Gareth couldn’t argue with that.
“Besides, though she wouldn’t talk about it, something about the way he died meant that he left her with no dowry,” Gwen said.
“It isn’t because of how he died. Gwen, her father was Norman; even though he had been well-born, he was a younger son, so what wealth of his own he had would have been minimal. By Norman law, when Mari’s mother married Ralph, all her property became his, and when he died, with no son to inherit, all of his property went to his elder brother’s son. Women cannot own anything in England like they can in Wales. That’s the main reason the English throne is in dispute in the first place.”
“It doesn’t seem right,” Gwen said.
“Maybe you’ll get along with Empress Maud after all,” Gareth said.
“Did you tell Amaury that his fourth horseman isn’t dead?” Gwen said, changing the subject.
“I did not,” Gareth said. “Until I’m sure it’s relevant, I’d rather not expose Prior Rhys’s secrets. While I can work with Amaury, he reports to Philippe. I don’t trust him at all.”
“And you don’t believe Philippe when he says Alard is a traitor?” Gwen said.
“I believe he intercepted a messenger, but if I were William of Ypres, would I commit such information to an intermediary?” Gareth said. “It could be a clever misdirection on William’s part to incriminate an innocent man and deflect attention from the real villain.”
“What about the dead woman?” Gwen said. “Why in all this does one of Alard’s friends end up dead?”
“Because someone is tying up loose ends,” Gareth said. “Rosalind knew Alard well and could have been questioned, perhaps even exonerated him.”
“What if he has more friends out there?” Gwen said.
“I hope for his sake that he doesn’t,” Gareth said. “I would prefer not to face more murders tomorrow.”
Gwen rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in both hands. “Where’s the emerald, by the way?”
Gareth reached under his pillow, pulled out his purse, and shook it.
“Why did Rhun give it back to you?”
“If he is to be stuck inside the castle, the last thing he wanted was to keep it with him,” Gareth said.
Gwen took in a deep breath and let it out. “I accept that. I wish we knew for whom it was intended and if that person will come looking for it.”
“We don’t even know if the man who took his body was looking for it,” Gareth said. “If your guess was correct that Alard didn’t murder David, perhaps there was something about the way he died that would implicate someone. That someone could have taken the body.”
“Like Prince Hywel hid King Anarawd’s body last summer before you could examine it?” Gwen said.
“Exactly,” Gareth said.
“These aren’t questions we can answer tonight.” Gwen snuggled down beside him again. “I wish we were back in Aber and the emerald was stored in the treasury.”
“The camp is well-guarded. I wouldn’t have let you sleep here, even with me, if I didn’t think we’d be safe tonight,” Gareth said. “I would never put you in danger, not even for Prince Hywel’s sake.”
“I know.” Gwen yawned. “You need to sleep. These problems will still be with us in the morning.”
“I just wish I knew whom I could trust.”
Gareth lay awake a long while after that, though Gwen fell asleep almost immediately. As he listened to her breathe, Gareth stared into the darkness, cursing himself for keeping the emerald with him. Even if he’d spoken reassuringly to Gwen, he could believe that the man who took David’s body wanted the gem and would wonder if she’d found it, especially once he saw the torn seam. Gareth’s stomach roiled at the possible danger to Gwen. The list of tasks that he had to accomplish before he could take his sleeping wife home stretched before him, each item more insurmountable than the one before it.
Gareth eventually fell asleep, and as it turned out, the rest of the night passed without incident. He woke with the emerald still under his pillow, though as Gwen had pointed out, his double duty remained: to keep his wife safe, and to discover who murdered David and the others. Unfortunately, he had no real idea how he was going to do either.
Gwen opened her eyes. “We should at least inspect the farmhouse.”
Gareth pushed onto one elbow to look down on her. He loved the fact that she woke up alert, as if sleep had been merely a moment’s pause in her existence. “What farmhouse?” he said.
