by Tony Hays
Then something odd happened to me. My vision cleared and rather than the self-pitying mess I had been the night before, I grew angry, but it was a cold anger, a chilling fury as I’d never felt. I walked to Arthur and put my hand on his shoulder.
He spun about quickly, his hand shooting to the hilt of his sword, his eyes wide.
“I will find this killer, my lord. And we will punish him no matter who he is.”
Arthur smiled wryly. “Do we not already know, Malgwyn? And did I not chastise you for worrying? Perhaps if I had given you leave…” His voice drifted off.
At that, Aircol rose from his seat, stood over Gwyneira’s body, touched lightly her leg and turned to us. “Arthur, I am a man of my word, but this I promise you: Someone must pay for this or I will withdraw from the consilium.”
“Someone will pay, my lord,” I interjected. “I swear it.”
He looked at me with his eyes narrowed in doubt. “You swore to protect her, and yet this has happened. Perhaps if you had been more faithful to that oath, this one wouldn’t be necessary.”
“My lord—” I began, but Arthur cut me off.
“Lord Aircol, Malgwyn was not the only man charged with keeping Gwyneira safe. If you fault him, you must fault them as well. In the short time I knew your daughter, her potential to be a great queen became obvious. I mourn with you. In even that short time, I had already come to…” The dampness at his eyes told what his voice didn’t. “I cannot return life to her, though I wish with all my heart that I could. If you want justice, then Malgwyn is the man to bring that to you. He is skilled in these things.”
The older lord, his face lined more deeply than at any time I had seen him, turned his gaze upon me. “You will have your chance, Malgwyn. But the guilty one will be subject to my punishment, not Lord Arthur’s. That is only fair, only just.”
I glanced quickly at Arthur, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “I understand.”
Then Aircol turned around slowly. “Though I do not think your task is difficult. Obviously it was the Druid that did this thing and killed those other girls.”
“That is the only conclusion I am able to draw at present, my lord. But,” and I hesitated, “at least one other possibility exists.” Morgan was not with us on the ride. Yet again, I could not discount him.
“Who?” Both Aircol and Arthur asked almost in unison.
“I would rather not say until I have made further inquiries.” The looks on both their faces told me how little they liked my response. “I promise you both that if my suspicions are confirmed in the least, you will be the first to know. The Druid is absolutely the most likely.”
“Then why not simply hunt him down? Bring him to me now!”
“My lord, I do not think that a good idea.” Merlin. I had not even noticed his entry. “The Druids are still much respected by many of the people, particularly those in the north near your borders. If word circulated, and it would, that you had summarily executed a Druid priest, it could bring more trouble than you would wish. Malgwyn has a way with these things. And when he has finished, no one will be able to doubt the identity of the doer of these deeds.”
“He is right, Aircol,” Arthur added. “And if you wish to blame someone for this, blame me. Malgwyn wanted desperately to pursue the killer of these girls. I resisted, forcing him to focus on other things. I never dreamed that the same killer would strike within my own house. So I hold more blame than anyone.”
Gwyneira’s father did not speak immediately. For a long second, he stared at his daughter’s lifeless body, gray and growing cold. When he spoke, it was in a voice devoid of all but the darkest of emotions. “I blame all of you.” He turned to me. “Can you promise me that you will find justice for my child?”
“I will pursue this as if my own life depended on success.”
Aircol met my eyes. “It does.”
I matched him, stare for stare. “I would accept nothing less.” With that, I looked to Kay and Bedevere. “One of you find and fetch the Druid Wynn. You will probably find him at Mordred’s camp. The other bring the servi from the kitchen. They would have been cleaning up and may have seen something.” The orders came naturally. I glanced around the room. Too many people. And I needed to more closely examine the body. “Rigotamos,” I began, “I need some quiet to better study what has happened here.”
Arthur immediately took my meaning. With a pair of quick hand gestures, he began emptying the room. Merlin was at the back, and I motioned for him to stay. In a matter of seconds, he and I were alone with Gwyneira’s body.
