The Fourth Horseman (28 page)

“
Why not? Clearly, he has
resources,” Gwen said.

“
Not enough to allow him to
mingle with Prince Henry’s usual retainers,” Rhys said. “He is not
of Henry’s inner circle.”

“
So the person we’re
looking for is here at Newcastle because Prince Henry has finally
left Bristol and is more exposed,” Gwen said.

“
That is what I suspect,”
Prior Rhys said.

“
Then the assassin couldn’t
ever have been Alard,” Gwen said. “He would have had access to
Prince Henry many times over.”

“
He would have been more
subtle about it too,” Rhys said. “He’s a spy.”

“
And yet, isn’t it odd that
of all the events that have occurred since we arrived, David’s
death was the only one accomplished in public.”

Rhys fingered his bottom lip. “Perhaps
that’s been our mistake all along.”

“
How so?”

“
In assuming the murderer
is a spy,” Rhys said, “I have taken it as a given that the threat
to Prince Henry will come in secret—as poison, a knife in the
darkness of his bedroom, or from a distance like that archer who
shot Amaury. But what if the traitor isn’t a spy?”

“
Spy or not, the murderer
will work in secret if he wants to survive to spend his money,”
Gwen said.

“
You’re right. Perhaps I’m
over-complicating matters,” Rhys said.

“
We may have already done
all we can.” They had come full circle, back to Gwen’s tent, and as
she stopped in front of it, Gwen canted her head. “Did you notice
anything unusual in your inspection of the camp?”

Prior Rhys smiled. “What do you mean?”

“
Our walk brought us
conveniently close to every sentry,” Gwen said. “They each
stiffened to attention at your approach.”

Prior Rhys waved a hand. “It isn’t the first
time I’ve walked the perimeter.”

“
Did you know the guard,
Ieuan, who didn’t pass on your message to Gareth?” Gwen said. “This
is the first time any of us have been at the camp since yesterday
morning. We should talk to him.”

Rhys led Gwen to a fallen log near a
brightly burning campfire. The night had turned cool, and Gwen
rubbed her hands together in front of the blaze, glad for the
warmth. She observed two women having an argument thirty feet away,
near another campfire. One poked a finger in the other’s face.

“
Ieuan is one of Prince
Rhun’s men,” Rhys said, ignoring the fight. “If you would sit a
moment, I’ll see if I can find him.”

Gwen didn’t protest to Prior Rhys that he
should let her come with him. He was a churchman. If anyone could
get information from a recalcitrant guard, it was he. As Gwen sat,
several soldiers near the fire nodded to her. She recognized them
as men under Gareth’s command. One of the soldiers, a man named
Rhodri, sat heavily at the end of Gwen’s log, a good three feet
away. “Will Sir Gareth be returning to the camp this evening? With
both him and Evan gone, it has fallen to me to see to the men, and
I have some questions.”

“
He told me he would spend
the night here,” Gwen said. “Are you concerned about something in
particular?”

Rhodri had been whittling on a stick,
turning it into a horse, though only the head had appeared so far.
At Gwen’s question, he looked up from his work. “I don’t mind
telling you that we are too exposed here, with too many women and
servants and not enough soldiers. I don’t trust these Normans.”

One of his companions tossed a log on the
fire. “We can’t return to Wales soon enough for me.”

“
I share your sentiment,”
Gwen said, and then the sound of running feet had her turning
around. Llelo and Dai plopped themselves on either side of her. She
hugged them both, one arm around each boy.

Rhodri grinned. “Good boys you have
there.”

“
They haven’t been too much
trouble?”

“
Far from it,” Rhodri said.
“I wish they’d come to me before running off to look for you. I
would have believed their tale and could have helped.”

“
We didn’t know you then,”
Dai said. “We didn’t know anyone we could trust, and Tomos didn’t
either.”

“
You did the best you
could,” Rhodri said. “Can’t ask more than that.”

Gwen was glad to see that the soldiers
hadn’t been bothered by the boys, though as she eyed her two
charges, she was sure that there was more to their acceptable
behavior than a sudden change of heart and conversion to obedience.
She peered at Dai. “You have something to say to me. What is
it?”

