Hywel didn’t say anything more until he and Gareth reached an isolated corner of the kitchen garden. Then he stopped and turned to face Gareth. “So … you know about Anarawd?”
“Yes.” Gareth looked directly back at his prince. Earlier, when they’d been in the cell, Hywel’s mention of his alibi for Enid’s murder had brought an unexpected rage upon Gareth. It had risen so quickly, he’d choked on it. He’d told Gwen to swallow her anger and mistrust of Hywel if they were to continue working for him, but he found in that moment that he couldn’t do it.
“And? I can tell by your tone that you are angry,” Hywel said. “I cannot blame you for that.”
Sweet Mary. As quickly as it had come over him, Gareth’s temper faded. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his boots, trying to think of what to say. Then he straightened his shoulders, resolving to air his grievances and settle this one way or another. “Why didn’t you tell me yourself? How could you feel that you owed Gwen an explanation, but not one to me?”
“Ach. You have it wrong.” Now it was Hywel’s turn to look away, not as sure of himself as he’d first seemed. “I’d given Gwen the knife, so she knew what I’d done without me telling her directly. And then … weeks passed before I saw you. With the fighting and the rebuilding of the castle at Aberystwyth, it was an easy conversation to put off. I couldn’t settle upon the right way to tell you, and as the months wore on—”
“It never got any easier.” Gareth finished the sentence for him. “Gwen and I are to be wed. Did you think she would say nothing to me?”
“Of course not.” Hywel paused. “I am sorry.”
“Sorry you didn’t keep it to yourself?”
Hywel coughed a laugh. “I will not apologize for …” Hywel glanced around and lowered his voice. Even in an isolated corner of the garden, he feared to implicate himself if someone other than Gareth should overhear him, “… what I did to Anarawd. To say I regretted it would be another lie. I am sorry I misled you.”
Gareth placed his hands on his hips and gazed into the distance. The summer vines were brown, brittle now and barely clinging to the garden wall. Most of the work of preparing the soil for next summer had been done, with all but a few winter herbs harvested.
“It makes it difficult to trust you, my lord,” Gareth said. “Just now, in regards to the mark on Enid’s palm, Gwen and I discussed keeping the information from you. Perhaps we needed a clue that you didn’t know about to ensure that we remained one step ahead of you, if you killed her.”
“So why did you show it to me?”
“We have to trust you,” Gareth said. “And pray that you don’t abuse our trust again.”
Hywel put a hand to Gareth’s shoulder. “In the matter of Anarawd’s death, the whole truth did not come out, but justice was done nonetheless. What I did has no bearing on Cadwaladr’s guilt.”
When Gareth didn’t respond, he added, “Do you accept that?”
Gareth filled his lungs and then let the air out. “As far as Cadwaladr is concerned. Yes. I accept it.” He went over Hywel’s explanation in his mind, relieved that Hywel hadn’t asked for his forgiveness, because he didn’t know if he could have given it. Or if it was his to give. Gareth had known from the first that Hywel had a devious and intelligent mind, and one that didn’t suffer fools gladly. But in performing this deed, and covering it up, Hywel skated very close to Cadwaladr’s rationalizations of his own deceits. Such behavior worried Gareth. And probably would continue to do so.
“I owe you,” Hywel said. “You and Gwen.”
Gareth chewed on the inside of his lip. It wasn’t a bad thing to have his lord in his debt, but this wasn’t one that necessarily could be repaid. “You are my liege lord,” Gareth said. “I will not betray you.”
Hywel eased out a breath. So—he’d been worried. Am I doing the right thing, letting Hywel slip away free? Yet Gareth couldn’t imagine marching up to King Owain and informing him of what his son had done. Truly, that would be impossible.
Hywel rubbed his hands to warm them. “Today, we have a new problem.”
“We do,” Gareth said. “Tell me now if you had anything to do with Enid’s death or the attack on your father—anything at all.”
Hywel’s gaze was steady on Gareth’s face. “I had nothing to do with this assassin and I haven’t spoken to Enid for two years. She meant nothing to m—”
“Hywel ap Owain!” A woman in her forties with a breast like the prow of a Viking ship burst through the archway from the courtyard, sailed across the kitchen garden, and beached herself in front of Hywel.
“Lady Jane—”
“Don’t Lady Jane me!” Her accent indicated a Norman upbringing but her Welsh was perfect. “It is your fault that my daughter is dead!” Jane choked on the last word. She put her handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed in great heaving breaths.
Hywel glanced at Gareth, a little wide-eyed, but Gareth stepped back, palms out. He had no idea what was going on. “Lady Jane, how can you say that?” Hywel mustered some sympathy and patted Jane on the shoulder.
Jane’s head came up, back to angry. “You sniveling bastard! I watched your sneaking ways when you were in diapers and you haven’t changed. Just the other day, Enid let me know that it was because of you that she changed her mind about coming to the wedding. It was only at the last moment that she joined our party.”
