The Uninvited Guest

A Gareth & Gwen Medieval Mystery

The Uninvited
Guest

by

Sarah Woodbury

Copyright © 2012 by Sarah Woodbury

Cover image by Christine DeMaio-Rice at Flip
City Books

The Uninvited Guest

It is the winter of 1143 and all is not well
in the court of Owain, King of north Wales. His future in-laws are
untrustworthy, the Norman lords on his eastern border are restless,
and among his wedding guests lurks a cold-blooded killer. Gareth
and Gwen have marriage plans of their own, but their love will have
to wait while the pair race to separate truth from lies, friends
from foes, and unravel the mystery before King Owain—and his new
bride—fall victim to their uninvited guest.

The Uninvited Guest
is the second Gareth and Gwen Medieval
Mystery:

To
Dan

The Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mysteries:

The Bard’s Daughter (novella)

The Good Knight

The Uninvited Guest

The Fourth Horseman

The Fallen Princess

The Unlikely Spy

The Lost Brother

The Renegade Merchant

The After Cilmeri Series:

Daughter of Time (prequel)

Footsteps in Time (Book One)

Winds of Time

Prince of Time (Book Two)

Crossroads in Time (Book Three)

Children of Time (Book Four)

Exiles in Time

Castaways in Time

Ashes of Time

Warden of Time

Guardians of Time

Masters of Time

The Lion of Wales Series:

Cold My Heart

The Oaken Door

Of Men and Dragons

A Long Cloud

The Last Pendragon Saga:

Last Pendragon

The Pendragon’s Quest

The Paradisi Chronicles:

Erase Me Not

www.sarahwoodbury.com

A Brief Guide to Welsh
Pronunciation

c
a hard ‘c’ sound (Cadfael)

ch
a non-English sound as in Scottish ‘ch’ in ‘loch’
(Fychan)

dd
a buzzy ‘th’ sound, as in ‘there’ (Ddu; Gwynedd)

f
as in ‘of’ (Cadfael)

ff
as in ‘off’ (Gruffydd)

g
a hard ‘g’ sound, as in ‘gas’ (Goronwy)

l
as in ‘lamp’ (Llywelyn)

ll
a breathy ‘thl’ sound that does not occur in English
(Llywelyn)

rh
a breathy mix between ‘r’ and ‘rh’ that does not occur in
English (Rhys)

th
a softer sound than for ‘dd,’ as in ‘thick’
(Arthur)

u
a short ‘ih’ sound (Gruffydd), or a long ‘ee’ sound
(Cymru—pronounced ‘kumree’)

w
as a consonant, it’s an English ‘w’ (Llywelyn); as a vowel,
an ‘oo’ sound (Bwlch)

y
the only letter in which Welsh is not phonetic. It can be an
‘ih’ sound, as in ‘Gwyn,’ is often an ‘uh’ sound (Cymru), and at
the end of the word is an ‘ee’ sound (thus, both Cymru—the modern
word for Wales—and Cymry—the word for Wales in the Dark Ages—are
pronounced ‘kumree’)

Cast of Characters

Owain Gwynedd – King of Gwynedd (North
Wales)

Cadwaladr – younger brother to Owain

Cadwallon – elder brother to Owain and
Cadwaladr, deceased

Rhun – Owain’s son

Hywel – Owain’s son

Meilyr – court bard

Gwalchmai – Meilyr’s son

Gwen –Meilyr’s daughter

Gareth – Knight

Cristina – Owain’s bride

Mari –Cristina’s bridesmaid

Enid – Cristina’s bridesmaid

Taran – Owain’s steward

Tomos –Owain’s friend

Goronwy – Cristina’s father

Chapter One

November, 1143 AD

G
wen’s pulse beat so loudly in her ears, the sound drowned out
the rumble of voices in the hall.
He was
here! And he still loved her!
All day,
she’d been thinking of Gareth, unable to contain her wish to see
him, to talk to him. And she’d been terrified of it too. What if he
didn’t have feelings for her anymore? What if he’d found a good
woman in Ceredigion? When she’d stood on the top step to the
courtyard and he hadn’t even
seen
her, her heart had fallen into her
shoes.