Dai glanced at Rhodri. “You didn’t tell
her?”

“
The tale belongs to you,”
Rhodri said.

“
That soldier, Ieuan, has
run off,” Llelo said, for once getting in ahead of his
brother.

Dai gave him a sour look. “I was going to
tell her!”

Llelo merely looked smug. “We followed him
as far as we could, but he was on horseback, and we were running.
We couldn’t keep up on the road.”

“
Did he go west or east?”
Gwen said.

“
Neither,” Dai said.
“South.”

Prior Rhys settled himself on the other side
of Dai. “You two really are rapscallions, aren’t you?” He ruffled
Dai’s hair.

Llelo and Dai straightened their shoulders
at their own importance, and out of respect for Prior Rhys, whom
they recognized as something more than a monk. They didn’t lump him
in among those they’d left at the friary in Newcastle.

“
As soon as the boys
reported Ieuan’s absence, I sent men after him,” Rhodri said. “They
haven’t returned, and I don’t expect they’ll catch him.”

“
Did you know Ieuan well?”
Gwen said.

“
No,” Rhodri said. “Not
before this journey.”

“
I did.” One of the men
raised his hand. “I fought with him down in Ceredigion.”

“
Did he strike you as one
who might turn traitor?” Gwen said.

The man scratched at his sandy beard. “They
say that any man can be bought if the price is right. I might have
said that Ieuan’s price would be cheaper than most.” He nodded to
Gwen. “Not much in the way of honor had Ieuan.”

Rhodri rose to his feet. The other soldiers
around the fire, who’d been listening to the conversation with open
interest, stood with him. “Your orders, Sir,” one said.

“
See to the perimeter,”
Rhodri said.

The men dispersed, and Rhodri bowed slightly
towards Gwen. “I must confer with Gruffydd’s second on the
disposition of the men for tonight. Until we know more about
Ieuan’s betrayal, we will remain on heightened alert. Please ask
Sir Gareth to find me when he arrives, if I don’t find him first.”
Gwen nodded, and Rhodri strode off.

Gwen looked over at Prior Rhys. “Llelo and
Dai say Ieuan rode south. Do you think that’s significant?”

“
It is the direction from
which Prince Henry will come.” Prior Rhys got to his feet too.
“Please stay here. I intend to confer further with Rhodri, and then
may well return to Newcastle if I think the situation warrants it.
The princes should know of what has transpired here
today.”

Once again, Gwen found that she couldn’t
argue with the old prior like she might have if Gareth or Hywel had
been the one doing the asking. “Of course. Llelo and Dai will
protect me, won’t you, boys?”

Their eyes brightened in unison, and she
couldn’t regret the pleasure it gave them to be asked to take up a
man’s job. And just because she stayed here didn’t mean she had
nothing of importance to do. She felt in her boot for the emerald
in the toe. She, Prince Rhun, and Gareth had been playing the shell
game with the gem all day. Between Earl Robert, Ralph, and Amaury,
too many Normans knew of it now. Hywel had sent it back to camp
with Gwen for safekeeping, though she supposed that when Prior Rhys
returned, she might include him in their little circle and give it
to him.

Prior Rhys saluted the boys, following the
path Rhodri had taken. The other men had dispersed to other duties,
so Gwen tipped her head to Llelo and Dai. “I think the safest place
for all of us to stay until Gareth returns is in my tent.”

“
I’ll sleep across the
doorway,” Llelo said, claiming primacy as the eldest.

Dai’s lower lip stuck out, but Gwen put an
arm around his shoulders and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Evil
men are known best for coming in the back. You can sleep
there.”

Dai nodded, and Gwen felt the pull of her
heart strings. They reminded her very much of her brother,
Gwalchmai, left at home at Aber. She looked at them carefully.
“Boys, has anyone ever taught you to sing?”

Chapter
Twenty-three

Hywel

H
ywel groaned and tried to shift to a more comfortable
position, but his hands were tightly tied behind him, and the back
of the chair prevented him from moving more than an inch or two.
That realization had him more awake in a hurry, and he blinked and
blinked again, trying to adjust to the darkness around him. He
wiggled his feet, which were tied at each ankle to the legs of a
chair, and the toe of his boot hit something soft.

