The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) (19 page)

Oh yes he can
, Gareth said, but only to himself.

Rhun peered over the top of the bush. He was rewarded for his efforts with another arrow that just skimmed off the top of a dune and over their heads.

“If they’re meaning to miss, it’s not by much,” Evan said.

“I’m worried about our friends on the other side of the castle,” Gareth said.

“We’ve only a few men,” Rhun said. “We’re not a threat—out here or at the gate—and Cadwaladr knows it. He’s playing with us.”

“That may be,” Gareth said, “but these arrows aren’t shot from toy bows.”

“For the love of Christ, my lord,” Evan said. “See reason. Cadwaladr’s men are
shooting
at you, the heir to throne of Gwynedd!”

“He doesn’t know—” Rhun stopped and shook his head. “Uncle Cadwaladr would know better than to harm one of King Owain’s sons.”

 “Well he damn well should know it,” Evan said. “But he doesn’t, else he wouldn’t be shooting at all. Who does he think we are? Normans?”

“Perhaps he’s too scared to think straight?” Rhun said.

“Scared?” Gareth gestured towards the castle. “Maybe Cadwaladr is frightened beneath all that bluster, but if I had forty-five Danishmen at my back, I wouldn’t fear much. Certainly not us when we’re out here and he’s in there.”

 “I could come back here with an army in a day,” Rhun said. “Cadwaladr has to understand that.”

As Rhun spoke, Gareth caught a flash of color from the trees. It was Alun, waving for them to come in. “It’s time to find out what’s going on,” Gareth said.

With a glance among themselves for reassurance and a
one, two, three
, the three men dashed across the grass to the cover of the trees. They reached it before the assailants on the wall loosed any more arrows. Stopping to look back up at the castle from the safety of the woods, Gareth strained to see Gwen’s face again but couldn’t.

“I saw her too,” Alun said, without having to ask for whom he was looking. “She’s gone now. Whatever we’ve started, it’s pushed Cadwaladr into action.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he companions trotted through the woods to the spot to which Hywel had retreated, still under the cover of the trees, some hundred yards from the castle gate. A good archer was easily accurate at that distance, which was why Owain Gwynedd had cleared the trees around the castle to that extent. The sea air and wind had kept stunted the plants that tried to grow back.

As Gareth and Rhun rode up to him, Hywel acknowledged them with a nod. “Stay in the woods at first. If I show either of you to Cadwaladr, he’ll realize the game is up. I can’t decide if I want that or not.”

“Whatever we do, we can’t play the same game Cadwaladr is playing,” Gareth said. “He will set a trap for us. We must avoid it.”

“No doubt.” Hywel turned his head, studying Aberffraw’s façade. “He doesn’t know my father well if he thinks he’ll let the murder of Anarawd and his men pass.”

“We still don’t know if we can lay that at his door,” Rhun said. “He has taken Gwen. That is all we know.”

“Then we must force him to admit it,” Hywel said. “He has something up his sleeve, something that worries me. Taking Gwen is far too confident a move for a man who has plotted against the King of Gwynedd, even if he and my father are brothers.”

“What he has, brother,” Rhun said, “are three dozen Danes in the fort with him. Their boats lie on the beach, guarded by six more.”

Hywel turned his attention to Rhun, his face expressionless, but then his eyes twinkled and a smile hovered around his lips. “So that’s it. Cadwaladr has mortgaged all of Ceredigion on this venture. We’ll have to make it so he can’t pay.”

Gareth took in a deep breath, glad that Hywel saw the presence of the Danes as positive news. He couldn’t agree. “If we show Cadwaladr our numbers, which he may have already guessed, he’ll know that King Owain hasn’t sent an army just yet. Nor had the time to put one together on the off chance Cadwaladr came to Aberffraw.”

“Let him know we want to see Gwen and we just want her back,” Rhun said.

“She’s a bargaining chip,” Hywel said. “He’ll use her as a hostage to gain safe passage to the boats on the beach.”

“Are you going to allow that?” Gareth said.

“I want Gwen back too,” Hywel said. “If we let Cadwaladr go now, we can deal with him later on our terms. Or my father can. Ceredigion is not so far from Gwynedd that we can’t pen him in there. And if Cadell learns of his treachery, that he was behind Anarawd’s murder, Cadwaladr will have nowhere to turn.”

“Unless Cadell conspired with Cadwaladr,” Gareth said.

