Gareth also wondered if it was significant that Alard had murdered a Welshman in front of a party of Welshmen. If his intent was to get the attention of the two princes, he’d surely succeeded. Gareth didn’t sniff the air to find the source of the bad smell wafting from the stories everyone was telling, but they stunk nonetheless.
“If you knew Alard was a traitor, how was it that he entered my castle unmolested?” Earl Robert said, still talking to Ranulf.
“I do not know,” Ranulf said. “He escaped by rope into the Lyme Brook. Perhaps he entered the castle the same way.”
Amaury made a derisive snort that he quickly turned into a cough. Prince Rhun had suggested the same thing to Gareth as they’d left the wall walk, and Gareth hadn’t contradicted him, but Ranulf was clutching at straws. That Alard would climb up the rope into the castle made no sense at all. It was hard to imagine an entrance that was more likely to get him noticed. The most logical course of action would have had him coming through the main gate unremarked, as just another visitor to the castle, one that some men in the garrison recognized and still believed to be an ally. Alard could have left the rope tied around the merlon as a precaution, an escape route of last resort that he would use if he had to and leave behind if he didn’t.
Ranulf seemed not to have heard Amaury’s understated disapproval. Perhaps to make amends anyway, Amaury cleared his throat and stepped forward, deflecting Earl Robert’s attention away from Ranulf to himself. “I have men scouring the banks of the brook for any sign of the man, my lord.” He paused and didn’t say what Gareth expected to hear, which was it is only a matter of time before we find him.
It seemed that Earl Robert had expected to hear those words too. When they didn’t come, he said, “But you believe him to be long gone.”
“Not necessarily gone,” Amaury said, “but certainly untraceable unless Alard wishes to be found. He had a significant head start, and he knows the area well.”
“And why would he want to be found?” Earl Robert remained focused on Amaury, who stood steadily before him.
“Alard may have murdered David, but that doesn’t make him less intelligent than he was yesterday. He has a plan. He would return to Newcastle if he believed his work unfinished,” Amaury said.
Earl Robert raised his eyebrows as Amaury hurried on.
“As you may be aware, Alard’s skills as a knight and a purveyor of information have always been considerable. If he killed David, as it appears he did, he did it for a reason he believes in. I find it unlikely that the matter will end with the death of one Welshman.”
Earl Robert transferred his attention to the two princes of Gwynedd, both of whom had been listening with great interest to the Normans’ conversation. “I suppose you have a man whom you would like me to include in this investigation? I will allow him to participate as a courtesy to your father, since it appears that he has been wronged in this matter.”
“We do, sir,” Prince Rhun said, speaking for both himself and Hywel.
Robert turned on his heel and canted his head at Gareth. “It’s you, is it?”
“Yes, my lord.” Gareth stepped forward.
“Ranulf!” Robert waved a hand at his son-in-law in much the same way Ranulf had waved at Amaury earlier. “See to this matter but keep me informed.”
Ranulf bowed. “Yes, my lord.”
“Now.” Earl Robert nodded towards the two princes. “If you would come with me to my receiving room, I would like to welcome you properly, without this troublesome event hanging between us.”
“Certainly, sir.” Rhun bowed, though the act came off a bit stiff. Strictly speaking, as a prince of Gwynedd, Rhun outranked the earl, but not if rank depended on men at his command or wealth. The question of status had been making their conversation awkward from the moment Earl Robert greeted the two princes, especially in front of so many observers. It was better for the three of them to meet in private.
“Good.” Earl Robert led the way out of the room.
Prince Hywel clapped Gareth on the shoulder as he passed him. It was a sign of confidence that Gareth knew what to do and would do it. At least that’s what Gareth hoped it meant.
When Gareth had ridden into Chester last winter, from the moment he entered underneath the gatehouse, he’d felt the eyes of every Saxon in the city on him. Here at Newcastle, the feeling was similar, if not worse, and Gareth had to acknowledge that he was more out of his depth in this Norman castle than he’d ever been, even when he’d sailed to Dublin to find Gwen after she’d been abducted by King Owain’s brother, Cadwaladr. Gareth glanced at Gwen, who noticed his attention and lifted her hand to him. Seeing her there settled him and started him thinking more coherently about the investigation that faced him.