He heard a low moan.

Hywel forced down the panic that filled his
throat. His eyes were growing used to the darkness, which wasn’t as
complete as he’d first thought. Light filtered through the
floorboards above his head and through a square opening in the
ceiling on the opposite end of the room. Footsteps paced above him,
and then a man appeared in the opening, holding a lantern.

“
So you’re
awake.”

It was too late to feign sleep, but Hywel
didn’t answer—not that he could, given the gag in his mouth. The
man came down the ladder, carrying the lantern, which illumined the
cellar in which Hywel found himself. Mari lay on the floor at
Hywel’s feet, unconscious and no longer moaning. Her chest rose and
fell as she breathed, and no blood showed on her clothing, which
eased some of the tension in Hywel’s shoulders. She was alive and,
on the surface, unhurt.

Hywel tried to recall how they’d ended up
here. He remembered talking with Mari in a quiet corner of one of
the receiving rooms at Newcastle. He’d gone to find her after his
meeting with the empress, which had been cordial, dull, and
endless. Evan had brought them some wine and then … Hywel could
remember nothing after that. He had no idea how long he’d been
unconscious, but from the light coming through the trap door, Hywel
guessed that dawn had come and gone and the day was already
passing.

Hywel didn’t recognize the man who held the
lantern high so he could see into Hywel’s face and then tugged the
gag from Hywel’s mouth. “Go ahead and shout. No one will hear
you.”

Hywel tried to spit, but his mouth was dry
and he couldn’t make any saliva. “Do you know who I am?”

“
Oh, I know.” The man
smiled. “You’re one of the Welsh bastards.” He shined the light
around the chair on which Hywel was sitting. “See that blood?
Yours’ll join it soon enough if you don’t cooperate.”

“
What do you
want?”

“
Me? Nothing. But my
master? He didn’t tell me exactly what he wanted from you, but
he’ll be along shortly to collect it.”

Hywel groaned internally. He could guess
what the man’s master wanted: the emerald. Hywel had never had it
on him, but either the killer didn’t know that or thought he could
torture its whereabouts out of Hywel.

While Hywel hoped he was strong enough to
withstand whatever a torturer might mete out, he honestly didn’t
know what his limits were. Gareth had survived abuse last winter,
and Hywel hoped he was man enough to do the same. But he didn’t
know. With Mari unconscious at his feet, he knew he had to get out
of here before he found out.

As the man turned away, Hywel’s mind
wandered to a last aside he’d had with Prior Rhys, back at the
castle. Hywel had asked him the real reason he’d joined their
company on the journey to England. There’d been a pause, and then
Rhys’s voice had come softly. “It struck me as my duty to go, given
my knowledge of the area. And perhaps, after all these years, as a
gift. I have always felt it wise to accept the gifts God gives
me.”

With these last words, Prior Rhys’s eyes had
skated over to Mari and then back to Hywel. The old churchman had
meant that Mari was a gift to Hywel, and as he sat in the chair,
tied as he was, Hywel knew within himself that it was time he
claimed the right to protect her.

The guard climbed the ladder, leaving the
lantern on a hook by the trapdoor. Hywel was glad for the light,
though he was disappointed to see the bottom of the ladder rising
up.

From the trap door and ladder, to the stone
and dirt foundation, to the chair in which he sat and the blood
beneath, Hywel could guess now where he was: the farmhouse cellar.
Gareth had described it to him at length, but other than those
initial details, all else was changed. It must have taken several
cartloads to clear out everything in the cellar but the chair. He
wondered if all that work had been done in preparation for his
abduction. He didn’t exactly feel honored.

Hywel nudged Mari’s shin with his toe, and
this time her eyes popped open. “Where am I—?” Her voice went high
in anguish and panic. “Hywel?”

“
Shush,
cariad
. I’m here,” he said. “We’re at
Prior Rhys’s farmhouse, the one Gwen and Gareth found. We’re going
to be fine, but you need to keep quiet.”