“That’s that, then,” Hywel said after Gwen recounted the conversation with Cadwaladr to him and Gareth. “My father seemed pleased with the result of the interview? Actually pleased?”
“He was angry at your uncle,” Gwen said, “but then he wasn’t. You know how he is—quick to anger and equally quick to laugh. I think he was relieved to know that his brother didn’t kill Tegwen. So he laughed. I don’t know how your father sleeps at night.”
“He has learned to manage the worry,” Hywel said. “Kings have far less power than everyone thinks.”
The trio had chosen to stand outside the kitchen to talk, for lack of a more private location. The family that would be housed in Hywel’s rooms had arrived while Gwen had been speaking with Cadwaladr; every noble soul was doubling or tripling up for the next few days, even Hywel and Mari. Though Gareth and Gwen weren’t noble, Gareth was Hywel’s captain, and to share a room with Mari and Hywel meant Gareth and Gwen wouldn’t have to sleep in the hall. Even Rhun, Hywel’s elder brother, had found a bunk in the barracks. Depending on how the rest of the day went, some of them might not be sleeping at all anyway.
Gwen had found a sunny spot on one of the stumps used for chopping the wood that kept the fires going in the kitchen. A boy worked with a pile of cuttings a few yards away, the satisfying thunk of his axe into the next block of wood punctuating their conversation.
“What if Brychan is right, and Bran murdered Tegwen?” Gareth said.
“An entire investigation completed in one day?” Hywel clapped his hands together before making a rueful face. “I don’t think so.”
“I think we need a great deal more evidence before we can conclude who killed Tegwen,” Gwen said. “We can’t hang a man based upon the opinion of the dead woman’s lover. So what if Bran didn’t love Tegwen? That’s not a crime.”
“It is a crime in my eyes,” Hywel said, “but even our knowledge of the poor state of their marriage is based on nothing but hearsay.”
“So where do we go from here?” Gareth said. “I admit to being surprised that we have discovered as much as we have, but Cadwaladr’s activities happened only this morning. We’re looking now for answers about a death that may have occurred five years ago.”
“Two deaths, actually,” Hywel said.
“Two?” Gwen said.
“Bran was murdered two years later,” Hywel said. “That changes everything.”
Gareth glanced at him before looking down at his feet, clearly wanting to say something but choosing to hold his tongue. Thus, Hywel hesitated before continuing. Gareth had wanted the murderer to be Cadwaladr, which Hywel understood completely, but that desire was affecting his judgment and preventing him from seeing the whole situation as clearly as he sometimes did.
“What if the same man murdered them both?” Hywel said. “I admit it’s a long shot, since their deaths were two years apart, but it’s worth considering, especially since Tegwen told Mari she knew a secret about her husband. What if it was a secret her husband shared with someone else?”
“I’m wondering how Tegwen got from Rhos to Aber without anybody knowing about it,” Gwen said. “Did the Dane she ran off with bring her here, or someone else? Where was Bran at the time?”
“In Powys with everyone else,” Hywel said.
“Did you see him there?” Gwen said. “You always know everything about everyone.”
Hywel scoffed. “This was five years ago, and I was hardly paying attention to where any specific man was during the campaign. We had periods of inactivity. Who’s to notice who slipped away?”
“Cadwaladr could have slipped away,” Gwen said.
“Perhaps,” Hywel said.
Gareth raised his head. “I’m reluctant to admit this, but Cadwaladr is a prince of Wales. If he’d been gone long enough to return to Aber and murder Tegwen, someone would have noticed.”
“Besides, she was his niece,” Hywel said. “I find it unlikely, even as repugnant as I find my uncle, that he would have had cause to murder her. A romantic liaison with Tegwen would have been beyond even him.”
“Who knew of the house?” Gareth said. “Riding hard through a night and a day during a lull in the fighting, any man could have returned to Aber.”
“Many of Cadwaladr’s men knew about it too,” Gwen said, “not to mention all the women he brought there and whomever they told about it.”
“My lord,” Gareth said, “only Gwen has spoken with either Brychan or Cadwaladr. Bran is clearly out of reach, but Brychan is here. I think it’s time we asked him some more questions.” Gareth put out a hand to Gwen. “Have you seen him since you talked to him?”
Gwen took in a surprised breath. “I didn’t think to keep an eye on him or ask anyone else to. Have I been a fool?” She put a hand to her mouth. “He was distraught enough after our conversation that he might have thought twice about staying at Aber.”
