“Who was Gryff going to tell?”
“You, of course,” Erik said. “Cadwaladr and Cadell colluded to murder Cadell’s brother three years ago, and they’ve worked together since then, most recently looking for a way to take you down.”
Hywel assumed Erik was fully aware of the potential danger of saying those words out loud. The man had courage, he’d give him that. And the more Erik talked, the more Hywel believed what he was saying. “What about Cadwaladr’s plans for Gareth?”
“Oh, well, that would be telling.” Then Erik pursed his lips. “All right. I’ll give you that too, as proof of my good intentions. Cadwaladr intends to see Gareth dead at the first opportunity.”
Though this news was hardly a surprise, an urgency rose in Hywel’s chest that he instantly suppressed so Erik wouldn’t realize how important his answers were. “How does he hope to do it?”
“In battle would be best, though in the dark, stabbed in the back, would be fine with him.” Over the course of the conversation, Erik had turned affable, which Hywel found distasteful given the subject matter. He understood it, however. They had moved beyond Erik’s own crimes to theoretical ones. “But as long as it can’t be traced back to him, he doesn’t care how it’s done or who does it.”
“Did he offer the job to you?” Hywel said.
“I turned him down,” Erik said.
“Why?”
“I’m not an assassin.”
“You’ve killed men.”
“I have, but not in cold blood. Not like that.” Erik’s eyes traced the limits of his cell. “Come to think on it, my refusal is probably why I’m here.”
Hywel thought that likely too. “Now that you’ve told me, if something happens to Sir Gareth, we’ll know who’s behind it.”
“You would have known already.” Erik grinned. “And again, knowing that something is true and being able to prove it are two different things.”
Hywel pushed away from the door and started up the stairs. He had duties to attend to that couldn’t wait, and he was tired of Erik’s lack of honor.
“Wait!” Erik grasped the bars, realizing he’d gone too far. “We had a deal. You have to let me out.”
“Do I?” Hywel studied the large Dane. “If I let you go, you must tell me everything my uncle is planning, everything you know or suspect is in his mind.”
“I will, my lord.”
Hywel didn’t move.
Erik tsked through his teeth. “I didn’t kill Gryff, I swear it. And I didn’t hurt Iolo.”
Slowly, Hywel nodded. Then he took the key from its hook on the wall and slotted it into the lock.
Chapter Twenty-four
Gareth
The hall wasn’t as crowded as it had been earlier that morning when they’d brought Erik in. The morning was passing and the guests had dispersed. It was another beautiful day, the last of the festival, and with music all around them, nobody wanted to spend the day indoors. Gareth wasn’t a musician, but he was Welsh. He was as proud as anyone of what Hywel had accomplished this week.
Gareth found Gwen near the entrance to the great hall, talking to a gray-haired couple and their son. The son looked as if he’d achieved manhood but was still short of twenty. At Gareth’s approach, Gwen turned to him with a smile and gestured to her guests. “They heard about Gryff’s death and have come to help us find his killer.”
Gareth’s expression cleared. Any information would be helpful, given where they were in the investigation. He would have shaken the man’s forearm, but instead the woman surprised him by throwing her arms around him. “Thank you! Thank you!”
He looked over the top of her head at Gwen. She grinned at him, and Gareth patted the woman on the back, trying to get her to let go. Finally, her husband managed to pry her off Gareth’s chest.
“I’m sorry, madam,” Gareth said. “What do you have to thank me for?”
“We never got a chance before, you see,” the woman said.
Gareth had no idea what she was talking about. He glanced at Gwen, whose eyes were bright, no longer with amusement but with unshed tears.
The man gestured to his son. “Show him.”
The boy held out his left arm. Gareth stared at it. The boy had no left hand. Then he looked into his face. “Don’t tell me you’re the boy—”
“It was my fault.” The mother dabbed at her eyes with a cloth, weeping now. “He never should have thought he needed to steal that pig, but his father had gone to work in the mine, and I was sick. We had nobody to care for us.”
“But—” Gareth didn’t know what to say.
