“I was only doing what was right!” Prince Cadwaladr said. “I told you that.”
Gwen stood at Gareth’s left side, one hand on his shoulder to make sure he stayed upright on the old stump a farmer hadn’t taken out of his field. The healers had bandaged him and Gwen had fed him, but she still didn’t think he should be anywhere but some place to lie down. By rights, Hywel should have sent him back to Caerhun. So far Gareth had refused to go.
When King Owain had seen Hywel returning to the main body of his fighting force with Gareth seated on his horse behind him, barely hanging on, he’d called a halt in a field only seven miles from St. Asaph. His cavalry, comprising the bulk of his and his sons’ men, had left Caerhun before dawn, letting those on foot and the baggage carts follow as they could.
The king paced back and forth in front of a small fire pit. His presence was imposing, even out here in the open instead of in his great hall. “Gareth could have died!” Owain said, sounding rather like Cristina. He threw out a hand towards Cadwaladr who rested cross-legged on a blanket near Gareth. “Did you think of that before you let Tomos half-kill him?”
Gareth had told Hywel and Gwen privately that Cadwaladr himself was responsible for many of his wounds. Gareth had allowed Cadwaladr his pride, however, because it seemed prudent to have a secret hold over him rather than to expose all of his lies to King Owain at once.
Thanks to Tomos and Cadwaladr, Gareth had two broken ribs and a bruised abdomen that would take a long time to heal. He was also suffering from hunger and dehydration. The healers agreed, however, that he would live, and he could make the return journey to Rhuddlan, provided he didn’t fall off his horse. For Gareth’s part, he insisted that he was fine, thus his presence at this conference with Cadwaladr.
“When Tomos said that you suspected me of trying to murder you,” Cadwaladr said to his brother, “I grew suspicious of him. It seemed to me that he was sowing dissension instead of helping me. And I was right.”
King Owain’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying that you didn’t flee Aber?”
“I was trying to find the killer, just like they were.” Cadwaladr gestured to Gwen, Gareth, and Hywel, though Gwen noted that he was careful not to meet anyone’s eyes.
“And you suspected Tomos of the murders when nobody else did?” King Owain said.
“I knew I was innocent, didn’t I?” Cadwaladr continued to sip a cup of heated wine.
“Why didn’t you come to me with your suspicions?” King Owain said.
“After last summer, I didn’t see how you could believe me,” Cadwaladr said. “I knew you would think I was trying to divert attention from myself, the same as Tomos.”
King Owain had stopped pacing entirely and now stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking down at his brother. Cadwaladr shifted under his gaze and swept a hand through his hair, less finely coifed than was normal for him.
“I didn’t hang you in August, even if hanging might have been deserved,” the king said. “We’ve broken bread together many times since. Why wouldn’t you think I’d listen, especially if you had good reason for suspecting Tomos.”
Cadwaladr shook his head. “If you don’t speak to me, I can’t know your mind. I feared for my life.”
“So you went to Rhuddlan, rather than warn me of Tomos’ potential treachery,” King Owain said.
“I went to find proof!” Cadwaladr said.
“And did you?”
Gwen silently scoffed. Cadwaladr was making this up as he went along. She wished she could step in and make him tell the truth. Neither Gareth nor Hywel showed any signs of countering Cadwaladr’s version of events, however, so she subsided in the hope that one of them had a plan they hadn’t yet shared with her.
“I saved Gareth, didn’t I?” Cadwaladr said, diverting King Owain’s question. “He couldn’t have escaped without me.”
“True.” Gareth put a hand to his ribs and straightened his spine.
Hywel, who stood on Gareth’s other side, bent his head. “You should be in bed, at Caerhun.”
“It’s over ten miles to Caerhun,” Gareth said.
“And ten miles to Rhuddlan,” Hywel said.
“Better to go on,” Gareth said. “I will lie down when Tomos is in a cell.”
“Tonight,” Hywel said. “Or tomorrow.”
It could happen, but it would depend on what faced them when they arrived at Rhuddlan.
King Owain turned to Gareth. “Your message was cryptic, but enough to get me moving. Tell me what you discovered.”
“He discovered that Lord Tomos is a traitor!” Cadwaladr was in his element, now that it appeared that his brother had accepted his story. He was probably envisioning himself restored to his lands and seated on the king’s right hand.
King Owain’s mouth turned down at the corners. “When Tomos left Rhuddlan before my wedding, we knew what he was, though not why.” The King studied Gareth, who nodded.
“I followed the boy, Pedr ap Marc, to Chester,” Gareth said. “Linking Enid’s death to the assassination attempt had troubled me from the start because Pedr was a feeble choice for assassin. He came at you boldly and without subterfuge, completely unlike the murders.”
