The Uninvited Guest (24 page)

“
He tried to put a knife
into the king’s back during a feast in the great hall,” Gareth
said. “It was almost as if he wanted to be stopped.”

“
Perhaps, he did.” Again,
the prior canted his head to one side. “And the man who stopped
him? That was you?”

Gareth swallowed. Back at Aber, very little
had been said about what he had done. The king had thanked him, but
the subsequent murders had shunted to one side the fact that it was
Gareth who had prevented the death of the king. “Yes.”

Rhys nodded, implying that nothing more
needed to be said about the matter. “Please convey my regrets to
the king for giving the boy my hospitality. I did not know.” He
shook his head.

“
The king will not blame
you,” Gareth said. “But if Pedr returns—”

“
I will send word,” Rhys
said.

“
I can ask no more than
that,” Gareth said.

Prior Rhys nodded and left
the room, leaving Gareth alone before the fire with much to think
about. First and foremost,
why had Caradoc
lied?
It
had
been growing dark, but the image was a good
likeness, if Gareth said so himself. The prior had recognized Pedr
immediately. What was the relationship between Caradoc and the
young man?

Now that Gareth had his name, and the
direction he traveled, he’d just have to find him and ask him.

Chapter
Nineteen

“I
swear to God, by all that is holy, this time I’ll hang him!”
King Owain strode to the door of the hall.

Prince Rhun gave way before him. “We don’t
know exactly what he’s done—”

King Owain turned on him. “Don’t we? Then
why does he hide from me?”

Gwen hadn’t been there to see it, of course,
but the last time King Owain had been this angry at his brother was
when Cadwaladr had stolen Gwen from Aber. Cadwaladr had panicked,
thinking himself only one step ahead of Gareth and Gwen. In truth,
they hadn’t been anywhere close to catching him. Of all the barons
of Wales, Cadwaladr was the man Gwen would most like to see hang
for the murders and the attempt on King Owain’s life, but …

“
I don’t want it to be
true.” Rhun swung into his father’s wake with Gwen and Hywel on
either side of him, heading out the door. A brisk wind had blown
through the hall again and Gwen pulled her cloak around her
shoulders and put up the hood. It had also grown colder in the last
hour.

“
Why not?” Gwen
said.

“
Because—” Rhun threw out a
hand. “I had hoped we could put the events of last summer behind
us. This is the last thing my father needs to concern him in such
troubled times.” Rhun had always been the more optimistic
brother.

“
Did someone tell him that
we have evidence against him?” Gwen said, thinking of the dragon
ring and the image imbedded in Enid’s palm.

“
By all reports, he was
tucked into bed with Alice, his own wife, the night Enid
died.”

“
Was he?” Hywel said.
“Alice is loyal even if he doesn’t deserve her loyalty.”

“
Their son was up in the
night, sick. Uncle Cadwaladr went to the kitchens for water and
broth,” Rhun said.

“
That means he was out and
about, possibly during the crucial time period,” Gwen
said.

Rhun sighed. “Alice did say that he didn’t
return right away.”

“
How long was he gone?”
Hywel said.

“
Less than an
hour.”

Gwen gritted her
teeth.
Less than an hour
was plenty of time to murder Enid. Gwen couldn’t
remember when, or even if, Cadwaladr had left the hall after the
assassination attempt. They had a less clear time of death for
Ieuan which hampered them.

At the same time,
Cadwaladr, for all that he was devious, selfish, and an altogether
worthless human being, hadn’t physically harmed Gwen herself last
summer. Would he have dirtied his hands with the murder of a
different girl? She
could
believe Cadwaladr had hired the assassin to kill
King Owain and then locked himself in the chapel out of guilt and
fear—that was exactly the kind of thing he would do.

Perhaps, as before, two people had plotted
at cross-purposes. If Cadwaladr had hired the assassin, he would
hang for it as he should have been hanged for the murder of King
Anarawd. But it would be a mistake to convict him of the other
crimes if he didn’t commit them and leave the real culprit to go
free.

