Gwen
The bells for sext, the mid-day prayer, came and went as Gwen sat with Amaury and held his hand, though the Norman knight didn’t know it. He had survived the night and was neither dead nor fevered, just asleep. Gwen looked over at Gareth, who stood speaking with the healer. Gareth had been busy at the friary all morning: he’d spent an hour in consultation with Philippe, examined the bodies of both John and the archer, and questioned anyone else who had been willing to give him a moment of his time.
At Gwen’s glance, Gareth finished his conversation with Matthias and walked to the bedside. “I’m glad to see Amaury alive, but we should return to the castle.”
“Will Amaury be safe here?” Gwen said.
“Guards are posted around the friary because the empress is now in residence. Philippe assures me that, if the arrow was meant for Amaury, he will be well-protected here.”
Gwen was still concerned. “I feel as if we’ve missed something.”
“I know,” Gareth said. “We started out many steps behind the traitor, which is usual, of course, but few weeks have ever gone as badly awry as this one, and I don’t feel like we’re catching up.”
“Prince Cadwaladr was such an easy villain,” Gwen said. “In Gwynedd, his name is synonymous with treachery. But here, it’s different. There are too many possible culprits, and either our informants don’t tell us the truth, or the traitor gets to them before we do and silences them.”
“Or they’re dead, or are accused of murder and treason themselves,” Gareth said.
“You mean Alard?”
“Alard and Ralph,” Gareth said. “Neither of them has survived this long by being stupid. I’d rather be working with them than hunting them.”
“Are we hunting Ralph?” Gwen said.
“Philippe seems to think we should be,” Gareth said. “While I wish we’d learned more about what he knows in the few moments we had with him, he refuses to come in, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Perhaps Ralph is afraid he might accidently betray Alard, by word or deed,” Gwen said. “Philippe hasn’t changed his mind about Alard, even with the new evidence we’ve discovered.”
Gareth scoffed. “Philippe thinks Alard was the archer.”
Gwen stared at him. “How does that make sense?”
“The dead man was one of Philippe’s. Philippe claims that his man came upon Alard and died trying to bring him in. Naturally, Philippe says the horse, bow, and arrow were Alard’s.” Gareth shrugged. “It would explain the lack of callouses on the dead man’s fingers.”
“It might explain that but nothing else,” Gwen said. “The idea is so absurd, I can almost see how Philippe could believe it.”
“I don’t want to speak more about this here. It’s time we went back to the castle, and we can talk on the way.” Gareth took Gwen’s arm and led her out of the infirmary. They crossed the courtyard to the gatehouse and started down the road to the castle. Gwen was glad that she had boots on instead of her slippers, which were back in her tent at the Welsh camp, but she still took two steps for every one of Gareth’s.
“Let’s think about the series of events we have here,” Gareth said, settling into a loose-hipped stride beside Gwen. “Four emeralds come to Newcastle, sent by William of Ypres. David acquires one, either for services rendered, about to be rendered, or by theft, which I still haven’t ruled out entirely. Regardless of how or why, he attacks Alard, who kills him in self-defense, or so he says, and then Ralph kills John for the same reason. We don’t know if John ever had an emerald on him. He didn’t when I examined him.”
“After Ralph killed John, he could have taken the emerald,” Gwen said.
“Are you suggesting that Ralph could be our traitor?” Gareth laughed. “Ralph knew of the emeralds, obviously, since they are what brought him to Newcastle in the first place. I suppose he could have arranged for the archer to shoot Amaury, knowing we’d assume the arrows were meant for him.”
“Philippe could construct a good argument for why Ralph is the traitor,” Gwen said. “I know Ralph is Mari’s father, but faking his own death is surely an extreme act, even for a spy.”
“Prior Rhys did it, too,” Gareth said.
Gwen nodded. “And we like him and want to trust him, so why not give the same benefit of the doubt to Mari’s father?”
Gareth shrugged. “We don’t know him.”
“At least we have a little more information than we did. Ralph is extremely lucky that no one recognized him before now,” Gwen said. “I don’t see how he managed to continue this deception for so long.”
“It’s been anarchy in England for the last five years, and the distance from Chester to Kent is greater than ever,” Gareth said. “You know as well as I do how many hundreds of men are associated with each royal court. If Ralph changed his appearance and kept to himself, he could pass as another man and make himself scarce during the few times the two sides have met in council.”
“Wales is a much smaller place,” Gwen admitted, “and although I’ve traveled the length and breadth of it, I have hardly met any noblemen from the south.”
“I haven’t either.”
They were approaching the outskirts of Newcastle, and the entrance to the castle lay ahead of them to the left of the road. “I am worried about Mari,” Gwen said. “The resurrection of her father has shaken her.”
