The Renegade Merchant

by Sarah Woodbury

  No, Gareth was thirty miles away in Shrewsbury. Hywel was going to have to manage this next stage with just Evan and Cadifor. He could only pray that it would go better than the last one.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gwen

  Gareth had returned from his meeting with John and told Gwen all about it—confirming that he and John would be visiting the brothel the next day without her—and then she’d slept untroubled for the whole of the night.

  Even she thought her ability to sleep despite having seen two dead bodies that day was unusual, but since having Tangwen, sleeping through the night had been a rare gift. She wasn’t going to waste the opportunity on other people’s troubles over which she had no control.

  The next morning, leaving Gareth to his brothel and to question the entire town of Shrewsbury if that’s what it took to discover someone who might recognize the girl or tell him where Conall had got to, Gwen returned to Shrewsbury with her father, Tangwen on her hip. Few spring days could have dawned as brightly as this morning had, and even two murders and the prospect of presenting herself before Adeline’s father couldn’t tarnish Gwen’s good mood.

  Adeline’s father lived and worked on a street Gwen hadn’t been to yet. But as Gareth had pointed out the day before, Shrewsbury wasn’t so large that any place was very far from anywhere else. Tom Weaver’s shop lay on the west side of the town, among other merchants selling similar wares. As with the alley, this was a relatively flat part of the town, near the river. All the houses and shops along this stretch were on the level, and thus had room at the back for warehouses or craft halls, and space enough to keep chickens and horses.

  As they approached Adeline’s father’s home, Meilyr put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “All will be well. He simply wanted to meet you.”

  Gwen took in a breath and nodded, glad she had brought Tangwen with her. The girl could provide a good distraction in case Tom became emotional. Or in case Gwen herself did. She might have been accepting of the deaths of two people in Shrewsbury, but Adeline had died in part because she looked like Gwen. That wasn’t something she could sweep under the rushes and ignore.

  Meilyr rapped on the door, which opened instantly.

  “I saw you coming.” Tom, a large man, with shoulders like a side of beef, stood in the doorway, his eyes on Gwen as if she were a large cup of beer and he was parched.

  She dipped into a brief curtsey. “Hello.” Then she frowned as her gaze went to a fresh cut above his left eye.

  Tom noted where she was looking and put a hand to it. “Even in my own house, I sometimes forget to duck my head under the doorframe.”

  Gwen smiled, and then Tom did too, instantly breaking whatever ice that could have formed between them. Tom stepped back, gesturing that they should enter his house. “Come in.”

  Gwen had spent much of her life in castles, but she had her own little house on Anglesey too, and hers resembled this one, with its main single room containing a long table scrubbed smooth, a bench, and several mismatched chairs. A loft above was reached by a ladder. A bed big enough for two sat in a far corner, covered by a patchwork blanket, and in another corner a curtain was pulled back to reveal an empty space behind it. It occurred to Gwen that the private space might have been Adeline’s before she died, and that Tom had rearranged his house to get rid of her bed, but he had left the curtain as a reminder of what had been.

  Tom pulled out a bench, gesturing that they should sit. “So you saw her? My girl?”

  Gwen sat, Tangwen on her lap. “I did. Yes, sir.”

  Tom took in a deep breath through his nose before crouching on a low stool at the end of the table. He put his elbows on the table and his hands in his hair, hanging there for a moment before straightening. “I’m glad someone was with her at the end.”

  “She’s buried properly in a churchyard,” Gwen said, without mentioning that she herself hadn’t actually been present as Adeline had died. She didn’t know if Tom realized that or not, but it was hardly something she was going to bring up now.

  “Up near Mold, is it?” Tom said.

  Gwen nodded, though she didn’t give him the Welsh name of the village. It would mean nothing to him.

  “Where are my manners?” Tom stood again, tipping over his stool. He flushed as he righted it. “I have food and drink prepared.” He disappeared out the back of his house, which gave Gwen and her father an opportunity to take a deep breath themselves. Tangwen, for once, wasn’t squirming to get down, and instead leaned back against Gwen’s chest. Maybe Gwen was going to be so lucky that Tangwen would take a short nap.