“If you have been a fool, we all have. Let’s just see if we can find him,” Hywel said. “Brychan should know better than to think I would arrest him just because it’s convenient.”
“You, yes,” Gwen said, “but your father?”
“I see your point.” Hywel’s mouth twitched. “Still, my father has behaved reasonably up until now, and we still have another full day before the sun sets tomorrow night and Hallowmas begins.”
“Even for us, solving Tegwen’s murder by then would be quick work.” Gwen shivered. “This isn’t like our usual investigations. Years have passed since any of these events took place.”
“And yet, we’ve had at least one murderer running loose in Gwynedd, maybe two, between Tegwen and Bran,” Hywel said. “By now, he must have thought it would never come to light. We can use that to our advantage.”
“Gwen, if you could look for Brychan in the hall while Prince Hywel and I—” Gareth cut off his sentence as a wail of pain and grief went up from the entrance to the castle.
“Go! Go!” Gwen said.
Gareth and Hywel raced around the corner of the keep, pulling up when they saw that the cries were coming from a woman who had buried her face in King Owain’s chest. The king, looking extremely uncomfortable indeed, held her and patted her back. The begging look his father gave him was one Hywel had never seen in his eyes before.
Gruffydd, the castellan of Dolwyddelan Castle, stood nearby, and it was his wife, Sioned, in King Owain’s arms. Although Hywel knew Sioned to be in her early fifties, she had the dark hair and smooth skin of a much younger woman. Perhaps to match his wife’s youthfulness, Gruffydd retained the straight posture and flat stomach of a man ten years younger too. The couple was accompanied by a matron holding the hands of two girls who had to be Tegwen’s daughters.
Fortunately, before his father could foist Sioned off on Hywel, Gwen appeared. Sioned raised her head to look into the king’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and then at the king’s urging, collapsed in grief onto Gwen’s shoulder instead. Hywel hadn’t realized until that moment what a tall woman Sioned was. Although she wasn’t overweight, she was well muscled, and the much smaller Gwen struggled not to bow beneath the older woman’s weight. Noticing his wife’s distress, Gareth took Sioned’s elbow, turning her towards him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
King Owain cleared his throat. “Tegwen’s grandparents have just learned of the events of the morning.”
“I need to see my baby.” Sioned’s head remained bowed.
“What happened to her?” Gruffydd said.
“We’re doing all we can to discover exactly that,” King Owain said. “It will take some time.”
Gruffydd clenched his jaw. “Hallowmas is tomorrow night. We must put her in the ground before then.”
Hywel stirred. “We can’t complete our investigation that quickly.”
Gruffydd turned on him. “My granddaughter deserves to rest in peace!”
“We will see to her burial by then, regardless of how much we’ve learned,” King Owain said appeasingly. “To do otherwise would be unseemly.”
Hywel bowed his own head, his jaw clenched tightly, and didn’t contradict his father. He recognized a command when he heard one.
While Calan Gaeaf was the day to celebrate the harvest and the first day of winter, the night before, Nos Galan Gaeaf—or Hallowmas—was the day the spirits of the dead walked abroad. Hywel knew why Tegwen’s grandfather wanted Tegwen buried before then. Nobody wanted to think about her body lying in a room in the barracks—within the castle walls—on such a night. Although burning the body upon death like the pagans of old would have deprived them of material evidence, Hywel could understand the impulse to put the dead beyond reach forever.
“I will bring you to her.” Gareth still held Sioned’s arm, and now he moved away with her. Before they reached the barracks, Gareth glanced over his shoulder at Gwen and mouthed the words find Brychan.
Gwen threw up her hands in frustration.
Hywel leaned in to appease her. “Get Evan to help you. He was on the wall-walk earlier.”
“What are you going to do?” Gwen said.
“Investigate.” Hywel nodded towards the barracks. Tegwen’s grandparents had just disappeared inside with Gareth.
“If the murderer is at all clever, and he must be to have come this far undetected, he’ll know that we’re looking for him now,” Gwen said.
“Don’t worry, Gwen,” Hywel said. “I’ve got Gareth’s back.”
“As he has yours, my lord.”
Hywel didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve such staunch companions as Gareth and Gwen, but it was one of the blessings of his life to know that what Gwen said was true.