But she’d swallowed her pride and gone to
him and was glad she had. It would have been terrible for her to
have turned away with hurt feelings. Better to let him know up
front that she still loved him and see if he would respond, than to
sulk in silence, punishing him for something he hadn’t known he’d
done. Admittedly, from her observations, Cristina, King Owain’s
betrothed, treated King Owain like that with some frequency, and it
hadn’t driven him away. But that wasn’t Gwen’s way.

She’d been hoping to see Gareth sooner. Days
sooner. She’d paced the battlements every free moment looking for
Prince Hywel’s company, until yesterday when her father had yelled
at her to come in out of the rain. She’d half-given up on Gareth
ever returning to Aber Castle. What if he’d died in the fighting in
the south? She might not have heard the news for months. In some of
her less sane moments, she’d convinced herself that Prince Hywel
wasn’t going to come to his father’s wedding, and if he did come,
he’d leave Gareth behind in Ceredigion.

For Gwen realized that Hywel might think she
and Gareth together could present a threat to him. Hywel had to
know that Gwen would speak to Gareth of last summer. Gwen didn’t
know what Gareth would do when she told him that it had been Hywel
who had murdered King Anarawd, not Prince Cadwaladr, King Owain’s
younger brother, for all that Cadwaladr had wanted the deed done.
Gwen had hoped that by now Hywel would have told Gareth about it
himself, but when she’d brought up the events of last summer in the
courtyard just now, Gareth had given no indication that he knew the
truth.

“
He’s back!” Gwen stopped
next to her younger brother, Gwalchmai, who was crouched beside
their trunk of instruments with his friend, Iorwerth, one of King
Owain’s many young sons.

“
Who’s—” Gwalchmai looked
up at her, and at the expression on her face, didn’t finish his
question. “It’s about time he came home. He’s left you here alone
far too long.”

“
It’s not his fault,” Gwen
said. “Prince Hywel needed him in the south.”

“
And how long before he
returns to Ceredigion?”

Gwen shook her head. “Gareth’s not going
without me, not this time.”

Gwalchmai turned back to Iorwerth, mumbling
something under his breath about their father and Hywel having a
say in that. But if Gwen and Gareth were married, her father, at
least, wouldn’t have a say in her life anymore. Gwen practically
skipped to the top of the hall where the high table lay.

Already on the dais, Hywel clasped hands
with his brother, Rhun. Hywel’s black hair, deep blue eyes, and
broad shoulders drew the eyes of every woman in the room to him—and
had done so for as long as Gwen had known him. His charms no longer
worked on her, however, and her mouth tightened into a thin line.
She forced herself to relax. What was done was done. She’d made her
choice, as had Hywel. It would do her no good to think too hard
about it.

Hywel kissed Cristina on the cheek and
settled himself two seats from his father, whose chair stood in the
center spot at the table. Prince Cadwaladr occupied the last chair
on one end, as far from Hywel as he could get, and didn’t even look
up. As Prince Hywel often reminded her, families were
complicated.

Gwen found a place against the back wall,
behind and to the right of King Owain, which meant she was directly
behind Rhun and just to the left of Hywel. The kitchen door was a
few paces to her left. Owain Gwynedd kicked out his chair and stood
in front of it, effectively blocking her view of half the hall and
forcing her to peer around his bulk.

Next to the king on his left, Cristina’s
father, Lord Goronwy, twisted in his seat to look up at the king,
while still holding tightly to his daughter’s hand. For all that
Cristina had lived at Aber for the last six months, it wouldn’t
have been proper for her to sit next to Owain at a formal dinner
until after their marriage.