“We heard what happened to you afterwards,” the father said. “You lost everything because you refused to cut off my boy’s hand.”
Gareth closed his eyes, trying to control his own emotions, and then opened them. “You shouldn’t be thanking me. Cadwaladr took his hand anyway. I couldn’t protect him from it.”
“You did what nobody else did. We have honored you for it all these years. And that’s why we’re here.” The father took in a breath. “Llew works at the mill; he sleeps above it at night. He was there the night that man died.”
Gareth’s jaw dropped, and his gaze went to the boy. “Where have you been?”
The father cleared his throat. “He didn’t come home until last night. He’s been afraid of what he saw.”
Gareth let out a breath. “Come with me, please.” He led the way back to Hywel’s office. Hywel was no longer there, but Rhun stood gazing out the window. Gruffydd had propped himself in the same corner Gareth had occupied earlier. Rhun turned as they entered, and Gareth said, “This is our missing mill apprentice. He has something to tell us.”
Committed now, Llew stood before Prince Rhun like a soldier—legs spread, arms behind his back—and stared at a spot somewhere near the top of the wall ahead of him. “I was at the mill the night that man died. I wasn’t supposed to be there because my father had sent me to Borth to bring food to my aunt who lives alone.”
“She lost her husband last year and refuses to come live with us in Llanbadarn Fawr,” Llew’s father said as an aside.
Llew cleared his throat. “I hoped to meet a girl.”
“Llew—” That was from his mother, but Gareth made a chopping motion with his hand, and she stopped.
“Go on,” Gareth said.
“I thought the morning would be soon enough to go to Borth. If I left at first light, I could be there and back before anyone noticed I hadn’t gone when I said I would,” Llew said.
His father looked like he wanted to say something else, but another hard look from Gareth had him closing his mouth too. Gareth didn’t want to stop the flow of information now that it had started.
“I was standing in the doorway to the mill, watching for her. It was after midnight by then, and I’d realized she wasn’t coming, but I wasn’t ready to give up. Then I saw a man pass by on the road, hardly more than a shadow really. He greeted a second man, who was waiting for him in the woods. I followed them.” Llew stopped.
“Why?” Gareth said.
Llew shrugged. “It seemed odd to me that they would be out so late. Why meet in the woods? They had to be up to no good, and—” Llew raised his handless arm.
Gareth studied the young man with both pity and understanding. “You have learned to counter those who look down on you or bully you by knowing more about them than they want known?”
Llew had the grace to look sheepish. “I recognized one of them. I’d seen him around Llanbadarn Fawr on and off, though I never learned his name. He was a big man, and in the moonlight his hair was almost white. I didn’t like him.”
Gareth knew who that was. “Had he come to the mill before?”
Llew shook his head hard. “No.”
“And the other man?” Gareth said.
“He was shorter, darker, older too, with a bit of belly,” Llew said. “They were talking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then the big man left. The smaller man stood at t
he water’s edge for a while. I was afraid he might hear me. I could hardly breathe. But it wasn’t me he heard.” Llew stopped again.
“Go on, son,” Llew’s father said.
“The first man said, ‘Is that you?’ Another man stepped out of the trees and said, ‘I know what you’re up to. You won’t get away with it.’ The first man moved towards him. It all happened so fast, I could hardly believe it.”
“What did the first man do?” Gareth said.
“I couldn’t exactly see, but the man who’d just arrived ended up on the ground. The first man dragged him into the water. I was so scared.”
“So you hid,” Gareth said.
“He should have come forward sooner, we know,” Llew’s father said, “but with what happened before—”
“Prince Hywel is not Prince Cadwaladr,” Gareth said.
“We know. We know,” Llew’s mother said. “That’s why we’re here.”
“I know what happens when a body goes into the water. Usually it doesn’t come up for days,” Llew said. “I didn’t think anyone would believe what I’d seen, and I was afraid if I said anything, that man would find me. I always slept in the mill. He could have found out that I’d been there and killed me too.”
