The Lost Brother (26 page)

“Nothing,” Rhun said. “He didn’t even hold
King Stephen’s letter. We need to hear your idea.”

“Hmmm.” Godfrid looked towards the campfire
where his men were clustered. Most weren’t actually sitting, and
their stances implied tense anticipation. “The more I consider it,
the worse my idea becomes, but it might be the only option
available to us.”

“Tell us,” Hywel said.

Godfrid shrugged. “I had a thought that some
of us might take a little trip.”

Gareth

“W
hat kind of
trip?” Gareth said. They were all still standing, which was good
for Gareth since he was too agitated to sit.

Godfrid canted his head, indicating that
they should move farther away from the campfire and his men. While
he claimed to trust every one of them, he’d misplaced his trust
before—as they all had at one time or another—and been betrayed.
With Cadwaladr involved, it could easily happen again.

“Before I go into detail,” Godfrid said,
“you have to be absolutely sure that you believe Cadwaladr has
conspired with Ranulf. The plan is risky, so it has to be worth the
cost if it goes astray.”

“We’re sure, Godfrid,” Rhun said. “Let’s
hear it.”

“It’s simple, really,” Godfrid said. “I will
take Gareth and Gwen with me and my men straight into the lion’s
den.”

Gwen had tight hold of Gareth’s hand, but
she didn’t speak or ask what Godfrid meant. Everyone in the little
circle knew what he meant.

“You want them to walk into Mold Castle and
speak to Ranulf of Chester?”

Gareth could hear the laughter in Hywel’s
voice at the audacity of Godfrid’s suggestion.

Godfrid spread his hands wide. “Who else and
where else? That’s where the scouts say he is, don’t they?” He
looked at Rhun.

“They do,” Rhun said, “and where Pawl and
Morien say the false Gareth dined with him.”

“And if he isn’t there?” Cynan said.

“We’ll ride all the way to Chester if need
be,” Godfrid said. “There’s an agreement between him and Cadwaladr,
and Ranulf thinks the princes are betraying their father. He might
find the news that they aren’t worth hearing. As Rhun said, if
Ranulf has given Cadwaladr support in the form of men, money, and
weapons, he could lose them all.”

“You’re suggesting that we give him another
option,” Hywel said.

“He won’t switch sides,” Gareth said.

“No, but he might be interested in a truce,”
Godfrid said. “He might see the benefit of giving up Mold Castle in
exchange for a cease fire. He thought Cadwaladr was going to stop
the siege before it started. He may not have refortified the castle
at all, because he was counting on your father’s fall and
Cadwaladr’s withdrawal of your forces.”

“He should recognize Gareth and Gwen from
the time they saved Prince Henry,” Rhun said.

“In his arrogance, Ranulf barely looked at
you at the time,” Hywel said, “so I can see how he could have been
deceived years later. He may have thought when he saw Cole and
Adeline that they were you, but as soon as he sees both of you
together in the flesh he will know the truth.”

“It is different this time, isn’t it?” Madoc
said softly. Everyone looked at him. As usual, he hadn’t said two
words up until now. He gave a small smile, as if in acknowledgement
of that fact, before continuing, “We’re in the middle of a war. Men
are dying.” He gestured to King Owain’s tent. “Father could be
dying. The stakes this time are much, much higher. Does Cadwaladr
know it?”

“He has to,” Rhun said.

Madoc canted his head. “I don’t know that he
does. He has lived so long with deception, he might not be able to
see how far down the road to perdition he’s come. I don’t think he
can see his own sin anymore. He has fallen so far into evil that he
has lost the ability to recognize when he’s committed a crime that
can never be forgiven. If he ever had that ability. If he was
caught.”

“Which makes it all the more important that
we act,” Hywel said.

His back straightening with resolve, Gareth
said, “I will go to Ranulf.”

Godfrid shook his head. “Gareth, I know you
want to protect Gwen, but you both have to come with me. Cadwaladr
used you both, and it may be that Ranulf will have to see you
together to realize he’s been deceived. If it’s any consolation, I
think if you allow Gwen to come, it will be safer for all of us.
When a woman rides among men, the party is no longer one of
war.”

Gareth ground his teeth but didn’t deny
Godfrid’s words.