“Didn’t I mention it last night? Prior Rhys told us that the four horsemen used to meet at a farmhouse. He thought it was possible that they had continued to use it. I assumed that was why Prince Hywel wanted you here last night instead of in the castle.”
Gareth gaped at his wife. “No—neither he nor you mentioned it.”
“The emerald distracted me,” Gwen said.
“Is the farmhouse far?
“All Prior Rhys said was that it lies in a wood to the south of the Lyme Brook,” Gwen said.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Prior Rhys, of course, and Hywel and Mari. They were in the room when he spoke of it,” Gwen said. “Nobody else.”
“Why wasn’t that the first place we hunted for Alard?” Gareth said.
“Hywel asked that too, but Prior Rhys said that the farmhouse had been kept a secret. After Rhys left, perhaps the remaining horsemen chose not to tell anyone else. If they had—Amaury, Philippe, Earl Robert—don’t you think one of them would have said?”
“I would hope so,” Gareth said, “but who knows the lengths to which these Normans will go to hide the truth? Philippe, certainly, would consider it just another secret to keep from me. But you’re right, we should have a look.”
“I get to come with you?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight if I can possibly help it,” Gareth said. “Besides, I’m smart enough to know that you might have an insight or two once we get there, if we get there.”
Gwen didn’t ask any more questions. She slipped her dress over her head, and Gareth rose to his feet to pull on his breeches. Then he stopped, one leg on, and said, “It may be that we’ll find Alard there. We’ll need to be careful not to scare him off.”
“So just the two of us should go.” Gwen laced up her boots. “Besides which, Hywel might object to including anyone else in the investigation if we don’t need to, and Evan and Gruffydd must attend the princes.”
Gareth lifted the tent flap. By the dampness on the ground, a light rain had fallen in the night, but the morning had dawned clear with only a few clouds skittering across the sky. Gareth and Gwen found Evan sitting in front of one of the cooking fires with Llelo and Dai, who perked up at their approach. Gareth affectionately cuffed each boy upside the head and then sent them off to fetch breakfast. Gareth and Gwen settled on a log beside Evan.
“What news do you have?” Gareth said.
Evan quirked a smile. “You mean because some of us put work before sleep?”
Gareth snorted laughter. “That would be Gwen, not me.” He laughed again when Gwen elbowed him in the ribs.
“Nothing new,” Evan said. “You and I tucked the princes in safe last night, and Gruffydd sent word a moment ago that all is well. I’m to report to Prince Hywel within the hour. How about you?”
“Prince Hywel instructed Gwen and me to question as many people as we could today—not in the castle, but in the village itself—all the while staying out of Philippe’s way. But Gwen and I have a more important task to do first.” Gareth glanced at his wife. “Gwen reports that Alard may have had a base—a farmhouse—to retreat to, south of the Lyme Brook. She and I are going to find it.”
Evan raised his eyebrows. “I will tell the prince. You shouldn’t go alone, you know.”
Gareth looked around the encampment and then repeated what Gwen had concluded. “I’ll have Gwen with me, and I’m not sure that we should involve any of the other men in this if we don’t have to. The fewer
who know the details and can speak of them to someone else, the better.”
“Some men do have too loose lips, even when instructed to keep silent,” Evan agreed. “But if Alard finds you there, it could be dangerous.”
“I want to talk to him, not capture him,” Gareth said. “That is more likely to happen if Gwen and I go alone. He’s a spy. He’ll be on the watch for any threat, and he should recognize both of us from yesterday at Newcastle.”
Evan gave way, if grudgingly, and only after another wary look. “Return before dark or I’ll be sending out a search party.”
“We will.” Gareth clapped Evan on the shoulder.
After a quick breakfast and a warning to the boys to behave themselves and not get too much underfoot, Gareth and Gwen mounted their horses. Prior Rhys’s description of the farmhouse wasn’t detailed, but Gareth had looked at the lay of the land from the top of Newcastle’s wall walk the day before and had some idea of where to start their quest.
