The Unexpected Ally (25 page)

“Clearly he’s involved since Gwalchmai and
Iorwerth saw him stealing from the treasury, and we’ve recovered
what he stole. But it’s awfully convenient of him to play the
innocent and put all the blame on Deiniol, who we have so far
caught in no wrongdoing.”

“We simply find him smarmy and off-putting.”
Conall spoke matter-of-factly, in a manner Hywel had grown
accustomed to hearing from him.

“Does it change anything to know that I
spoke with Rhodri just now, and he claims that he was paid by my
father to be among those who sacked the monastery?” Hywel said. “He
accuses Gareth of being his paymaster, and he is prepared to say so
in front of everyone at the conclave.”

The three others gaped at him, prompting a
harsh laugh from Hywel.

“Not again!” Gwen was holding Gareth’s hand
so tightly her knuckles whitened. “How do we prove otherwise?”

Hywel shook his head dismissively. “Madog
has no power over my men, and he knows it. The timeline is easy to
disprove, and I will be the one to do it. It’s a distraction to
impress his own lords, who won’t believe a word I say, but it
doesn’t matter because by naming Gareth, Rhodri has named the real
culprit.”

“Cadwaladr,” Gareth, Gwen, and Conall said
together.

Hywel canted his head. “It’s likely, but so
far unprovable unless someone talks.”

“Which brings us back to Deiniol and Lwc,”
Gwen said.

“The monastery has three cells, and now we
have three men to fill them,” Hywel said. “I say we let them stew a
while. Erik’s dead, but so far his is the only death. It’s a
puzzle, but it’s
my
puzzle. I don’t want the conclave having
anything to do with it.”

“Even if when Deiniol sees Rhodri and tells
us that he was the man with Erik, we can’t believe him, since it
would be in his best interests to implicate someone else. And if
Deiniol doesn’t recognize Rhodri, we can’t believe that either,”
Gareth said.

“I know it doesn’t look like it right now,
but we are getting closer.” Hywel told them about Rhodri’s enormous
hands, even if he had no broken or missing finger.

“We can’t hang a man for having large
hands.” Gareth ran a hand through his hair. “He feels as innocent
in all this as Lwc.”

“Which means
not at all
.” Hywel tsked
through his teeth. “You’ll note that neither Lwc nor Deiniol has a
damaged left hand either.”

“I noticed,” Gareth said sourly.

Hywel looked at Gwen. “Find Abbot Rhys and
tell him what’s happened. We’ll take care of Lwc and Deiniol,
secure the treasure, and then meet you back at the guesthouse.” He
lifted his chin to draw her attention to the sound of returning
firefighters, whose chattering could be clearly heard, coming from
the monastery gardens. “We need to hurry before the conclave starts
again.”

Gwen stared at him aghast. “Surely with all
that has happened, Abbot Rhys will postpone another session until
tomorrow!”

Hywel tsked through his teeth at her
innocence. “He won’t. He has two factions in his monastery who hate
each other. Leaving them to their own devices for the afternoon is
a recipe for war, not peace, and he knows it.”

Gareth

T
he investigation
was becoming more absurd with every hour that passed. That wasn’t
something Gareth might have said about any murder a month ago, but
with his new policy of not allowing these investigations to
overburden him, he could see the humor in the situation. Gareth
could take some consolation in the fact that Hywel was right that
the only body they’d found so far had been Erik’s, even if they’d
found it twice.

Still, after the meeting with the horrified
Abbot Rhys, Gareth went to check that Erik’s body, having been
washed by now and prepared for burial, was still in the room off
the cloister where he’d left it last night—and that the two monks
whose job it was to pray over him hadn’t raced to put out the
burning barn with the rest of their brothers and allowed someone to
take it.

At the sight of the two monks sitting where
he’d left them, Gareth let out a sigh of relief. They looked up as
he entered, but other than a raised hand, Gareth didn’t speak to
them. This wasn’t one of those monasteries where silence was
enforced—not like some of the English houses—but unnecessary
conversation was frowned upon. Gareth had been spending so much
time in monasteries lately that he was growing used to the habit of
conversing with gestures rather than words.