“Well, Malgwyn,” Merlin began. “This was unexpected.”
I grinned despite the grimness of my task. “Out in the villages and the countryside, it is easy to commit such an act and then disappear. But here, in the Rigotamos’s own chamber, that takes a confident man.”
“Or a very stupid one.”
“Aye.” I moved closer to Gwyneira and pulled the gown back from her womanhood. I winced at the sight of her thighs, the white skin torn and raw. “Merlin? A torch.”
The stiffness that accompanied death had not yet touched her body. I pushed open one of her eyelids to find the little dots of red on her sightless eyes—the sign of suffocation. Her head wobbled loosely and I felt of her neck with my one hand. It took only a second, and I detected the break. Though she had been smothered, her neck had been broken as well. There was no way to tell which had proved fatal.
Merlin moved the globe of yellowed light closer, and then I could see the bits of brown bark and yellow splinters dotting her legs. The injuries here were far more severe than in the first two girls. Gouges, easily a half an inch deep, marred both of her thighs. Her maidenhead was ripped beyond recognition. But I noticed too that the gashes were deeper and more plentiful on her left thigh. Whoever did this wanted her to hurt.
It was puzzling. I had assumed that the attacker had knelt in front of the body and performed his desecration, his target already being dead. But there was more blood here than at the others, spread over a wider area, which meant that her heart was still beating when she had been ravaged.
A thought struck me. I lifted her chin and motioned for Merlin to bring the torch closer. Under the brighter light, I immediately saw what I suspected. Her throat was horribly bruised, but more so on the front and left side. And as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I saw finger-like bruises on her left cheek. Turning her head, I observed a single bruise on her right cheek. I placed my hand across her mouth and saw that my fingers nearly fit on the bruises, but not quite. Whoever covered her mouth had a hand smaller than mine. That was odd, as I had a small hand for a man.
Arising, I cast about the chamber for the offending object but I found nothing that would have created such horrible wounds. Merlin, too, scavenged about but he found nothing either.
“He must have carried it away with him,” I mused. “I do not understand why he does this. Raping a woman I can understand. That speaks to anger and control. But this, this butchery. I see no manner in which a man could gain satisfaction from this.”
Merlin cocked his head to the side. “I think, Malgwyn, that if you could understand the why you would know the who.”
The chamber door opened and Bedevere stepped through. “Kay found the Druid in Mordred’s camp as you expected. We have placed him under guard at the barracks.”
“Did Mordred object?”
“No. He seemed glad to be rid of him. I suspect, if the truth were known, that Mordred couldn’t care less about the Christ or the Druids or any gods or goddesses.”
I nodded. “The servants?”
“We have gathered them at the kitchen.”
“I will join you in a moment.”
Bedevere ducked out and I turned to Merlin. “I know that you are right, but I cannot fathom why it should be so. People kill because it profits them to do so, or it proves their superiority, but even in that they gain something.”
“I agree. And the only profit I see in this is
to crush the alliance with Aircol. But I cannot name a single lord that would wish for that, except for perhaps Melwas. But even he profits from this alliance. It leaves Guinevere available for his suit.”
“Do not forget Morgan. We know that he is David’s creature. David is used to manipulating others to do his bidding. And he did not join us on the ride.”
“Neither did I,” Merlin reminded me.
“True, but you could not have killed the girl at the White Mount or the one at Aircol’s town. You were with others.”
He nodded. “Shall we have Morgan taken into custody?”
I thought for a moment. “No, if he did this thing, Gareth’s men will have some knowledge. And a medicus does not mutilate like this unless someone else has directed it. A man of Morgan’s nervous disposition will seek shelter with David. We should wait and watch him, for now.”
“But not forever. Still, I agree that the Druid is the most likely.”
“Please, Merlin, stay here and keep the others out. I will not have her stared at.” With that, I turned, took a deep breath, and walked into the feasting hall and amidst the growing mob of lords and their servants.