The chapel lay across the courtyard from the
stables, set hard against the curtain wall. For more important holy
days, the inhabitants of Aber rode to Bangor to worship in the
cathedral there. Because certain higher-ups among the clergy
refused to sanction King Owain’s marriage to Cristina, they were to
have been married at Aber, rather than with a magnificent ceremony
in the cathedral, as would have befitted the King of Gwynedd.

The chapel had two doors, one at the front,
which Cadwaladr had barricaded from the inside, and a second at the
rear, separated from the western wing of the great hall by a narrow
passage. This back door led to the vestry and a side entrance to
the altar. Owain reached the front steps. Gwen and Hywel moved
nearer to him. Neither Hywel nor his father spoke. King Owain just
glared at the door to the chapel, as if the fire in his eyes could
burn right through it.

A member of the garrison, listening at the
keyhole, straightened and looked to the king. “Lord Cadwaladr won’t
open the door, sire.”

“
Well, he wouldn’t, would
he?” King Owain loosened his sword in its sheath.

Gwen stared at the hilt in his hand,
thinking of violence and retribution. Then, the rear door to the
chapel swung open and Aber’s priest stepped out. “Lord Cadwaladr
asks that Prince Hywel and the maid, Gwen, come inside to speak
with him.”

Gwen didn’t say
really?
out loud, but from
the look in Hywel’s eye, he was thinking it too. King Owain clapped
his hand onto Hywel’s shoulder. “Go. Get him out of there. I don’t
want to waste any more time on him than I already have, and the
last thing I need is more sympathy among my people for my
brother.”

The crowd of people in the courtyard gave
way before Gwen and Hywel. As they reached the steps, Gwen said,
“What did your father mean by that?”

“
Cadwaladr has put on an
air of humbleness like a cloak. Up until yesterday, certain people
had begun to openly say that it’s time for my father to forgive
him.”

Cadwaladr had a charm that attracted others,
Gwen would give him that. She didn’t see it, herself, but even in
his worst moments, he could convince an audience of his sincerity
and truthfulness.

“
And give him back
Ceredigion?” Gwen said.

“
Thank the Lord, no,” Hywel
said. “Not that, but lands in Arfon, perhaps? Or further estates on
Anglesey?”

Gareth’s lands were on Anglesey. Gwen had
yet to see his manor, but she hoped it was as far away from
Cadwaladr’s lands as it was possible to live and still be on the
island.

Hywel read her thoughts. “Never fear, Gwen.
Gareth’s lands are far to the east of Aberffraw.”

The priest touched her arm and Gwen let out
a breath. “Are you ready?” he said.

“
Did Prince Cadwaladr say
why he wanted to speak to us?” Hywel said.

“
No, my lord,” the priest
said.

Hywel dismissed him and waited until he’d
crossed the courtyard to King Owain before putting a hand to the
latch. He tugged and the door swung outward. “My uncle has never
been known for careful planning. This is an impulsive act, like
most of what he does. Let’s talk to him and see what he says. We
withhold judgment until then.”

Gwen had never entered the chapel through
this door. She looked around with interest at the narrow vestibule,
lined on both sides with hooks for robes and cloaks. An archway led
to another closet-like room in which the priest kept the holy
relics. King Owain retained the royal crown in the treasury, in the
room adjacent to his suite, but he’d placed the piece of the true
cross here, locked in a carved chest. During services, the priest
might place the chest on the altar, although he never opened the
box, at least not to Gwen’s knowledge.

Hywel crossed himself as he passed the table
on which the chest lay and then peered into the darkened interior
of the chapel. Had it been a bright day, the sun would have shone
through the upper window onto the altar. As it was, candles lit the
altar, but the light penetrated only a few yards into the chapel.
Beyond, Cadwaladr crouched before the door at the front of the
church.

“
I did not try to kill you,
Owain. I promise you.”

Muffled sounds came from the other side of
the door. Gwen couldn’t hear Owain’s response, but Cadwaladr
replied, “You were about to make a mistake. Another man did this.
You have to find him. I won’t come out until you do.”

Hywel stepped into the nave. “You may have a
long wait, Uncle.”