  “You’re doing well,” Meilyr said.

  Gwen smiled. “What about you? Is your head all right?”

  Meilyr scoffed. “I remember now why it has been such a long while since I drank that much. I’ll recover. It serves me right.”

  Gwen hadn’t been going to say it, but she was glad that her father seemed to have recovered from his melancholy. Then Tom returned, a forced smile on his face, but still a smile, and he offered them fresh bread with butter and watered mead. “You’re Welsh. I thought you might prefer it.”

  “We do,” Meilyr said. “Thank you.”

  Tom raised his cup. “To Adeline.”

  “To Adeline,” Gwen and Meilyr repeated.

  Gwen took a small sip, but Tom drained his cup in a long series of gulps, and when he set it down, his eyes were clearer than before. He filled his glass again. “That’s good!”

  Tom didn’t quite get drunk as he consumed cup after cup, but he became more talkative, making the meeting less awkward than Gwen had feared. She had thought to avoid talking about the specifics of how Adeline had left Shrewsbury, in order not to offend Tom, but Tom’s openness encouraged her to try. Besides, having taken a short nap, Tangwen had woken refreshed and run off to chase the chickens in Tom’s courtyard, under the watchful eyes of Tom’s journeyman and apprentices. Thus, Gwen didn’t have to worry about the little girl overhearing something Gwen would prefer she didn’t.

  “At the end, before Adeline left, did you ever see her with a Welshman?”

  “Are you asking if I saw her with the one that died with her, who looked like your husband?” Tom said.

  Gwen shot a quick glance at her father, who nodded. “I told him about Gareth.”

  “I don’t mean to bring up bad memories but, while it is true that I was wondering about that man, I also want to know about another man, maybe one obviously wealthy, who might have swept her off her feet.”

  Tom snorted into his cup. “You’re talking about the big, blond, fancy man who wore a sword, though I didn’t think he knew how to use it.”

  “You saw her with him?” Gwen tried to keep the urgency that filled her out of her voice.

  “From a distance. He was coming down the street having visited the castle when he came upon Adeline.”

  “Are you saying they met by accident?” Gwen said.

  Tom shook his head. “It looked to me like she’d been lying in wait. I laid into her about it, didn’t I? She had no cause to be talking to the likes of him, seeing as how he’d only want one thing from her, and she didn’t want to be known as that type of girl. She should have been paying attention to her future husband, shouldn’t she have?”

  “Roger Carter.” Gwen could hardly have forgotten about him.

  “And now he’s dead too.” Tom sighed.

  “A cartwright, wasn’t he?” Meilyr said.

  “The best in Shrewsbury, he and his brother. Well-respected they are—were. Roger was quite a bit older than Adeline.” Tom sighed again. “I should have known better than to accept his offer for her hand, but I wanted what was best for her, even if she didn’t.”

  “Why did Roger offer for her?” Gwen said.

  “He loved her, didn’t he?” Tom said. “Every man did. She turned heads everywhere she went.”

  Gwen didn’t say that what he described wasn’t actually love, but that wasn’t her place to explain either.

/>   “Where is the cartwright’s shop?” Gwen said, trying not to sound like she cared very much. Gareth had already visited the family, and she didn’t want to interfere with his activities, but with Roger’s murder, the more she knew about Roger the better she would be able to help. She really just wanted to see it.

  “The next street over.” Tom canted his head to indicate the direction. “You might be careful about how you approach Martin if you plan to talk to him. You look very much like Adeline. She and Jenny, Martin’s wife, were close.”

  Gwen put up a hand, palm out. “I have no desire to meet him. I was just curious.”

  Then Tom frowned. “You know, I might have seen that other fellow, the fancy man, not two weeks ago.”

  “You did? Where?” It was Meilyr who leaned in this time, which was good because Gwen found her breath catching in her throat.

  “Riding down the east road past the monastery, wasn’t he? I was delivering cloth to the hospitaller and just coming out the main gate. Plain as day it was the same man—or at least I thought so at first,” Tom said. “I almost went after him, but he was riding fast, and I had no horse.”

