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Day Two
Gareth
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With her description of her conversation with Mariota, Cait displayed a heretofore unsuspected capacity for mimicry, and the way she dramatized Mariota’s flouncing off down the path had the rest of them breathless with laughter. It wasn’t funny, really, but it was a light moment in an otherwise somber investigation.
And like Mariota—and Dai, whose initial idea it had been—Gareth agreed that following the money might be the best way to sniff out the ones responsible for Aelred’s death, burial, and unearthing. If Aelred had brought his money with him the night he died, the person who killed him, or buried him, or unearthed him, one and the same or three different people, would know what had become of it.
Finding the money would be like pouring cream over a honeyed cake.
As they approached the entrance to the churchyard, Gareth patted Gwen’s hand as it rested in the crook of his elbow. “You know what to do?”
“You do realize you’ve asked me that three times in three different ways since we left the guesthouse?”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t like you to be nervous.”
“I think it’s exactly like me to be nervous. I normally hide it better.”
Gwen shook her head. “You’ve fought in battle; you’ve faced down kings and princes; but somehow this little trap we’re setting has you tied in knots?”
“It’s all about who’s responsible, Gwen. You know that. When I’m the one doing things, then I have control over the proceedings.”
“You think you have control.” But then she nudged him with her shoulder so he would know she was teasing. “But now it’s your wife who is doing the work, while you, Conall, and Godfrid stay at the front and look official and severe with the king and Prince Henry.” She paused. “Do you always worry about me?”
“Yes.” It was good to admit it, because as soon as he did, he felt a little of his tension ease. It wasn’t gone, of course, but he could see why Gwen was looking at him with something like amusement.
“I will be doing nothing more than spreading rumors! Nobody is going to hurt me in the church or the graveyard. There is nothing to this job. As you well know, I have done far more dangerous things in the service of Prince Hywel and our investigations than this.”
“So we think. But someone hated Aelred enough to bury him without telling anyone. By gossiping about it with the residents of the castle, you are exposing yourself as someone who knows something that could get him caught.” Gareth corrected her because she truly was looking at this with far too cavalier an attitude. “Someone who may even have buried him alive.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Gwen drew in a breath. “That does put something of a different light on things. My love—” she put a hand on his arm, “I promise you I will be careful.”
“See that you do.” He growled the words, knew he was growling, and did it anyway. “And if you are not, you have Llelo watching your back.”
“Because you are a very wise husband.” Gwen came up on her toes to give Gareth a quick peck on the cheek.
Then they separated, Gwen to mingle amongst the crowd and Gareth to march up to the front of the church near the altar where he would be sitting in the vicinity of King David. He was quite certain that Gwen’s last comment had been said just a little bit condescendingly. He supposed he deserved her gentle teasing.
Truly, he would have much preferred to stand at the back, observing, but the whole point of him being up here was so Gwen could spread her rumors: namely that they had found a map among Aelred’s belongings that pinpointed where Aelred had kept his private stash, located in the graveyard near where they’d found his body buried. King David had given permission to search for it. Since they knew this stash to contain Aelred’s ledger, where he recorded the names of everyone from whom he’d taken money, they would soon know the identity of the last person to see him on the last day of his life.
None of this made the least bit of sense, of course, but it was the best they could think of to give a shove to whomever had last seen Aelred. To prevent Mariota, who was just looking for the money, from upending their plans, Cait had actually sought her out and told her the truth, never mind that it served to make her feel special to be included in the scheme. Gareth had little pride when it came to solving mysteries.
Gwen wasn’t the most naturally catty person in the world—far from it—but nobody here knew that, or knew her at all, in truth. And gossip being what it was, he had no doubt that the news of what tomorrow was bringing would spread throughout the castle like a fire in the stables.
Cait and Dai, meanwhile, would be busy with a similar story on the opposite side of the crowd. They could speak the native Scottish tongue, so their audience would be slightly different from Gwen’s.
