Gareth
Gareth held his tongue. It would do no good to castigate Gwen for going off on her own (even with Saran) while he was busy with King Cadell. It was a topic for another day, after all this was over. She had accused him of being cavalier with his safety, and here she and Saran had done exactly the same thing. The last two days, Llelo had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on his mother, but Gareth had sent him off on an errand, leaving Gwen unprotected. So really, this was all Gareth’s fault.
The fact that Brother Siawn was involved at all was disconcerting too. All things being equal, Gareth would have kept whatever questions Gwen had about the poison plant within Gwynedd. Though he hadn’t dismissed his wife’s concerns, the idea of Meleri or Old Nan having anything to do with murder was absurd.
And yet … Gwen’s instincts were usually good, and he’d be a fool to ignore them. Especially if she turned out to be right.
“I can’t leave. Cadell will notice.”
“Why would he?” Gwen’s eyes were on Hywel, who’d remained on the steps of the church next to Lord William. “Prince Hywel and my father are going to sing something beautiful, and nobody will be wondering what happened to the captain of Hywel’s teulu or the Dragons.”
“We’re lucky nobody has yet wondered why there aren’t six Dragons,” Gareth said, feeling sour.
“We keep moving so nobody can count us,” Evan said in all seriousness.
“Has Angharad said anything about where Gruffydd and Stephen have gone?” Gwen asked him.
“She noticed they were missing, of course, but I told her I would tell her everything when we reached Aberystwyth.”
Gareth laughed. “And she’s newly in love enough to have accepted it.”
“Have you seen Old Nan?” Gwen stood on her toes to look for herself, but there were too many tall men around her to see much of anything.
“No, but I saw Meleri,” Evan said.
Gwen glanced again to Prince Hywel, who’d been joined by Angharad. The girl’s eyes were on their little group, but Evan gave her a quick shake of his head, and she stayed where she was.
“Can we go now?” Gwen asked her husband.
“I still don’t have a good idea as to how. My horse is in the stable, as is yours.”
“Ours aren’t,” Evan said. “We’ll ride double.”
It wasn’t that Gareth didn’t want to pursue Gwen’s idea. He wanted nothing more. But his—and now Gwen’s—encounter with Anselm had made him very wary. What’s more, he didn’t see Anselm here, which meant he was out there, somewhere, causing mischief. Gwen might be right that the treasure—or even the poison—could be found in Old Nan’s garden, but if Old Nan was there alone, she would be vulnerable to Anselm. The spy was up to something, and all day Gareth had felt as if at any moment he might find an arrow between his shoulder blades.
Evan motioned with his head and, without having to do anything more, caught the attention of the other Dragons.
Taking Gwen’s arm, Gareth led her around the edge of the crowd, which was growing larger by the moment as everyone from village, castle, and farm arrived for the service. A mass would be sung, they’d bury the dead, and then attend another meal up at the castle—though Gareth didn’t know how many people would actually eat. He still hadn’t eaten anything produced by that kitchen other than bread. But perhaps everyone would come anyway, trusting, as they had to, that their king would keep them safe.
Fortunately, Hywel had far more men to guard him than just the Dragons. As the captain of Hywel’s teulu, Gareth had fifty men at his disposal, and he found Rhodri and Goch near the stable. “Prince Hywel is in your hands.”
Rhodri narrowed his eyes. “Anything we need to know about?” His tone was so flat it almost wasn’t a question.
“Not yet.”
The corner of Rhodri’s mouth twitched. “We’ll take good care of the prince.”
“I know you will.”
They had to fight against the flow of people in the courtyard in order to reach the main gate. Gareth had caught Hywel’s eye before heading out, and he could see the frustration in the prince’s face that Gareth was going and he wasn’t. In the end, the size of the crowd turned out to be an advantage because there were just too many people to keep track of, and they arrived on the road where one of the stable boys was standing with the Dragons’ horses without being hailed or stopped.
Except by Prince Rhys, who stepped out from behind a tree and glared at them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Solving your brother’s problems for him, that’s what.” Gareth wasn’t feeling particularly charitable to Rhys at the moment, though in truth he liked this young prince. “You can come if you promise not to get in the way.”