“I would have you see to this matter, Amaury,” Ranulf said, passing off the responsibility.
Amaury tipped his head in assent.
“You can work with this Welshman?” Ranulf spoke as if Gareth wasn’t in the room.
“Yes, my lord,” Amaury said.
“Good. I expect you to come to me before speaking to Earl Robert,” Ranulf said.
Amaury bowed from the waist. Ranulf left the hall through a back entrance, following the path his father-in-law and the princes of Gwynedd had taken.
Left alone with Gareth, Amaury rubbed his temple with two fingers. “I hope you did not take offense, Sir Gareth. My lord can be a bit … abrupt at times. With this murder, everyone’s machinations and strategies will come under unwanted scrutiny from Earl Robert.”
Last winter, Ranulf had negotiated a deal with Prince Cadwaladr. They’d discussed deposing King Owain and putting Cadwaladr on the throne of Gwynedd. Gareth wondered if Amaury was subtly telling him that other such dealings were in the works and that David might have played a role in implementing some of them. And would have still, had he not been killed.
“I am not offended, my lord,” Gareth said. “An earl does as he pleases.”
Amaury coughed a laugh. “That he does.” Then he gestured to where Gwen and the others waited. “You brought a woman with you?”
“She is my wife and is here at the request of Prince Hywel,” Gareth said.
Amaury eyed him. “I gather she is not one to be underestimated either, if one were so inclined? I am to forget that she is a woman?”
Gareth grinned. “As you say.” Gwen may have been intimidated at first by all the Normans around them, but she knew her own mind, and Gareth thanked God every day for it.
“Empress Maud is such a woman, though I would hope that your wife speaks more gently than the empress.” Amaury pursed his lips. “It would be better to clear this up quickly before she arrives.”
Gareth glanced at him, his gaze sharpening. “I noted that Empress Maud’s banner flies above the tower, but we were told she wasn’t in residence. She is coming to Newcastle?”
The corners of Amaury’s mouth turned down. “Her flag flies wherever the Earl of Gloucester resides as a sign of his allegiance. The empress, however, arrives tomorrow.” From Amaury’s expression, encountering the empress didn’t delight him any more than it did Gareth. “Rather than at the castle, she will stay at the friary down the road to the east.”
Gareth nodded, accepting that information with equanimity. It didn’t matter to him where the empress chose to lay her head. “What is it about this incident in particular that would disturb Empress Maud?”
Amaury chewed on his lower lip and looked down at his feet, not answering at first. Then he cleared his throat. “Alard has always been one of her favorites.”
Chapter Five
Gwen
While the noblemen discussed the murder, Gwen sat. She was glad that Gareth had been included in whatever they were deciding, but she felt restless staying with Evan and Gruffydd and not knowing what was going on. Gareth would tell her all about the conversation later, but that knowledge wasn’t helping her right now. Gwen had seen enough of this Norman castle already. She wanted to go home to their
cottage on Anglesey.
Gareth and Gwen had married before Christmas the previous year and immediately traveled to the lands Prince Hywel had bestowed upon Gareth as part of his knighthood. As a captain in the prince’s teulu, it was no more than he deserved.
The estate was near St. Eilian's, a little church on the northeast coast of Anglesey. Their home didn’t look like much—no more than a small cottage, byre, barn, and stockade, with fields around, farmed by the common folk who tithed to Gareth, who in turn would tithe to Prince Hywel. Still, it was home, and Gwen could walk out her door every morning and watch the sun rise over the Irish Sea. In the years of wandering with her father since they’d left Gwynedd, she’d forgotten what it was like to stay in one place and to have a home.
Gareth, of course, couldn’t really stay in one place if he was to continue in Prince Hywel’s service. Gareth and Gwen had spent the winter and spring at their new home but, even so, had ridden the twenty miles to Aber each month so Gareth could confer with Prince Hywel. Soon, most likely after this trip to England, Hywel would want to go south, to his own lands in Ceredigion. He would want Gareth to ride with him as the captain of his teulu, and Gwen might not be allowed to go with them.
