The Fourth Horseman

by Sarah Woodbury

  “Mari keeps saying that this is her fault because she agreed to meet with her father,” Gwen said.

  “It is Rhys who should have known better,” Gareth said.

  Hywel scoffed. “As if he could have done anything else. Mari was going to see her father, with or without him.”

  “Any luck finding Ralph, my lord?” Gareth said.

  “No,” Hywel said. “He took to horseback within a dozen yards of the chapel. I couldn’t follow him.”

  “So he’s lost to us, too, until he chooses to come in,” Gareth said.

  “He could be going to the farmhouse,” Gwen said.

  “He could, but I don’t see us waiting for him there on the off-chance he decides to appear,” Gareth said. “Unless it was Ralph himself who killed our dead friend, here.”

  “Possible,” Hywel said, “but how likely?”

  “I have no idea,” Gareth said.

  “All we know of him is what he has chosen to tell us, much like Alard,” Gwen said.

  “We have yet another killer to chase,” Gareth said. “We can’t afford to hunt for Ralph and Alard, not when they clearly don’t want to be found.”

  “Which reminds me,” Hywel said, “you’ve not yet told me all that you learned from Alard.”

  As the three companions followed the cart towards the friary, Gareth relayed the gist of their conversation with the empress’s horseman. When he’d finished, Hywel came to a halt, standing with one arm across his chest and a finger tapping his chin. “I’m inclined to believe Alard when he says that he killed David in self-defense.”

  “Alard told the truth about not killing John, too,” Gwen said.

  Gareth scoffed. “He told the truth, which is to say that Ralph killed him before Alard could get to him.”

  “We heard all sorts of truths today,” Hywel said. “It may even be true that David didn’t steal that emerald; he may be a traitor—one of several, apparently—and was given it.”

  “I would say so, too,” Gareth said. “To my mind, however, we’ve cleared Alard’s name.”

  “Given that both John and David are dead, is the threat to Prince Henry over?” Gwen said.

  “I wouldn’t assume that,” Gareth said. “We have three emeralds unaccounted for.”

  “My guess, and you know how much I hate guessing,” Hywel said, “is that once David was dead, our culprit didn’t want anyone to find the emerald among his possessions. He took the body from the chapel so he could retrieve it at his leisure.”

  Hywel gazed down the road that led to the friary, lost in thought. The cart had disappeared, and Gareth shifted, hoping the movement would prod his prince into action. The dead man hung over the horse, which continued to calmly crop the grass. But the body was cooling, and Gareth wanted to get it inside before it stiffened.

  “I wish my father were here,” Hywel said. “He would know how to talk to Earl Robert—and whether we should talk to him at all.”

  “I think you have no choice but to speak to him,” Gwen said. “None of what we have discovered will matter if Prince Henry dies.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hywel

  “What do we do now, my lord?” Gareth said as they entered Newcastle’s bailey, which was nearly deserted for the first time since the day they arrived.

  “I feel honor-bound to speak to the earl and to tell him what we know,” Hywel said, dismounting from his borrowed horse and then reaching up to help Mari down from hers. “Immediately.”

  “Hywel, you cannot. It’s past midnight; it’s too late to meet with him tonight,” she said.

  “My father would want to be woken.”

  “Earl Robert is not your father, my lord,” Gareth said.

  Which was only too true. Hywel had hoped to keep the emerald. It would make a fine addition to his father’s treasury—and his father would have remembered always that Hywel had brought it to him. But events had overtaken them, and they could no longer keep it a secret.

  Gareth was right, however, that it was very late. Hywel would have spoken to Philippe back at the friary if the old spy hadn’t taken to his bed and given instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed, even for something as important as this. Speaking to the steward of Newcastle wasn’t going to be sufficient either. It was Earl Robert or nobody. Hywel would have to wait until morning.

  “You should sleep while you can, my lord,” Mari said.

  He patted her hand as it rested on his arm. “Of course.” Hywel just wished Mari would be sleeping beside him instead of Rhun.