“Thank you for coming forward at last,” Gareth said. “I’ll have you know that the murderer will never be able to hurt you. He is dead. You’re safe now.”
Such was Llew’s sigh that he gave the impression of melting through the floor.
Prince Rhun tipped his head to Gruffydd, who took Llew’s arm and led him away, followed by his parents. That left Gareth alone with Prince Rhun and Gwen.
“One murder solved.” Gwen said.
“What about Iolo?” Rhun said.
A growl formed at the back of Gareth’s throat. “With Llew’s testimony and the knife, we have all the evidence we need to convict him for Gryff’s murder. Madlen, as his heir, will pay galanas to Carys for his death.”
“I feel bad that I never knew who the boy was.” Gwen looked at her feet. “I knew how you’d disobeyed Cadwaladr, of course, but until today, I’d only ever thought about what your decision had done to you and me.”
“You do realize that they came forward only because they trusted you,” Rhun said. “Everywhere you have gone, you’ve made an impression.”
Gareth shook his head. “All I did was not cut off that poor boy’s hand. He lost it anyway.”
“And all you did was protect that convent of women in Powys, and in exchange, Godfrid recovered the Book of Kells and we uncovered another murderer,” Gwen said.
“What other lives have you changed without knowing it?” Rhun said.
* * * * *
“You let Erik go?” Gareth stared at Hywel. The prince was in between conferring with some of the judges and appeasing two contestants, one who claimed the other had stolen his song. “He will betray you!”
“Maybe,” Hywel said, “but since we now have proof that Iolo, not Erik, murdered Gryff, we would have had no reason to hold him anyway.”
“You didn’t know that at the time. You had only his word!” Gareth knew he needed to get his emotions under control, but it was a struggle. Whatever satisfaction he’d felt at learning the true cause of Gryff’s death was gone, replaced by frustration at his lord’s relentless practicality. He was still feeling a tendril of guilt at Iolo’s death as well. If Gareth had thrown him in a cell, rather than letting him believe himself free, he might still be alive. The investigation had all but concluded, and he felt no triumph.
Rhun was studying his brother. “Only if treason isn’t a reason.”
“He’s hardly committing treason if he’s working for me.” Hywel looked sternly at Gareth. “You have to understand, Gareth. I have no need to prove a point or waste a man with skills I can use. I would never include Erik in my garrison or my teulu, but he can go where I can’t and bring me information I need. He already has. You should be grateful he talked, since he told us about Cadwaladr’s plans for you.”
Gareth ground his teeth. “What’s to prevent Erik from running back to Cadwaladr?”
“Why would he do that?” Hywel said. “Cadwaladr cast him off. And King Cadell would have had him dead. It is I who am paying him now.”
Gareth hated to concede the point. Only yesterday, Hywel had told him how he valued Gareth’s services because of his fine sense of honor, and now his lord went and did this. Gareth looked into Hywel’s eyes, both of them seeing this moment for what it was: Gareth was either going to have to concede to Hywel’s authority as his lord or walk away from his service.
“Let it go, Gareth,” Prince Hywel said after a moment. “I didn’t ask you to make this decision. This isn’t your compromise. It’s mine.”
Rhun spoke as if they’d said nothing to each other. “I can see how it all fell out now. Iolo used Gryff as a surrogate spy, passing messages that Iolo wrongly assumed Gryff didn’t understand. Iolo thought Gryff wasn’t intelligent enough to realize what he was up to and wouldn’t have cared if he did.
“But Gryff hated Cadwaladr for something he did three years ago and probably doesn’t even remember.” Rhun looked significantly at Gareth. “A single, small act can have consequences that ripple outward in an unending circle.”
“You never know the measure of a man until he’s tested,” Hywel said.
Gareth took in a breath, understanding that Hywel’s comment was meant as a peace offering. “Gryff was tested, and he wasn’t found wanting.”
“It just cost him his life,” Rhun said.
