Gareth
When the fight started, Gareth had been standing on the far side of the room, but by the time Evan declared Meicol dead, he was watching as raptly as everyone else. If this had been Aberystwyth—or anywhere in Gwynedd—Gareth would have immediately gone to Evan’s side, knowing without being told that it was his job to begin the quest for answers. But Gareth had no authority here. More to the point, he wanted no authority here.
But then Evan straightened, and the first thing he did was search the room.
Gareth knew he was looking for him, and he resisted the temptation to hide behind Iago, who was standing beside him and could have easily blocked him from Evan’s view.
Instead he allowed Iago to nudge him forward. “He wants you.”
“I see that.”
Iago laughed at Gareth’s sour tone and added, “Go on. Cadell is sure to have someone else he’d rather have in charge, but Evan needs you now.”
Comforted by Iago’s reassurance, Gareth edged his way through the crowd of onlookers. Iago was right—Evan might need a staunch companion at his side in case someone decided to accuse him of killing the poor fellow. Gareth had been in Evan’s shoes himself more than once, and it was not a comfortable place to be.
“Move back! Move back! Give the man some room.” King Cadell himself could hardly have missed the commotion, and now he descended from the high table to approach the body. Cadell’s voice was one nobody dared disobey, and the circle around the body expanded.
Gareth was one of the few who continued forward, however, and he stopped a pace behind Evan. He really did prefer not to become involved and resolved not to call attention to himself unless someone did it for him.
“I swear I barely touched him, my lord!” Barri gazed up at King Cadell imploringly. “I haven’t seen him in years! Why would I hurt him?”
That was the question of the hour, and Gareth didn’t know either man more than to greet in passing so he didn’t know if what Barri said was true. He had encountered both men on separate occasions prior to the fight against FitzWizo. Gareth hadn’t seen them again, however, since he’d been among those who’d traveled back to Aberystwyth with the bulk of Hywel’s army, in part to disperse them in good order, but also to bring the news of the victory and to collect Gwen.
Cadell motioned with one hand to Evan that he should get to his feet. The King of Deheubarth was looking visibly older than the day he’d taken the throne over his brother’s dead body, with lines on his face and gray in his hair that hadn’t been there four years earlier. Gareth didn’t know if the reason for the change was guilt at conspiring to murder Anarawd or simply that being king had proved burdensome enough that his cares couldn’t help but be reflected in his physical state. Regardless, Cadell was not a happy man. He rarely smiled, and there was no joy in his heart.
That wasn’t to say Gareth thought he was a bad king. For the most part, he seemed quite capable of managing his kingdom. Fields were sown, families were safeguarded, and the country quietly prospered, despite being almost constantly at war with its neighbors. Hywel viewed this competence as something of a pity, of course, since it made Cadell a real threat to Hywel’s domain of Ceredigion.
“First of all, are we sure he’s dead?” Cadell said.
Evan (the traitor!) answered that question by moving to one side and indicating that Gareth should take his place beside Meicol’s body. With a sigh, Gareth did as Evan asked, seeing a degree of inevitability about the whole thing. Before crouching to the body, however, he glanced at Cadell. “May I, my lord?”
Cadell gestured again. “Please.”
Gareth bent to the body and put two fingers to Meicol’s neck, just as Evan had done earlier. He waited through a count of ten, knowing he would no more feel a pulse than had Evan—who was perfectly competent in such matters. And he was right. He twisted to look up at the king, though he stayed where he was, one knee on the floor. “He is gone.”
Cadell made a tsk of disgust. “How?” He glared around at the onlookers, taking the death as a personal affront and implying that any one of them might have had something to do with it. Then his gaze fell once again on Barri, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, apparently not believing Barri’s initial denial. “It was you who shoved him, wasn’t it? What else did you do to him?”
“N—n—nothing, my lord! I swear it.”
Cadell made another gesture, this one indicating impatience, and turned back to Gareth. “What say you?”
“I can’t say as to cause of death just by looking at him.” Even though Gareth was inclined to agree with Barri that he’d done nothing wrong, he found the man’s childish pleadings objectionable. Regardless, it was too soon to confirm or deny his claim to innocence. “Perhaps someone here who witnessed what happened could shed some light on the series of events leading up to it?”
Evan sighed. “I saw the whole fight, my lord. Barri threw Meicol to the floor, but all that happened was he fell on one shoulder. He didn’t even hit his head.”
Cadell pursed his lips. “Did anyone else witness the altercation?”