Rhun’s eyes widened at the idea, but Hywel laughed. “With the plot discovered, do you think Cadell would admit to it? No, he’ll stand with my father in that event.”

While Gareth and Rhun watched from the trees, the remaining five men mounted their horses and urged them to a spot fifty paces from the front gate. That they were on horseback would give them an opportunity to flee if Cadwaladr ordered his men to shoot. For all Cadwaladr’s perfidy so far, Hywel assumed it wouldn’t come to that.

After some shouting and a short wait, Cadwaladr appeared above the gatehouse, resting an arm along the top of the wall. “Hello, nephew. You asked to speak to me on some matter?”

Gareth had no trouble hearing the exchange, even from a distance.

“I would like you to return Gwen ferch Meilyr to me,” Hywel said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Cadwaladr said.

“And why is that?”

“I took her from Aber to keep her safe from the man who murdered Anarawd.” Cadwaladr said. “When Gareth hangs, I will release her.”

Gareth’s mouth twisted at Cadwaladr’s confidence and the smile that accompanied his words sent chills down Gareth’s spine. “Did I hear that right?” Gareth asked Rhun. “He actually said that he took Gwen to protect her?”

“It’s a reason that could be believed, if we didn’t know more than he thinks we do,” Rhun said.

Hywel was unmoved. “I can’t leave—I will not—until I have Gwen beside me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t give her up to you,” Cadwaladr said. “It’s too dangerous for her.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Hywel said.

Cadwaladr gave an exaggerated sigh. “The perils of youth. So tragic… .”

“Uncle—” Hywel said, his tone a warning.

Cadwaladr straightened. “Are these all of your men?” He gestured casually with one hand. “You brought so few.”

“Not all,” Hywel said. “What of the Aberffraw garrison?”

At Hywel’s words, Gareth’s eyes snapped to the top of the wall. Hywel had noticed what he had not—that everyone along the top of the wall belonged to Cadwaladr in some fashion, rather than men who’d sworn allegiance to King Owain.

Cadwaladr shrugged. “No harm has come to them. Has my brother hanged the traitor yet?”

“Not yet.” Hywel canted his head to one side, as if curious, and tried again. “Give Gwen back to me, Uncle. She doesn’t need to stay here to be safe. I can protect her.”

“I don’t agree,” Cadwaladr said.

“Why do you care for her so?”

“Ah.” Cadwaladr smiled. “It is not I who cares for her, but you.”

“So you didn’t take her to protect her from Gareth, but to hurt me?” Hywel said. “How can that be?”

Silence
. Gareth nodded, recognizing that Cadwaladr had said something he shouldn’t have and was now uncertain as to how to continue. Hywel studied his uncle, letting him think for another few heartbeats, but it was Rhun who spoke next. He walked his horse forward, out from under the trees. Cadwaladr’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He had to know that Rhun’s presence was not a good sign for him.

“My father knows now that you ordered the death of King Anarawd,” Rhun said, showing an aptitude for bluffing for which Gareth wouldn’t have given him credit. “That you refuse to give up Gwen only deepens your predicament, not aids it. Release her and give the Danes with whom you are in league leave to return to their boats. If you do these things, now, without hesitation, I will speak to my father on your behalf.”

“I did not kill Anarawd,” Cadwaladr said.

“Nobody said you killed him,” Hywel said, “but you paid mercenaries from Ireland to do the job for you.” He tipped his chin towards the men on either side of Cadwaladr. “Danes such as these. We have enough evidence to convict you with what has happened here, but were we to cage you at Aberffraw while Rhun and I traveled to your seat in Ceredigion, do you think I wouldn’t find more?”

“And yet you come here with only six men,” Cadwaladr said, the sneer back in place. “You’re still guessing at the truth.”

“I’m not.” Hywel waved a hand in Gareth’s direction, indicating that he should join them.

Marveling at the case Hywel had built out of nothing, Gareth obeyed, urging Braith forward. He came into view and Cadwaladr paled. “You! But—”

“I have not been hanged, as you can see,” Gareth said, closing the door on the trap Hywel had set. “Nor will I be. I am free and in the company of King Owain’s sons. You cannot hide the truth from us any longer, Cadwaladr.”

But that impertinence, coming from someone he’d dismissed for disobedience and reviled in the years afterwards, was too much for Cadwaladr. The prince cursed, shook his fist once at Hywel, and shoved his way past his men on the walkway. He raced away along the balustrade to where it connected to the upper floor of the hall.