They were taking a risk in deceiving King David. It had been Gareth’s job to ask him with utter sincerity about digging up the graveyard in their quest for Aelred’s stash. When he’d spoken to the king, Gareth had implied that there was more to this than he was telling, but that he didn’t feel he could share all of the details at that time. He had also deliberately spoken of the plan when the king was surrounded by his advisers. Given that these men had included Lord Douglas, Lord James, Prince Henry, and Earl Ranulf, as well as David’s steward, Vincent, Gareth was quite confident the information would be disseminated among the nobility in a timely fashion. In truth, that request alone might have been enough to spread the news to everyone of what they were planning, but it was too important to leave to chance.
While Gareth had no evidence Aelred had mingled with gentry—thus the rumormongering currently underway in the church—by the time they were done, every resident in the castle, and maybe Carlisle, would have heard what they were up to. Most would know before Aelred was put into his grave.
Gareth settled onto the bench between Godfrid and Conall. It was a tight squeeze, because the church was packed with people. The king and Prince Henry, along with his aforementioned advisers and Mariota and Agnes, were in the row ahead, also shoulder to shoulder. The crowd was large, less because of Aelred, than because of the family and friends of the woman at whose bedside Dunstan had sat the night they’d found Aelred’s body. She was to be buried at the same time as Aelred. Most of her family lived in town. This was all to the good for Gareth’s purposes. The crush in the church also allowed him to sit with his friends without giving the impression that they were friends.
“I am wondering if he hid the money in the church,” Godfrid said in a murmur as the priest’s voice rose in a chant in Latin.
Gareth didn’t turn his head and spoke in Welsh out of the corner of his mouth, “You forget that this trap is a ruse. There is no money.”
“Isn’t there? He had money, and he hid it somewhere.”
“You truly are a Dane, my friend. I like the idea of treasure as much as the next man, but as we discussed, more likely, the person who buried him took it, and it’s long gone.”
Godfrid subsided, but a glance in his direction revealed him looking speculatively around the nave. Gareth marveled at the way giving voice to the very idea of hidden treasure had sparked the imagination even of someone who should know it wasn’t real.
Then again, Llelo had been curious enough—and concerned enough—about the state of Aelred’s body to look at it on his own. Perhaps Gareth should be trusting his companions’ instincts more rather than less.
Dunstan, bless his heart, was well into the Latin service. Gareth understood his words, but tuned him out nonetheless and said to Conall, out of the other side of his mouth, “Our Danish friend is drooling over the treasure. What do you think?”
“I’m not drooling—” Godfrid had overheard.
“The priest’s lectern,” Conall said immediately. “It was being stained at the same time as the choir stalls, wasn’t it?”
The trio’s eyes focused on the priest, who was standing above them in the lectern. It was a definite possibility, though Gareth had gone over it and found no secret hidey-hole.
“Then we have the choir pews themselves,” Gareth said. “They are raised up. Underneath there must be room for sacks of money.”
“I confess to have poked around both places,” Godfrid said. “Short of taking either apart, we can’t know for certain. But Father Dunstan assured me they were already completely built before Aelred died. That’s why they were being stained.”
“Under the altar, then,” Gareth said, “or within it.”
“I looked there. I know you did too.” Conall was gazing down at his hands in a guise of prayer. “As you probably saw, it has a cupboard in the back. But if Aelred hid his money behind that little door, it’s gone now. All it contains are communion dishes and more altar cloths.”
“Keep thinking,” Gareth said.
Godfrid grumbled deep in his chest. “Has the king really agreed to allow us to dig up the graveyard?”
“As long as we don’t touch any actual graves, yes.”
“It’s your dream come true, Godfrid,” Conall had an amazing ability to speak without moving his mouth. “Buried treasure!”
But Godfrid shook his head, suddenly much more sober. “When it comes to it, greed is a terrible vice. Look at what just the idea of treasure has done to me, who has no need for it. I’m thinking now that I would rather pay Joanna and Bronwen back out of my own pocket than taint this castle any further with a single one of Aelred’s corrupted coins.”
