Gwen found Rhun in the great hall where he’d been soothing several barons and their wives with cups of mead. “Can you come with me to see Lord Goronwy?”
Rhun stood up quickly, almost knocking the man next to him off his bench. “Of course.”
As Gwen went with him to the corridor that led to the eastern wing of the complex, she leaned in, “Couldn’t wait to get away, could you?”
Rhun shot her a grin. “Keeping busy makes it easier to forget about what has happened. All of us—everyone in this castle—feels as if we have a sword suspended above our heads by a hair that could break at any moment.”
“I’m sorry,” Gwen said. “We can’t work any faster. I feel like we’re dropping notes and failing to keep proper time as it is.”
Rhun shrugged. “You’re doing your best. The rest of us will have to be patient.”
The rooms in this wing were larger and better appointed than those on the other side of the hall where Gwen had always slept. King Owain’s personal quarters lay one floor above them. Lord Goronwy’s room was the second door on the right. Two of Goronwy’s soldiers stood at attention on either side of the doorway. It was clear that no one was going to get past them to harm their lord. It was a perfect example of closing the stable door after the horse has already gotten out. At least Goronwy had been left alive. His life was in no danger now.
Rhun nodded at one of the guards, who knocked on the door. Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor, and then the door opened. Warm air wafted over Gwen’s face and she smiled at Lord Tomos, who stood squarely in the doorway.
“Yes?” Tomos said.
“We’d like to speak to Lord Goronwy, if we may,” Rhun said.
“He’s resting and shouldn’t be distur—”
“Don’t be an old woman, Tomos!” Goronwy said from behind him. “Let them come in.”
“I really don’t think—” Tomos turned on his heel to look at Goronwy. Gwen peered past him to see Goronwy pushing himself to a sitting position.
“I’m fine.” Goronwy waved his hand at Tomos. “Join Cadwaladr and Gruffydd in the hall. They are far more interesting than I am.”
“But—”
“Go!” And then Goronwy laughed. “A beautiful young lady is here to see me and I don’t want you getting in my way.”
Tomos laughed too, though his eyes looked worried. Still, he opened the door wide enough for Rhun and Gwen to enter. He spoke in a low voice to Gwen as she went by him. “He doesn’t remember anything about last night, from dinner time on. And his head hurts.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said. “But I have to ask.”
“I’ll return shortly,” Tomos said, in a louder voice.
“Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Goronwy said, but his tone was warm. He lifted his hands from the covers and dropped them with a sigh. “I was wondering when one of King Owain’s minions would pay me a visit.”
“I’m glad to see you feeling better, Sir.” Rhun said.
“Yes, yes.” Goronwy waved a hand. “Come closer, my dear.”
Goronwy meant her, not Rhun, so Gwen moved to his bedside and when he patted the coverlet beside him, sat on the edge of the bed. Then he took her hand. Gwen was glad Gareth wasn’t with her.
“We wanted to ask you a few questions about last night,” Gwen said. “About your … illness.”
Goronwy cursed under his breath. “When I finally awoke this morning, I was ready to strangle Enid for what she’d done to me. But that was before I found out she was already dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Gwen said.
“I am too,” Lord Goronwy said. “I always thought Enid was a most amusing girl, until yesterday.”
“Perhaps you could start at the beginning,” Gwen said. “We are still trying to piece together what happened last night.”
“Yes, yes,” Lord Goronwy said. “I wasn’t going to say anything about what happened. I told Tomos and the others that I didn’t remember anything after yesterday evening, but it’s not true.” Goronwy looked sheepish. “I was hoping to downplay my stupidity so that the wedding could still go forward today, but with it postponed, it seems silly to protect the reputation of a girl who no longer needs my protection.”
“So … you had a rendezvous with Enid, some time last night?” Gwen’s cheeks flushed and she glanced over at Rhun whose face remained impassive. As an unmarried woman, it wasn’t appropriate for her to ask this, but Rhun showed no signs of helping her out. She almost wished she was back with the dead body instead of here. Goronwy didn’t share her reservations, however. He laughed and patted her hand. “Even a sweet girl like you must have heard the rumors about Enid’s many relationships with men.”
Gwen gave him a hesitant nod, though until today, she hadn’t known who Enid was.
“Whatever you’ve heard is most likely true.” Now Goronwy leered at Gwen.
Gwen glanced again at Rhun, who was gazing at a point three feet above Goronwy’s head, his expression blank. Gwen turned back to Goronwy, determined to speak as straightforwardly as she could. She cleared her throat. “What time did you plan to meet Enid?”
