The Uninvited Guest (21 page)

Gareth really didn’t want to stop at
Caerhun. He had friends there who might have heard of his death by
now. The thought made him uneasy—this was the part of his deception
that made him the most uncomfortable—and he hoped the stories they
were telling about him were good ones. For the garrison at Caerhun
to keep his resurrection quiet under those circumstances would be
impossible. Their primary purpose was to watch the ford on the
Conwy day and night. The assassin wouldn’t have wanted the
attention either.

“
Is anyone running a ferry
across the mouth of the Conwy since old Ceri died?” Gareth
said.

“
His son, Daff,” the woman
said. “He fishes most mornings but you might catch him before night
falls if you hurry.”

Hurrying was what Gareth had every intention
of doing. Gareth checked the sky. He’d left the hay barn well
before noon, but the sun set earlier every day. Tomorrow was the
first of December, with three weeks to the winter solstice and
Christmas. King Owain would want to be married by then, if he was
to be married at all.

It did seem that King Owain genuinely cared
for Cristina, and both of them were used to getting what they
wanted. Gareth figured it wouldn’t be long before Cristina
convinced the king that going through with the wedding was the
right thing to do, even without knowing who had killed Enid and
despite the evil such deaths had brought to Aber.

Gareth said goodbye to the old man and his
daughter and thanked them. He shook out the thick cloak Hywel had
given him, remounted Dewi, and urged the horse down the sandy
trail. The rain had let up over the last half an hour, becoming
more mist than raindrops. He pushed back his hood and as he rode
along, carefully unwound the bandage from his head. He ran his
fingers over the wound. It had stopped bleeding.

He could have been jubilant that he’d found
the assassin’s trail so easily. Somehow, he felt desperation
instead. If the killer had come through here in the early hours of
yesterday morning (which made sense since he left Aber after
midnight), Gareth trailed far behind him. Once across the Conwy
River, the boy would have all of Gwynedd before him. And England
after that.

The detail of the hoof beats and the horse
helped clarify one aspect of the assassin’s escape that had
troubled Gareth: namely, how he’d gotten away so quickly. Since he
hadn’t ridden a horse into Aber, he must have picketed him outside
the castle, ready for the moment he was needed.

Gareth stopped to question every fisherman
and wife who lived along the path. The assassin had been noticed,
both in his journey west, which he’d done in daylight, and on his
return. Two more times, the picture of the assassin drew
recognition, always pointing Gareth east. That Gareth had a picture
at all caused quite a bit of comment. He had been drawing since he
was a boy and thought nothing of it, but few had ever seen a
likeness of a person, barring the statues in the chapel at
Bangor.

Horses were expensive, too, and few rode
this way. One of the women had left her bed for the latrine and
heard the boy galloping past her home in the dark. Gareth was
beginning to think the assassin would have been better off hiding
in plain sight on the high road than taking the less used track.
Something to think on if he ever found himself on the run.

At last, Gareth trotted his horse into the
little village on the western bank of the Conwy River. Like the
scattered peasantry he’d already encountered, everyone here was a
fisherman first and foremost, though they might send their sons
into the hills in the summer with a flock of sheep. These lands
were also in the personal domain of King Owain and all here tithed
to him.

The tide was out when he arrived and he
almost could have walked across the silt and sand bars that clogged
the Conwy River. Almost. He’d heard travelers’ tales about people
who’d been caught unawares in the middle of the river, either by a
change in the tide or by sinkholes that sucked them down and
trapped them before they knew what had happened. The Conwy River
wasn’t the Menai Straits, but it wasn’t to be underestimated
either.

A rocky outcrop jutted twenty yards into the
river. The water wended around the rock and the ferry ran from a
wooden pier clinging to its tip. It was matched by another pier on
the opposite shore. With no matching rock to anchor its posts, they
were driven deeply into the sand. The ferry was docked on the
western side, but Gareth didn’t see the ferryman.

“
He was up at dawn,” a
voice said from behind him. “You’ll have to wake him.”

Gareth twisted in the saddle to see a boy of
eight, barefoot despite the cold and the rain, with a fishing pole
in his hand and six fish slung on a string.

“
Who?”

“
The ferryman.”

“
How do you know I want to
ride the ferry?” Gareth said.

“
You have a fine horse and
wear a sword. It’s not like you’re going to swim the river,” the
boy said.

“
Can you show me where he
lives?” Gareth said.

The boy pointed towards a line of huts.

“
But which one?” Gareth
said.

The boy sighed as if to
say
must I do everything
? Gareth smiled, because he’d seen that expression on many
adult faces and found it amusing rather than irritating to see it
on the chubby face of the boy. Gareth dismounted while the boy
grabbed Dewi’s bridle and began to lead him down the slope towards
the river.

“
Where you from?” the boy
said.

“
Aber Castle,” Gareth said.
“What’s your name?”

“
Padrig.”

“
I can see that you’re a
fine fisherman,” Gareth said.

“
It’s in my blood.” Padrig
shrugged. “Some days are better than others.”

“
And you have mouths to
feed, do you?” Gareth said.

“
We’ve twelve, with my
grandma.”

“
So you spend most of your
days outside.” Gareth stopped the boy and took the piece of paper
from his pocket. “Have you seen any of these people
recently?”

Without hesitation, Padrig pointed to the
assassin. “This man. He came from the east and tried to get across
the river without the ferry, but his horse sank to his hocks after
only ten feet. My father rescued him.”

“
So, your father is Daff,
the ferryman?”

“
Yup.” Padrig studied the
paper. “Who are these other two?”

“
Do you know
them?”

“
No,” Padrig
said.

“
I didn’t expect that they
came this way. They’re dead.”

Padrig’s eyes went wide. “Did the first man
kill them?”

