“Such a task would have had to be both important and dangerous to cost so much,” Mari said.
“Amaury could be correct that Alard isn’t a traitor,” Gwen said. “What if it is David who was the traitor, and he was paid to kill Alard?”
“That would make his death a very expensive one,” Gareth said.
“We will assume nothing without evidence,” Hywel said, looking hard at each of his companions in turn. “Let’s begin with what we know.”
Rhun focused on his brother. “We have four horsemen: Alard, John, David, and Peter, who is dead.”
“And we have four men involved in this plot,” Hywel said, “Alard, John, David, and a fourth man whose identity we don’t know.”
“What if Amaury isn’t telling you the truth? What if the fourth horseman isn’t really dead?” Mari said.
“Now you’re thinking like a true conspirator, Mari,” Hywel said, grinning.
Gareth’s brow furrowed. “Amaury wasn’t lying about Peter’s death, of that I am sure. Why would he?”
Mari deflated, her shoulders sagging. Gareth hadn’t intended that, and he made a gesture with his hand in silent apology. Gwen put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be sad. You were thinking out loud with us. This is what we do.” Gwen glared at her husband. “Besides, she isn’t wrong. We’re looking for at least one more man besides Alard and the mystery man beside the river.”
“How so?” Gareth said.
“If John, David, Alard, and his companion beside the river are all dead or accounted for outside the castle, who hurt Prior Rhys and me and took David’s body? How many culprits are we really looking for?”
Gareth grimaced. His wife was right, and he was about to say so when a knock came at the door, followed by Evan’s voice. “My lords?”
At a gesture from Rhun, Gareth opened the door.
Sir Amaury stood on the threshold. “I apologize for interrupting.” He peered past Gareth into the room, and when he saw Rhun and Hywel, he bowed. “May I speak with you, my lords?”
Prince Hywel nodded, and Gareth stepped aside to let Amaury pass through the doorway. Then Gareth closed the door again and leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest.
“How may we assist you, Sir Amaury?” Prince Rhun said.
“I have been asked to escort Sir Gareth to see—” Amaury cleared his throat and gave the impression that he was struggling to get the next words out. He was a knight, a chief servant of Earl Ranulf of Chester, and yet he shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with everyone’s gaze on him, “—the empress.”
Gareth gaped at him, dropping his arms and taking a step towards Amaury. “What? I thought she wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow?”
Amaury glanced behind him at Gareth, and while his back was turned, Hywel made a silencing motion with his hand. Gareth subsided, and Hywel drew Amaury’s attention back to him. “Why would she want to see Sir Gareth?”
Amaury swung around to face Prince Hywel. “I am only the messenger, my lords.”
“No blame to you, Amaury.” Hywel grinned, though Gareth couldn’t see what was funny. If they’d been alone, he might have made a comment along the lines of just you wait, but to do so wouldn’t have been appropriate in front of Amaury.
Prince Rhun clasped his hands behind his back, playing the more serious older brother. “Empress Maud is here? And she’s not happy, I imagine.”
Amaury hands were clenched behind his back too. “No, my lord.”
Gareth met Hywel’s eyes, asking for permission to join the conversation. Hywel nodded.
“Why me?” Gareth left the door and moved so that Amaury could speak to him and the princes at the same time.
“I don’t know,” Amaury said.
“Surely this isn’t usual?” Gareth said.
“Not usual at all, but not without reason.” Amaury canted his head towards Hywel and Rhun. “She will meet the Princes of Gwynedd formally in the hall of the castle, but she hates to be kept in the dark about anything. Earl Robert must have sent her word that you were part of this investigation, and since both Gwen and Prior Rhys were injured when David’s body was stolen …” Amaury’s voice trailed off, leaving (to Gareth’s mind) a great deal unsaid.
Hywel filled in one of the gaps. “She wants to hear what happened from the horse’s mouth. She can question Gareth without thought of protocol or how it will affect the relations between her and my father.”
“My lord, speaking to an empress puts me out of my depth,” Gareth said.
