Hywel
For the last quarter of an hour since he’d left Rhodri’s cell and arrived in the courtyard, Hywel had been getting an earful, first from Gareth and Gwen about what had been going on since he’d last spoken to them, and then from Iorwerth, detailing his surveillance of Lwc’s theft of the treasury. It was hard to believe so much could have gone wrong in so short a time—hard to believe, that is, if he hadn’t been associated with Gareth and Gwen for as long as he had. Deiniol, one of the apparent culprits keeping Hywel from his father’s side, had been tied at the wrists and attached by a rope to a post in the stable, out of earshot of Gareth’s narration but not out of sight.
Then Conall’s horse turned under the gatehouse, Gwalchmai instead of Conall mounted on its back, and trotted up to where the trio were standing.
“Did you catch him?” Gareth said by way of a greeting.
Gwalchmai dropped to the ground with an envious agility. Hywel wasn’t injured like Gareth, but he was tired—and growing older. His muscles were stiffer after riding in a way that hadn’t been the case a few years ago.
“Conall did. Lwc told us a tale, one worth hearing. It might even be true.” Gwalchmai lifted his chin to glare in Deiniol’s direction and raised his voice so that it could be heard across the distance. “He says Deiniol murdered Erik.”
At the accusation, Deiniol showed a surfeit of emotion, struggling against the rope that bound him so that he could move closer. “He can’t have said that! I didn’t murder anyone. I didn’t steal anything either.”
“Did he really say that Deiniol murdered Erik?” Gareth said in an undertone to Gwalchmai.
Gwalchmai turned his face away from Deiniol. “No, but he did blame Deiniol for the idea to steal from the monastery. The treasure is hidden in sacks of feed in the stable. Lwc was going to wheel them out in a handbarrow later tonight.”
Gareth put a hand on Gwalchmai’s shoulder. “Good work.” He strode off, past Deiniol and into the stable.
Gwalchmai and Gwen in tow, Hywel approached Deiniol. “If you didn’t murder Erik, do you mean to imply that you convinced Lwc to murder Erik for you?”
“What’s this about murder? There’s been no murder—not by me!” Deiniol said. “You can’t think it!”
Hywel canted his head. “Do you know who I am?”
Gareth had greeted Hywel when he’d arrived as my prince, so if Deiniol had been paying attention at all he should know that Hywel was a man of importance, even if he didn’t realize that he was the edling.
Deiniol’s jaw clenched. Given that Deiniol had been caught with Lwc, and that he was also their only witness to the existence of Erik’s friend, they’d gone full circle with him. It was doubtful they could believe anything he said.
Still, Hywel took his refusal to answer as an assent of a kind and said, “Then you know that I have the power to hang you right now for murder on Lwc’s word. We are in the middle of a war, and we don’t have time for the niceties of lawyering. Can you produce anyone to vouch for your innocence?”
Deiniol licked his lips, looking more uncertain with every breath. “No, my lord.”
“Then you would be wise to admit to the lesser charge of theft and tell us what you did do rather than risk the greater one, don’t you think?” Gareth returned from the stable, holding a silver candlestick in one hand and a bag of coins in the other.
Deiniol tugged fruitlessly on his bindings. “I have never seen those before! This is not my doing, but Lwc’s! I came into the stable at the same time Lwc was tying closed one of the feed sacks. I had nothing to do with any theft! I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all. You have to believe me.”
“We really don’t,” Gareth said.
Deiniol’s eyes moved from Gareth’s face to something beyond Hywel. Hywel turned to look and saw Conall and Lwc entering under the gatehouse, Lwc on a leading rein. The boy looked appropriately cowed, a little rough around the edges with dirt smearing the front of his robe, but his face showed no bruising.
At the sight of Hywel, Gwen, and Gareth at the entrance to the stable with Deiniol tied to a post, Conall stopped fifty feet away and didn’t approach. Hywel jerked his head in the direction of the cloister, thinking it wise to keep Lwc and Deiniol separated until he heard the full story from both of them. Conall tugged Lwc towards the far side of the courtyard, and Hywel turned back to Deiniol, whose eyes had bugged out a little at the sight of the younger monk.
