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Day One
Math
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After Simon and Owen departed the laying-out room, Math stood uncertainly beside the body. He didn't know whether Rhys would prefer him to simply keep vigil or if he was meant to begin examining Moriddig himself. He didn’t think Rhys would mind if he had a closer look; nor would he view doing so as usurping his role. Math hadn’t actually seen a man strangled before and thus wasn’t sure he would have known the murderer had worn a ring.
He did wonder how many strangled men Owen had examined to have realized what he was seeing. What Owen had not mentioned were the implications if he was correct. Before she had left with Hywel to find Gruffydd, Catrin had conveyed the news that Moriddig’s own ring was missing. After a few more moments of dithering, Math decided he needed to see for himself and pulled the sheet off the body. Instead of tossing it aside as Owen had done, he folded it neatly and set it on a nearby table.
The body was looking no better than it had in the wagon—worse, really, once Math lit the two lanterns that hung from the ceiling. It was even easier now to make out Moriddig’s bulging eyes. They hadn’t seemed quite so prominent when he’d been on the floor of the wagon. It also looked as if Moriddig had bitten his lower lip hard as he was dying because there were traces of blood on his teeth. Math felt a sudden pang of sympathy that the man had died in agony.
He was hesitating, ashamed both to look at him and to look away, when Rhys stepped into the room. “You don’t have to stay.”
Math didn’t know how long he’d been there, observing from the doorway. “I feel like a coward.” He felt the need to apologize. “He looks dreadful.”
“This is my job, not yours. Why do you think I’m having Catrin go through the wagon for clues? She doesn’t need to see this.” He gave a shake of his head. “I regret that I do. Sadly, it does get easier.”
“How did you know what I was feeling?”
“Because it’s hard for me too. I can look at the body impartially, but staring at his face feels like we’re dishonoring him. Moriddig loved being the center of attention in life. He would hate it now in death.”
As he spoke, Rhys lifted Moriddig’s wrist. Since Math had already done the same thing, he knew the body was stiffer than when they’d discovered it. Rigor would be setting in more completely as every subsequent hour passed.
“Has anything happened since we last talked that I need to know?” Rhys said. “Did you get anything more out of Patrick and Adam? Where did they go?”
“They’re drinking.” Math didn’t mention Owen’s observation about the ring yet. If Rhys didn’t see it himself, he would tell him before they left the room.
“Well, he’s still dead.” Rhys bent to look at Moriddig’s hands. “I don’t see an indication he fought back. There’s no blood or skin under his nails or bruises on his knuckles.” He walked around the body to the other side. “You can see the paler skin around his finger where the ring is missing. Maybe Catrin will find it or it’s somewhere in his clothes. We should strip him now, before full rigor sets in. We think we know how he died, but we need to make sure he has no other wounds.”
They set to work, the whole process suddenly becoming easier for Math now that he wasn’t alone. They worked in silence at first, with occasional grunts of effort. As Math folded Moriddig’s clothing and put them next to the sheet that had covered him, Rhys stood looking down at Moriddig’s neck. Then he stuck out a finger and rubbed the spot Owen had noted.
“Does it look like a bruise to you?”
“Lord Owen pointed that out and said we should be looking for someone who wears a ring on his right hand.”
Rhys barked a laugh. “Did Owen have any suggestions as to that person’s identity?”
“He mentioned Gruffydd ab yr Ynad Coch.”
“He doesn’t wear any rings, or at least he wasn’t wearing any today; I’ve just come from speaking to him.” Rhys fit his own hands around Moriddig’s neck and then asked Math to do the same, the better to imagine how it might have been. Math’s fingers didn’t quite match up. The killer had larger hands. Math also wore no rings at all, having sold or melted down every one he’d inherited during his years of wandering, just to survive.
Rhys stepped back. “I would not have guessed Owen had an eye for such detail.”
Math gave a little cough. “I wondered at the time at his surety or if he knew something he wasn’t telling us. Owen wears two rings on his left hand, and one more on his right.”
“You are wondering if he murdered his own bard?” Rhys gave a little shrug. “Wouldn’t that wrap things up nicely? But I know for a fact that he was in the king’s tent for most of the morning and only left shortly before Hywel arrived with the news of Moriddig’s death. If we are to believe Adam about Moriddig’s movements, Owen isn’t even a suspect.”
“He has plotted murder before,” Math couldn’t help saying, aware that Rhys would know exactly what he was talking about. But then, at Rhys’s raised eyebrow, he hastily added, “Have you thought as far as who stands to gain from this death?”
“So we’re speculating now?” Rhys opened his eyes wider in feigned surprise.
Math waggled his head. “I’m just curious as to what you think.”
“I have no opinion at all, as of yet. I sense, however, that you do.”
“Since Nefyn, and especially since Vale Royal Abbey, I’ve been thinking about why men murder other men. Before working with you, I hadn’t given much thought to the difference between killing in battle at the behest of one’s lord and killing for one’s own benefit. For that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Someone wanted something, and Moriddig stood in the way of it. That’s why Dafydd and Owen plotted against Llywelyn all those years ago.”
“While true, your point also makes clear how the idea of wanting should be seen broadly,” Rhys said. “Sometimes the killer wants what another has. That could be a material thing, like silver or a manor—or the throne of Wales. It could also be a person, like a wife or lover. Alternatively, he could want to be free of something. Maybe the dead man was a bully. That makes the killer also a victim and the murder a product of desperation. When wives murder husbands, that’s almost always the situation. While murder can arise out of simple greed, it can come from love, hate, or fear. Or even all three at the same time.”
“Strangling strikes me as a very personal way to murder someone.” Math found himself studying Moriddig’s body with a detachment he hadn’t felt before Rhys and he had started talking. “What did the murderer gain from killing you?”
