The Fourth Horseman (5 page)

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.”

Prior Rhys regarded her, his face impassive,
allowing a silence to fall between them that Gwen hesitated to
fill. Then a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “A host of
questions passed through my mind just now, chief among them being
‘why?’—which, after consideration, should have been obvious. I
might ask, however, ‘why you?’”

“
Because this is what I
do,” Gwen said, and then hastened to add, “What Gareth and I do, I
mean.”

“
You examine dead bodies?”
Prior Rhys said, and now he was almost laughing in his incredulity.
“I did wonder what prompted the prince to include you among his
delegation to Newcastle.”

“
Believe me, I wondered it
myself,” Gwen said. “Gareth might have prodded him a
bit.”

“
And this has been going on
for how long?” Prior Rhys said.

Gwen lifted one shoulder. “A while. As a
younger son, Prince Hywel has often been called upon to …” Her
voice trailed off as she reconsidered what she’d been about to say.
The role that Prince Hywel played in his father’s rule was perhaps
not something that she should share with someone she barely knew,
even if Gareth trusted him.

“
Ah.” Prior Rhys nodded.
“His tasks include some of the less savory, shall we
say?”

Gwen sighed in relief. Prior Rhys had
understood without her having to articulate it. No wonder Gareth
thought so highly of him. She gave the prior a quick nod. “It has
always been that way, ever since Prince Hywel became a man.”

“
And you assist him?” The
amusement was back.

“
Prince Hywel and I grew up
together,” Gwen said. “Intrigue is ever-present in a royal court.
One day, Prince Hywel asked me to help him, and it seemed like the
right thing to do at the time.”

“
And then once you started,
it seemed impossible to stop, even as a married woman.”

“
Especially as a married
woman.” Gwen laughed. “You do remember I’m married to Sir Gareth,
do you not?”

Prior Rhys laughed too and bowed his head.
“Your logic is impeccable, my dear. Surely, though, you didn’t
start out examining dead bodies?”

“
I am a bard’s daughter and
traveled the length of Wales for much of my life, following the
music. At first, all I did was keep my eyes and ears open and
report to Prince Hywel what I learned.”

“
At first …” Prior Rhys
continued to suppress laughter. “And when did Gareth become a part
of this?”

“
He’s been a member of
Prince Hywel’s
teulu
for nearly five years,” Gwen said. “He and I were married this
last December.”

“
Gareth is a lucky man,”
Prior Rhys said.

Gwen grinned. “I think so!” She stepped
towards David’s body. “Has anyone touched him beyond what was
necessary to move him?”

“
No,” Prior Rhys
said.

Gwen studied the dead man’s face. She hadn’t
really looked at him when he’d been on the ground. He was older
than she’d thought at first, with lines around his eyes and on his
forehead from a lifetime spent outdoors. She picked up one of his
hands, noting the age spots and the loose skin. She revised her
estimation of his age even higher, past forty at least, maybe even
to an age equal with the prior.

She glanced up at Prior Rhys. He was gazing
at her with a bemused expression. Gwen gave him a quick smile back
and returned to her task, moving to the bottom of the table and
tugging at one of David’s boots. She struggled a bit as she tried
to get it off; the dead man couldn’t flex his ankles to help her.
She was just opening her mouth to ask for Prior Rhys’s help when he
cleared his throat and said, “Would you mind if I stepped out for a
moment?”

Gwen suppressed her surprise. “Not at
all.”

As Prior Rhys exited the room, Gwen wondered
if he was squeamish but decided this was unlikely, given that the
man had been a warrior before he became a monk.

Gwen finally wrestled David’s boots off of
him. He’d hidden nothing inside them, nor did he have a knife
strapped to either calf. Gwen ran her hands along his tunic and
cloak, looking for a purse or a pocket in which he might have
hidden something out of the ordinary. She found nothing there
either, and nothing in his scrip beyond two coins. Many men kept
their most precious possessions with them at all times, but it
didn’t seem that David had.

Time was passing, and still Prior Rhys
didn’t return. Gwen resigned herself to attempting to remove what
of the man’s clothing she could, though she would leave his
complete denuding to Gareth. Most of the time, she didn’t concern
herself with what was proper, but she had her limits, even as a
married woman. At a minimum, she wasn’t strong enough to flip the
body over, and Gareth would want to get a closer look at that knife
wound. Alard had taken the murder weapon with him, but if there was
anything unusual about the cut, Gareth might be able to match the
blade when they found it.