“What has happened, Malgwyn?”
“Malgwyn, speak!”
“Is she dead?”
“Who did it?”
“Why are you not wearing your caligae?”
I was pelted by questions, but I ignored them and slid out the side door and back onto the cobbled lane.
Old Cerdic hung his head so low that I could see the bald spot growing beneath his curly gray hair. He was more subdued than I had ever seen him. The servi were lined up, five girls and three boys, including young Talorc. The Romans, I have been told, did not trust testimony from servi unless they had been tortured. Thank the gods that was not a practice resurrected by Arthur. In my experience, even people who knew nothing would tell you something in hope of making you stop the torture.
“I need to know,” I began, “what each of you observed from the time that the lords left to ride with Arthur until we returned and Lady Gwyneira was found dead. Search your memories carefully, for even the smallest detail might prove valuable.”
They all avoided my gaze.
“We have no reason to believe that any of you did this thing,” I assured them. “But you were the only people in and around the hall after the rest of us left.”
“My lord,” Cerdic stuttered. “We have no idea how someone could have done this. They must have found a different entrance. We saw no strangers.”
Each of them nodded vigorously. “He is right, my lord,” Talorc said hurriedly. “We saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Nothing?”
Cerdic licked his lips nervously. “The Lady Gwyneira had already retired when the lords left, Malgwyn. We did not see her afterwards.”
“She asked for nothing? No one checked on her?”
The old servus shrugged. “No. And why should we look in upon her? If she needed us, she would call us.”
I felt sorry for him. An overly solicitous servus could easily be punished for intruding. Yet here I was chastising him for not being so.
“Besides, my lord,” one of the girls added, “she was with the visitors most of the time.”
My head jerked straight. “What visitors? Wynn, the Druid?”
Cerdic looked at me as if I were mad. “The Druid did not come. But the Lady Guinevere and your woman, Ygerne.”
“Who permitted them entry?” I could barely control the tremor in my voice.
Again, Cerdic’s face was painted with confusion. “They said they had your permission, Malgwyn.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Did they not?” Cerdic asked, so innocently that had I not known the truth I would think that he was playing the fool.
To compound my troubles, Arthur and Aircol walked into the kitchen at that precise moment. The Rigotamos looked from me to Cerdic and back again. Arthur needed no alarum or signal. My shock was too new to be hidden and I wore it like a badge.
“What? Speak, Malgwyn!”
I did not answer immediately because my mind had just resolved a question that had been nagging at me for the last few days. And that answer was one that chilled me to the bone.
“My lord,” I began, hesitating. “My lord, Cerdic has just told us that Lady Gwyneira had two visitors this night.”
“Then one of them must have done this!” Aircol said quickly. “Let us take them and learn the truth!”
“We should not accept the first answer that comes to us, my lord,” I cautioned, lowering my face into my one hand.
But Arthur knew me too well. “Malgwyn…” he began in a low, rumbling voice.
“ ’Twas Guinevere and Ygerne.” I said it so softly that I almost mumbled.
But neither lord had trouble hearing. Arthur grabbed my shoulder, squeezing it so tightly that I winced. “Is this some joke, some jest?”
I looked up at him. “No. It is not. But Arthur, you know them. They could not have done this terrible thing!”
He saw it in my eyes though. He knew me so well, too well.
“There is something you are not saying, Malgwyn.”
Perhaps if I had had more time to plan, I could have avoided the answer then on my lips. “Arthur, I told Ygerne of the murdered girls. She knows how they were ravaged.”
“And she spent the day with Guinevere not two days ago,” the Rigotamos finished for me. He walked slowly to a chair in the corner and lowered himself. When he looked up, it was with a face deeply lined, the face of a man much older. He looked to me. “Malgwyn, what have they done?”
“They have killed my daughter and your queen,” shouted an enraged Aircol, red-faced and the veins pumping rhythmically in his neck. “And you will see justice done or I will do it for you!”
