after a full day has passed. It’s as if someone had what they thought was a good idea at the time, and then reconsidered later.”

  “That is a devilish idea.” Conall actually sounded pleased, his voice full of admiration. “Are you sure you’re not a villain yourself, my lady?”

  It was another jest, and Gwen obliged him with a laugh, but then coughed herself as smoke wafted in their direction, swirling around as the wind picked up for a moment.

  Gareth made a guttural sound deep in his throat. “I should have scouted the area better rather than leaving it to the boys.”

  “The boys are fine.” Gwen put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Neither of you are really in top form, Gareth, but even so, from what you’ve said, you didn’t have time. In a way, we have been putting out fires from the moment we arrived in St. Asaph. We’ve been reacting instead of acting, but I don’t know what else we could have done through any of this. It isn’t as if we know yet why Erik died. What with dead spies, complicit queens, and long lost friends, none of this makes any sense.”

  With a roar, the roof of the barn crashed inward, and within two heartbeats, it was a pile of burning rubble. It was really too bad that the rain had stopped, because they could have used it. The only upside to the collapse was that the monks had an easier time reaching the flames, which were getting more under control, now that the roof had smothered much of the fire beneath it.

  “We don’t know much, but we do know something.” Gareth tipped his head to indicate that Gwen and Conall should come with him, and he moved them under the overhang of a tree, another ten paces from the barn. The sound of the fire had been making them speak louder than normal. This way, they were farther away from anyone who might overhear and could speak more softly themselves. “We are looking for at least five men, maybe more, and I don’t believe five men moving bodies and burning barns are all that easy to hide. We still haven’t shown Rhodri to Deiniol, but if he was Erik’s companion, then at least we have one question answered.”

  “And what Queen Susanna and Derwena have to do with all this we don’t know either,” Gwen said. “Don’t forget that Dai saw Derwena go off with a nine-fingered man, who could have killed Erik.”

  Gareth looked down at her, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You really like calling him that, don’t you?”

  “Because that’s what he is!” Her words were protesting, but she laughed again.
“I know you have never trusted Erik, Gareth, and that he was a spy, but it looks to me like he knew about the sacking of Deiniol’s monastery and was riding to Hywel to tell him about it. Perhaps he stopped in St. Asaph because he’d feared that this monastery was going to be a target too.”

  Gareth’s eyes turned thoughtful. “Wrexham was a raid, and this a quiet theft of a few items. The men who raided there burned it to the ground—” He stopped, his eyes moving towards the destroyed barn.

  Conall’s jaw hardened. “Then again—”

  At that moment, Abbot Rhys, who’d been watching from the other side of the barn, came around to the front and stopped twenty paces away from them to study the destruction. He was deep in conversation with Anselm, both men standing with their arms folded across their chests.

  Gwen’s brow furrowed. Three had become two. “Where’s Lwc? I haven’t seen him all day.”

  “He wasn’t at the conclave,” Gareth said, “which now that I think about it is somewhat surprising. Up until now, he has hardly left Rhys’s side unless he was at yours, Gwen.”

  “You know, there’s a few others who ought to be here but aren’t. Deiniol, for one—” Gwen broke off from what she’d been about to say, and all three of them looked towards the monastery.

  Gareth began walking rapidly back to where he’d picketed Braith. “Let’s go see what we’ve been missing.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Gwalchmai

  Gwalchmai had sworn to his father, to Gareth, and to Gwen that he would stay out of their investigations. Unfortunately, this time—as every time, truth be told—that promise was proving impossible to keep. After singing at the beginning of the conference to put everyone in the proper frame of mind, he’d gone to the chapel to practice his scales, while his father had chosen to wander the gardens. King Owain wanted a new song, and it was Meilyr’s task to write one. Gwalchmai didn’t envy him. Gwalchmai himself had been writing his own songs for years, but he hadn’t yet mustered up the courage to share any of them with anyone but Iorwerth, the king’s son and Gwalchmai’s best friend.

  At the moment, Iorwerth crouched beside him in an alcove in the cloister, the eyes of both young men fixed on the west range where the abbot’s quarters and the treasury were located. Gwalchmai knew where the treasury was from eavesdropping on Gareth and Gwen, who’d been discussing the progress of the investigation last night when they thought everyone else was asleep. They should have known better.

  For his part, Gwalchmai had been involved enough in their cases to know when something nefarious was going on, and from what he understood, nobody was supposed to enter the treasury without the express permission of Abbot Rhys. It could be that his secretary, Lwc, had been given permission, but with everyone else fighting the fire, somehow Gwalchmai doubted it. By rights they should all be at a meal, as noon had come and gone. Gwalchmai’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  Iorwerth heard it too, elbowed him, and spoke in a low whisper, “Don’t remind me. I’m hungry too!” In the last year, Iorwerth, who was born the year before Gwalchmai, had grown tall, and the combination of his training to be a knight and his voracious appetite had resulted in a broad chest and thick muscles in his arms.

  “Is your father going to be worried about you since you’re missing dinner?”

  “He went with Taran to the camp. He hardly notices when I’m beside him, so I doubt he’ll notice if I’m not. If he chastises me for my absence later, I’m thinking I’ll have something to tell him.”

  The little bit of doubt Gwalchmai and Iorwerth had about what they were doing (spying) and if they’d misunderstood the situation was the only thing keeping them from confronting the young monk. Gwalchmai told himself it was best to watch, follow, and then report to Gwen and Gareth as soon as they returned from the barn. Iorwerth, of course, was all for whatever Gwalchmai had in mind.