Instead of following the road that would take them to Newcastle along the north side of the Lyme Brook, they crossed the water at a ford and found a path that ran on the south side of the brook, always following its course but at times wandering a hundred yards or more from it. A mile into their journey, the castle rose up on their left. When Gareth and Gwen trotted their horses past it, Gwen eyed the battlement. “Alard climbed down from there, did he? That was brave.”
“I would have said ‘desperate’, but the grin he gave me when he dropped into the brook makes me think he’s not the desperate type,” Gareth said. “The move was calculated and looked easy.”
Now the path turned strongly southeast, away from the Lyme Brook, and as they continued along it, Gareth looked for a sign that someone might live in the woods that closed them in on both sides. The brush and trees—fast-growing alders mostly—provided a nearly impenetrable barrier.
“Where are we, Gareth?” Gwen wiped her brow. They’d left the brook behind, along with the cooler air associated with it. The day was getting hot.
“The friary lands are ahead of us,” Gareth said. “We’ll skirt them to the south.”
The path curved again, following the border of a cultivated field. The vegetation on either side of the path grew thicker. England wasn’t as well forested as Wales, but many Norman lords had their own private forests for hunting grounds. Gareth speculated that Earl Robert had set aside this particular wood as his own. The terrain wasn’t flat here anyway and wouldn’t have been useful for farmland.
“I feel like we’ve ridden for miles,” Gwen said. “How are we going to find the farmhouse Prior Rhys meant? It could be anywhere.”
“It has to be near enough to the castle to be accessible but far enough away so as not to invite comment or to be easily stumbled over. But I agree in part. I don’t think we should ride much farther east or south. We’re getting too far from Newcastle’s domains.”
At last, Gareth reined in and surveyed the landscape from the saddle. “This isn’t right.”
“I’ve thought so for some time,” Gwen said.
“Prior Rhys said a farmhouse, but perhaps that doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to me,” Gareth said.
“We just have to get around these trees,” Gwen said. “These are as thick as many Welsh woods.”
“That is exactly what I was thinking,” Gareth said. “Come on!” He urged his horse, riding fast now and not worrying about finding a pathway into the woods. Then, with the day already approaching noon, the trees came to an abrupt end, while the path continued southeast into the customary rolling English countryside.
“Now that’s more like it,” Gwen said. “There are plenty of farmhouses here.”
“But perhaps not the one we’re looking for.” Gareth turned his horse and headed off the trail, riding due south before curving back west, around the woods.
Gwen followed him without question, even as the growth became thicker, with the same alders as before, albeit with a higher concentration of oak mixed in. The brush wasn’t quite as thick either, but this time there was no trail to follow.
“What are you thinking now?” Gwen said.
“I’m thinking that this farmhouse has been deliberately hidden.” Gareth dismounted and began shouldering his way through the brush, clearing a path for Gwen, who followed. Strands of hair had come loose from her bun, framing her face. He thought she looked pretty.
After they’d walked only ten yards, the brush thinned out, and a little farther on, the woods opened up, allowing sunlight to stream through the canopy. Gareth halted, and Gwen was able to come up beside him.
“Those trees back there were very strange,” Gwen said. “They form a shield, as if they’re walling this peaceful woods in.”
“Listen.” Gareth held up a hand.
The little wind that was blowing moaned among the trees. “That’s an eerie sound.” Gwen turned this way and that as she listened.
“I’ve never been in a haunted wood before,” Gareth said.
Gwen looked sharply at him. “Do you think it is?”
“No,” Gareth said. “Of course not. But someone means us to think so.”
He could feel Gwen relax beside him. “You had me worried there for a moment. I could believe in ghosts if I’d ever encountered one.”
Gareth squeezed Gwen’s hand. “Even if spirits were here, I don’t believe they would hurt us. But I’m inclined to believe people are responsible.”
Gwen’s brow furrowed. “You mean someone is making those noises?”