Amaury’s eyes grew bright with the same amusement Gareth saw in Hywel’s face. “She has been known to reduce even grown men to gibbering fools,” Amaury said.
“Tell her what you deem wise,” Hywel said to Gareth. “We don’t even know what questions she is going to ask. I trust you.” He didn’t need to tell Gareth not to mention the emerald, and they both knew it.
“Yes, my lord.” Gareth swallowed hard. “Though I don’t find this nearly as amusing as you do.”
Hywel clapped Gareth on the shoulder. “She’ll take to you, far more than she will to either Rhun or me. Consider yourself an emissary from us.”
Gareth bowed, though his insides were churning. He turned to Amaury. “We might as well get this over with.”
“While you are about royal business, Mari and I will call upon Prior Rhys.” Gwen rose to her feet.
“That’s a good idea,” Gareth said.
If he hadn’t caught her hand and pulled her close, he would have missed Gwen’s next words, which were said just about as sourly as any he’d ever heard from her: “It seems to be all I’m good for.”
Gareth looked down at her, concerned. “Gwen—”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “Not to worry. I’m just out-of-sorts.”
“Do not get yourself into any more trouble,” he said.
Gwen laughed. “I’m not the one going to visit an empress.”
Chapter Nine
Gwen
“Don’t you find that strange?” Gwen said after Gareth and Amaury had left the room and Evan had closed the door again.
“If Empress Maud thinks speaking to one of our knights is going to gain her information she wouldn’t have discovered otherwise, she is very much mistaken,” Hywel said. “Gareth will give away nothing of substance—nothing that we do not want to share.”
“And he no longer has the emerald,” Rhun said, holding out his hand. “What do we do with it?”
Hywel pursed his lips. “We keep it quiet. When Gareth returns, depending on what he tells the empress, we can decide what role in the continuing investigation we choose to have.”
“Father would not want us to leave yet,” Rhun said, “not with so much unsettled.”
“He would want us to leave if staying meant risking our lives and those of our companions. When Gareth returns, we will ask to speak again with Earl Robert.” Hywel shook his head. “I wish I understood more about what is happening here.”
Rhun scoffed under his breath. “I don’t think I will ever understand Normans.”
“Since I told Gareth I would, it’s probably best if Mari and I visit Prior Rhys,” Gwen said. “Perhaps he is well enough to talk. Regardless, he shouldn’t be left alone.”
“He’s not alone,” Hywel said. “One of the ladies of Earl Robert’s court is sitting with him.”
“Even so, my lord, I think you know what she means.” Mari had a way of speaking to Hywel that skirted the edge of disrespect.
Hywel bowed. “You are correct, of course. I give way to your better sense.”
Gwen looked down at her feet to hide her expression. It had her worried that Hywel didn’t seem to mind how Mari talked to him as long as she did and in fact seemed to enjoy sparring with her. Gwen took her friend’s hand, and they left the room, though not before Mari threw yet another admiring look over her shoulder at Prince Hywel.
“He is a very handsome man,” Gwen said.
“Who?
” Mari said.
Gwen glanced at her friend. “Prince Hywel.”
Mari blushed. Gwen shouldn’t have had to clarify who he was, and Mari knew it. “Yes. Very handsome.”
They’d reached the lower landing in the west wing of the castle and came to a halt when a guard, who’d been leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, straightened at their approach.
Gwen nodded to him. “We’re looking for Prior Rhys,” she said in her halting French.
The man pointed to a door. “At the end of the corridor.”
Gwen thanked him, but Mari swept past him like he wasn’t there. Such behavior was expected of high-born Norman women, and here at Newcastle, Mari was Norman, not Welsh. With that thought, Gwen’s brow furrowed, suddenly unsure as to how it was that Mari was accepted as a Norman. Gwen had never asked her friend what exactly her relationship was to Lord Goronwy. It had never been important to know before.
They reached the door. Mari hadn’t looked at Gwen since the mention of Hywel, and her color remained high. She lifted her hand to knock, but before she could, Gwen asked, “Did you grow up in England, Mari?”
