Madlen was no exception, and eventually she broke. She ducked her head in a nod. “That’s why he ran from you.”
Understanding came to Gareth. “You were at the market last night, weren’t you?”
Madlen’s expression turned wretched. “My uncle was trying to distract you from Erik and me. He had grown afraid that you knew about his contact with Erik, since you had seen them together at our stall.”
“At the time I couldn’t understand why he ran,” Gwen said. “We weren’t that close to finding out the truth.”
Gareth pictured the scene in his mind’s eye. “Where were you?”
Madlen sighed. “Hidden between the stalls behind you. He’d just told you that I was distraught over Gryff’s death. It would hardly have done for you to have turned around and seen me arm-in-arm with Erik.
“Tell me about my uncle’s signet ring,” Hywel said.
Up until now, Madlen had been alternately defiant and morose, but for the first time she looked genuinely fearful. “You know about that?”
“Was that why Iolo took Gryff’s rucksack?” Rhun said. “Because he hoped he’d find the ring hidden in it?”
Madlen wrapped her arms around her middle and bent over. “Prince Cadwaladr passed it to my uncle to show King Cadell, as proof that his words came from him. When my uncle discovered it missing too, along with the cross, I thought his heart would give out.”
Again it was Gwen who seemed to understand her best. “You know the history between Cadwaladr and Cadell, don’t you? And Cadwaladr and Prince Hywel?”
Madlen gave a jerky nod.
Gwen continued, “It was one thing to spy for Cadell, but quite another to play a role in unseating the Lord of Ceredigion. That your uncle had both the ring and the cross proves that Cadwaladr and Cadell conspired together.”
Madlen burst into tears. “I never meant any of this to happen! I’ve lost everything! What’s going to happen to me now?”
Gareth looked down at his feet so Madlen couldn’t see his irritation. He shouldn’t have been surprised that despite everything that had happened Madlen’s greatest concern was for herself.
Gwen leaned forward and spoke gently. “All this time, you didn’t know that your uncle had anything to do with Gryff’s death, did you?”
Madlen shook her head.
“Or Erik either?” Gwen said. “He confessed to subduing the guards around your uncle’s tent. Do you still think the same of him?”
Madlen’s head remained down and silent tears dripped onto her lap. She was beyond sobbing now, beyond subterfuge and equivocation. “I loved him.” Madlen’s words appeared to be only for Gwen, the only other woman in the room. “He said he loved me too.”
Every man held his breath as Gwen said, “And yet you tried to kill him. Do you still believe he murdered your uncle?”
Madlen’s heartbreak was almost tangible, a physical thing in the room. Both Erik and Iolo had used her and lied to her, though her uncle had tried to protect her in the end.
Madlen nodded and shook her head at the same time. “I do.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Hywel
It was one thing to arrest the underlings who’d perpetrated the crime, but it was quite another matter to corner their master. At this point Hywel had little interest in what King Cadell had or had not done, though he knew he should. It was Cadwaladr he cared about. Cadell might be standing on Hywel’s doorstep, but Cadwaladr lived in the heart of Gwynedd and still had their father’s ear.
“We need to trap him,” Hywel said.
“Does Cadwaladr know that we’ve captured Erik?” Rhun said.
“I don’t know.” Hywel looked out the window, unable to hide his impatience. He was torn in two. Today’s musical events were well underway. He needed to be out there, not dealing with this investigation, no matter how important.
“Leave it to me,” Rhun said. “Whatever happens after this, Gryff’s murderer is either dead or in custody. We have more to unravel here, but you have people to see to.”
Relief crossed Hywel’s face. “Don’t kill our uncle without me there.”
Rhun laughed, but even as he did so, he had to know that Hywel was only half-jesting. “I won’t. We need to question Erik again. We need to make him talk.”
Hywel sighed. “We could let him go. See what he does.”
“What?” Gareth spoke up from the corner where he’d propped himself against the wall, unfolding his arms from his chest and straightening. “No.”