She unpinned the brooch that held David’s
cloak closed at his neck and tugged at the fabric, trying to pull
it out from under him. It was then that she noticed a ragged
interior seam running down one side of the cloak. Someone had
picked it out and then sewn it back together unevenly. Something
hard and round had caught—or been placed—within it. Taking out her
belt knife, Gwen picked at the threads that held the seam together.
It was a matter of a few moments’ work, and when the ends came
loose, a single polished green stone dropped into her hand.

Gwen looked at it, stunned. She’d been
looking for something unusual within David’s clothing, but this
went far beyond her wildest notion of what she might have found.
She put away her belt knife and poked at the stone with one finger,
turning it around in her palm. She was having trouble comprehending
the fact that she was looking at an emerald. To possess such a gem,
even a small chip like this, put David far above his normal
station. It defied all rational belief that he could have owned it
legitimately.

Her heart began to beat faster, and she
clenched her fist around the stone. It was so precious, she felt
she was holding a flaming piece of charcoal in her hand. She
fumbled with the strings on her purse, finally got them untied, and
dropped the gem inside.

Before she could cinch the strings tight and
tie them, however, the door latch rattled. In dealing with the
stone, Gwen had forgotten about Prior Rhys. Her first instinct was
to hide the bag, but as she gazed down at David’s body, hesitating,
she acknowledged that deception had never been her strong point. At
the same time, telling Prior Rhys the truth wasn’t an option, not
before she talked to Gareth and Prince Hywel. She swallowed hard.
At any moment, Rhys would ask her if she’d found anything
interesting, and she needed to have an answer that he would
believe.

But then a man who wasn’t Prior Rhys flung
his arm around her neck and pulled her to him. She was so
surprised, she didn’t even shriek—and then she couldn’t shriek.

“
I’m not going to hurt
you.” His was a voice she didn’t recognize, low, almost guttural,
speaking French as one who’d been born to it. The man held her
while she struggled to breathe, keeping a pressure on her neck that
was almost gentle—and all the more terrifying for all
that.

Gwen knew she should do something—say
something. At the very least, she should try to scream, but when
she opened her mouth, no sound came out. Her feet had frozen to the
floor, and it felt as if her head was no longer attached to her
body. Blackness swam before her eyes, and then—

Chapter Six

Gareth

A
s
Gwen left the hall with Evan, a messenger arrived for Amaury with
the news that his men had found indications of Alard’s presence
along the Lyme Brook. Relieved, Amaury took his leave to see to his
men, with the promise that if Gareth would just wait for him, they
could investigate together as soon as he returned. Amaury asked
politely, but it wasn’t as if Gareth had a choice in the matter. He
was in a foreign land, in a foreign castle. He couldn’t question
the residents of Newcastle on his own.

Gareth was glad, nonetheless, to finally
have something constructive to do. He collected Gruffydd, who’d
waited for him on the steps to the keep, and then both men met Evan
as he hastened towards them across the bailey from the chapel.

“
Where’s Gwen?” Gareth said
at Evan’s approach.

“
With the prior,” Evan
said.

“
Good.”

Evan eyed him. “You’re not finding it
difficult to control your new wife, are you?”

Gareth laughed, not at all offended. That
Evan felt comfortable jesting on such an issue was testament to
their friendship. “The man who tries to control Gwen is a man
destined for frustration. No … if she’s with the prior, that means
she can have a look at David’s body. We need that to happen before
any more time passes. I want to have a better idea of what we’re
dealing with.”

“
And before one of these
Normans gets to him first. They would think nothing of stripping
him down and hiding anything of interest from us.” Evan paused.
“Did you tell Amaury what she was doing?”

“
He noticed that she’d
gone, and Gruffydd told him that she’d decided to sit with Prior
Rhys,” Gareth said. “If I neglected to mention that she planned to
examine the body while she was at it, you can hardly blame
me.”

“
He wouldn’t understand,”
Evan said.

“
Who would?” Gareth said.
“It’s better to ask forgiveness from Earl Robert if she finds
something useful, than permission from Amaury to inspect him, which
he might well deny.”

They reached the spot where they’d left the
horses. Gareth ruffled the hair of the boy who’d watched over them.
“Much obliged, Ifor.”

The boy ducked his head and relinquished the
reins of Gareth’s horse. The stables here were full, so they’d
arranged for Ifor, a stable boy from Aber, to stay with their
mounts. Little had they known that murder had been in the offing
and how long their initial visit to the castle would take.