  Evan came down the steps to the keep to meet them. “I’m very glad to see you, my lord.”

  “Where’s my brother?”

  “In your rooms, my lord. Gruffydd is with him.”

  “Good.” Hywel turned to Gareth. “I assume your plan is to return to the friary tonight?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Gareth said. “I left Gwen asleep in their guest hall. I will speak to Philippe first thing in the morning and then report to you.”

  “Try to get some sleep yourself,” Hywel said, and at the skeptical look that crossed Gareth’s face, added, “That’s an order.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Hywel and Rhun appeared in the great hall well before the time most of the inhabitants of the castle chose to rise and asked for an audience with the earl. Perhaps Philippe had already sent a message with some of the details of the events of the previous night, because the steward showed them immediately into his receiving room.

  As they entered, the earl sat with his elbow on the arm of his chair, a finger to his lips. The table in front of him was clear of documents. No fire burned in the grate, even on this cool morning, which Hywel took to be a sign of Earl Robert’s celebrated toughness. He was a warrior who didn’t need to be coddled.

  Hywel and Rhun hadn’t spoken at length with Earl Robert since that first morning. They’d assumed others had been keeping him apprised of the progress of the investigation, but they still told him everything they’d learned in the hours since David’s body had fallen at Gwen’s feet. The earl seemed to accept it all with equanimity, even the resurrection of Ralph and Prior Rhys. But when they mentioned the gems, the Earl leaned forward and began tapping his fingers on the table in irritation.

  “The emeralds were meant for Alard, clearly,” Earl Robert said.

  Earl Robert’s instant assumption set Hywel back on his heels, since it went against everything Hywel had just relayed. “Alard insists that he remains loyal to the empress.”

  Earl Robert’s eyes narrowed. “Your man should have arrested him so he could have been questioned.”

  “Gareth was at something of a disadvantage at the time,” Hywel said. “Alard came upon him when Gareth was with his wife. He could not both protect her and capture Alard.”

  Earl Robert pulled on his lower lip. “Philippe says Alard is the traitor, and I trust his instincts. He has been with the empress longer than Alard—almost as long as I have, in point of fact.”

  “Long acquaintance is no barrier to animosity,” Rhun said.

  Hywel agreed with Rhun and could have said, look at my Uncle Cadwaladr.

  “Is that an accusation of Philippe?” Earl Robert said. “I’m shocked that you would even think it. He’s dying. What would he gain by switching camps now?”

  “I cannot answer that. I tried to speak to him after we brought Amaury to the friary, but he was indisposed,” Hywel said. “But I must point out that Philippe is a spy. He lives and breathes lies as much as Alard does.”

  Earl Robert sat back in his chair, his hands clasped before his lips, and contemplated the two Welsh princes. “May I see the gem?”

  Accepting that they were moving on from the topic of the traitor’s identity, Hywel removed the emerald from his scrip—having retrieved it the night before from Gareth—and placed it on the table between them. Earl Robert leaned forward, turning the emerald over with one finger. “Gwen found this in David�
�s cloak?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Rhun said.

  Hywel cleared his throat. “When we spoke with you shortly after David’s death, you implied that you didn’t know him, but as one of your sister’s four horsemen, you did know who he was, did you not?”

  Robert looked up at Hywel and then back to the gem. “I did.”

  When Earl Robert didn’t continue speaking, Hywel realized he’d received the only apology for being lied to he was going to get.

  The earl turned the gem over on the table one more time and then flicked it towards Hywel in an act of dismissal. “This is a poor specimen. Keep it.”

  Hywel eyed him carefully and didn’t pick up the gem. “My lord?”

  “It is payment from an enemy to a traitor. Its very existence sullies my house.”

  Such an attitude was completely foreign to Hywel. Gems and gold meant wealth, which led to power. But when the earl didn’t retract his statement, Hywel reached out a hand and picked up the emerald. “Of course.” He handed it to Rhun, who stowed it in his scrip.