Abruptly, she stood, stomach churning and no longer able to sit still. “I’m going to see how Prior Rhys is getting on with the body.”
Evan gaped up at her but then snapped his mouth shut. “I don’t know that any other woman could get away with saying those particular words, but coming from you, they make sense.”
Gwen smiled. “Few women have my particular history.”
Evan smirked. “I don’t object to you going, and I don’t think Gareth would either. But I will come with you.”
“There’s no need—”
“Gareth would have my head if I let you wander this castle by yourself without an escort. You are among strangers,” Evan said. “Best you remember it. I’ll take you there and then return to the hall, provided your presence is acceptable to Prior Rhys.”
Gwen nodded. It would do no good to argue, and she could believe that Evan wanted an excuse to leave the hall too. He’d been jittering his leg underneath the table since they sat down, and if she hadn’t decided to leave, she would have had to speak to him about it.
She and Evan left the hall, passed through the anteroom in which two dozen people still clustered—though what exactly they were doing other than gossiping, Gwen couldn’t determine—and left the building. Once in the bailey, Gwen had to acknowledge that Evan had been right to escort her. This wasn’t Aber, her home on Anglesey, or even Wales. She shouldn’t go about on her own.
“Did you ever meet David when he came to Aber Castle?” Gwen said.
“I saw him a few times, but we never had a conversation,” Evan said. “He would arrive late at night and leave early the next morning.” Evan glanced down at her. “We all knew that he spied for King Owain, so we kept our distance.”
“Hywel knew him,” Gwen said.
“He did indeed,” Evan said.
“I will ask him about David later,” Gwen said.
“You do that—and then let me know what he tells you,” Evan said. “Far too many secrets are being kept here for my comfort and—strangely—only a few of them by our lord.”
“When did you last see David at Aber?” Gwen said.
Evan shook his head as he thought. “Oddly, not since the winter, just as Ranulf said. It would have been nice to know what he was doing.”
“And where he was doing it,” Gwen said.
“David should have known better than to choose a Norman over King Owain.”
Gwen couldn’t help smiling at the derogatory way Evan said Norman. She was sure he meant it exactly the way it sounded.
“I wonder how that came about,” Gwen said.
“We may never know now,” Evan said. “King Owain will need to think twice from now on about the men he trusts.”
Now Gwen shook her head. “It isn’t that easy to know who might be a traitor. Prince Hywel is usually very wary, and he didn’t suspect David was dealing falsely with his father.”
Evan took Gwen’s elbow, leading her around the horses and men—and manure. King Owain kept the offal under control at Aber, but it seemed impossible to keep up with here. Gwen would have held her nose as she picked her way around the piles, but holding up the hem of her dress meant she didn’t have an extra hand.
When she and Evan had appeared at the top of the steps to the keep, two dozen heads had turned towards them, and many still hadn’t turned away. Gwen didn’t know how to interpret their expressions, whether it was scorn or dismay—or even admiration in the eyes of some of the men. It was the kind of admiration that made Gwen uncomfortable. She was glad that it was Evan who walked with her and not Gareth, for the looks would have made him angry.
“How many soldiers do you think Earl Robert houses here today?” Gwen said.
“Soldiers haven’t made the castle so full,” Evan said. “Earl Robert’s barons have brought hangers-on with them. Only a hundred of us rode with Hywel and Rhun, and few will ever enter Newcastle. Think about how many men of rank Ranulf has at his command, not to mention Earl Robert. They will expect to enter the castle and be well received.”
“At Winchester, when Ranulf and Cadwaladr barely escaped with their lives and Queen Matilda captured Earl Robert, how many men did the earl have with him?” Gwen said.
“Well over a thousand,” Evan said. “He wasn’t outnumbered. He got caught while defending his sister’s retreat.”
“That’s what I’d heard,” Gwen said. “What’s strange is that he lost so many and yet still has enough men at his command to fill this castle. I don’t know that King Owain has more than a few thousand men in all of Gwynedd upon whom he can call.”