Hywel’s mouth dropped open. “None of what you say is true.” Which wasn’t entirely accurate, since Hywel was a bastard. “I had nothing to do with Enid coming to Aber. Nothing at all.”
Jane shook her finger in Hywel’s face. “Don’t be impertinent!”
“Aunt Jane,” Hywel said, all reasonable, now that his initial surprise had passed, “Enid’s death was not my fault.”
Gareth decided that resolving his disagreement with Hywel meant that Hywel was still his liege lord and it was his duty to step in and save Hywel if he could. “Why wasn’t Enid coming to the wedding in the first place? She was Cristina’s cousin and companion.”
“Was!” Jane sobbed through her handkerchief. “My little girl …”
Hywel and Gareth glanced at each other, both wishing they could be anywhere else but where they were. Gareth was a hair’s-breadth from turning tail and running.
Jane got herself more under control and transferred her gaze to Gareth. She seemed to like what she saw well enough to answer him. “Enid was not a good horsewoman and the journey from Flintshire is a long one.” Jane sighed. “But as she introduced King Owain and Cristina to each other, it seemed only fitting that she should be a witness to their wedding.”
“Wait … wait …” Hywel said. “Enid introduced Cristina to my father?”
“Why yes.” Jane turned back to the prince. “We had hopes that Owain might choose Enid for his bride after Gladwys died, but it was not to be.”
This was startling news. It was a known fact that you couldn’t keep a secret at Aber, but that was clearly wrong in this instance. “Did Enid …” Gareth paused in mid-sentence, trying to find a diplomatic way to ask the question, “… resent King Owain’s relationship with Cristina?”
Jane waved her handkerchief. “Of course not. Their parting was amicable and Enid was looking to marry a landowner who lived near Shrewsbury. Much better for her, we all agreed.”
Hywel clasped both hands to his lips and looked at Jane over the top of them. “So, how is Enid’s death my fault?”
Jane slapped Hywel’s upper arm. It might have been playful if the force of the blow hadn’t rocked him backwards. “She said you had asked her to come to Aber, especially. That it wouldn’t be right if she didn’t, and that King Owain would be giving her a gift to express his gratitude for introducing him to Cristina. I thought nothing of your plea since I shared your opinion.”
“It seems incredible that she would say such a thing since I haven’t spoken to her in over two years,” Hywel said.
Jane opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “Th-th-that can’t be true.”
“It is true.” Hywel gestured to Gareth. “We have been discussing the many ways that lies can disrupt an investigation, but I assure you, I am not lying. And I know of no gift my father intended to give to Enid.”
Hywel gazed directly into Jane’s eyes as he spoke. He could lie very well when he wanted to, but his face showed no deception and Gareth believed him. Besides, what could be Hywel’s motive for killing Enid? Gareth already knew the worst of him (hopefully), and Enid couldn’t possibly have heard of it. Not if Hywel hadn’t told her.
Seeking to murder his own father was another matter, but again, what would Hywel gain from such a move? It was Rhun to whom the people of Wales would turn first and the notion that Rhun was involved in something treacherous should have been a nonstarter before the idea could fully form. Hywel might be a duplicitous bastard, but he knew as well as anyone that at only twenty-three, he was not ready to rule Wales the way his father did. Were King Owain to die now, the other barons would tear the country apart between them. Hywel would be lucky to hold onto Ceredigion.
“Why would Enid lie?” Jane said.
Jane’s question snapped Gareth back to the garden. “I’m sorry to ask this, Lady Jane,” Gareth said, “but did Enid lie … often?”
Jane pressed her lips together and looked away. Gareth had touched a nerve. From what her expression gave away, Jane didn’t even have to answer, though she eventually did. “Enid was a bit wild. But so loving, so kind to everyone. It was just that sometimes the truth got in the way of the stories in her head.”
Hywel held out his elbow to Jane. “Let me escort you to the solar, Lady Jane. Afterwards, I’ll send a servant to you with a cup of wine. I promise that we will find the man who killed your daughter.”
Jane took Hywel’s arm with one hand and patted him with the other. “You always were a nice boy. I shouldn’t have called you a bastard.”
“I am one,” Hywel said, gently. “I was not offended.” As he walked away, however, he looked over Jane’s head to Gareth and mouthed the words my office.
Gareth nodded. But before he could meet Hywel there, Gareth needed to collect Gwen. After a quick survey of the stables, hall, and kitchen, he found her in one of the pantries, huddled among the cheeses with her brother, Gwalchmai. She looked up as he poked his nose through the curtain that provided the only door. It was a relief to see her smile at him. Every other person he’d encountered while searching for Gwen had greeted him with wary looks. Nobody had been glad to see him coming. Nobody wanted to answer his questions.
“We needed some place private.” Gwen sat on a low stool while her brother perched on an overturned crate. It was cold in the pantry and both had wrapped their cloaks around their bodies and tucked their hands inside to keep them warm.