  Earl Robert breathed deeply in and out through his nose. “Whether or not Alard is friend, it is now definite that not only do I have one traitor to my sister’s cause, I have several.”

  “You have at least three,” Hywel said. “I understand the delicacy with which I must speak on this matter, but while David owed the empress his ultimate allegiance, of late he’d worked within Ranulf’s retinue. It was Ranulf who first told you that Alard was a traitor, and he has an army of men loyal to him, many of whom would do his bidding regardless of what he asked. Can you be sure of his loyalties?”

  “I apologize for my brother’s impertinence, my lord.” Rhun kicked Hywel under the table. Hywel wasn’t bothered. Rhun was far more concerned about the social niceties than he was, and Hywel had asked what needed asking.

  Earl Robert didn’t answer either of them right away, and the two princes let the silence draw out. Then Earl Robert seemed to shake himself. “As you indicated, it is not always easy to know where a man’s loyalty lies, but I believe that my son-in-law is faithful to me and to my sister.”

  That was what Amaury had said, too. Hywel bowed his head. “I apologize, my lord. I felt it necessary to ask.”

  “Ranulf’s thoughts do tend to focus on himself,” Earl Robert said. “You would not be the clever young man I understand you to be if you didn’t wonder about Ranulf. But I believe you must look elsewhere for your current traitor.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Hywel said.

  “When does Prince Henry arrive?” Rhun said.

  “Tomorrow,” Earl Robert said.

  “And the empress arrives today?” Hywel said.

  “She’s already here.”

  * * * * *

  Mari hadn’t been far from Hywel’s thoughts from the moment she’d put a hand on his arm and asked for Gwen’s whereabouts that first day at Newcastle, but he’d managed to push his feelings for her to the back of his mind during his conversation with Earl Robert.

  They came back full bore, however, when he saw her standing in the hallway with the look of someone who was prepared to wait, her eyes downcast and her hands folded in front of her. He was barely able to prevent his tongue from hanging out of his mouth when he looked at her. He wanted her in his bed that very instant, all the more so because she looked every inch the Norman lady, aloof and untouchable. A snide comment rose to his lips that he instantly swallowed. He didn’t feel snide about her at all and didn’t want to hold her at arm’s length any longer. He wasn’t angry at Mari. He was irritated at Earl Robert for not stopping this traitor long before, at society for its overbearing morals, and at himself for wanting her—not necessarily in that order.

  “Mari, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to find you,” she said.

  “Is it about Amaury?” Hywel said.

  “Amaury is doing well. The bleeding is contained, and the healer says the arrow didn’t puncture a lung. So he should continue to irritate you for many years to come, my lord.” Mari cast a quick glance at him as she spoke those last words, a smile on her lips, before looking down again.

  “Are you … mocking me?” Hywel bent slightly at the waist, trying to see into her face.

  Mari continued to stare down at her feet, but Hywel could have sworn that her mouth twitched. Hywel found his hand coming up to her arm, itching to touch her, and then he put his finger under her chin and lifted it. As he had supposed, she was smiling. He dropped his hand. “Why do you think I don’t like Amaury?”

  “He is both too opaque and too transparent for you,” she said.

  Hywel bit his lip. He hadn’t considered Amaury in that light before and wouldn’t have put it that way, but Mari was right.

  When he’d touched her, he’d moved closer than propriety allowed, especially in so public a space, and would have moved away again, except that Mari chose that moment to touch his hand. Her blue eyes regarded him with a clear certainty that caused his heart to skip a beat, and he held her hand tightly in his.

  Hywel cleared his throat. “Did you come here to speak to me about Amaury or was there something else?”

  “It’s my father. I don’t know what to think about him.”

  Hywel pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, Mari. I don’t know that I can be of help to you in this because I don’t know what to think of him either.”

  “I want to believe that he thought he was doing the right thing, but to have abandoned me, his only daughter …” She bowed her head again, and this time when Hywel lifted her chin, he saw tears.