“No, my lord, I will see them dead myself,” Arthur said coldly. I knew the pain coursing through him. His entire world had been shaken in just moments. He had lost both the woman he loved and the woman he was coming to love.
“Lord Aircol, let us not move hastily,” I began, with none of the urgency that should have marked my words. No man or woman should know the pain I felt at that moment. My stomach ground in an ache so severe that it felt as if twenty swords had been thrust into me and twisted.
Arthur saw it, and knew it did not bode well. His anger was so great that he snatched me up by my tunic.
“What have you not told us?”
I shook him off.
I searched for a reason not to reveal what I now knew, what had come to me just moments before. I loved both Guinevere and Ygerne. I wasn’t certain that I could survive the loss of one, let alone both. I wasn’t certain that I wanted to.
“If you know something more, you need to tell them.” Bedevere spoke softly, his lips near my ear. “It is not like you to hide things.”
I swiveled about and grimaced at him. “My lords, the note left earlier in Gwyneira’s chamber, calling her a meretrix?”
“Yes,” Arthur prompted.
“It was written by Guinevere.”
“I suspected as much,” Aircol said with both a hint of satisfaction and that of finality.
“How can you be certain?” Arthur pressed. I could look into the lines etched on his face and knew that he ached as I did.
“I have a sample of her hand in my house. I thought when I first saw the note that there was something familiar about it, but I did not make the connection until Cerdic spoke of Guinevere.”
“Could it not be just as easily in Ygerne’s hand?” Arthur wanted any answer but the one that I was about to give him. “One person would make their letters the same as any other.”
I shook my head. “Ygerne cannot write.”
“Are you certain?” The panic on his face told the truth more readily than anything else could. He knew what it meant.
“It matters not,” said Aircol. “They were both there and each had a hand in this. They share equal guilt!”
/> One of the girls—I no longer remember which—spoke up then, making my life worse than I ever thought it could be. “But my lord, they did not come together. First Lady Guinevere came. But she left. Then Ygerne came.”
Arthur and I looked at each other, aghast. Had there been any food in my belly, I would have spewed it across the room. Had he not been Rigotamos, I believe he would have wept.
Could either Ygerne or Guinevere have done this thing? There was no question that they were innocent of the killings at the White Mount and Caer Goch. But I had told Ygerne of them. And she had spent the day with Guinevere. Might they have concocted this scheme in some kind of spavined attempt at revenge?
Half of me said they were not capable of such. The other part said that both had exhibited bizarre behavior—Ygerne’s unfathomable anger and Guinevere’s flight to Melwas’s arms. But they couldn’t be! I would not give up Ygerne, no matter what she had done!
Arthur must have seen the determination growing on my face. In a soft voice, he spoke to a confused Bedevere. “Lord Bedevere, find both Ygerne and Guinevere and bring them to the barracks.”
I had never seen Bedevere look so distraught. It was as if he felt our pain. Kay, seeing his dilemma, moved beside him. “I will fetch Ygerne. You go for Guinevere.”
As they left, I turned to Aircol, who wore a grim smile seeded firmly on his face. “My lord, I tell you now, I do not believe that either of these women did this thing. They stood to gain nothing from it, especially not Ygerne.”
“Who knows why women act as they do? I am far older than you or Arthur and I have never understood them.” At that, he placed his face within inches of mine. “But do not think for a second that I will sit by while you or Arthur protect the killer of my daughter, whether it is your woman or your cousin.” He stopped and looked from Arthur to me and back to Arthur again. “You wooed me like a woman with your belief in the Christ and your commitment to truth and justice. Now, we will learn how just you truly are.”
Anger climbed up and across Arthur’s face. “You sought this alliance as fiercely as we did! I mourn for Gwyneira too, more than you know, but she will not be avenged by you throwing accusations around. Did Malgwyn hide any knowledge? No. He freely told us what he had learned, even though it sent the finger of suspicion pointing at both his cousin and his woman.”