“I can’t imagine what I would be thinking if one of my parents rose from the dead,” Gareth said.
“Ralph more than rose from the dead,” Gwen said. “He rose and then disappeared again almost immediately after. Mari doesn’t know if she will ever see him again. I just hope she doesn’t do something reckless.”
Gareth pulled up near the castle gate. “What do you mean?”
“Mari is smart but vulnerable, and … well … Hywel is very handsome.”
“Prince Hywel knows that Mari is not a girl he can take to his bed and then toss aside afterwards,” Gareth said.
“He might know it, but I’m not sure she does,” Gwen said. “When she climbed into that cart with Amaury, I saw a wildness in her eyes. She wanted to be involved in the investigation, but I don’t think she was prepared for any of what has happened.”
“None of us were,” Gareth said.
“But you and I are used to it.”
Gareth put an arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “Am I a bad husband for putting my wife into a situation where that could possibly be true?”
“At least working on an investigation allows us to stay together,” Gwen said. “Hywel is used to relying on us.”
“Make way! Make way for Empress Maud!” a man shouted from the top of the gatehouse tower.
Gareth and Gwen hustled through the gatehouse and into the outer bailey. If they’d waited any longer, they would have been run over by the cavalcade of horsemen riding after them.
“I’m hungry.” Gwen checked the position of the sun in the sky. “Are we to dine in the hall?”
“Hywel said we should,” Gareth said, “and I wouldn’t want to miss it. All the world will be on display today.”
* * * * *
The gossip about Empress Maud was that she was arrogant and vindictive, with a stubborn streak bordering on pig-headedness. And that was exactly how she behaved when she arrived at the castle. When it was time to eat, the empress swept into the great hall with her entourage, paraded between the tables as all the guests bowed low, and didn’t look at any of the noblemen in the hall but her brother, who went down on one knee before her.
Even once she reached him, she barely acknowledged his obeisance, waving a hand dismissively as she passed him, and then didn’t give him leave to rise until she’d reached her chair. Given that he was the most powerful man in England besides King Stephen, not to mention the only reason Maud hadn’t been defeated in this war already, Gwen thought she should have treated him better. She said as much to Gareth.
“This isn’t Wales, Gwen. The empress believes she is England’s intended queen and that God works through her.”
“Some of the Welsh kings would like to think that,” Gwen said.
“Why else fight so hard and so long?” Gareth said. “Her support dwindles, and yet she continues, Earl Robert at her side.”
“She has too much pride to do anything different,” Gwen said, “and she sees herself as holding the crown in trust for her son.”
They were sitting in the middle of one of the numerous tables in the hall. So many people needed to be fed that the steward of the castle had made it clear that the diners at the lower tables were to eat on a rotating basis. When they were done eating, Gareth and Gwen would have to give up their seats to someone else.
The pair across from them, a knight and his wife from Chester, excused themselves, and Evan and Gruffydd sat down in their seats, immediately setting to their food. A moment later, another seat opened up and Prior Rhys joined them. Gwen hadn’t seen Rhys since last evening at the chapel.
“Have you been to see Amaury today?” she said.
“I’ve just come from the friary,” Rhys said. “Amaury wakes to sleep again, but I am hopeful for a full recovery. The friary’s infirmary is well-stocked with herbs, and Matthias is knowledgeable.”
“It’s the onset of a fever we must worry about—”
“I know,” Prior Rhys said, not letting Gwen finish, but then he softened his tone. “I am worried too, but Amaury’s wound is high in his left shoulder and did little more than damage his tissues. He is in God’s hands, and God is good.”
Gwen nodded, wanting to believe that Rhys was right. He joined Evan and Gruffydd in their meal, and Gwen let him eat without interruption. She turned away to observe the high table. “Not much in the way of joy up there,” she said to Gareth.
Gareth glanced up the hall and then took a longer second look. “Where are the princes?”
“We’re here,” said Prince Rhun, as he and Hywel appeared on either side of Gareth and Gwen, Mari in tow.
Everybody made room for them. “We thought it best to make ourselves scarce,” Hywel said. “The empress is in a very bad mood.”
“Likely, someone has told her about the horsemen,” Gwen said.
Mari squeezed in between Hywel and Gwen. Her eyes were bright and her color high. Gwen glanced at her and then past her to Hywel, who had grabbed a trencher and begun piling food on it to share with Mari.
“How are you?” Gwen said.
“Very well,” Mari said, absently, as Hywel distracted her with a hunk of bread dipped in gravy. She took it and then turned to look at Gwen more fully. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Have you heard from your father?” Gwen watched Mari’s face closely, but Mari simply shook her head. Her cheerful mood, despite the lack of news about her father, confused Gwen—until Hywel leaned in to whisper something in Mari’s ear.
