Gwen greeted them at the gatehouse upon their return to the castle. It appeared she’d been waiting for them. Gareth could tell at once by her expression that something was wrong.
“It’s not good news, is it?” he said.
Gwen’s look was apologetic. “I thought it might be better to talk here where we can’t be overheard. Your father is sitting at the high table with Cadwaladr even now, waiting for your return.”
“Does he know that we suspect Cadwaladr of something?” Hywel said.
Gwen nodded. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. Your uncle was glaring at me, and King Owain saw him.”
Hywel grimaced. “Tell me quickly what you’ve learned.”
Gwen obeyed. Both Hywel and Gareth knew Brychan—Gareth better than Hywel, since he’d been among the garrison in Ceredigion all those years ago. Neither had known that he’d been Tegwen’s lover, however. That bit of news, and that Tegwen and Brychan had met at Wena’s hut, left Gareth shaking his head and staring at his boots. Then Hywel told Gwen what they’d found.
“Old Wena.” Gwen sighed. “I asked about her when I returned here a year ago and was sad to learn that she’d died. I never thought to wonder what had become of that marvelous house of hers.”
“It’s still there,” Hywel said, “but now the children say that it’s haunted.”
“I find that fitting,” she said. “Could be what they’ve heard is the wind moving through the mountain. In bad weather, it could scare anyone away.”
“It scared Llelo,” Gareth said.
It had occurred to Gareth also that the squeaky door and the moaning of the wind through the tunnel wouldn’t have been the only sounds that the boys could have misconstrued as the result of ghosts. To come upon the house at a time when Brychan, Cadwaladr, or who knows what other man had brought a woman to it could frighten any innocent boy. He bit his lip and looked down at his feet, suppressing his amusement.
“Where is Llelo, by the way?” Gwen looked past Gareth, her eyes searching. “I didn’t see him come in.”
“We sent him home before we visited Wynn in the village,” Gareth said. “I hope he’s licking his wounds in the kitchen.”
Gwen smiled. “Dai was upset to have missed all the excitement. That will teach him to be such a lay-about when intrigue is afoot.” Then she sobered. “I don’t mean to make light of Tegwen’s death, my lord.”
“I know,” Hywel said. “Our grief at her loss was tempered by the thought that she had gone of her own will. None of us who loved her are having an easy time of it today.”
“There is something I don’t understand, my lord,” Gwen said.
Hywel had been about to head off across the courtyard but turned back to Gwen.
“Why didn’t Tegwen’s murderer remove her necklace and cloak?” Gwen said.
“Where would he have taken them?” Hywel said. “He must have thought it more prudent to leave them with her.”
“Or he was squeamish,” Gareth said.
“I wondered that too,” Gwen said.
Hywel tipped his chin towards the front door to the hall. “We can’t put off my father any longer.”
The walk across the courtyard felt like a march to the gallows. Hywel kept his head high, however, so Gareth squared his own shoulders and strode after him, Gwen in tow. The guard standing at the top of the steps to the hall opened the door for them, and a wave of warmth hit Gareth’s face.
The hall was packed with people, every bench filled, but at the sight of the three of them walking through the door, the babble cut off abruptly. By now, everyone from Aberffraw to Rhuddlan knew that when Gareth, Gwen, and Hywel were seen consulting together the way they had been today, an investigation was underway. The crowd had been waiting to see them together in the hall ever since Tegwen’s body had arrived at Aber, and everyone was anxious to learn what they knew.
King Owain nodded at Hywel, who saluted his father while Gareth and Gwen bowed. King Owain gestured them forward. As they paced between the tables the length of the hall, Gareth tried very hard not to look at anyone or anything other than the back of Hywel’s head.
“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” Gwen said.
“I can’t say that’s a comforting thought,” Gareth said.
“I can safely say that you won’t be thrown into a cell at the back of the stables this afternoon,” Hywel said.
It was nice to see that Hywel still had his sense of humor, though Gareth’s incarceration in August of last year for a murder he didn’t commit hadn’t been at all amusing at the time.
As they passed through the hall, murmured conversation broke out around them, a thrill of expectation rising among the diners at the prospect of news. Dinner wouldn’t be served until sunset, but Aber was full of people, and there was nothing like a dead body to bring out the curious. Even if Tegwen hadn’t been a princess, the word of anyone’s remains on the beach on the day before Hallowmas would have been enough to set tongues wagging.
King Owain fixed his gaze on the trio as they approached the dais. Gareth tried not to look at Cadwaladr, but he instinctively glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Cadwaladr wasn’t looking at him, fortunately, but was in close conversation with his neighbor, a minor lord from southern Gwynedd. Gareth couldn’t help but think his detachment was feigned and that his ears were as attuned as anyone’s to what Hywel had to say to King Owain. Gareth’s would have been if he’d been wearing Cadwaladr’s boots.
Hywel stepped onto the dais to stand opposite his father’s seat, put his heels together, and bowed. “Father, may I speak to you in private?”
“Is that truly necessary?” King Owain put a hand to his breast bone, touching the thick cross strung on a chain around his neck. Gareth couldn’t help but think he was wearing it as if it were armor, or a talisman, but it wouldn’t protect him from the news Hywel was bringing him.
Gareth’s eyes flicked again to Cadwaladr, who still wasn’t looking in his direction. Hywel may have done the same, because the muscles around his father’s mouth tightened, whether in concern or suppressed anger Gareth couldn’t tell. With King Owain, the latter was always a likely response.
“We will speak in your chambers.” Without a word to anyone who shared the table with him, the King stood and headed towards the side door.
