Gwen
Gwen waited patiently for her husband to finish his examination of Sir Robert’s body, by which point the Dragons had arrived to escort them to the manor Robert owned (and Alban oversaw).
“Alban and Caron were among the diners at the castle,” Evan said when Gwen told him what she’d learned from Abbot Mathew.
“Did they survive?” Gareth said.
“I have not seen them since last night, but they are not among the dead,” Evan said.
Gwen hadn’t thought to do a more complete accounting of the survivors, beyond those from Aberystwyth. “Robert’s murderer, as well as the person who poisoned the diners last night, would not be among the ill—unless he was very clever and willing to risk his own life for his cause.”
Evan nodded. “So we’ll add two more to the list, if only because of their connection to Robert.”
Gwen shot him a look. “Are you all right with that? These people were your friends.”
“It was a long time ago, Gwen.”
Gwen didn’t press him further, not feeling the need to question him at all, since he was hardly a suspect. Though, as Gareth mounted, he shook his head. “I feel foolish that you think we’re in any danger, Evan. The poisoner is clearly not one for open confrontation and neither is Robert’s killer. Poison is by nature a coward’s weapon, and Robert was struck down from behind.”
“Then a show of force may be all we need to dissuade him.” Evan grimaced. “Her. Them.”
Once on the road, Gwen and Gareth rode side-by-side, with three guards ahead and three behind. Gwen wasn’t sorry to be moving. For the moment, no more information could be found at the monastery, though Abbot Mathew said he’d let them know if any of the monks came forward with a further thought.
Gareth kept swiveling his head, surveying their surroundings. They were riding through pastureland with few trees to hide behind, however, and there was nobody in sight but them.
She put out a hand to him. “Are you going to tell me about the dream?”
Gareth laughed under his breath. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m always foggy,” she said tartly.
Gareth grunted. “You don’t normally ask about battle. Why now?”
“Because whatever happened to you obviously bothers you enough that it’s coming out in your sleep.”
Gareth sighed, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “We are celebrating a victory over the Flemings, who have been a sore in the side of everyone in Deheubarth for years, but that doesn’t mean destroying their settlement didn’t come at a price.”
“Men died. I know,” she said.
Gareth took in another breath. “Once we took Wiston Castle, and Cadell and his allies overcame FitzWizo’s army, we turned on their main village, Gwen. Prince Hywel held his own men back, but the rest of the army didn’t hesitate. Every house and barn was ransacked, and anyone who resisted was struck down.”
Gwen bit her lip, searching for a reply. “I’m sorry,” was all she ended up saying. “I love you.”
“I know you do, but I can hardly love myself for standing by and letting it happen. How does it make me different from the murderer we’re pursuing?”
It was very different, and he knew it, and she said so.
But still Gareth shook his head. “It isn’t even as if we killed Walter FitzWizo himself. He escaped, and it’s probably only a matter of time before he and his men regroup and try to take back what we took from them. I fear that could be what is happening now.”
“You fear the gains will come to nothing?”
“After last night, they may well anyway, without FitzWizo needing to interfere at all.” Then Gareth shook himself. “The victory is to be celebrated, and I am glad to be part of an alliance between Ceredigion and Deheubarth. The last thing Hywel needs is a hostile army on his border.”
“Hywel was quick to forgive Cadell for sending Anselm to St. Asaph and interfering in Gwynedd.” Gwen was glad to see her husband put aside his guilt, at least for the moment. If his dreams were troubled again, she’d ask Prince Hywel or Evan to talk to him. Many men wanted to talk about battle only to other men who shared their experience.
“You think so?” Gareth let out a snort. “Forgiveness had nothing to do with it. You’ll note we have seen neither hide nor hair of our wayward prior. Believe me, the first thing I did when we arrived in Aberystwyth was inquire at St. Padarn’s if Anselm had joined their number. He had not. He is not at St. Dyfi’s either.”
“Cadell assuredly has sent him off to do mischief somewhere else. Better there than here.”
“I can’t decide if that’s something to hope for or not. It all depends on whom he’s making mischief for.” Gareth gave her a rueful smile. “If it wasn’t Cadell’s own household that was poisoned, I would have pegged Anselm for the murderer.”
They’d come to a wide place in the road, and Evan urged his horse to come abreast of Gareth and Gwen. “It might be best if you leave the initial questioning of Alban to me.”
With that statement, Evan had Gwen and Gareth’s full attention. Gwen didn’t know if he’d overheard any of her conversation with Gareth, and she hoped he hadn’t taken offense at Gareth’s description of the battle. After all, it was the Dragons who’d opened the castle for the invading army, which meant he’d killed men too.
“Are you sure about that?” Gwen said. “You already told me how Alban treated you at Wiston.”
Evan nodded. “Badly, I know. But then he tried to smooth it over. He is both wary of me and feels superior to me. That could be a good combination for getting the truth out of him.”
“Was Meicol among the company that entered the keep?” Gwen asked.
“No.” Evan shrugged. “It was an elite force. Meicol was not that trusted.”
“Perhaps young Prince Rhys can tell me more,” Gwen said.
Evan guffawed. “That boy.”
Gwen looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Why do you say it like that? I like him.”
“I do too, but his mind doesn’t work like a normal man’s. He’s too smart by half.”
Gwen nodded to herself. “And that makes him unpredictable, and whether or not you like him, above all you want the throne of Deheubarth to be predictable.” She paused. “Or rather, Prince Hywel does.”
“Not only wants it—needs it,” Gareth said. “Hywel’s rule over Ceredigion is growing more established with every month that passes, but this business with Anselm showed him how two-faced Cadell truly is, and he isn’t the only one. Prince Cadwaladr is an arrow just waiting to be loosed. Who knows where it will land? Cadell would have much preferred Cadwaladr, an enemy he knows, in Aberystwyth than Hywel. Thus, the spying.”
By now they’d passed through Dinefwr’s village in the valley below the castle and reached a side track that followed the course of the River Towy. Both went by the manor house, located approximately three miles from the castle. The valley through which they were riding consisted mostly of stands of trees interspersed with fields and pastureland. This region of south Wales wasn’t as flat as Anglesey, but it was flatter than all but the seashore of Gwynedd, and the river wended its way through the whole of it.
“This way.” Evan jerked his head, and they followed the well-worn track. The ruts were deep, indicating that Robert—or more likely, Alban, as the steward—was not maintaining it properly. He needed to send a work crew with shovels and stone to fill the ruts and smooth the dips. As it was, when it rained again, as it surely would, any cart that attempted to drive along the road would be instantly mired in mud.
Then, up ahead, a woman screamed, and the whole company urged their horses into a gallop. After fifty yards, they came around a bend and into a grassy clearing that fronted the manor house. A large company of men was already milling around on the circular green, where sheep might occasionally graze. They appeared unconcerned about the screaming. As Gwen reined in, she realized why: it was a woman doing the screaming, and she wasn’t hurt or afraid. She was angry, and her ire was directed at Richard de Clare, the heir to the Earldom of Pembroke.