  “Did he have anyone with him?” Meilyr said.

  “A man-at-arms and a servant,” Tom said. “That’s all. Light company for one such as he, I thought at the time.”

  Gwen thought, but didn’t say, that he had so few men with him because he’d abandoned the rest of his men in Gwynedd.

  “Did Adeline ever tell you this fancy man’s name?” Gwen held her breath.

  Tom shook his head. “Never mentioned a name, though it was plain he was above her station.”

  Gwen shared a glance with her father. Sadly, they didn’t actually need Tom to tell them his name to know it: Prince Cadwaladr. Who else could it be? Like his brother, King Owain, Cadwaladr had an eye for women, but in this case, Adeline had an eye for men too, and perhaps he hadn’t needed to pursue her.

  “Thank you for meeting me.” The weaver was a kind, sad man. Gwen kissed him on his cheek. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  He clutched her hand. “Thank you. Just seeing you here eases the pain a little, knowing you cared for her too. She was a lost lamb always.” Tom smiled gently at Gwen. “Be well.”

  Once outside in the street, having collected Tangwen from her play, Gwen hesitated as to where they should go next.

  Meilyr didn’t. “Let’s walk by that cartwright’s shop. I want to see this place where Adeline’s beloved lived.”

  “Whether or not they were betrothed, according to John Fletcher and Tom Weaver, the cartwright was in no way her beloved, but I suppose it can’t hurt to wander by.” Gwen understood her father’s desire to know everything he could about Adeline, but what she didn’t say was that she had begun to think that the sooner her father admitted that Adeline hadn’t been his daughter, the better.

  They set off down the street, turned onto an adjacent one, and then turned again, stopping in the middle of the street to inspect what was before them. Gwen had the sense that Shrewsbury had started out orderly, with each kind of merchant setting up shop in a particular quarter of the town, but in recent years, the system had been undermined by rapid growth. On this street, merchants had set up shop higgledy piggledy wherever a spot had become vacant.

  The cartwright in question was located next to a glover, whose shop lay adjacent to a goldsmith. Gwen had never seen a goldsmith shop before, though she wore a gold cross around her neck that would have come from a place such as this.

  “Adeline!”

  A girl with a mane of dark red hair, similar in color to Roger’s and coming loose from her wimple, came hurtling out of the driveway that led into the cartwright’s yard and flung herself at Gwen. Gwen caught her, but only by letting go of Tangwen’s hand. Fortunately, Meilyr scooped up Tangwen before she could become upset by the strange woman who was hugging her mother and alternately sobbing and laughing in her arms.

  “I’m not—” Gwen tried.

  “I knew you weren’t dead, and they were all silly to say so. I knew you’d come back!”

  Gwen knew she had to take charge of the situation before it got any more out of hand. She could feel the eyes of a dozen people in the surrounding shops and houses watching them, so she grasped the girl by the upper arms and forcibly pushed her away so that she could look into her face. “I am not Adeline. I am Gwen.”

  The girl stopped in mid-laugh, gaping at Gwen. The two women were of a height, and the girl’s bright green eyes were filled with tears.

  A man hurried out of the cartwright’s shop. “Jenny! Jenny!”

  Jenny put her hands up to Gwen’s arms, gripping all the tighter. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to get a hold of herself.

  Gwen felt like crying herself just seeing Jenny’s grief. “I’m so sorry.”

  The man came to a halt a few paces away and shook his head. “It isn’t your fault. I knew that she hadn’t accepted Adeline’s death. And now with Roger’s too—”

  “We shouldn’t have come,” Meilyr said from beside Gwen. “We can go.”

  “No!” Jenny clung to Gwen still, but after a moment, she managed to take some gasping breaths, let go of Gwen, and wiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I’m all right.”

  Martin moved to put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I met your husband earlier when he and John came by to tell me about Roger, but—” he shook his head, “it took seeing you for myself for me to believe that what people are saying is true.”

  Meilyr put out his hand to the man. “I’m Meilyr, Gwen’s father.”

  The man grasped his forearm. “Martin Carter, John Fletcher’s brother-in-law, and Roger’s brother. May I invite you inside?”