Mari’s hand stayed suspended before the door, and Gwen wished she could take back her words. Mari’s face had crumpled. She looked down at her shoes and took a breath, smoothing out her features and returning to her usual composed self. “I am as Welsh as you, Gwen.”
Gwen put a hand on Mari’s arm. “I know that.” Her voice was as gentle as she could make it. “I didn’t mean to ask you so abruptly. I would never mean to imply that we did not share a love for Wales.”
Mari blinked twice, and the tears that had threatened to spill out of her eyes receded. “My mother was a Welshwoman. She died before I was ten.”
Gwen ducked her head. “I asked because I was admiring your poise. You look as if you belong at Newcastle far more than I do. And then for the first time it occurred to me that as a cousin to Cristina, whose mother was Norman, that you might have Norman blood too.”
Mari looked away. “I do.” She cleared her throat. “My mother was Uncle Goronwy’s sister, but my father’s family came from Normandy. Although they lost their lands there several generations ago, my father served in King Henry’s retinue, and later in his son’s.”
“You mean he served Henry’s son, Prince William? The one who died when the White Ship was lost at sea?”
“No.” Mari pursed her lips. “I thought you knew all this. My father was one of Robert of Gloucester’s men.”
Laughter bubbled in Gwen’s throat at getting such an unexpected answer, and yet one which so perfectly explained what she hadn’t understood before. “No wonder you feel so comfortable here.”
“It is only because of my father’s introduction that Lord Goronwy married my aunt in the first place.” Mari gave Gwen a sheepish smile. “I’m not sure that this was my father’s intent. He was very proud of his Norman ancestry, and in introducing his wife’s brother to his Norman friends, he sullied their bloodline.”
“And yet he married a Welshwoman himself,” Gwen said.
“He did.” Mari shrugged. “He loved my mother. I know he did.”
“I believe you.” Gwen bent her head close to Mari’s. “If he hadn’t married her, he wouldn’t have had you for a daughter.”
Mari’s tears threatened to undo her again. “My father died as the war between Empress Maud and King Stephen was getting started.”
“I am so sorry,” Gwen said. “May I ask how he died?”
“Drowned. They never found the body,” Mari said.
Gwen wanted to hug her friend, but the stiffness in Mari’s shoulders told her to keep her distance. “You must have been just a girl.”
Mari nodded. “I came to live with Lord Goronwy immediately thereafter.”
Gwen could picture Mari, small and shy, not yet grown into womanhood, faced with her outgoing cousin, who was two years older and already attracting—and inviting—male attention.
“This is all so much more recent than I’d supposed. For some reason, I thought you never knew your father,” Gwen said.
“I don’t talk about him,” Mari said. “And since he left me nothing, Lord Goronwy doesn’t talk about him either.”
“But you are here because Lord Goronwy is landed, didn’t you say?” Gwen said. “Lands he acquired when he married?”
“Yes. Uncle Goronwy and his wife lived on the English estates she inherited. They have friends among Earl Robert’s court, and Lord Goronwy takes pleasure in remembering those times. Because his estates come through his wife, it’s important that he stay on good terms with the earl.”
“If your father introduced your uncle to his wife, he must have been more than a knight, too. Was he a nobleman in his own right?” Gwen said.
“Yes.”
“So … if your father was one of Earl Robert’s men and your mother Lord Goronwy’s sister, I don’t understand why you were left with nothing. Why don’t you have a dowry—”
Mari pushed open the door to Prior Rhys’s room before Gwen could finish her sentence. Left out in the corridor, Gwen took in a deep breath. Even as close as she felt to Mari, she had skirted, and then overstepped, the boundary between them. Although Gwen thought of herself as Mari’s friend and believed that Mari viewed her in the same way, Mari was of the superior social class. She’d terminated their conversation, as was her right. Gwen was glad she knew more about Mari’s past, but she wished she’d asked her questions more delicately.