Owain remained standing, waiting for the
hall to settle. It didn’t take long for neighbor to nudge neighbor
into silence. At least two hundred people filled the cavernous
space, squashed cheek by jowl at the tables. Gwen watched the
people who faced King Owain (all she could see of the king was his
back). They represented every sector of Gwynedd, high and low: men
in mail, leather, or padded cloth armor, or no armor at all; women
in fine wool dresses, others in thick homespun, maids with long
hair down their back, and old grannies with wispy curls.

There was her father, scowling as always,
his arms folded across his chest, though what concerned him today,
Gwen didn’t know. Maybe he’d heard from Gwalchmai that Gareth had
returned.

And there was
Gareth
. He pushed through the front door
and elbowed his way along the side wall. He must have washed, as
his face was clean and his close-cropped hair wet. When Gwen had
known him before, Gareth’s hair had been longer. She couldn’t
decide which look she liked better.

He hadn’t changed his clothes, however, and
the mail underneath his travel-stained cloak glinted in the
torchlight. When he reached her father’s position, Meilyr actually
had the grace to stick out his hand, which Gareth shook. They spoke
a few words before Gareth moved on. By some miracle, their exchange
had been civil.

Gareth edged farther down the hall, making
for her (Gwen hoped) or at least trying to get closer. Her heart
warmed with every step he took. Although it wouldn’t be seemly for
him to stand behind the high table or to wait on it with her, he
deserved a seat above the salt if he could find a space to sit. He
was a knight in Prince Hywel’s company after all.

Waiting on the high table wasn’t usual for
her either, but the serving girls had been run off their feet just
keeping up with the lower tables this week, and today was the last
feast before the wedding. Taran, King Owain’s steward, had hired
more workers, but Cristina had asked specifically for Gwen to serve
her. How could Gwen refuse her future queen?

At the time, Gwen had been somewhat put out
that Cristina would expect such a service from her, but now Gwen
was glad, since it meant she’d taken special care with her
appearance. Serving Cristina meant Gwen would have to spend the
evening on the dais, and thus be visible to everyone in the hall.
Knowing this, Cristina had given Gwen permission to wash in the
bath room, with its elaborate tiles and sunken pool, a legacy of
the Roman nobleman, who had built his manor long ago on the very
spot on which Aber now stood. Gwen wore her second-best dress which
happened to be Gareth’s favorite color—a deep blue. She was saving
her finest dress (which she actually liked less well) for the
wedding tomorrow.

The room quieted, and after an appropriate
pause, Owain Gwynedd lifted his cup. Gareth halted, having advanced
to a position twenty paces from Gwen. The servants had arranged the
tables to leave a gap between the dais and the three long tables
that stretched the length of the hall, parallel to each other and
perpendicular to the high table.

Gareth glanced at Gwen, his eyes lit with
good humor and a smile. Several men of the garrison shifted to make
room for him, and he settled back against the wall.

“
Welcome to you all.” King
Owain raised his cup higher, and the diners lifted theirs as well.
Those without cups, Gareth and Gwen among them, put a hand to their
hearts. “Tomorrow, you will witness an event that has been a long
time coming. Tomorrow, I will be joined forever with my beloved,
Cristina.”

At these words, Lord Goronwy stood to clasp
King Owain’s forearm in an expression of solidarity. When King
Owain released him, he moved to stand behind his daughter’s chair.
Owain then reached across the space Goronwy had vacated and touched
his cup to Cristina’s. They both drank, Cristina looking at King
Owain over the rim of her cup with a smile in her eyes and on her
lips.

It was a smile Gwen had seen before, and one
that she trusted just about as far as she could throw her
soon-to-be queen. That Cristina cared primarily for herself was a
certainty. That she saw marriage to King Owain as a pinnacle of
achievement—which it would be for any woman—was unquestionable.
Gwen wished her well. For all that Gwen was thankful to find
herself in the good graces of both bride and groom, she wouldn’t
have wished marriage to King Owain on anyone. For her part, Gwen
had her hands full with a certain young knight.