“Without more information, we’re as stuck as we were before,” Hywel said. “We can’t place him at the scene of Gryff’s murder, and it’s Iolo whose knife is suspect. Although Iolo is dead, all we have to hold Erik on are questions about his fight with Madlen, who herself admits that she attacked him, and two guardsmen who remember nothing. Hardly something we can hang him for.”
“I don’t like it,” Rhun said.
“I don’t either,” Gareth said.
“I’m not saying I like it,” Hywel said. “We can let him believe Cadwaladr used his influence to get him free, and that we reluctantly agreed.”
“And then we follow him.” Rhun nodded.
“It’s risky,” Gareth said. “We could very easily lose him.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Hywel said.
All three men looked at the floor, not speaking. Hywel’s frustration was almost unbearable. Then a knock broke the silence. Gareth went to the door and opened it. Morgan, Hywel’s steward, stood on the threshold. “Sir Gareth, there’s some people here to see you.”
Gareth’s brow furrowed. “To see me?”
“Yes,” Morgan said. “Your lady wife is with them in the hall.”
Gareth looked over at Prince Hywel, who waved a hand at him. “We all have matters to see to.”
Gareth went.
“Have you spoken to Father about Angharad?” Hywel said.
“No,” Rhun said. “With all that has happened, there hasn’t been time. I need a moment to decide what to say, and then I planned to seek him out.”
“Good,” Hywel said.
“The music awaits you,” Rhun said.
Hywel left his brother staring out the window and followed after Gareth, though he took the rear exit rather than going through the hall. He found Morgan back in the kitchen, talking to the head cook about the preparations for the next meal. Even if the majority of guests would be eating at the festival grounds, dozens remained in the castle and needed to be fed.
Hywel waited for them to finish and then said, “Everything all right?”
“We may spend the winter at half-rations, but supplies are holding,” Morgan said. “We may even survive the day.”
Hywel managed a laugh and clapped his steward on the shoulder. “Let’s hope so.”
“It’ll be easier now that King Cadell and Prince Cadwaladr have gone,” Morgan said.
Hywel froze, his hand still on the steward’s shoulder. “What did you say?”
Morgan looked at him warily. “Didn’t you know?”
“I hadn’t heard.” Hywel spared a thought for Rhun, who even now was preparing to ask Cadell for Angharad’s hand. “When was this?”
“King Cadell broke camp within this hour,” Morgan said. “Your uncle left while it was still dark.”
Hywel didn’t know what would become of his brother’s betrothal now, though he would hold out hope for the best. This was a matter Rhun would have to take up with their father.
Morgan bowed. “I apologize, my lord. I should have brought the word to you immediately, but you were in conference—”
Hywel motioned with one hand. “It’s nothing. They’re gone.”
Morgan picked at his lower lip with two fingers, obviously still concerned about his failure.
“So they didn’t leave together?” Hywel said.
“No, my lord. They didn’t,” Morgan said. “The scouts were clear on that.”
That would be the good news. It was bad
enough that his uncle was nearly impossible to pin down. Whatever Hywel had expected to happen today, it wasn’t this. He paused for a moment, wondering if he ought to feel snubbed, or if their sudden and joint absence boded ill for the festival or his rule. One hundred cavalry could wreak havoc on any domain, but they weren’t a true army.
Leaving Morgan to his work, Hywel entered the courtyard of the castle. Evan spied him immediately and hastened to greet him, accompanied by two other men, one of whom was Cadwaladr’s man from years back. Hywel didn’t know the man on Evan’s left.
“My lord.” Evan bowed. “I believe you know Sir Aedden. He brings Lord Cadwaladr’s apologies for his sudden departure, but the prince had an urgent matter to attend to elsewhere.”
That was surely the vaguest excuse Hywel had ever heard, but he took it politely enough. Then the second man stepped forward.
“I am Ralff, cousin to King Cadell, and I bring his apologies as well. He has received word that his uncle is marshalling his forces near Llanstephen in a possible attempt to retake the fortress. My cousin could not wait to make his excuses in person.”