The moment he passed into the corridor, the buzz of conversation in the hall rose behind him. To approach him so publicly had been a mistake. After this, the king would have to say something to his people, if only to ward off the wilder and more imaginative rumors.
Once everyone was inside Hywel’s office, Gareth closed the door. King Owain had paced to Hywel’s chair, but the instant he sat in it, he was on his feet again, unable to stay still. He went to the window and looked out of it, his back to the room. “What have you found?”
Gareth had no wish to sit himself, but he escorted Gwen to the bench against the wall. Hywel clasped his hands behind his back and stiffened his legs. He looked like he was bracing for a strong wind that, as it happened, bore a remarkable resemblance to King Owain’s temper.
“We think we have found the place where Tegwen has lain all these years,” Hywel said.
King Owain turned to look at his son, his expression clearing. “That was quick work.”
“One of the fisher boys heard and saw a cart pass by his house in the early hours of the morning, before low tide and the clammers were out. He recognized the horse pulling it, though he couldn’t make out the driver. After we questioned him, we found the horse and cart at a homestead close to Aber village. It was old Wena’s place.”
“I haven’t thought of her in years.” Now that they’d started talking, King Owain seemed to relax. He went to Hywel’s chair and sat.
“No one lives there now, but I understand that the house and the land it’s on belong to Uncle Cadwaladr,” Hywel said.
King Owain rocked back in the chair, the front legs lifting off the floor. “Cadwaladr was not in Gwynedd when Tegwen disappeared. None of us were.”
“I know that, Father,” Hywel said. “We were fighting in Powys, Cadwaladr at your side, and as it turns out, Tegwen’s lover, Brychan, fought there too. I have no mind to accuse my uncle of anything so perverse as the murder of his niece.”
“But you suspect your uncle of something.” King Owain tapped a finger to his lips. “Gwen implied as much to me earlier.”
“I believe it was he who left Tegwen on the beach.” Hywel signaled to Gareth, who stepped forward.
Gareth would rather have faced down a wild boar without a spear than pull the pendant coin from his scrip. But he did as Hywel bid him and held it out to King Owain.
“This was found near her body this morning,” Hywel said. “It belongs to Uncle Cadwaladr.”
“I see.” King Owain eyed the pendant. “Is that all? He could have dropped it on the beach at any time. Weeks ago, for that matter.”
“Father—” Hywel was struggling to keep the impatience out of his face.
King Owain brought the legs of his chair back to the floor with a thud. “Let me see if I am understanding you correctly. You think that someone killed Tegwen five years ago and left the body in old Wena’s hut, but your uncle discovered it and decided—instead of informing me, or you, or Rhun—that he should deposit her on Aber’s beach this morning.”
“Yes,” Hywel said.
King Owain scrubbed at his hair with both hands, cursing under his breath.
“Father, I would like your permission to speak to Uncle Cadwaladr,” Hywel said.
King Owain took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out. “I accept the need. Cadwaladr should come here now so we can get this over with.” Then he hesitated as he contemplated the three of them. “But I can’t send any of you to fetch him.”
Gareth looked at Gwen. Because he knew her so well, he recognized the light in her eyes and that she was trying to constrain her mirth. The king was right: if any one of the three of them walked up to Cadwaladr as he sat on the dais in the great hall, he would refuse to accompany them. Even if he didn’t have half of Gwynedd watching his every move, he would still have viewed his brother’s choice to summon him by means of Gareth, Gwen, or Hywel as an insult.
The animosity among them ran deep: Cadwaladr had dismissed Gareth from his service six years ago; he’d abducted Gwen last year, spiriting her away to Ireland, after which Hywel had burned his castle at Aberystwyth and then taken over his lands in Ceredigion. If Cadwaladr were to name the residents of Aber Castle he hated the most, their names would top the list.
King Owain gave a snort of disgust and rose to his feet. “Just as I thought. None of you can disagree.”
“Perhaps I could fetch Lord Taran,” Gwen said. “He could then ask Prince Cadwaladr to join us?”
“More to the point, my lord, perhaps meeting in this space is not advisable,” Gareth said.
King Owain opened the door to Hywel’s office. “I agree. I will speak to Cadwaladr in my chambers.”
“But Father—”
King Owain made a dismissive gesture. “Son, the presence of you and Gareth will only inflame matters. Gwen alone can attend to us.”
Gwen opened her mouth to protest too, but Gareth put an arm around her shoulders and spoke for them both. “Surely, my lord—”
“Unless you don’t think you’re capable, my dear?” King Owain said, baiting her.
“I am perfectly able, my lord,” Gwen said.
The king blithely ignored her glare. “Good. I will see you there shortly.” He strode away.
The three of them stared after him. Hywel muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. It sounded like he was cursing Cadwaladr, possibly his father, and circumstances all at the same time.
“Why does he want me there?” Gwen said. “I didn’t find the pendant and didn’t even go to Wena’s house. I know what you saw only because you told me about it.”
“Gareth raises my uncle’s hackles by his very presence,” Hywel said. “I took his castle and his lands. You, on the other hand, merely annoy him.”
Gwen choked down a laugh. “I can safely say that the feeling is mutual.”
“You’re my secret weapon.” Hywel went to the door. “You can do this.”
Gareth and Gwen stood together for a moment after Hywel left, looking at each other with the same surprise at Hywel’s candor.
Gwen lifted one shoulder. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep King Owain waiting.”
The pair hastened to catch up with Hywel, detouring into the courtyard by a side door and coming back inside through a different door on the other side of the keep to avoid the great hall.
“No matter how long the interview lasts, I will be waiting for you outside,” Gareth said.
Gwen’s morose expression didn’t change.
Hywel grinned to see it. “We both will.”