“It was my task to stand watch outside King Owain’s room for the second shift. She agreed to come to me in the hour after midnight,” Goronwy said.
“Wait—wait. King Owain mentioned something about this—you were part of his honor guard?”
Goronwy leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, my dear—male secret, you know—but since you asked … The four of us—Tomos, Taran, Cadwaladr, and I—had the honor of standing guard outside King Owain’s bed chamber the night before his wedding. We would have escorted him to the chapel for the ceremony, too.”
“Cristina begged King Owain to go through with the wedding,” Gwen said. “It won’t happen today, but you might still get your chance.”
“She’s a good girl, my daughter,” Goronwy said. “She’s made of strong stuff and perfect for our good king.” Goronwy gave Gwen a satisfied smile.
Gwen still wanted to hear more about the honor guard. “You’re saying that each of you were to take turns keeping watch outside King Owain’s room throughout the night. Who had the first duty?”
“Taran did, from the eleventh hour to the first hour after midnight. I relieved him and stood from one to three, Tomos from three to five, and Cadwaladr would have stood from five to seven if Enid’s death hadn’t interrupted the watch.”
“And did Enid come to you during your shift as you’d agreed?” Gwen said.
“Yes,” Goronwy said. “Not long after the start of my watch, she brought me something to drink to help while away the hours.”
“And you drank it,” Gwen said.
Goronwy sighed. “I did. I drank the wine and remember nothing after that until this morning.”
“Thank you for telling me this,” Gwen said. “If you could keep our conversation between us, for now, I would appreciate it. Just keep pretending you don’t remember anything.”
Goronwy studied her, his eyes no longer jovial or teasing, but revealing a more wily and intelligent man than he’d displayed so far. “Of course.” He paused. “Are you suggesting my life might be in danger if I did remember?”
Gwen swallowed hard. “I hope not, my lord. Given that you were left alive, it seems unlikely you’d be in danger now. But we don’t know who killed Enid, and until we do, I suggest you play dumb.”
“I can do that,” Goronwy said.
Gwen squeezed his hand, liking him despite his excessive attention, and said her goodbyes with Rhun. As the door closed behind them, she said, “He doesn’t remember anything because she slipped poppy juice into his wine.”
Rhun pursed his lips. “I grant that this had to be what happened, but unconscious, Lord Goronwy would have been a dead weight to carry. Even with him hanging over her shoulder, Enid never could have gotten him down the stairs and into his room by herself. She had to have had help.”
“So she had an accomplice,” Gwen said. “But we already knew that because she didn’t strangle herself.”
“It couldn’t have been the servant,” Rhun said. “He was already dead.”
“A third man,” Gwen said. “The killer.”
“There’s a third man?”
Gwen and Rhun swung around to see Taran step out of the door of a room at the end of the corridor. He came forward and stopped. “Please. Tell me something. Anything. I want to help.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Rhun said.
Gwen took a deep breath. “Where did you go after Lord Goronwy relieved you outside King Owain’s door?”
Taran sighed. “I suppose you must ask, especially since that boy accused me of plotting to murder the king. I wasn’t involved in any of this, you know.”
“None of us want to think it, but it would be helpful if you could at least give us an alibi for Enid’s murder,” Gwen said.
“I went to bed,” Taran said.
“Alone?” Gwen said.
Taran’s eyes flicked to Rhun, who was looking at him with a noncommittal expression, and then back to Gwen. “Not alone.”
Gwen’s eyebrows rose but she schooled her face as quickly as she could. “Can you give me the woman’s name?”
“I would rather not, because she is alive and has her reputation to consider,” Taran said. “She and I have been friends for many years, ever since her husband died. I was with her all night, until I slipped away before dawn.”
“It would make things very much easier if you could tell me who she is,” Gwen said. “I promise that I would never betray your trust, and I will give you time to warn her if we do need to speak with her.”
“Lady Jane,” Taran said. “Enid’s mother.”
Now that’s awkward.
But it gave Taran an alibi for Enid’s death, if not for Ieuan’s, and explained the nervous sweating in the cell after the youth tried to assassinate the king. Gwen was relieved to be able to look beyond Taran for their murderer, though it didn’t let him off the hook with the assassination attempt.
“I wasn’t even in the castle,” Taran said. “She took a room in the manor by the village.” He lifted a shoulder. “For privacy.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Gwen curtseyed.
Taran trudged past them into the great hall. Rhun gestured for Gwen to precede him. “Who’s next?” he said.
Gwen sighed. “Prince Cadwaladr, don’t you think?”