  Gwen hesitated. “Your house is in mourning—”

  “We’ve seen to Roger already. You needn’t concern yourself with making his death worse than it is.” Martin lifted a hand to someone behind Gwen.

  She turned to see what had drawn his attention. As they’d stood talking, a crowd had gathered around them, far more than she’d initially supposed. “This is so awkward,” she said in Welsh in an undertone to her father.

  Meilyr bowed, still looking at Martin. “We would be honored.” Tangwen clung to him with her chin wrinkled up and her brow furrowed. She looked close to tears herself.

  Gwen brushed one of her daughter’s curls out of her face and took her back from Meilyr. “It’s all right, love.”

  “Home,” Tangwen said, transferring her arms from her grandfather’s neck to her mother’s.

  “Soon,” Gwen said.

  Martin by-passed his front door and instead led the way down the driveway, which he and his wife had come down earlier to meet Gwen and Meilyr. Still wiping at her cheeks, Jenny flashed a smile at Gwen before hurrying ahead, probably to prepare food and drink. Gwen didn’t have the heart to tell her that they didn’t need it, since they’d just eaten and drunk at Tom’s house.

  In the yard, a cart had been pulled up in front of the workshop and was currently resting on only three wheels because Martin’s apprentice, a well-built man in his early twenties, with bulging muscles, was in the process of removing the fourth one.

  At the sight of it, Gwen stopped in her tracks. A stain marred the wood of all four wheels, and the one the apprentice was removing was missing its rim.

  Leaving her father, who was saying nice things to Martin about Shrewsbury, Gwen approached cautiously, not wanting to seem too curious, but unable to keep herself away. “What are you doing?”

  The man looked up to answer, went completely white, and then recovered with a visible gulp. “Oh.”

  Gwen would have thought his behavior suspicious if she hadn’t known she looked just like Adeline. She smiled. “I’m Gwen.”

  “Huw.” The man swallowed hard again before gesturing towards the wheel with a lift of his chin. “The wheel slipped its rim. I’m just seeing about a new one.”

  “For whom?” Gwen said.

  �
��For him.” The man jerked his head towards a man standing off to one side whom Gwen hadn’t noticed when she’d come in. Meilyr had already recognized Flann, the talkative merchant from the monastery, and approached, both nodding their greetings to one another.

  From Adeline, to Roger, to Flann, to the brothel—this was a puzzle in the making if Gwen could only get the pieces to fit.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hywel

  It was with a heavy heart and his most fervent prayers that Hywel saw Cadell and Gruffydd on their way, heading north the long way around the great escarpment of Eglwyseg that rose up to the east of Dinas Bran. Looking at it from the west, the range formed an impenetrable barrier, which was why they’d been forced to ride around it to the south—and why Dinas Bran had been built where it had in the first place. Most of the time, the escarpment protected Llangollen from the English. Today, it would protect Cadell from his uncle’s forces.

  “We need to move.” Cadifor pointed with his chin towards faint specks barely visible in the distance, but which were moving towards them along the Dee River, coming from the village. “Can we get across the river before they see us?”

  “If Gareth were here,” Hywel said, “I’m sure he’d be able to tell us about a dozen fords between here and Chester, but I know of only two: one in Llangollen village, and a second about a mile to the south in the bend before the river turns north again.”

  Evan sniffed the air. “We’ll see rain before long, but I think we’ll stay dry at least until noon. If we can get on the high road before then, we could start to make good time.”

  “There is nothing I would like more than to take the high road,” Hywel said, “but I don’t dare do so this close to the border. Still, we can hurry. Those men aren’t turning around.” Within a few heartbeats, Hywel and his companions were mounted and cantering through the fields to the west of the village of Trefor.

  Although they were three horsemen, obviously well mounted, nobody could tell they were fleeing Madog’s men just by looking at them. Thus, Hywel had it in his mind to skirt every village in their path, rather than announce his presence by riding straight through them. Madog aside, there was still Cadwaladr to think about. Who knew how many spies between here and Shrewsbury he and Madog had between them.