Cadwaladr swung around. “So you came?
Where’s the priest?”

“
He remained
outside.”

“
I must make sure of that.”
Cadwaladr strode towards the back of the chapel, brushed past Hywel
and Gwen, and pushed through the curtain that separated the altar
from the vestry. Hywel, after a quick, unspeaking exchange with
Gwen, walked down the aisle to the front door.

Before he reached it, however, Cadwaladr
returned with drawn sword which he pointed at Hywel. “What are you
doing?”

“
I’m going to talk to my
father. I won’t open the door.”

“
Get away from
there!”

Hywel stepped back into the nave, his hands
raised. “All right. No need to get angry.”

“
My brother must listen to
me!”

“
You aren’t exactly helping
your plea by pointing that at me.” Hywel dropped his arms and stood
relaxed, his hands at his side. He didn’t believe Cadwaladr would
run him through. After a moment’s reflection, Gwen didn’t either.
Cadwaladr was putting on a play, for their benefit, to prove he was
serious.

“
Put away your sword,
Uncle.”

Even though Cadwaladr didn’t obey, Gwen
decided to ignore his faked aggression. She plopped herself into
the priest’s chair, set against the wall by the archway. “We are
here at your request, my lord. Why don’t you tell us your side of
the story. We can’t help you until we hear it.”

Cadwaladr gazed at her, his eyes wary. He
didn’t sheath his sword, but he gestured with it that Hywel should
sit near Gwen. Hywel tugged at one of the few benches along the
wall and moved it closer to Gwen’s chair. “Make it quick,” he said.
“My father has no more patience.”

Cadwaladr lifted his chin. “I will speak to
the young lady, with whom I have an understanding.” He turned to
Gwen.

Gwen coughed a laugh. “You do?”

“
When you came with me to
Aberffraw, I didn’t harm you and never had any intention of
bringing harm to you,” Cadwaladr said. “You know that.”

Gwen gazed at him, stunned that he would
bring this up. His conceit and arrogance knew no bounds. He
probably thought that he could wheedle his way into heaven when the
time came. “I will not discuss last summer with you,” she said. “I
don’t want to hear your excuses or what story you now tell yourself
about it. Tell me why you’ve locked yourself in here.”

Her refusal appeared to have no effect on
Cadwaladr. His chin was up and his eyes flashed. “I didn’t conspire
to murder my brother.” He gazed at her unblinking as he said these
words.

Hywel peered at him. “The hard thing, Uncle,
is that either what you say is true, or you’ve convinced yourself
so thoroughly that it’s true, that you don’t look like you’re
lying. You’ve lied so often now, we can’t tell the difference.”

Cadwaladr’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want my
brother dead! Not by my hand or anyone else’s. And this boy—I have
never seen him before.”

Gareth would find out if that was true.
Cadwaladr couldn’t prove it one way or the other from where they
sat. “Talk to me of Enid,” Gwen said.

Cadwaladr snorted. “Enid. Prettiest girl
you’d ever want to meet. As vacant and placid as a cow.”

“
How well did you know
her?” Gwen said.

Now Cadwaladr’s lips
twitched. “For a maid, you are remarkably forward. I didn’t
know
her at all, if that’s
what you’re asking. I am faithful to my wife.”

Which might even be true. From what Gwen
could tell, it was the only reason Alice put up with him. That and
the two beautiful sons he’d given her.

“
I’ve heard you were one of
the men who was to stand guard outside your brother’s room that
night,” Gwen said. “What happened to you?”

“
An ill son and an infant
is what happened,” Cadwaladr said.

Gwen nodded. “You were gone from the room
longer than it took to find a servant to help Alice.” The other
ladies had been all a-flutter this week when they’d discovered that
Alice was nursing her own baby herself.

Cadwaladr blew a whistle under his breath.
“I went to the barracks. And stayed there a while. My son was
puking up! I chose to let the women deal with it.”

“
And when it was time for
your watch?” Gwen said.

“
The other men understood
my difficulties and granted me the morning shift,” Cadwaladr said.
“By the time I came to take my place, the house was in an uproar. I
went back to bed.”