He’d been here until very late last night,
doing more than his duty, in fact. Every soldier who’d spent any
time at war had seen men’s insides spill to the ground, ripped open
by a blade in the course of battle. But the Church looked askance
at cutting open a man for any reason, as well they should, seeing
such efforts as rooted in paganism. Gareth had been given
permission to examine Erik, however, and he had made the most of
it. He’d even put charcoal to paper, sketching the locations of
each of Erik’s organs—what was left of them, that is. The length of
a man’s intestines alone was a revelation. Gareth didn’t know when
such a record might come in useful again, but he was neither
squeamish nor one to waste an opportunity to learn more about his
craft when it was presented to him.

Having verified that Erik’s body was still
there, Gareth returned to the monastery guesthouse, where a belated
meal was finally being laid out. Gwen, Conall, and Hywel were there
when Gareth arrived, along with Meilyr, Gwalchmai, and Iorwerth.
Meilyr was looking daggers at Gwalchmai, and Gareth could well
guess the reason why.

Gwalchmai hadn’t yet reached his adult
height, but he carried himself with the ease of a man far older. He
was used to the weight of responsibility. He was growing up,
whether Meilyr (and Gwen) liked it or not. And if not for his and
Iorwerth’s curiosity, they would be farther behind in this
investigation than they were, so before Meilyr could upbraid his
son for involving himself in yet another investigation, Gareth told
him so.

Meilyr subsided, somewhat reluctantly, and
then set to his food with a will, as they all did. For a quarter of
an hour, the room was completely silent as everyone ate and drank.
Then Gwen sighed, pushed away her bowl, and tipped her head at her
father. “Saran has been keeping Tangwen since this morning. Could I
ask you to collect her? I would hate for Tangwen to be a burden on
their first day together.”

Meilyr narrowed his eyes at his daughter,
knowing that she was sending him off so as not to involve him in
what they were doing any more than he already was. But there was
something else in his manner that almost made Gareth laugh when he
realized what it was: Meilyr
wanted
to go. And Gareth didn’t
think it was because he missed his granddaughter. Gareth would have
to ask Gwen, who was better at these things than he, but it came
into his head the Meilyr was personally interested in Saran.

Then everyone’s ears pricked up at the sound
of chattering voices coming through the open window that faced the
courtyard. Gareth pushed back from the table. “People are starting
to arrive.”

Hywel’s eyes were sober. “Father should be
returning from the encampment at any moment.”

Everyone rose to their feet and left the
room. As if Hywel’s words had been some kind of warning, King
Madog’s party appeared from underneath the gatehouse within a few
moments of them stepping outside. This time Queen Susanna rode
beside Madog, and King Owain and his men followed a few lengths
behind.

Evan was among the first to dismount, and he
hastened to speak to Gareth. “Where have you been?”

“Busy, as I will tell you in a moment.”

“That’s him! That’s him!”

They all swung around to look at who had
spoken. Madog’s men held back Rhodri, who was wrenching at his
captors’ arms and trying to throw himself across the courtyard at
Gareth. Everyone stared at the young man as he pointed, “He’s the
one! He’s the one who paid me!”

Every man in the vicinity of Gareth closed
ranks at the same moment, blocking any direct path to Gareth. For
Gareth’s part, he was gratified by the loyalty of his men, but the
sickening feeling at being falsely accused came slithering once
again into his belly.

King Madog’s face was alive with triumph,
exactly as it had been in the chapter house several hours earlier.
“Arrest that man!”

Alone, Hywel took one step forward. “You
will not.”

Although Rhodri had put the courtyard into
an uproar, there was something about the way Hywel’s voice
carried—his assurance and clarity of purpose—that closed people’s
mouths and brought silence to the onlookers.

Then Abbot Rhys appeared from around the
church and walked between the parties of opposing men. “Accusations
are to be saved for the conclave, which shall commence
momentarily.” He looked directly at King Madog and then at King
Owain, both of whom nodded at him, accepting his authority.

Madog’s enthusiasm diminished slightly, but
even so, he radiated an air of righteousness that couldn’t be
dispelled by having his victory delayed for another quarter-hour.
Rhys preceded the kings towards the chapter house, which meant
returning the way Rhodri had come, along the path behind the
church.