“I can see that,” Gareth said. “No explanation is necessary, at least not to me. Did you discover something?”
“Gwalchmai has,” Gwen said.
Gareth gave him a hard look. Gwalchmai seemed to have grown two inches since Gareth had seen him last. That couldn’t be good news for Meilyr if Gwalchmai’s voice was about to change. Gareth hadn’t heard it in his singing last night, but from the boy’s changing shape, it was only a matter of time. “You’re not taking after your sister, are you?”
“Of course not,” Gwen said.
Gwalchmai shot Gwen a nervous glance before clearing his expression. Gareth looked from one to another. He took one step down into the room, and let go of the door frame. “You’ve been working for her, haven’t you, Gwalchmai?”
Gwalchmai swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Gareth turned on Gwen. “This isn’t a game, Gwen. What if he uncovered something that got him hurt? You were taken to Dublin because of such a misunderstanding!”
“I know that, Gareth.” Gwen’s voice was all patience. “But he was spying at the keyholes anyway. Nobody notices a small boy—”
“I was twelve two months ago!”
Gwen ignored the outrage in her brother’s voice “—even one as remarkable as Gwalchmai. I can’t stop him from listening in on conversations he shouldn’t be a party to, but I can teach him to be smarter about what he hears.”
Gareth chewed on his lip as he studied her. She’d crossed her arms across her chest and her chin stuck out. He turned on his heel to look at Gwalchmai. “All right. I’ll listen. What did you discover?”
Gwalchmai leaned forward eagerly. “You know what it feels like to stand at the front of the hall when it’s full, right? You can see everything. Everyone turns towards you and sometimes each face is a blur, and sometimes it’s like you can see what each person is thinking.”
Gwalchmai shot Gwen a nervous glance but she nodded to him. Gareth nodded too, though not with the same understanding as Gwen, who patted Gwalchmai’s knee to urge him on.
“Last night, during King Owain’s speech, I watched faces. Enid got up from her seat while King Owain was speaking and walked out of the hall. She didn’t return until after the attempted murder. Father and I were well into our singing by then.”
Gareth turned to Gwen. “Why would Enid leave in the middle of King Owain’s speech?”
“There’s more.” Gwalchmai looked down at his feet and Gareth could see his toes wiggling beneath the leather. “I … uh … asked around a bit afterwards.”
“You didn’t!” Gwen said. “I told you not to stick your neck out!”
Gareth didn’t say I told you so, though he would have been justified in doing so. Instead, he said, “You might as well tell us what you discovered.”
“She met with a man, by the corner of the stables. Alun was just coming from the latrine when he saw them. It was dark and the man had his hood up so Alun didn’t recognize him.”
“That’s not so unusual—either the meeting with the man or Alun not knowing him,” Gwen said. “Enid met with many men, apparently” (she had the grace not to look at Gareth) “and Aber is full of men I don’t know.”
Gwalchmai shrugged. “Maybe so, but Alun said the man pressed something into her hand and disappeared back into the stables. Alun was in a hurry, since he knew he was missing King Owain’s speech too. He didn’t think of it again until I started asking questions.”
“Of whom did you ask questions, Gwalchmai?” Gwen said.
“Not too many people,” Gwalchmai said. “All I had to do was bring up the dead girl, and that she was beautiful …”
“Did you mention that you saw her leave the hall?” Gareth tried to keep the urgency out of his tone so as not to scare the boy, but by the wary look on Gwalchmai’s face, he didn’t think he was entirely successful.
“Only after Alun said something about seeing her last night,” Gwalchmai said. “I swear it!”
“Who else was with you when you spoke to Alun?” Gwen said.
Gwalchmai’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Iorwerth, of course, plus some other men in the garrison who sat at the table. Prince Rhun stopped by at one point, I think. Lord Taran and Lord Tomos were sitting at the far end with several men from King Owain’s teulu. Nobody to worry about. I wouldn’t have said anything at all if Prince Cadwaladr had been there.”
Gareth eyed Gwalchmai. He was innocent enough that he hadn’t balked at saying that name, the one they’d been trying so hard not to think on. “Have you heard anything to suggest that Cadwaladr is behind the attack on the king, or the murder of Enid?”
“I don’t know if he killed Enid, but rumor has it that he hired the man who tried to kill King Owain,” Gwalchmai said. “It has to have been him. That’s what everyone is saying.”
Gareth clapped Gwalchmai on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gwalchmai. Your information is extremely helpful.”
“I do know how to be discreet. I promise,” Gwalchmai said.
Gareth grunted his not-quite-approval and held out his arm for Gwen to take. As they headed back through the kitchen, she said what he’d been thinking. “I wouldn’t be sorry if it were him, but Cadwaladr does make a convenient scapegoat, doesn’t he? It would be easy enough to whisper Cadwaladr’s name here and there and get people talking.”
“Makes you wonder if the real killer has thought of that, doesn’t it?” Gareth said.