The Fallen Princess (26 page)

“I have some herbs that might help her,”
Hafwen said. A widow with grown children, she was fifteen years
older than Mari and Gwen and refreshingly no-nonsense about
pregnancy and everything else. Hafwen picked up a tray containing
Mari’s breakfast, still warm from the kitchen, which she’d left by
the door earlier.

“Perhaps you can get Mari to eat something
too,” Gwen said. “She often feels better when she does.”

“What about you, madam?” Hafwen said.

“I’ll dress and then eat breakfast in the
hall,” Gwen said. “Don’t worry about me.”

As Gwen re-entered the bedroom, she made for
the lone window. The shutter had been closed for the night, but she
opened it to let the fresh air compete with the smell of sickness.
Gwen kissed Mari’s cheek. “I love you dearly, but—”

“Get out of here.” Mari waved her hand at
Gwen. “I’m in good hands with Hafwen. Go before you end up sick
too.”

Gwen didn’t need to be told twice. She
dressed as quickly as she could and departed. She knew she was a
coward for not wanting to attend to Mari, but her friend had been
right that Gwen’s stomach had been threatening to rebel.

Wrapping her cloak tightly around herself
against the chilly morning, Gwen stepped outside, reveling in the
crisp air, and set off along the path to the postern gate. It was
open, so she didn’t have to wait to be let in, and the sentry on
duty nodded to her as she entered. She’d temporarily forgotten his
name, so she hurried past him with a quick greeting and a wave.
Then she stopped and turned back. “Has Sir Gareth passed this way
recently?”

“Not recently, madam,” the guard said. “He
entered before dawn.”

“Thank you.” It had still been dark when
Gareth had left their bed. With the waning of the year, the days
were getting shorter, and dawn on the last day of October was hours
later than it had been in June.

The first person Gwen saw as she came around
the corner of the stables was Godfrid, talking intently to two of
his men. He loomed over them, for all that they were big men too,
and his face was set like granite. It wasn’t a look she had often
seen on him outside of those moments when he spoke about Ottar or
Ottar’s son, Thorfin. Even last night when Godfrid had walked into
the hall and seen Cadwaladr sitting at the high table, his
expression had been one of cynical amusement.

For Cadwaladr’s part, at the sight of the
Danes, he had looked like he’d swallowed a whole radish in one go.
But other than turning red, he could say nothing once his brother
had risen to his feet and flung out his arms in an expansive
gesture, welcoming Godfrid and his men into Aber.

When a man had made as many poor choices as
Cadwaladr, humiliation could sneak up on him when he least expected
it, even if he was a prince.

Gwen halted a few paces away from Godfrid to
allow him to finish his conversation with his men, though as he was
speaking Danish, she understood none of it. Once he noticed her,
his expression softened, and he turned to her.

“Is something wrong?” Gwen said.

“Not at all—” Godfrid broke off from what
he’d been about to say. Then he sucked in his cheeks and said, “I
forget that I am speaking to Gwen, the wife of Gareth the knight,
not a woman of my court. Yes, there is something wrong. One of my
men is missing.”

“Oh dear.” Gwen didn’t ask if he was sure.
That would be insulting.

Godfrid read her expression, however, and
added, “We checked the barracks and the stables. We are two dozen
men and have explored the whole castle. It is possible, I suppose,
that he found a bed in a room that remains closed to us, but it
doesn’t feel right that this would be true.”

“What’s his name?” Gwen said.

“A man named Erik. He’s half-Welsh, which is
why I brought him, so that he could be another who speaks your
language,” Godfrid said. “He knows Gwynedd.”

“Why would one of your men leave without
warning?” Gwen said.

A muscle in Godfrid’s cheek twitched. “I
fear I have been betrayed. I personally chose each of the men who
accompany me and would not have questioned the loyalty of any, Erik
among them.”

“So he’s been with you a long while?” Gwen
said.

“Not so much with me as with my father.”

“You said he was Welsh. Is Gwynedd his
home?”

“He came into my father’s service from Rhos,
I believe.” And then Godfrid froze, realizing, as Gwen did, what
he’d just said.

Sweet Mary
. “Does Gareth know of
this?”