Hywel pursed his lips and then waved a hand. “Watch them, you two,” he said, referring to Iorwerth and Gwalchmai, “while we confer.”
The four adults moved to the center of the courtyard, equal distance between the two culprits but no closer to understanding what was really going on here.
“What exactly did Lwc say?” Hywel said to Conall.
While Conall gave a summary of his interrogation of Lwc, Hywel’s eyes stayed on the boy. He sat on the ground in his dirty robe, his knees pulled up and his chin resting on them. Then he turned to look at Deiniol, whose expression had turned even more apprehensive.
Conall concluded with a lifted chin. “What does Deiniol say?”
“He denies any wrongdoing, up to and including having a hand in the thefts,” Gareth said.
“Can we believe either of them?” Gwen said.
Hywel looked at her, thinking her comment uncharacteristically suspicious. “You don’t think Lwc speaks the truth?”
“Clearly he’s involved since Gwalchmai and Iorwerth saw him stealing from the treasury, and we’ve recovered what he stole. But it’s awfully convenient of him to play the innocent and put all the blame on Deiniol, who we have so far caught in no wrongdoing.”
“We simply find him smarmy and off-putting.” Conall spoke matter-of-factly, in a manner Hywel had grown accustomed to hearing from him.
“Does it change anything to know that I spoke with Rhodri just now, and he claims that he was paid by my father to be among those who sacked the monastery?” Hywel said. “He accuses Gareth of being his paymaster and is prepared to say so in front of everyone at the conclave.”
The three others gaped at him, prompting a harsh laugh from Hywel.
“Not again!” Gwen was holding Gareth’s hand so tightly her knuckles whitened. “How do we prove otherwise?”
Hywel shook his head dismissively. “Madog has no power over my men, and he knows it. The timeline is easy to disprove, and I will be the one to do it. It’s a distraction to impress his own lords, who won’t believe a word I say, but it doesn’t matter because by naming Gareth, Rhodri has named the real culprit.”
“Cadwaladr,” Gareth, Gwen, and Conall said together.
Hywel canted his head. “It’s likely, but so far unprovable unless someone talks.”
“Which brings us back to Deiniol and Lwc,” Gwen said.
“The monastery has three cells, and now we have three men to fill them,” Hywel said. “I say we let them stew a while. Erik’s dead, but so far his is the only death. It’s a puzzle, but it’s my puzzle. I don’t want the conclave having anything to do with it.”
“Even if when Deiniol sees Rhodri and tells us that he was the man with Erik, we can’t believe him, since it would be in his best interests to implicate someone else. And if Deiniol doesn’t recognize Rhodri, we can’t believe that either,” Gareth said.
“I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but we are getting closer.” Hywel told them about Rhodri’s enormous hands, even if he had no broken or missing finger.
“We can’t hang a man for having large hands.” Gareth ran a hand through his hair. “He feels as innocent in all this as Lwc.”
“Which means not at all.” Hywel tsked through his teeth. “You’ll note that neither Lwc nor Deiniol has a damaged left hand either.”
“I noticed,” Gareth said sourly.
Hywel looked at Gwen. “Find Abbot Rhys and tell him what’s happened. We’ll take care of Lwc and Deiniol, secure the treasure, and then meet you back at the guesthouse.” He lifted his chin to draw her attention to the sound of returning firefighters, whose chattering could be clearly heard, coming from the monastery gardens. “We need to hurry before the conclave starts again.”
Gwen stared at him aghast. “Surely with all that has happened, Abbot Rhys will postpone another session until tomorrow!”
Hywel tsked through his teeth at her innocence. “He won’t. He has two factions in his monastery who hate each other. Leaving them to their own devices for an afternoon is a recipe for war, not peace, and he knows it.”