“He has that many,” Evan said, “but you are right in principle. The English outnumber the Welsh tenfold. It’s why we are here in the first place: King Owain must tread carefully so as to not offend either Earl Robert or King Stephen. The day an English king decides to direct the full weight of his armies towards conquering Wales might be our last day of freedom.”
Gwen shuddered at the thought. The Normans held the Welsh in disdain and always had.
“My greatest concern is not the men here, nor these Norman barons. It’s the undercurrents,” Evan said.
“What do you mean?” Gwen said.
“Even without the matter of this dead man, which is sure to sour relations between Earl Ranulf and King Owain, I sense defensiveness in Ranulf’s manner. He is not as solid in his allegiance to Earl Robert as his attendance here implies.”
“How can you be sure?” Gwen said. “He’s married to Earl Robert’s daughter, after all.”
“And how often has kinship stopped our own people from betraying those to whom they claim allegiance?” Evan said.
Gwen had to admit Evan was right. “Disloyalty does seem to be in our blood; you only have to look to Prince Cadwaladr.”
King Owain had contained his brother for now. Cadwaladr was living on his estates in Merionnydd. Gwen didn’t doubt, however, that King Owain would be hearing from him again, and when he did, the news of him would not be good. After Cadwaladr had been caught conspiring with Ranulf against King Owain, Ranulf had made amends, sending messages and gifts to King Owain, who wanted to have peace with his brother—if not with Ranulf—but the tension between the brothers remained. Cadwaladr could never be trusted again. As Gareth had said more than once, putting trust in Cadwaladr would surely lead to disappointment later.
“You there! What’s your business?” A young soldier who’d been talking to some of his fellows near the armory ran over and accosted Gwen and Evan in French as they arrived at the chapel.
Gwen and Evan eyed him instead of answering.
He glared back and added, “Who are you?”
Evan dug into Gwen’s ribs with his elbow. “Say something. My French is poor and my English worse.”
Gwen lifted
her chin. She didn’t know why she needed to tell this soldier anything. At the same time, she saw no need to offend him unnecessarily. “We are companions of the Princes of Gwynedd. I intend to join Prior Rhys in watching over the body of the Welshman who died.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “That is acceptable. You will find Prior Rhys through the first door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said.
The guard turned away, and Gwen and Evan made to enter the building. Before they reached the door, however, a shout came from behind them. “Evan!”
They turned together to see Gruffydd waving at them from the steps to the keep. Gwen patted Evan’s arm. “It looks like something’s happened. You’ve done your duty.”
Evan held his hand high above his head so Gruffydd could see it. Then he poked his head into the chapel to look at the interior with Gwen. A deserted vestibule with a single table beside the doorway into the nave faced them. “Go on, then. I’ll watch until I know you’re safe.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you for escorting me.” Gwen hurried along the corridor to the door the soldier had indicated, knocked, and then smiled when Prior Rhys’s voice rasped back at her, “Come in!”
She waved at Evan, who held up a hand in acknowledgement before he disappeared back into the bailey. Gwen pushed through the door and into the room.
The body lay on a waist-high table in a room that was entirely plain except for a wooden cross hanging on the wall above David’s head. If this was the usual place for dead bodies to be kept before burial, it seemed optimistic for the room to hold only one table. Still, Gwen immediately felt a peacefulness in the room and slowed her steps.
Prior Rhys sat on a stool near David’s head, his prayer beads loose in his hand. He looked up as Gwen shut the door behind her. “My dear.”
“Prior Rhys.” Gwen curtseyed.
“What brings you here?”
Gwen wrinkled her nose, at a loss for words. She had assumed that Gareth would have told the prior about her role in his investigations. Although Gwen and Prior Rhys had chatted during their journey to Newcastle, Gwen hadn’t discussed anything substantive with him either. But then she decided it was best to say what she wanted straight out. “I thought I would examine the body while Gareth and Prince Hywel are otherwise occupied.”
The Fourth Horseman Page 3