“He has spent the last few hours searching
where I could not.” Godfrid made a
look there
gesture, and
Gwen turned to see Gareth walking towards her from underneath the
portcullis. When he came up to her, she put her arms around his
waist and pressed her cheek to his chest, while he patted her on
the back.

Gwen stepped away, smiling to herself
because that was the gesture he used when he wanted her to know
that he loved her but was too busy to really show it.

“No luck.” Gareth scrubbed at his hair with
both hands. “I have one last place to look for Erik.”

“Where is that?” Godfrid said.

“Some place I shouldn’t show you, but it
seems I’m going to anyway, since you’re here,” Gareth said. “No
horse is missing from the stables, which means he can’t have gone
far or be going far.”

“Either that or he had outside help,” Gwen
said.

Gareth made a disgusted sound at the back of
his throat. “That too. Still, he didn’t leave by any gate.”

“We’re going to show Godfrid the tunnel,
aren’t we?” Gwen clapped her hands together. “I’m coming with
you.”

“Gwen—”

“It’s damp and dark but not dangerous,” Gwen
said. “And you’ve never even been down it.”

Gareth tsked through his teeth at her. “I
keep meaning to, and one thing always overtakes another and drives
out the notion.”

“What tunnel is this?” Godfrid said, looking
from Gareth to Gwen, his eyes alight with interest.

“It’s a back door out of Aber in times of
need,” Gareth said.

“How would Erik have known of it?” Godfrid
said.

“He wouldn’t have had to know about the
tunnels before his arrival,” Gareth said. “You know how the men
talk, and it’s an open secret in Gwynedd anyway.”

“A man guards it at all times,” Gwen
said.

“Guards can be bribed,” Gareth said. “Let’s
see if the one on duty this morning knows anything.”

Gwen opened her mouth to suggest that Gareth
speak to Hywel about it before they went but then remembered that
not only was Hywel not at Aber, but that Gareth’s commission had
been made clear. King Owain had given them nearly free rein to
pursue the investigation as he saw fit. Gareth had come a long way
since that bloody road from Dolwyddelan. If Gwen had spied Rhun on
the way to the tunnel, she would have roped him in for the fun of
it, but she didn’t see him. They hadn’t done a very good job of
freeing him from his stepmother’s clutches last night, and she
hoped he’d survived the evening still a bachelor.

The guardroom for the tunnel that went north
from the castle to the sea was on the ground floor of one of Aber’s
ancient towers. Extra armor and weapons were stored there, but it
had space enough within it for a man to put his feet up on a table
in some comfort. Gwen knew for a fact that it was a favorite
gathering spot for members of the garrison to entertain each other
with dicing or drink.

This tunnel, however, was in the basement of
a southern tower, at the bottom of a flight of narrow stone steps.
Dank, dark, and chilly, it was the least desirable posting in the
castle. King Owain didn’t use it as a punishment as he could have.
The tunnel’s existence made Aber vulnerable, and he needed trusted
men to guard it.

A lamp flickered on the table below her.
When Gwen, who was in the lead, came around a curve halfway down
the stairs, she saw the body of the sentry sprawled on the floor.
The soldier was of an age with Gareth, and Gwen knew him only by
his nickname, Goch, like Gareth’s horse, for his mane of red
hair.

Gareth put a hand on her arm to stop her
from continuing, passed her on the stairs, and jumped the last
three steps to reach Goch first. He put his fingers to the guard’s
neck and then looked up at Gwen with relief in his face. “He’s
alive.”

At Gareth’s touch, Goch moaned and swept a
hand across his eyes. He struggled to sit up, and Godfrid and
Gareth helped him to sit with his back against the wall. Goch
lifted his head, looking blearily at the two men who crouched
before him.

“What happened?” Gareth said.

Another groan escaped Goch’s lips before he
suppressed it. “I hardly know. I was sitting there.” He gestured to
the overturned chair. “I hadn’t considered the possibility that a
threat might come from the stairs behind me.”

“So you didn’t see who hit you?” Gwen
said.

Goch shook his head and then winced, putting
his hand to the back of his head.

“Where is the man who stood watch with you?”
Gareth said.

Goch rubbed his eyes with his thumb and
forefinger. “He … he went to relieve himself.” Then his brow
furrowed. “No, that was earlier. I don’t know what happened to
him.”

Godfrid had a habit of sucking on his teeth
as he thought, and he was at it again. “Who was it?”