“Knowing that Cadwaladr lied to him and
involved him in his schemes under false pretenses might not be
enough to stop what is already in motion,” Cynan warned.

“It might not be,” Rhun said, “so we have to
act on this end too. At first light, Gareth and Gwen will go to
Ranulf, with the letter from Stephen, and negotiate for peace on
our behalf. If Ranulf reconsiders his support for Cadwaladr, as I
think he must, then we need you to ride hell bent for home to stop
the siege before it starts.”

Hywel nodded. “Meanwhile, we must continue
to move our men forward, to put pressure on Mold. If we don’t hear
from you, we’ll know Ranulf chose to fight and that the war is
still on. The sooner you return, the fewer lives will be lost.”

“And what will you do about Cadwaladr?”
Gareth said.

“I will stop him,” Rhun said.

Because he was the son of the deposed King
of Dublin, the one aspect of this scheme that nobody questioned was
Godfrid’s role. He could get them to Mold Castle. Anyone who saw
him would assume that he had come to Wales for the reason he
had
come to Wales—to seek allies for the overthrow of Ottar,
his father’s rival. That he had gone to Gwynedd and the court of
King Owain first need never be mentioned. Ranulf would admit a
company led by him into Mold.

Gareth, in particular, would have to be well
hooded and cloaked so that nobody would recognize him until he was
through the defenses around the castle. It would have been better
to ride under the cover of darkness for that reason, but for
Godfrid’s mission to appear true, he had to arrive in broad
daylight.

Once decided, there was very little they had
to do in preparation. Mold Castle lay all of two miles from their
current camp, on a little mound north of the village of Mold. The
castle had been built on practically the only high ground for the
whole of those two miles.

Meanwhile, they could sleep.

Maybe.

Because Gwen had to ride in the morning,
Tudur had relieved her of her vigil at King Owain’s bedside. Gwen
rolled over, out of Gareth’s arms, but he could tell from the way
she was breathing that she wasn’t asleep. After another count of
twenty, he said, “What are you thinking about?”

“Tangwen,” Gwen said immediately.

Gareth turned onto his side and tucked his
arm around Gwen again. “Are you worrying about her? You’ve been
here only a few days.”

“That’s a few days longer than I’ve ever
left her before.” Gwen raised one shoulder. “I tell myself she’s
fine, and I know she’s fine. She has her grandfather and the entire
castle wrapped around her little finger. I know that. But I’m her
mother. I worry.”

“If this goes well, you could be back in
Aber by the end of the month,” Gareth said. “You haven’t been gone
even a week yet.”

“I know,” Gwen said. “Truthfully, worrying
about Tangwen is better than worrying about tomorrow.”

Gareth relaxed, pillowing his head in his
arm. “I am not worried.”

Gwen rolled half onto her back, craning her
neck so she could look into his face. “Truly?”

“Truly. Ranulf isn’t going to harm either of
us, and he will welcome Godfrid with open arms.”

“How can you be sure?” Gwen said.

“He has no reason to harm us,” Gareth said.
“We are his enemy in this battle, but we will be riding under a
banner of peace.
And
we will be bringing news he doesn’t
want to hear but needs to know.”

“It is a great responsibility Rhun and Hywel
are giving us,” Gwen said.

“Ranulf can’t be ignorant of the fact that
he’s in bed with a treacherous snake, but he might believe that the
alliance he’s forged is a true one,” Gareth said.

“Using us as surety of it,” Gwen said
sourly.

“Even so,” Gareth said.

Gwen sighed. “At times like these, when I’m
worried or scared, I tell myself that no matter what happens, by
tomorrow night it will be over.”

Gareth pulled the blanket higher onto Gwen’s
shoulder as she turned onto her side again. He’d told her the
truth. He wasn’t worried—except for that niggling fear in the back
of his mind that it would all be over tomorrow because they’d both
be dead.

The morning came, as mornings tended to, no
matter how terrible the future that came with it. The companions
rose in the pre-dawn light in preparation for their journey. They
wanted to reach Mold as quickly as possible, and with only two
miles to go, it wouldn’t take them long.