Mari giggled.
Gwen’s heart sank. While she worried that Hywel wasn’t capable of being faithful to any woman and would ultimately break her friend’s heart, Gwen had to acknowledge Mari’s delight at the attention Hywel was giving her. It was nice to see Mari happy. Hywel was charming and funny, and when he trained his attention on a girl, she felt as if nobody else existed in the world for him but her. That didn’t make him someone to get involved with, however, not for Gwen once upon a time, and not for Mari now. Mari, however, wasn’t behaving like a girl who believed that.
At the same time, circumstances had been different for Gwen. Her station as the daughter of a bard, even King Owain’s court bard, meant that all she could have been to Hywel was his lover. Mari could become his wife.
Gareth put a hand on Gwen’s thigh. “Let it go, Gwen,” he said in a low voice. “Mari is your friend, but Prince Hywel is our master. Whatever happens between them cannot be our concern.”
Gwen ground her teeth together but nodded, looking down at the trencher she shared with Gareth. As usual, he’d eaten three-quarters of what they’d put on it. She nibbled on a piece of bread, contemplating the dishes before them and wondering if she could feign interest in more food to provide an excuse for staying longer at the meal and keeping an eye on Mari.
As she reached out to spoon more food onto the trencher, the door to the hall swung open. A man in a travel-stained cloak strode through it, followed by three other men. Hywel leaned forward to look down the table at Rhun, who nodded. Both princes stood, and then Prince Hywel tapped Gareth’s shoulder, his eyes on the messenger as he marched down the hall towards the high table. “We may need you.” When the other men made to rise as well, the prince added, “Stay with Mari and Gwen. If the news isn’t good, I’ll want you to escort them to our camp.”
“Yes, my lord,” Evan said.
But if Hywel had intended to make his way towards the high table, he was thwarted by the sudden crowd of men who had the same idea as he did and who blocked the aisle between their table and the wall. All they could do was watch the messenger. Gareth put his head next to Gwen’s. “For him to enter the hall this way means that something important has happened and the empress doesn’t mind everyone knowing about it.”
“What do you mean?” Mari said, looking first at Gareth, and then over to Hywel, who stood with his arms folded across his chest, his jaw tight. “The messenger has just arrived.”
“So it is meant to appear,” Gareth said, “but our empress hates surprises and her retainers know that. He would have reported first to her personal steward, who would have then told her the news. At that point, she would have decided whether or not to share it with the hall. Watch her face. She won’t be surprised by what he has to say.”
The messenger went down on one knee before the dais, as seemed to be required in the empress’s presence. She stood from her position at the center of the high table and raised a hand. “Rise and speak.”
“I have news of a great victory, my queen. Four days ago, King Stephen’s forces attacked Lincoln Castle, but they have already been defeated. King Stephen has skulked away like a dog with his tail between his legs!”
Ranulf, whose half-brother held Lincoln for the empress, leapt to his feet. In the uproar that followed, he came around the table, grasped the messenger’s cloak at the shoulders, and shook him. “Tell me! Tell me everything!”
Ranulf’s words cut through the chatter among the tables, and in an instant the crowd quieted, neighbor shushing neighbor as they strained to listen.
“It was a miracle, my lord,” the messenger said, clearly reveling in the information he could impart. “Eighty of King Stephen’s men were killed when a siege tower collapsed. The rest of his army departed in the night.”
Ranulf swung around to look not at the empress, whose face held a supercilious smile, but at Earl Robert. The earl hadn’t risen to his feet and merely looked back at his son-in-law while plucking at his lower lip with two fingers. Though Ranulf’s reaction seemed genuine, and the empress glowed at the news, Earl Robert wasn’t even trying to feign surprise. “That is good news indeed,” he said.
“My empress,” Ranulf bowed before Maud, “I must ride to Lincoln immediately to support my brother in case Stephen returns. With your permission.”
Empress Maud waved a hand in a magnanimous gesture. “Of course.”
Ranulf strode off the dais, heading towards a far door, as if he would leave Newcastle that instant. Maybe he meant to. After a moment, with similar permission from his sister, given with a wave of her hand, Earl Robert followed Ranulf.
“I wish I could be a fly on the wall to overhear the conversation those two are about to have,” Mari said.
Gwen couldn’t disagree. “What does this mean for our investigation?”
“I have no idea.” Gareth turned to Hywel. “What say you, my lord?”
“With Ranulf leaving, Amaury wounded, and Earl Robert focused on Prince Henry’s arrival, we may be the only ones left interested in asking questions,” Hywel said.
Gareth rubbed his chin. “That’s unfortunate, because I still have far too many of them.”