  With his other hand, he rubbed gently at Mari’s arm, the smooth fabric of her dress teasing his thumb. “We’ll find him and you two can have a chance to talk, long and in private. Until then, you don’t have to decide anything about him at all. While he valued you less than his obligation to the empress, that is a tale many men might tell. He still loves you, that is plain, or he would not have gone to such lengths to meet you.”

  “Last night before retiring to bed, I spoke with Uncle Goronwy. He had no idea that my father had been alive all this time. He’s had no contact with him.”

  Hywel’s thumb stopped moving. “You told Goronwy that your father was alive?”

  “Yes, of course. Wasn’t I supposed to?”

  Hywel took in a breath and let it out. The whole castle might know of Ralph’s resurrection by now, and there was nothing he could do about it. “I forget that you aren’t used to keeping secrets.”

  “My father is loyal to the empress, and by appearing here, he has exposed himself for who he is,” Mari said. “Honestly, it never occurred to me that he would try to return to King Stephen after this.”

  Hywel found his irritation turning to admiration. “You are as devious as your father.”

  “Excuse me?” Mari said.

  “You come to me all quiet and obedient, but you told Goronwy about your father on purpose, to prevent him from leaving you again.”

  Mari’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t—”

  Hywel scoffed. “Don’t lie to me.” Then he sobered and grasped both of her arms to pull her closer. He looked down at her, their faces only inches apart. “Never lie to me.”

  Mari licked her lips. “Gwen told me to stay away from you.”

  Hywel felt the floorboards shift beneath his feet at the change of tone. “I won’t pretend not to know what you’re talking about. Gwen is right. You should stay away from me.”

  “Gwen isn’t right. She doesn’t know you like I do,” Mari said.

  Hywel couldn’t swallow around his suddenly dry throat. He desperately wanted to crush Mari against him and kiss her. “How so?”

  “I’m not saying that you are a good man in the way a priest is a good man, but I’ve watched you for years, you know, ever since I came to Uncle Goronwy’s house. When you make up your mind about something, you follow it through. You demand the truth from others, and you don’t lie to yourself either. And if you want something badly enough,
you move heaven and earth to get it.”

  Hywel looked left and right, willing nobody to be watching them so he wouldn’t have to step away from her. “I’m not that honorable.”

  “I didn’t say you were honorable. In fact, I’m almost hoping you’re not.” And with that, Mari went up on her tiptoes, pecked Hywel once on the lips—and fled.

  Hywel found himself standing alone in the corridor, still feeling the soft pressure of her lips on his and genuine laughter bubbling up in his chest.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gwen

  The bells for sext, the mid-day prayer, came and went as Gwen sat with Amaury and held his hand, though the Norman knight didn’t know it. He had survived the night and was neither dead nor fevered, just asleep. Gwen looked over at Gareth, who stood speaking with the healer. Gareth had been busy at the friary all morning: he’d spent an hour in consultation with Philippe, examined the bodies of both John and the archer, and questioned anyone else who had been willing to give him a moment of his time.

  At Gwen’s glance, Gareth finished his conversation with Matthias and walked to the bedside. “I’m glad to see Amaury alive, but we should return to the castle.”

  “Will Amaury be safe here?” Gwen said.

  “Guards are posted around the friary because the empress is now in residence. Philippe assures me that, if the arrow was meant for Amaury, he will be well-protected here.”

  Gwen was still concerned. “I feel as if we’ve missed something.”

  “I know,” Gareth said. “We started out many steps behind the traitor, which is usual, of course, but few weeks have ever gone as badly awry as this one, and I don’t feel like we’re catching up.”

  “Prince Cadwaladr was such an easy villain,” Gwen said. “In Gwynedd, his name is synonymous with treachery. But here, it’s different. There are too many possible culprits, and either our informants don’t tell us the truth, or the traitor gets to them before we do and silences them.”