Godfrid had quested among the spare gear his
men had brought and come up with armor and clothing that made
Gareth look Danish instead of Welsh. Gareth couldn’t grow his beard
back overnight, but he had a few days’ growth on his face, which
would have to do. When he was completely dressed, down to the axe
in his belt (in addition to his sword and belt knife), Godfrid
appeared in front of him with a big grin on his face and a helmet
under his arms. To Gareth’s horror, it sported ram’s horns on
either side of the main casement.

“
What
is
that
?” he said,
though he had a bad feeling he knew.

“The English will see only the helmet and
not the man wearing it. One of my men made it one day to see what
it would be like to wear,” Godfrid said. “He loves what he looks
like in it, though we mock him for it.”

With great reluctance, Gareth allowed
Godfrid to put the helmet on his head and adjust the straps. He
wiggled his head, feeling the awkward weight of the horns. “Don’t
tell me he’s actually worn this into battle. Godfrid, it’s terribly
unwieldy!”

Godfrid laughed, and then Gwen did too when
he turned to her. She held up both hands to keep him away. “Any
Welsh woman would run screaming from you if you arrived on our
beach wearing that!”

Gareth growled and reached for her. She
squealed as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. Then he
kissed her, despite Godfrid’s presence. When he released her,
Godfrid gave Gareth a deep bow. “I apologize to your ancestors for
the behavior of mine, my friend.” His bow was mocking, but his
words were not.

“Your ancestors and mine are drinking mead
together in heaven right now, so all is forgiven.” Gareth clapped
his big friend on the shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

Godfrid hadn’t attempted to turn Gwen into a
soldier because the whole point was for her to be arrayed as a
lady. To that end, she wore the better of the two dresses she’d
brought, covered by an all-encompassing cloak. Gareth was happy to
see her belt knife at her waist. Even though all his instincts
screamed against it, he was taking her into enemy territory, and
she needed to be able to protect herself.

A cold fog shrouded the hill, not unusual
for a winter morning in Wales, and they waded through it to where
the horses waited. Hywel was standing next to Gwen’s horse, and he
held out his clasped hands to Gwen in order to boost her up. Then
the prince turned to Gareth, grinning to see him wearing the absurd
helmet. “You always have all the fun.”

“Your definition of fun and mine are clearly
not the same, my lord.”

“Oh yes, they are,” Hywel said. “You live
for this sort of thing.”

Gareth shook his head. “Once. Not anymore.”
Because, of course, Hywel was right that exploits like this had
once been a way of life for him. Hywel had sought them out, Gareth
at his side. Sometimes Hywel’s escapades had been a bit more
fraught with peril than had been to Gareth’s taste, but he’d gone
along with them.

They were both older now, however, with
wives and children, and Gareth’s willingness to risk everything,
even for great reward, had been tempered by a strong dose of
caution. In his current state, he found it easier to remember that
adventure was usually accompanied by fear, hunger, and the
unexpected in equal measure, in none of which Gareth had any
interest anymore.

“Please don’t begin the assault on Mold
before we get back,” Gwen said from her perch on her horse. “I’d
hate to be stuck there until your eventual victory.”

Hywel waved a hand. “Madoc and Cynan will be
moving out with the bulk of our men within an hour of your
departure. They’ll be right behind you, regardless of how your
meeting with Ranulf goes. If you don’t return by nightfall, we’ll
know that you are in need of rescue, which will mean the siege will
be as much for your benefit as ours.”

“I suppose that’s some comfort.” Gareth’s
horse shifted, and he leaned forward to pat Braith’s neck.

“I looked in on your father this morning,”
Gwen said. “He was awake and talking, but you haven’t told him what
we’re doing, have you?”

“No,” Hywel said.

Gareth gathered the reins. “Are you sure
that’s wise?”

“All will be made clear soon enough, one way
or another,” Hywel said. “We are committed. My brother himself
leads the company that rides to Cadwaladr’s camp. They’ve already
gone. Soon Cadwaladr won’t be able to do us harm ever again, and we
will tell my father everything we know when you return.”

“What do you think Cadwaladr’s plan was?”
Gwen said. “The siege is supposed to begin tonight. At what point
did he intend to betray the king?”

“Rhun and I have discussed it. Given my
father’s illness and inability to travel, we think it would have
been late this afternoon. All the captains were to have met here
before sunset, in order to finalize any last details. Our army
would have been—and still should be—in place around Mold by then,
ready for the last push forward after dark.”