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Day Four
Rhys
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Rhys had guessed Tomos had something to do with the barn, if only because the deaths of the two men occurred in a similar time frame. The reason nobody had told him made perfect sense as well. Refusing shelter to a fellow Welshman, especially in this new age they were living in, wasn’t just in poor taste, it was a sin. It made no difference that they’d justified their behavior by telling themselves Tomos wasn’t worthy.
Compounding their indiscretion was the way they’d kept the truth from Rhys himself, also a guest among them, not to mention someone they knew to be actively working to care for and protect them.
When Rhys had searched the barn for clues, he’d seen the blanket in the loft but had assumed he’d found the love nest of the pair who’d discovered Cole’s body. They’d sworn they’d sounded the alarm before anything had happened between them, but he’d assumed they’d said that because they didn’t want to confess the truth in front of their fathers. How much effort might he have saved had he believed them? The question before him now was how and why Tomos ended up dead, not in the barn with Cole, since he’d found no blood there, but in the millpond.
And Rhys’s next task, after leaving Catrin, was to speak to Dafi.
“He won’t tell us anything,” Simon said, by way of a greeting, as Rhys stepped through the guardroom door. It was nearing midnight, but Simon was still awake and apparently unsurprised to see Rhys. “Not that we could understand him if he did. All I’ve heard from him is mochyn. Don’t think I don’t know what that means! Perhaps you’ll have better luck.”
Rhys waited until Simon and John had disappeared up the stairs and then entered the cell.
Dafi was leaned up against the wall with his legs bent at the knees. Their presence had deterred any further beatings, and someone had actually seen to the poor man’s wounds, though he peered at Rhys now through an eye still swollen closed.
“Come to gloat?”
Rhys crouched in front of him. “Now why would you think I’d do that?”
Dafi tried to sneer, though it obviously hurt his mouth, which had a cut in the corner, and then he gave up, raising and dropping a hand helplessly. “Ach. I know you. I know what you’ve done for us—”
Rhys made a slashing motion with his hand.
Dafi nodded. “Right. I didn’t kill those men.”
“I know you didn’t. Any thoughts as to who did?”
“None.”
“Did you see anyone around your place in the last few days? Someone had to have planted the evidence and built, as the messenger gleefully told me, an ‘unholy altar’ in your barn.”
“You know how it is. I slept these last nights in a croft up the mountain with my herd. I came back down only because it’s market day tomorrow, and if I don’t attend, I’ll be fined.”
Then Dafi’s expression turned rueful. “That poor Tomos lad. He lost his way there for a time, but he was doing better these last few weeks.”
“You knew him?”
“He bunked with me some nights. I let him stay even when I was out.”
“Just tonight the villagers told me he slept in the barn where we found the dead Englishman, Cole.”
“He slept there when he got out of the castle late. I didn’t expect him any night, much less that one, so I didn’t know he was missing until I heard he was dead. He showed up when he felt like it, and we rubbed along well enough. He brought food when he could, helped out when he could.” Now Dafi’s upper lip lifted again. “Those snooty folks down in the village couldn’t give him a good day because he worked for them Normans. The man was just trying to make his way in the world the only way he knew how. Like we all are.” He gestured to Rhys, indicating the surcoat he wore. Rhys had taken it off before entering Gruffydd’s home, but donned it again upon entering the castle. “Like you are.”
“That’s what I told them tonight. I feel remiss in not looking out for him. I didn’t even know a Welshman was working on the castle.” He frowned. “How did I not know?”
“He spoke English like a native. He looked English. No reason for you to think anything else, and it took us a while to trust you.”
Rhys tsked. “They didn’t trust me with their little secret until tonight.”
“I sent you on your way right quick when you came to see me a year ago. No reason for you to come back.”
Rhys accepted that was the only apology he was going to get, and he wondered how many other of his countrymen, like Catrin, had been suspicious of how he’d survived Cilmeri when everyone else had died. He had to assume at this point that Gruffydd had initially taken him in to protect the village. After all, Rhys was working for the king just as much as Tomos had been. The difference was that Rhys was a crusader and a minor nobleman, whom some of them had known from birth. They couldn’t turn him away, and Gruffydd must have thought it better to keep Rhys where he could see him.
Rhys rose to his feet and stood looking down at Dafi, his hands on his hips. “I’m going to get you out of this.”
“Don’t you worry about me, lad. I’ve had a long life. This is a small matter.”
“That may well be, but this isn’t just about you.”
Dafi grunted. “I have no love for those down in the village, but I don’t want to see them punished for something none of us did, just to keep our new masters happy.” He gave Rhys a wry smile. “You better work quick, though. I don’t think I’ll be given much time. That coroner is set on a hanging.”