By the time Gwen had collected her thoughts and entered the room, Mari had slipped onto a stool beside Prior Rhys and was holding his hand. A woman Gwen didn’t recognize sat in a chair in the far corner of the room, working silently on a needlepoint square.
Gwen tipped her head towards the door. “Madam, could you excuse us? We’ll sit with him a while.”
The woman curtseyed and left the room without Gwen ever getting her name, which she supposed was her own fault for not asking. Gwen hesitated for a moment, mustering her courage to risk more conversation with Mari, and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I overstepped.”
Mari patted Gwen’s hand. “Don’t be sorry. I’m too sensitive, but I would rather not talk about my father.”
The cramp that had formed in Gwen’s stomach at the tension between them eased. She squeezed Mari’s hand before walking to the other side of the bed so she could put her hand to Prior Rhys’s forehead. It was cool.
“I am awake.”
Gwen jumped. Hywel had implied that Prior Rhys was at death’s door. “I’m glad!” Gwen was so relieved, she was tempted throw her arms around the prior and hug him. His austere expression restrained her, however. “How do you feel?”
“My head hurts.”
He said it with such an injured tone that even Mari smiled. “Someone hit you very hard,” Mari said. “Did you see him?”
“I’ve been lying here going over what I remember,” Prior Rhys said. “I recall praying beside David’s body in the little room off the chapel. Then Gwen entered the room, hoping to examine the body.” His eyes flicked to Gwen and then away again, back to Mari. “I admit that surprised me.”
“I’m sorry,” Gwen said. “I didn’t mean to disconcert you.”
Prior Rhys turned his head, very carefully, to look fully into Gwen’s face. “You were very matter-of-fact about it. I didn’t know what to make of such behavior in a woman, and I confess that I didn’t like the idea of you undressing the body in front of me. I chose to take a walk while you worked.”
Gwen, for her part, didn’t know how to answer him. She could have used his help, and as before in the chapel, his squeamishness surprised her. Still, the fewer people who knew about the emerald, the better.
Prior Rhys didn’t seem to need a response from Gwen. He continued, “By the time I had strolled some distance from the chapel, I had come to terms with what you were doing. In fact, I made a list in my head of a dozen other women whom I had known in m
y days as a soldier who might have had the capacity to behave as you were. I was wounded fighting in France and left to heal among a community of nuns. You reminded me of them.”
“Gwen is not a nun,” Mari said.
Now it was Prior Rhys’s turn to smile, canting his head in acknowledgement of the truth of Mari’s statement. “Still, she has some of the same qualities I admired in them. Did you find anything important on his body? Anything that might tell us why he was killed?”
“A man subdued me too,” Gwen said, taking Hywel at his word that the emerald was not a topic for discussion. “When I awoke, the body was gone.”
“What?” Prior Rhys struggled to push himself more upright on the soft bed. “Gwen! I am so sorry! I should have been there to protect you.”
Gwen knew that Gareth thought much the same thing and might even speak to the prior about it eventually. She, however, wasn’t going to admonish him. “It isn’t your fault.”
“Are you all right?” He looked her up and down. “You look well.”
“I am well. He didn’t hurt me. I’m still not entirely sure what caused me to faint, but he put his arm around my neck—” Gwen broke off, stroking her throat and remembering what it had felt like. She was afraid that the memory, and the feeling of helplessness the man’s action had engendered in her was going to haunt her for a long time to come. At the very least, she needed to be more careful about leaving her back to doors in strange castles.
Prior Rhys reached for Gwen’s hand. “My dear.”
“We have been assuming that Gwen and you were both harmed for the same reason—because you were watching over David’s body,” Mari said.
Prior Rhys shook his head. “But what is it about David that would make someone do that? It’s nonsensical.”
“Not to the man who did it,” Mari said.
Prior Rhys lifted his eyes to look into Gwen’s. “If I could stand, I would take you home to Wales before the sun sets. Why hasn’t Gareth sent you home already?”
“Because he’s afraid she wouldn’t reach the border safely.” Hywel pushed through the door and entered the room. “I thought I heard your voice, Prior. It’s good to see you awake.”
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