“
I don’t think so,” Gareth
said. “But it may be that he knows who did.”

“
Why didn’t you say so?”
Padrig said. “Father took him across the river yesterday morning.
At first light.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
Of course,” Padrig said.
“It was the same man as before, though he was in a bigger hurry and
didn’t look well.”

“
He was ill?” Gareth
said.

Padrig shook his head. “Nervous, more like.
He kept checking behind him, as if he was afraid he was being
followed.”

Which well he might. He
couldn’t know if anyone had seen him leave Aber, if the chase was
an hour behind, a day, or the nearly two days that Gareth had lost.
If the man who hired the youth was the same man who killed Enid and
Ieuan, he had effectively distracted them from pursuing this one
lead that might tell them all.
On purpose?
Chance?
As appeared to be the case far too
often, there was too much Gareth didn’t know.

Chapter
Seventeen

G
wen hated to see Gareth ride away again; hated that she was
going to have to do her part on her own (albeit with Hywel to help,
but it wasn’t the same); hated that all the while she was trying to
solve this murder, she would have to pretend that Gareth was
missing, or possibly dead.

She didn’t know how she was going to do
that.

“
I suggest that you remain
relentlessly cheerful,” Hywel said. “I can’t see you weeping your
eyes out for him in public anyway.”

Gwen wasn’t so sure about that. At sixteen,
she’d certainly cried enough when he’d left her. But maybe Hywel
was right. “Perhaps my presence will make people more likely to
talk, to offer their sympathy. One thing could lead to
another.”

“
Shall I come with you to
the village?” Hywel said.

Gwen shook her head. “You might be more
off-putting than helpful, my lord. Besides, I can take advantage of
how sorry they feel for me—and how angry they are at you for making
me pursue our investigation despite Gareth’s absence.”

“
I’m offended,” Hywel said,
but his expression told her otherwise.

Gwen pulled up her hood and wrapped her
cloak tightly around herself. “I might as well get started.”

“
You should come back
through the tunnel—”

“
No!” Gwen said, and then
at Hywel’s knowing smile, moderated her tone. “I’ll walk around. If
someone asks where I am, tell them you saw me leave by the wicket
gate. Nobody will question you.”

“
There are advantages to
being a prince.” Hywel was in high good humor now.

“
A few.” Gwen set off into
the rain without looking back. She entered the woods that
encroached on the castle to the south and came out on the eastern
bank of the Aber River. A footbridge led across it to the
village.

The number of homes and craft houses at Aber
had grown in the years since King Owain had moved his primary seat
from Aberffraw to Aber. His rebuilding efforts had required the
hiring of men, most of whom labored at the castle during the day
and went to bed at night in the village, after drinking a
substantial portion of their wages in the local tavern. That was
where Gwen would start.

At this hour of the morning, Gwen didn’t
expect a crowd, and so was surprised to be greeted by one when she
opened the door to the common room. It was packed to the rafters,
even more so than the great hall had been for the pre-wedding
feast. A fire burned in the fire pit against the far wall, but
smoke, more than heat, filled the room.

That wasn’t stopping the conversation among
the clientele, however. Gwen’s arrival did that. She’d silenced a
room more often in the last two days than in her entire life. Her
only previous experience with this sort of thing was when she and
Gwalchmai sang together—and the silence and respect people accorded
them at those times was joyful, rather than distressed.

Gwen had supposed at first that everyone in
the room was a visitor from the castle, tired of kicking their
heels all day in the great hall. But when faces turned and stared
at her as she stepped through the doorway, she realized the tavern
held the inhabitants of the village. All of them.

“
Gwen!” The tavern keeper
raised a hand from the other side of the bar. “Come inside and get
warm!”

“
Thank you, Huw.” Gwen
edged through the villagers who gave way before her, and who then
filled in the gap behind her as she passed. She reached the bar and
turned to survey the crowd, all of whom still watched
her.

“
We are very sorry to hear
about Sir Gareth,” Huw said.

“
Thank you,” Gwen said.
“But I haven’t given up hope.”

“
Nor should you!” Huw
patted her hand. “Gareth is a sturdy fellow and is probably walking
home just now.”

“
I hope so,” Gwen said,
aware that everyone was listening to them. “I didn’t realize you
knew him.”

“
Knew him!” Huw was
offended. “He’s a favorite here. It was he that Prince Hywel sent
if there was trouble in the village. Always fair was—” Huw cleared
his throat, “—is your Gareth.”

Men and women nodded all around the bar.

“
But what’s going on here?”
Gwen said. “Surely such a crowd is unusual for this time of
day.”

“
Oh, this.” Huw eyed his
customers. “It’s funny you should ask. We were just discussing what
we could do to help.”

“
To help Gareth?” Gwen
said.

“
Of course,” Huw
said.

“
Then perhaps you can help
him by helping me.” Gwen lowered her voice. “You know he was
looking for the murderer?”

Huw nodded. “We’re all afraid he stepped
into a wasp nest and got stung.”

“
When he gets back, he’ll
need to pick up the investigation again,” Gwen said, “but in the
meantime, do you recognize any of these people?” Gwen took out the
drawings Gareth had made and handed them to Huw.

“
Not that one.” Huw pointed
at the assassin. “But the girl and Ieuan met here not three days
ago.”

“
You knew Ieuan, then?”
Gwen said.

“
Not well,” Huw said. “He
kept to himself, mostly, and didn’t have much to spend, if you know
what I mean.”

“
Did you hear what they
talked about?” Gwen said.

Huw shook his head. “We were busy that night
and the tavern was packed cheek by jowl. My upper rooms are full
and it’s only today that a few of my guests have left.”

“
Did you ever see the girl
before?”