“Something, Gwen,” Gareth said. “Think about it: the winding pathway, the thick forest which hides access to this pleasant wood, the moaning. It all adds up to an attempt to prevent people from coming here and, if they do find their way through these woods, ensuring that they leave quickly.”
Gwen cocked her head and then handed the reins of her horse to Gareth. She walked twenty feet from him, halted at the base of a pine tree, and looked up. “The sound is louder here.”
“Can you see something that could be making it? Wind chimes, perhaps?” Gareth said.
“There!” She pointed a finger. “And over there too!”
“Imagine what it might be like to come here on a gloomy winter day or in the dark,” Gareth said.
Gwen spun around to look at Gareth. “Do you think, then, that those alders were planted on purpose? That they really are meant to be a shield or a fence?”
“If we find the farmhouse close by, I would say ‘definitely’,” Gareth said. “But let’s find it first.”
They continued walking, and even Gareth had to admit that occasionally the sound of the wind in the trees sent a chill down his spine. Gwen renewed her hold on his hand. They were heading northwest now and had just crested a small rise when they both halted at once.
A wooden house was nestled in a clearing with its back to a copse of trees. A creek ran past it on the west side, heading north to the Lyme Brook. Gareth was surprised to have found the farmhouse this easily, though five hours of looking might not qualify as ‘easy’ to some.
“We would never have known about this if Prior Rhys hadn’t told you,” Gareth said.
“The trees grow thicker again on the other side of the house.” Gwen lifted a hand to indicate where she meant. “A traveler faces them no matter where he starts.” She glanced at Gareth and then at the farmhouse. “Much easier to just continue along the main path, don’t you think?”
“Between the eerie sounds and the thick trees, I’d agree that few would want to come here.” Gareth looped the horses’ reins around a tree branch and crept a few paces forward, keeping a screen of bushes between them and the house.
Gwen followed him and studied the house some more. “It has the look of being long abandoned.”
“It does.” Gareth didn’t enter the clearing but crouched in the brush and pulled Gwen down beside him. “But then, like everything else, its appearance could be a carefully cultivated façade. We should stay here to watc
h for a while.”
Gwen glanced up at him. “You’re disturbed by the way things have fallen out, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” Gareth said, though even as he asked the question, he knew that she was right.
“Is it the spying?” she said. “Or that we’re in England? It can’t be the deception because people always lie to you.”
“They do always lie.” The words came out harsher than he intended, and he moderated his tone. “I think it’s rather that the forces at play are so much more powerful than I’m used to, and the stakes are so much higher. King Owain rules Gwynedd and reaches his hand—uninvited at times—into other parts of Wales, but the war that Stephen and Maud are fighting is tearing England apart. I feel as if our troubles here make up only one piece of that larger whole. I need to get it right before Prince Henry dies.”
“You are an honorable man, Gareth ap Rhys,” Gwen said.
Gareth was glad to hear his wife say that because he tried to be. He didn’t always succeed.
“You brought the emerald, didn’t you? What if someone is inside—?”
Gareth was shaking his head before she finished. “Don’t worry. It’s safe.”
“No place is safe,” Gwen said, “and no one is safe.”
“As safe as I can make it,” Gareth said. “It’s in my boot.” Taking a leaf from David’s book, Gareth had wrapped the emerald in a cloth and stuffed it near the smallest toe in his boot. “Truth be told, it’s driving me mad, but it was the best I could think of at the time.”
“You certainly were wise not to leave it in our tent,” Gwen said. “I wish Prince Rhun still had it.”
“At least he didn’t give it to you.”
“I would have been the better choice,” Gwen said. “Nobody would think I had it.”
“Except for the man who took David’s body!” Gareth shook his head. “Gwen, be reasonable.”
“Which is why he should have given it to me,” Gwen said. “Perhaps another woman might have kept the gem to herself, but more likely I would have told you, and you would have told the princes, which is exactly what did happen. We were predictable. Giving it to me would have been unexpected.”
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