Chapter Twenty-five
Gwen
King Owain sat in an ornate chair he’d brought with him from Gwynedd and was eating at a trestle table with Mari when his two sons, flanked by Gareth and Gwen, appeared in front of him. The king had raised the sides of his tent to allow whatever evening breeze existed to blow past him. Everyone was thankful the sun had gone down because today had been the hottest day yet. Mari sat beside her father-in-law, nursing Gruffydd, who nonetheless was flailing an arm behind him to reach what was on the table. She’d already finished eating—or, more likely, had given the meal up as a lost cause as long as she had an active one-year-old in her arms.
“It’s a delegation,” King Owain said by way of a greeting. “I am suddenly worried.”
“You have nothing to fear,” Prince Rhun said, “though we do have a story to tell you.”
“Oh good,” Mari said. “I’m tired of being kept in the dark.”
Hywel bent to kiss the top of her head. “That was never my intent.”
“At least now I’ll be able to sleep.” Mari lifted Gruffydd from her breast and put him to her shoulder, patting him on the back until he burped.
The festival was over. The last bard had finished his song, and the judges had conferred. They’d awarded the top prize to the bard who’d replaced Gwen’s own father at Carreg Cennan. With Meilyr, Hywel, and Gwalchmai not participating in the contest, Gwen hadn’t had much interest in the overall outcome. The young man in question, however, had been very good, and both she and Hywel had approved of the choice. He’d beaten out many older men to win.
King Owain plucked a shred of roasted chicken skin from his teeth and leaned back in his chair. “Pull up a stool.” He looked at Hywel. “I have wanted to say many times since I arrived that I cannot be more proud of you, son.”
Hywel dropped his gaze to his feet, but he was smiling. Gwen was glad to hear King Owain say that. Hywel did deserve whatever accolades were heaped upon him, not only for the festival itself, but for what he’d accomplished in Ceredigion. If nothing else, the resolution of Gryff’s murder showed that: a boy who’d lost his hand because of Cadwaladr had come forward because the man who’d refused to take it from him had come to serve Hywel. Whether or not Hywel had made the right decision in releasing Erik, he’d had sense enough to put his trust in Gareth.
Hywel raised his head. “We’ve had some trouble, and Rhun and I thought it was time we told you abo
ut it.” He then launched into a summary of Gryff’s murder and the subsequent investigation. The four of them had conferred with each other on and off over the course of the day, clarifying the various points to each other as they’d had time to think about them.
King Owain listened intently throughout Hywel’s recital, and looked particularly pleased at the discovery that Llew had witnessed the murder itself. As Hywel fell silent, King Owain rose to his feet and began to pace back and forth behind his chair.
It was Mari who spoke first. “I don’t understand something. Gryff gave the cross to his wife one day but didn’t hide the ring until the next. Why the delay?”
“We may never know,” Hywel said. “Perhaps he didn’t know himself, except that I can see how the ring—clearly Uncle Cadwaladr’s own—wasn’t something he could give to someone else for safekeeping. Regardless, at some point he decided to seek me out, and when he couldn’t find me to show me the ring, he hid it in the best place he could think of.”
“It does seem that Gryff became bolder as time went on,” Gwen said. “His final act was to confront Iolo with his treachery. Who knows where that courage came from?”
“From a sense of righteousness,” Rhun said. “The man seemed to drift through his life in every other way, but he hated our uncle.”
King Owain had continued to pace during their exchange with Mari, but now he stopped and looked at his sons. “So my brother and Cadell have had a falling out?”
Hywel scratched the back of his head and shot Gwen an amused look. His father had latched onto this piece of information as the most important point when he’d hardly blinked at the news that Cadwaladr and Cadell had colluded to ambush Anarawd three years ago. Cadwaladr’s future plans, as great or small as they might be, needed to be their concern now.
“It seems so,” Rhun said. “Cadwaladr left before dawn, and Cadell departed afterwards, perhaps once he learned of Iolo’s death. Our scouts report they went different ways. Whatever may have been the initial reason for Uncle Cadwaladr’s presence here, he does not appear to be assisting Cadell with any incursions on Deheubarth’s southern border.”
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