The look of surprise on Rhys’s face, in and of itself, was almost worth any inconvenience having him along might cause. Gareth grinned, turned to boost Gwen onto a horse, and then mounted behind her. Siawn and Saran shared a mount, and then the Dragons shared the final two horses. Cadoc and Aron rode off at a canter, soon disappearing around a far bend. They were the advance guard, few as they were.
Two miles later, the rest of them turned into the yard in front of Old Nan’s house, only to hear screeches and shouts coming from behind the garden wall. Gareth hastily dismounted from his horse and ran to the entrance to find Old Nan, a shovel raised above her head, raging at Aron, who’d fallen on his back in the dirt. Before she could bring the shovel down, Gareth caught the handle just above where she held it in her fists.
“What is going on here?” He looked into her eyes and saw rage looking back at him. Gareth was shocked enough to step back, but not so much that he released his hold on the shovel.
“He attacked me!”
Aron gasped. “I found her digging up that patch. There’s silver in there.” He pointed with his chin to a wheelbarrow set to one side of the garden plot where a silver candlestick stuck up from the dirt.
“The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Old Nan said. “All I was doing was digging in my patch, working the soil, when he grabbed me from behind!”
Between one breath and the next, Old Nan had wrapped herself up again in her cloak of blindness.
But Gareth couldn’t forget what he’d seen in her eyes. She’d seen him. “Who are you, really?”
“I’m Nan.” The reply was tart, and she stared at a point over his right shoulder, just as she’d done the day they’d met.
Gareth set her on her bench by the wall while the Dragons set to work on the garden plot, working quickly to haul silver pieces and gold plate out of the ground.
Before Prince Rhys could get to work too, Gareth pulled him away from the treasure. “How long has Old Nan lived two miles from Dinefwr Castle?”
“I don’t know exactly. I do know that her sister lived here, and she came to stay with her before my stepbrother died,” Rhys said. “Her sister died at some point later, and she stayed on.”
That was not very specific, but Gareth left the prince overseeing the treasure and found Gwen, Saran, and Siawn standing in front of a two-foot-high bush growing behind a row of trellised beans.
“That’s Daphne?”
Siawn sighed. “Indeed.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t have made a difference had anyone remembered it sooner.” Gareth stared at the plant, trying not to sound accusatory. “It’s really that poisonous?”
“In my defense, it is rare.” Saran approached the plant and reached down to feel the soil. “Does it look to you like someone tried to dig it up recently and gave up?”
Gareth bent and ran his fingers through the earth as Saran had done. Like the plot where the treasure had been hidden, the soil was freshly turned. “Perhaps halfway through trying to remove it, the murderer decided it was best to leave it where it was rather than risk the attention caused by its absence.”
Then Gareth looked to where Old Nan was sitting, up against the garden wall but fifty paces away. “She has to be fooling us. She can’t really be blind.”
“She seems blind, Gareth,” Gwen said.
“You didn’t see the way she looked at me earlier when she was in a rage.”
“She’s very protective of her garden.” Gwen took in a breath. “You have to admit that if she can see, she has maintained an incredibly convincing act for many years. Why would she do that? Why would anyone?”
Gareth looked at his wife. “If she can see, it’s an incredibly effective front. She can go anywhere, do anything, everyone is solicitous, and nobody questions her or her motives.” He was suspicious enough of Nan at this point that he was considering the idea she’d been sent into Deheubarth on the trail of the treasure all those years ago—by Empress Maud perhaps, or Earl Robert, or even King Stephen in the same way Anselm spied for Cadell or Gwen for Hywel, though Gareth would never put his wife in the same category. A blind old woman was the perfect disguise, allowing her a freedom of movement afforded to few others.
Gwen still looked uncertain—and maybe even a little concerned about Gareth’s sanity.
“It has to be her,” Gareth insisted. “She’s a more likely candidate than Meleri!”
“I don’t know, Gareth—”
“Let’s find out.” He cast around for something to throw that had weight to it, but not so much it would hurt. He came up with a round seed pod and walked to within ten paces of Old Nan. He studied her for a moment, and then called her name, “Old Nan!”
As her head swiveled towards him, he threw the pod towards her face. Old Nan’s hand came up in an instinctive move only a sighted person would make. As she caught the pod, her face was again transformed by hate—and then she made a dash for the door.