“A fellow named Dewi,” Goch said.

“Really?” Gwen looked at Gareth, concern in
her eyes.

Gareth’s brow furrowed. “Dewi was on the
beach when we found Tegwen. Maybe he knows something about her
death.”

“If that’s the case, he looked at her and
said nothing,” Gwen said.

“I realize we don’t believe in coincidences,
but with the arrival of the Danes, it’s possible that what Dewi
knows—or fears—has nothing to do with Tegwen’s death,” Gareth said,
“but with the Book of Kells.”

Godfrid frowned. “Who is this man?”

“He’s been nobody of importance up until
now,” Gareth said. “I mean that quite literally. And Dewi isn’t new
to the king’s service any more than Erik is to yours or your
father’s, Godfrid. I joined Hywel’s company after he did.”

“Gareth, I just had a thought,” Gwen said.
“Could Dewi know Erik because he came from Rhos too?”

Godfrid clenched a hand and dropped it onto
the table in a fist. “What is going on?”

“I can’t tell you what may have changed
between last night and now, but perhaps we’ve finally started
asking the right questions.” Gareth looked towards the tunnel.

Gwen could see him hesitating, torn between
chasing after Dewi and his duty, which was to warn the king of what
had happened. “I will take Godfrid through the tunnel while you
raise the alarm at Aber. You can meet us at the hay barn on the
other side with more men and a horse for Godfrid. Perhaps they
aren’t that far ahead of us. We don’t want to risk anyone else
obscuring the evidence before we get there.”

“As usual, she speaks sense,” Godfrid said.
“I will keep her safe.”

Gareth made a growling sound deep in his
chest but nodded. “Hurry.” He raced away up the steps.

While Godfrid lit a second lamp, Gwen went
to the door to the tunnel and pulled it wide. She glanced back to
Goch, who had righted the chair to seat himself at the table, his
head resting in the palm of one hand.

“I’ll stay here until you return or someone
relieves me,” Goch said.

“Keep your knife at the ready,” Godfrid
said.

Goch nodded and pulled out his boot knife, a
long blade with a viciously sharp point and a leather handle, worn
black with use. He laid it on the table in front of him. Godfrid
nodded approvingly, and then he and Gwen entered the tunnel
together.

The last time Gwen had come here it was with
Hywel, and he’d spent the whole walk reassuring her that everything
was going to be fine. Gareth had been waiting for her in the barn
at the other end, and it was comforting to know that he would meet
them there again. Godfrid hunched his shoulders, since he was tall
enough for his hair to brush the ceiling.

“Watch your head when you reach the beams,”
Gwen said. “I think you’re the tallest man who’s ever walked
here.”

That prompted a laugh from Godfrid, and she
sensed him relaxing. “You would make a fine leader of men,
Gwen.”

“You don’t like small spaces any more than I
do,” Gwen said.

“I like the sea.”

“I know this is outside your comprehension,
but I dislike the sea even more than this tunnel,” she said.

Godfrid’s white teeth glinted in the
lamplight as he grinned at her. “I remember.”

The tunnel was less than half a mile long,
walkable in ten minutes above ground but an endless journey in the
dark. Gwen made herself focus on nothing else but the circle of
light thrown out by Godfrid’s lantern, which he held out before
him. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she kept a hand on the
roundness of her belly and told herself that all she had to do was
breathe and walk.

Godfrid, however, was focused on their
mission and had been keeping his eyes on the ground. They had gone
only a hundred feet when he put out a hand to stop Gwen from
walking. He crouched low and shone his light on the path. “I’ve
been watching them. We have two sets of footprints.”

Gwen bent to look, her hands on her knees.
“The guards walk through here every week to make sure it’s clear.
No breeze stirs the air, so their footprints would remain
undisturbed.”

“These men were running.” Godfrid pointed to
the distinct impressions in the soft ground.

Gwen thought she could see what he meant,
the way the footprint was deeper at the toes; a man walking had
more of a heel-to-toe movement. “We had good reason to think that
they came this way. I just don’t understand why they thought they
had to.”

“What do you mean?” Godfrid said.

“I suppose knocking out Goch made sense to
them,” Gwen said. “But why not leave by the postern gate? With the
crowded castle, they could have walked out together plain as day
and nobody would have thought anything of it.”