King’s Owain face had frozen into a mask at the mention of Pedr’s name. “You said his name was Pedr ap Marc—”
“Yes, my lord. He is the son of Marc ap Iefan—”
“Who was my man,” King Owain said. “A knight in my teulu.”
“Marc died, but his son has born a grudge against you for ten years. At some point, he ended up at Rhuddlan.” Gareth had begun to hold himself even more stiffly. He eased to his feet and stood, balanced evenly on each leg. Gwen stood close to him, her arm around his waist. “Tomos pointed him in your direction. That is all.”
“And Enid?” King Owain said.
“Having conferred with Gareth, I believe I can speak to that now.” Hywel stepped forward.
“You had a relationship with Enid many years ago and he used that,” Hywel said. “He paid her to slip poppy juice into Lord Goronwy’s drink so that she could enter your room unnoticed. Lord Tomos’ plan was to discover you in bed with Enid when it was his turn to stand watch. He may have convinced Enid that you would then marry her, since he believed that once Cristina found out about your liaison, she would refuse to marry you.”
“More likely she’d have had Enid murdered herself,” King Owain said, to the general amusement of those present. “But I threw Enid out of my room.” King Owain’s brow furrowed. “Nobody saw her leave.”
“Lord Tomos was otherwise occupied, moving Lord Goronwy to his room,” Gareth said. “By the time he got back upstairs, Enid had left.”
“The linen closet in which she was found, as you may recall,” Gwen said, “is in the opposite wing. That’s where Enid went and where he killed her. Perhaps they’d arranged to meet there if all didn’t go well.”
“My guess is she tried to blackmail him,” Hywel said.
“So he dumped her in the trunk in the linen closet,” King Owain said. “What about the dead servant in the bath room?”
“We’re just guessing, since we haven’t spoken to Lord Tomos and he is the only one of the conspirators left alive, but I imagine it was Ieaun who perpetrated whatever mischief Tomos wanted done inside Aber,” Gwen said. “And because Lord Tomos wanted no visible connection between him and Enid, he gave the poppy juice he’d brought from Rhuddlan to the servant, who gave it to Enid. She met Ieuan in the stables during your speech.”
“His death was a matter of Tomos cutting his losses and tying up loose ends,” Gareth said.
King Owain thought about that, and then slapped his thigh. “Well, we have a loose end to tie ourselves. I will hang him.” King Owain rocked forward on the balls of his toes. “He’ll know that.”
King Owain studied his trio of detectives. “You should be lying down, Gareth.”
“I hurt no matter what I do,” Gareth said.
“You are resolved, then, to see this through?” King Owain said.
“Yes, Sire.”
King Owain nodded and turned to Rhun. “Have the scouts returned?”
“Not yet,” Rhun said.
“Get everyone ready. Madoc’s men should be in place around Rhuddlan by now, and we cannot allow Tomos to escape our net.”
“Yes, Father.” Rhun bowed and left the fire circle.
Gwen helped Gareth towards her horse, his arm across her shoulders and his cloak wrapped around her body along with his. “Do you think once we’re married we could spend some time together?” Gwen said.
Gareth started to laugh but then stopped himself, his hand to his ribs. “I will speak to Hywel. I don’t care who murders whom after our wedding. We are going to Anglesey. I haven’t visited my manor since July.”
“Do you have a steward too?” Gwen said.
Gareth nodded.
“Not one recommended by Tomos, I hope?”
Air burst from Gareth’s lips and he bent slightly at the waist, his hands reaching for his knees though he couldn’t quite make it. “Stop making me laugh!”
“I like making you laugh. You don’t laugh nearly enough.”
Gareth straightened, wobbling on his feet because Gwen didn’t make a very good crutch and she was afraid to hold him tightly. He turned her toward him. She slipped her arms around his neck and lifted her chin.
“I promise to laugh every day, just for you.” Gareth bent his head and kissed her.
Gwen pulled him tighter and felt the “Ow!” rising in him before he broke away. She gasped. “Sorry! Sorry!”
Gareth pulled her to him again and this time really did laugh. “Sweet Gwen, I need you with me.”
“Always.” Gwen smiled again. “And especially right now.”
“What do you mean?” They’d continued walking until they reached her horse, a medium-sized stallion everyone called ‘Bun’ for no reason that Gwen could discern.
“How are you going to ride him without me behind you, holding you up?”
“Ah,” Gareth said. “That was my devilish plan all along.”
Hywel had come up behind them and overheard. He laughed and then clasped his hands together as a platform for Gareth’s boot, to give him a leg up.
“Dear God, that hurt,” Gareth said, as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
“Having second thoughts, my friend?” Hywel said from Gareth’s stirrup.
Gareth looked down at Gwen. “I will make it. Come up here, girl. Let’s go.”
* * * * *