“I understand completely,” Hywel said. Cadell, at least, had come up with something marginally credible. Ralff bowed again, turned on his heel, and departed.
The first man, Sir Aedden, gave Hywel something of a sickly smile. “If that is all, my lord?”
Aedden made to turn away, but Hywel put out a hand. “Wait. I believe I have some information that might interest your lord.”
“Oh?” Aedden turned back.
“We have arrested one of my uncle’s men, a half-Dane named Erik, on suspicion of murder. Perhaps you would like to speak to him before you go?” Hywel said.
Aedden frowned. “I know of no such man. Certainly none by that name or description has ever served Prince Cadwaladr.”
Evan looked as if he was about to speak, but at a look from Hywel, he kept silent.
“Perhaps I misunderstood his allegiance,” Hywel said.
“Indeed,” Aedden said. “My apologies for any inconvenience my lord’s departure has caused you.” It was all very polite, and after another bow, Aedden departed too.
Watching him go, Evan said, “If I may be so bold as to speak, my lord, it seems that your uncle has sold Erik out.”
“Whatever my uncle planned with King Cadell, it was worth it to him to cut all ties with a man who’s been valuable to him in the past,” Hywel said. “Maybe Erik will talk now.”
“I fear what might have prompted your uncle to behave in such a manner, my lord,” Evan said. “I see it as an indication of his belief that his past cannot hurt him.”
“And that means we need to be very careful about our future.”
Dismissing Erik’s guards, Hywel stood at the top of the steps to Erik’s cell, gazing down at the spy, who’d been lying on his back, spread-eagled on the floor. Evan remained nearby, available at a moment’s notice should Hywel have need of him. At Hywel’s approach, Erik sat up, leaning on this elbows. “What do you want?”
Hywel trotted down the steps to the door. “I have some bad news for you.”
Erik sneered. “Whatever you have to say, I’ve heard worse.”
“Cadwaladr has abandoned you,” Hywel said. “He claims no knowledge of who you are or that you’ve served as his spy for three years.”
Whatever Erik had been expecting Hywel to say, that wasn’t it. For a moment, his expression reflected his surprise, but then he smoothed it. “You can’t hold me. You have no evidence against me for Gryff’s murder or Iolo’s.”
“Maybe so,” Hywel said. “Perhaps you’d care to provide some?”
Erik scoffed. “I can’t do that because I didn’t kill either one.”
“Murder carries a monetary penalty, payable to the victim’s family and sometimes to the victim’s lord,” Hywel said. “Treason, however, is a different matter entirely. Treason carries the penalty of death.”
That seemed to get through to Erik, at least a little. He licked his lips. “I can’t help you.”
“Really?” Hywel said. “I have a mind to send word on the next tide to Prince Godfrid in Dublin that we have captured you. I’m sure he might have something to say about your service to him and your departure from it.”
Erik pushed to his feet and came forward, ducking his head at the low ceiling. He put his hands on the bars that blocked the window in the door. “No.”
Hywel raised his eyebrows. “Then it’s time you started talking. I’d like to hear in particular about the work you did for my uncle.”
Erik’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t kill Gryff.”
“I’m not asking you about Gryff,” Hywel said. “I don’t care about Gryff anymore. I want to hear about Cadwaladr.”
Erik continued to look puzzled. “To what purpose? You already know he plots against you.”
Hywel had to struggle to keep his expression mild. “The details are important.”
“Cadwaladr wants Ceredigion back. I have no idea why.” Erik snickered. “This is a petty lordship with petty people and nothing of importance ever happens here. I could never understand Cadwaladr’s interest in it.”
Erik’s mockery would have been amusing if Hywel didn’t care so very much about this lordship and the people in it.
“My uncle hates me,” Hywel said.
Erik actually grinned. “You have that right. If you want the truth, my lord, I was charged with discovering what you were doing and how you were doing it: how many men did you have? What was the disposition of your forces? I told him over and over again that the only way he was going to take Aberystwyth back was if he brought an army of at least five hundred men, camped around the castle to starve you out, or burned it to the ground like you did to him when he ruled here. But if he did any of that, he would lose your father’s favor forever.”