Watching the various groups of men follow,
Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “Why was Rhodri brought down to the
courtyard when it only meant that he would have to retrace his
steps a few moments later?”

“To accuse you, of course, in a fine,
dramatic fashion.” Hywel snorted and looked at those who surrounded
him. Gwen had opened her mouth to protest, but Hywel forestalled
her with a raised hand. “We know the truth, and it will come out if
only we let it.”

Gareth put an arm around Gwen’s shoulders.
“We’ve been here before, only last November.”

Conall raised his eyebrows. “After
Shrewsbury, you promised to tell me the full tale.”

“Now probably would be the time, since I’m
wondering if it pertains to this one,” Gareth said.

“I’m wondering many things.” Hywel jerked
his head at Iorwerth, indicating that he should attend the conclave
too.

“Hywel, no! Surely you aren’t going to turn
Gareth over to Powys!” Iorwerth was horrified in a way only a
seventeen-year-old boy could be. He’d missed the unspoken
underpinnings of the conversation. He should know about the events
of last autumn and why his friend, Gwalchmai, had gone to
Shrewsbury, since Gareth couldn’t imagine that Gwalchmai hadn’t
told him, but he was not yet sophisticated enough to make the
connection without help.

Though Hywel didn’t have the time to do it
for him, he did wink at his brother. “Watch and learn, young man.
Watch and learn.”

Gwen

G
wen was alone
again in an empty courtyard. It was odd enough that she stood still
for a moment considering her options. Her duty was first and
foremost to Tangwen, and she debated whether she should follow
after her father to collect her daughter. Before she could,
however, Brother Ben, the monk who’d been hurt when Erik’s body had
been taken, evident by the bandage wrapped around his head, loped
into the courtyard. He pulled up at the sight of Gwen all alone.
“Where is your husband?”

“In the chapter house with the other men.”
Gwen moved towards him. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“If your husband isn’t abed, then I
shouldn’t be either.”

Gwen couldn’t argue with that. “Why do you
need him?”

Brother Ben dipped his chin. “Mathonwy
requests his presence at the barn. We’ve found—” he coughed
apologetically, “—another body.”

Gwen didn’t often gape. She took pride, in
fact, in her ability to remain unshocked, but her mouth fell open
as she looked at the monk. “I can’t disturb the conclave. It’s too
important.”

Ben turned up one hand. “What should we
do?”

Gwen sighed. “Mathonwy will have to make do
with me.” She tugged her cloak closer around herself. They were
well into afternoon now, but instead of being the warmest part of
the day as it often was in summer, the wind had picked up and was
scattering the last of autumn’s dead leaves across the
courtyard.

She headed to the stable to get her horse
and then was hugely relieved to find Llelo and Dai inside, brushing
down the horses who’d come with King Owain’s party. Under normal
circumstances, Gwen would hardly have said that St. Kentigern’s
monastery was a dangerous place, but there had been an ominous tone
in the courtyard even before Rhodri’s accusation. Gareth didn’t
know about the second body yet, but he wouldn’t want her going
anywhere without protective men around her, even if the only men
available were the youngest in the king’s party.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on,
Mother?” Llelo said once they were on their way, riding down the
track to the barn.

Gwen laughed under her breath. “You’re
assuming that I know. The gaping holes in our understanding of
what’s going on here are about to swallow us whole.” She threw a
glance over her shoulder.

Llelo caught the look and put out a hand to
her. “Father will be fine. Really.”

And then from behind them Dai added in a
sour tone. “Next time Da finds himself in the thick of things, he
needs to make sure we’re with him!”

Gwen turned more fully in the saddle to look
at Dai. “Putting yourselves in danger isn’t going to help Gareth.
What I’d prefer is if the three of you could keep yourselves out of
trouble entirely. A faint hope, I know.” She turned back to Llelo,
who was looking at her gravely. She hadn’t answered his question
about what was going on, and as she studied her foster son, she
decided that it would do no harm to tell him. He and Dai served in
the king’s army, and since they were accompanying her to see a
body, if anyone deserved to know what she was thinking, it was
they.