There was some nervous shifting among the onlookers, which puzzled Gareth, who’d risen to his feet, not feeling the need to spend any more time by the body than he had to. Gareth had wondered about the undercurrents he’d been feeling in the hall since they arrived, and he wished he’d asked someone, who might know more than he, about them earlier. It was as if, by supporting Barri’s statement, the residents of the castle would be taking sides—but in what dispute, Gareth didn’t know.
“My lord, we did.”
Gareth jerked around abruptly at the sound of his wife’s voice. She was standing a few paces away with the young Prince Rhys and Angharad, Rhun’s former betrothed. At Cadell’s encouraging wave, all three of them came closer, and in a show of unity, Evan moved to stand with them.
“We saw the whole thing,” Gwen said. “Barri speaks the truth about what he did.”
Beside Gwen, Rhys nodded vigorously, and Angharad added more fully, “From what we saw, Meicol started the fight, Uncle. He swung the first punch, which Barri avoided, and it was only when Meicol came back for more that Barri threw him to the floor.” She gestured to Evan, who was standing beside her. “My lord Evan caught Meicol’s arms when he got up to try again and prevented the situation from growing any worse.”
Cadell frowned at her, but Angharad looked bravely back. Evan had told Gareth about her confrontation with her uncle over the way the attacks on FitzWizo’s people had been carried out. He had to admire her fortitude, even as he would have advised against speaking her mind. This time, however, she was buttressed by Gwen, Rhys, and Evan, who had a hand to the small of her back, silently giving her support, and the king didn’t choose to counter all those nodding heads.
Instead, Cadell turned to Prince Hywel, who’d arrived within the circle that had formed around Meicol. “The man I might normally task with heading up an inquiry was injured in battle and remains unavailable, and the second man—” he paused, and then after a moment added somewhat awkwardly, “—isn’t here. May I borrow Sir Gareth, Hywel? He is well acquainted with untimely death, accidental or otherwise. If his skills are even half as good as his reputation says, then there is nobody better for the job.”
Iago, who had mocked Gareth earlier but had followed him anyway, guffawed under his breath and poked Gareth in the back. Gareth ignored him, but at the same time barely managed to swallow down his own disdainful laugh.
He believed what Cadell said about the two men being unavailable, but what the king had left unsaid was that the second man who wasn’t at Dinefwr was most likely Anselm, his spy whom Gareth had encountered a few months ago in St. Asaph. There, Anselm had masqueraded as a monk while spying for Cadell. Gareth hadn’t seen Anselm since, and Hywel hadn’t wanted to mar the current truce by bringing up past offenses. Better to husband the grievance until such a time as he could profit from bringing it out.
Undoubtedly realizing this, Cadell had been loath to say Anselm’s name. Still, even if Cadell was short a trained investigator, Gareth was honestly surprised to learn Cadell would entrust him with any investigation. It wasn’t that Gareth’s reputation was unearned, but that Cadell himself had been implicated in three investigations Gareth had brought to a successful conclusion: the death of Anarawd, the murders last summer at Hywel’s eisteddfod, and the recent incident in St. Asaph. Gareth wouldn’t have thought Cadell wanted to be reminded of any of them.
Hywel might have been thinking all this too, but like Gareth, he hid his real thoughts and said obligingly, “Of course you may borrow Sir Gareth.”
Gareth tipped his head, his eyes focused intently on Cadell, trying to read what was in his mind from what was on his face—which was nothing. “My lord, I will need a quiet place to work.”
“I well remember.” Cadell’s tone was dry, revealing that Gareth wasn’t wrong to think that, regardless of his complimentary words, he remembered past events as well as Gareth did. Then, sweeping out one arm, he turned to the crowd in the hall and lied, “Meicol was obviously unwell. It is unfortunate he didn’t think to consult a healer. There is nothing more to learn here. You may return to your meal in peace.” With a nod to Prince Hywel and completely ignoring the dead body, Gareth, and Barri, he strode back to the high table.
Hywel moved closer to Gareth and said in an undertone, “Sorry.”
This time Gareth allowed himself a real laugh. “No, you’re not.”
Hywel grinned. “You’re right. I’m not.” The prince was ever one to gain any advantage if opportunity presented itself. “Cadell is not wrong, however. You are the best man for the job.”
“I gather I should inform you of anything I find before I seek out Cadell?”
“Naturally you should. It would be absurd of you to do otherwise.” He clapped Gareth on the shoulder, his eyes alight. “I am your liege lord after all.”