“He would lose his lands in Merionydd too, and then my father would send me or Rhun down here again and take the castle back,” Hywel said.
“Exactly. It was a foolish dream.” Erik’s eyes narrowed at Hywel. “If I tell you more, if I tell you what you really want to know, what do I get?”
“That depends on what you think I want to know.”
“You want to know what he’s planning now,” Erik said.
“Given that he abandoned you, I don’t see how you could know that,” Hywel said.
“He has his spies, I have mine.”
Hywel rubbed his jaw. “You’d work for me now?”
“I would.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Hywel said.
“You don’t,” Erik said, “but I can be bought, as you well know, and I have no loyalty to Cadwaladr. He paid well, but now he doesn’t.”
“Why me? Surely you’d be welcomed by King Cadell?”
“Surely I wouldn’t. He wouldn’t allow me within a hundred yards of his camp now.”
“Why?” Hywel said.
“If you’re wondering who did Iolo in,” Erik said, “I would look no further than our beloved King of Deheubarth.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Erik’s hands were still on the bars, his back bent to look through the window, but now he looked down at the ground. “Iolo invited me to share a drink with him, given to him by Cadell, as an indication of his continued respect. He gave the poisoned wine to Iolo yesterday evening. I promised to join Iolo after the singing ended, and in fact, that was where Madlen and I were going when Sir Gareth arrived to question him. After that, what with the guards you placed around Iolo, I couldn’t get to him easily.”
“Why would Cadell poison Iolo?” Hywel said, hoping for confirmation of what he’d already guessed.
“He was, as you say, snipping off loose ends.” Erik rolled his eyes. “Prince Cadwaladr might not care who knew that Cadell and he worked together to murder Anarawd, but Cadell surely does. He has two brothers who would turn against him if they knew.”
“And Cadwaladr wouldn’t want it kno
wn that he was working with Cadell now,” Hywel said. “Their mutual silence protected them both.”
“But if one stone came loose, the whole castle would come crashing down,” Erik said. “When Iolo told Cadell that he murdered Gryff and asked for protection, he exposed everyone involved. He was a fool.”
Erik seemed to think that many men were fools—including Hywel himself. But Erik was talking now, and his words had enough ring of truth in them for Hywel to remain interested. “You’re saying that Iolo told Cadell that he killed Gryff?”
“And Cadell decided that Iolo was a liability he could no longer afford,” Erik said.
“Just like Cadwaladr did with you,” Hywel said.
Erik grimaced. “Never mistake Cadell’s intentions for your uncle’s. Cadell is dangerous because he is smart and careful. Cadwaladr is dangerous because he bounces from plan to plan, leaving havoc in his wake. Just ask Iolo.”
“So what changed? What made you go to Iolo this morning?” Hywel said. “Subduing his guards was a rash act.”
“Your uncle fled Ceredigion in the night, didn’t he?” Erik said. “I learned of it from one of my merchant friends. At first I didn’t believe it, but he swore it was true. I suddenly feared that everything I knew to be true might not be. Iolo had a good mind. He would have come up with some answers to get us out of this.”
“You feared Cadwaladr had sold you out,” Hywel said.
“Turns out I was right, wasn’t I?” Erik said.
“All right. Tell me about Gryff.”
“I thought you didn’t care about him.”
“Pretend I do,” Hywel said. “Did Iolo include him in what you were up to?”
Erik looked affronted. “Of course not. The man was half-idiot. Iolo used him to carry messages sometimes. That is all.”
Madlen had said as much. Iolo’s mistake was in misreading Gryff’s nature and intent. It was perhaps the most overlooked feature of this investigation, but it seemed everything else hinged on it.
“Then why is he dead?”
Erik sighed. “I wasn’t there, but Iolo told me later that Gryff followed him to the millpond where he met me. He threatened to expose Iolo as a go-between for Cadell and Cadwaladr.”
The Unlikely Spy Page 24