“Uh oh.” That was Evan.

“Damn,” Hywel said. “What now?”

“We need another plan, brother,” Rhun said. “And quick.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
hey came for me.

Gwen had screamed Gareth’s name when the first arrow flew at him, though fear had constricted her lungs and the sound hadn’t traveled all the way down to the beach. She’d felt a change in the atmosphere in the fort a few moments earlier—whether it was the running feet and shouting in the courtyard below her, or simply the sense of urgency permeating the castle—such that when Gareth, Rhun, and Evan had appeared on the edge of the river, and then dived behind the bush to avoid that arrow, she hadn’t been surprised. Terrified for them, but not surprised.

And it wasn’t going to be just them either. If Gareth was out of prison, with Rhun beside him, then Hywel was here too, proving yet again that he was completely reliable when it mattered most.

Gwen waited, listening for footsteps outside her door that would tell her change was coming. She didn’t yet know what that change was going to be, or if she would survive it, but she felt that anything was better than spending any more time alone in this bare room. She’d spent so many years here, alone or with Hywel. If her father hadn’t fallen out with Owain, she might have been born, lived, and died at Aberffraw.

Just as Gareth and the others raced back to the cover of the trees, thankfully unharmed, one of Cadwaladr’s men entered her room. Gwen spun around at his approach, but all he did was elbow her away from the window and latch it. “Prince Cadwaladr’s orders,” he said.

Then he grasped her arm and walked her out the door to a low stool in the corridor. “Sit.”

Gwen sat. The guard propped himself against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. She studied him for a moment, and a new coldness swept through her when she realized that she’d seen him before—at Aber, of course, but more importantly at Dolwyddelan Castle, before all of this started.

“What are we waiting for?” Gwen said, when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“New orders,” he said.

“Where is Cadwaladr?”

The man glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

Frustrated, Gwen tried a new line of attack. “I saw you talking to that stable boy at Dolwyddelan,” she said, even though she hadn’t. “Given that he ended up dead, your role in all this seems clear. Maybe you killed the servant at Aber too, after she failed to murder Gareth.”

The man stared at her hard-eyed, and then looked away, still not answering. Time crawled by as Gwen tried to imagine what was happening outside. At least in the hallway she could more easily hear what was going on inside the castle. Footsteps pounded below her, echoing through the walls, but why the men were running and where they were running to, she couldn’t tell.

Maybe they’re abandoning the fort?
A woman would be a needless hindrance on a sea journey, and since Hywel had obviously followed Cadwaladr from Aber, Cadwaladr could surely gain nothing by keeping her prisoner. “Are you going to let me go? Surely there’s no sense in following Cadwaladr in this?”

Irritation—and something else, disbelief?—crossed the man’s face, but still he didn’t speak and time stretched out with every beat of Gwen’s heart. Then, finally, the man straightened, looking towards a door at the far end of the hallway that led to the battlements and Gwen focused on it too. A moment later, the door burst open. Cadwaladr himself bounded into the building. He reached her in three strides and lifted her bodily off her stool.

“Let me go!” Gwen hadn’t fought when his men had taken her from Aber, but now she instinctively resisted. She kicked at him and tried to wrench away.

“You will do as I say!” Before she could speak again, Cadwaladr had her pressed against the wall, his fingers around her neck. “Do as I command or you will die.”

Gwen struggled for breath, staring into Cadwaladr’s face. He held her there for a long count of ten before releasing her and stepping back. Her neck stung from where his fingernails had bit into her skin and she gagged, holding her throat with one hand and breathing hard.

“Will you obey?” He stared down at her, his hands on his hips, as she bent over, still gasping.

“I will,” Gwen said. Better to give in now while he still seemed to want her alive, on the chance she could escape later.

Cadwaladr grabbed her arm. “Damn right you will.”

He half-dragged, half-carried her down the hall to the far door that he’d just come through. Men, both Danish and Welsh, lined the battlements leading to the upper storey of the gatehouse. The Danes with their smirks and long, untied hair were a contrast to the Welshmen, many of whom had hair shorn short and trim beards. At Cadwaladr’s appearance and the sight of Gwen’s struggles, they wore expressions ranging from a completely blank face, for those who’d spent more time in Cadwaladr’s service, to outright horror—quickly suppressed as Cadwaladr and she approached.