  Gwalchmai hadn’t ever heard the phrase inside man until last night, and he hadn’t really known what Gareth had meant by the term until he saw it with his own eyes: Lwc was the inside man in the monastery, and he was using his role as the abbot’s secretary to steal from him.

  The very idea burned Gwalchmai’s gut.

  “What better way to get everyone out of the monastery than to start a fire?” Iorwerth said in a whisper.

  “I was just thinking that too.” Gwalchmai put a hand on Iorwerth’s arm. “There he goes!”

  Lwc came out of the treasury, closed the door behind him, and hastened down the stone passage to the exit near the west entrance to the church. That would take him to the pathway that ran past the guesthouse into the courtyard. Gwalchmai would have thought someone would be watching, but even if they were, maybe they wouldn’t notice how bulky Lwc had become under his encompassing robe. Gwalchmai probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t just seen him come out of the treasury.

  “Let’s go!” Iorwerth sprang to his feet, and the two boys left their hiding position at a run, making for the same door Lwc had just gone through. When they reached it, however, there was no sign of Lwc. They looked at each other for a heartbeat, acknowledging that there were only two ways Lwc could have gone, and with a nod, split up. Iorwerth took off down the path that led to the monastery gardens, and Gwalchmai headed left towards the courtyard. Either path could take Lwc out of the monastery, and it was just a question of guessing right as to which one Lwc thought would be least watched.

  Gwalchmai set off at an easy jog, soon hitting the cobbles that formed the walkway into the courtyard, but when he reached it, nobody was in sight. He warred with himself for a moment as to whether he should keep watch at the gatehouse—the only avenue in and out of the monastery on the south side—or run after Iorwerth. He cursed himself for not having chosen that way to go, because even now he could picture his friend tailing Lwc, discovering what had become of the treasure, and getting all the glory of the discovery.

  Still dithering, Gwalchmai ran to the entrance to the monastery and stood in the road outside. Nobody appeared, not even the gatekeeper, who seemed to be snoring where he sat. Gwalchmai turned in a full circle on one heel. Nothing seemed amiss, either in or out of the monastery.

  But then, both to Gwalchmai’s relief that he hadn’t guessed wrong and dismay that he was right to be worried, Deiniol appeared in the stable doorway, leading his horse, followed immediately by Lwc. It wasn’t as if either could help noticing Gwalchmai, since he was standing smack in the middle of their way out. However, Deiniol directed his steps towards the gatehouse, a rueful smile on his lips. “A bad business.”

  In contrast to Deiniol’s easy familiarity, Lwc faltered at the sight of Gwalchmai—and it was that falter that renewed Gwalchmai’s faith that he was on the right track.

  “Where are you going at this hour of the day?” Gwalchmai made sure his tone was full of curiosity, not belligerence.

  Deiniol smiled again. “The abbot gave me permission to ride down the road some ways in search of my brothers from Wrexham. I would have thought that they’d be here by now, and I’m worried that something has happened to them along the way.”

  Before Gwalchmai could think of how to reply to that, first Conall, with Iorwerth behind him on his horse, and then Gareth and Gwen, appeared, riding down the path that led past the front door of the church. Their horses’ hooves couldn’t help but make a clopping sound on the cobbles. At the sound, both Deiniol and Lwc turned—in Lwc’s case with a jerky motion—to look.

  Conall paused to let Iorwerth off the horse, and the young prince skirted the perimeter of the courtyard on foot, heading towards the narrow path by the stable that led north out of the courtyard. When he reached it, he simply stood in the middle of it, effectively acting as a barrier in case Deiniol and Lwc thought to flee. Iorwerth posed an actual threat, seeing as how he was taller and more muscled than Gwalchmai, who was a bard, not a warrior.

  Both Lwc and Deiniol kept their backs to Gwalchmai, who stayed where he was. If the two
monks really had been up to something, they would not want to take their eyes off Conall and Gareth, even injured as both men were. For his part, Conall urged his horse closer to the gatehouse where Deiniol, Lwc, and Gwalchmai waited.

  Gwalchmai decided to draw Deiniol’s attention back to him to give the others a chance to get closer before anything happened. “Your brothers have a long way to walk. How can you possibly ensure that you’ll travel the same path as they?”

  “The Lord will guide me.” It was a platitude Gwalchmai had heard before, but it didn’t seem right coming out of Deiniol’s mouth, and it made him hesitate to ask anything else because Deiniol seemed to have an answer for everything. Gwalchmai himself was starting to feel stupid.

  Fortunately, by now Gwen and Gareth had dismounted, and Gwen moved to Lwc’s side. She stood so close to him that it made Gwalchmai uncomfortable. Gareth leaned casually against the wall of the gatehouse tunnel.

  Gwalchmai met Gwen’s eyes for a heartbeat, and she gave him a hint of a nod. He took it as an indication that not only did she want him to continue asking questions, but that she and Gareth were on the same track he was.

  He looked at Deiniol. “It seems an odd time for you to go, given that the barn is burning down and we’re in the middle of an important peace conference.”

  “That makes it the best time. Abbot Rhys has many responsibilities and hands to do the work, and I will be little missed.”

  “You may be little missed, but I would have thought that Abbot Rhys needed Lwc now more than ever.” Gwen had finally decided to speak. “We saw the abbot standing without you just now, Lwc. It’s puzzling to me that you didn’t go to the barn with him.”

  Lwc started. “Brother Deiniol asked for my assistance in preparing for his journey, and I gave it.”