Read The Uninvited Guest Online
Authors: Sarah Woodbury
Tags: #female detective, #wales, #middle ages, #cozy mystery, #medieval, #prince of wales, #historical mystery, #british detective, #brother cadfael, #ellis peters
“
I am too, my lord,” she
said.
King Owain nodded, agreeing with Gwen while
at the same time dismissing her from his presence. As Gwalchmai
sang the first notes of another song, one he would sing without
accompaniment, Gwen made her way down the far wall to where her
father sat with his box of instruments. His eyes hadn’t left the
king the whole time Gwen had been speaking to him. Once she stepped
off the dais, he waved at her animatedly. It was rather unlike him,
and thus, not something she could ignore.
“
What did the King want
with you?” he said.
Gwen shrugged. Her first instinct was to
dismiss her father’s question, since the answer was self-evident.
And then she bit her lip. A twelve-year-old would shrug at her
father. A soon-to-be married woman of twenty-one should know
better. She lifted her chin. “King Owain would like me to assist
Gareth in determining whether or not the assassin worked alone, or
was paid by someone else.”
“
You mean by Prince
Cadwaladr.” Meilyr’s eyes went hard and flinty, more gray than blue
in his intensity. “Don’t you go getting yourself mixed up in
something dangerous again. I’ve never been so worried in my life as
when Cadwaladr took you to Dublin.”
“
I will be careful,
Father,” Gwen said, “but I’m already mixed up in this.” Despite her
surprise that he’d taken the time to express his concern to her,
she was touched by it too. “The youth stood next to me before he
attacked King Owain. I was the first to see the knife. Besides,
Gareth can’t solve this crime all by himself. Prince Hywel needs me
to inquire where Gareth can’t.”
“
He’ll put you in the thick
of it, you mean?” Meilyr said. “You’ll go nosing about among the
ladies and the servants?”
“
Yes,” Gwen
said.
Meilyr harrumphed to himself. “I suppose
that’s no more or less than you usually do, barring that trip to
Dublin, of course. Just as long as that knight of yours doesn’t
find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time again.”
Gwen leaned in, her heart
thumping. “Nobody could possibly think that Gareth had anything to
do with this. He
saved
the King!” It was from her father that she’d learned to watch
people without seeming to, to blend unnoticed into a crowd, and to
listen. He’d taught her these skills for his own preservation,
never thinking she’d use them to serve Prince Hywel and the King of
Gwynedd himself. Had he heard something already that would affect
Gareth?
“
No one is saying any such
thing.” Meilyr patted Gwen’s hand, actually smiling. “I meant that
if Gareth continues to impress King Owain as he has, he will accept
him into his
teulu
.
What a promotion that would be!”
Gwen didn’t know how to
respond to that. If Gareth served King Owain directly, and Gwen
married Gareth, then
she and Gareth would
stay at Aber Castle.
Did her father really
want that? Thinking of Meilyr as a person, with thoughts and
feelings and trials of his own, as he’d expressed more and more
over the last few months, confused her. It had been easier when she
felt free to despise her father, to want nothing more than never to
see him again.
She tried not to let her thoughts cross her
face, but when she didn’t answer him, her father gave an
embarrassed laugh and patted her hand again. “Let’s sing.”
Gwen trailed to the front of the hall after
her father, obeying him as she usually did but in no mood to sing.
Gwalchmai was young enough that the threat to the king wouldn’t be
at the forefront of his mind longer than an hour, but it was all
Gwen could think about.
Fortunately, the song her
father chose for her and Gwalchmai was one she could perform in her
sleep. As their intertwined sopranos filled the hall, she studied
the onlookers’ faces.
Which one of you paid
the youth to murder the king?
Was it
Cadwaladr as she couldn’t help suspecting? Or did they have yet
another traitor in their midst?
Near the end of her brief solo, Hywel,
Gareth, and Taran stepped through the doorway that led from Hywel’s
office. They made their way to the dais and consulted with the
king. Gwen wished the song was over, so she could be with them and
know what they were saying, but she held her note and smiled, and
pretended all was well, as King Owain wanted. After a moment, the
three men bowed and turned away. Gareth lifted a hand to Gwen as he
waited beside Hywel for the song to finish, but Taran disappeared
into the far corridor. It was almost as if he’d fled.
Hywel, a poet himself, tapped his foot in
time to the beat of Meilyr’s drum, but it was an impatient tapping.
The moment Gwen sang her last note, he held up one finger—much as
his father had—and pointed at the front door of the hall. Gwen went
gladly, with hardly a glance at her father, who scowled but didn’t
stop her. She wended her way to where Hywel waited, and once she
reached him and Gareth, Hywel urged them both outside into the
cold. He halted only when they reached the shadows beyond the
stairs where nobody could overhear them.
Tension emanated from both men. They hunched
their shoulders, more than was necessary to stave off the cold
night air.
“
What is it?” Gwen said.
“And what was wrong with Taran that he left the hall in such a
hurry?”
“
Our failed assassin
fingered Taran as the man who hired him,” Gareth said.
“
What?” Gwen said. “That’s
ridiculous!”
Hywel made a
maybe
motion with his
head, rocking it from side to side. “I’m inclined to agree, but the
boy was very sure.”
“
He would have to be, of
course, in order to deflect attention from himself,” Gareth said.
“It would wrap this whole problem up nice and tidily to have the
case solved before bedtime.”
Gwen gazed into the middle distance and
shook her head. “It’s far too early to decide one way or another.
What did Taran have to say for himself?”
“
He denied everything, of
course,” Hywel said.
“
The kitchen staff know
nothing,” Gareth said. “The man comported himself well up until the
moment he attacked your father.”
“
Taran himself admits he
hired the man,” Hywel said.
“
Did Taran notice anything
about the boy that could help us discover his origin—did he walk to
Aber or ride? Did he spend time with any of the other
servants?”
Gareth and Hywel glanced at each other and
Hywel snorted in disgust. “We didn’t ask him those questions.”
Gwen laughed. “Let me be the one to talk to
him the next time I see him. He might be less guarded with me.”
“
Taran
was
sweating,” Gareth said.
“Buckets.”
“
I
like
Taran,” Gwen said.
Gareth laughed.
“
Do we have anything else
to go on?” Gwen said. “How can we believe the words spoken by a boy
who tried to kill the King of Gwynedd?”
“
It would be easier if
someone had noticed
something
odd about the boy,” Gareth said.
“
I didn’t,” Gwen said. “I
didn’t even notice his knife—and if I had, what would I have
thought of it? Nothing, probably. Every man, woman, and child in
the hall carries a knife—to eat with if nothing else.”
“
With all the comings and
goings in and out of the kitchen, the guards were more focused on
keeping an eye on the food tasters and the food,” Gareth
said.
Hywel scoffed again. “Aber is a hotbed of
gossip and rumor, but when it comes to something important, those
same gossip-mongers are blind.”
“
We already know how this
goes. He was hired by someone else, who’s hardly going to own to
it. But you know …” Gwen hesitated as she thought some more.
“Remember what happened to Gareth last time? Should we fear more
for the life of the boy in that cell at this moment than for anyone
at Aber, including the king?”
“
I have him well
protected,” Hywel said. “I hope.”
“
I assume you told the king
what the boy said?” Gwen said. “That’s why Taran ran off so
quickly.”
“
Taran has sworn to remain
within the confines of the castle until we can absolve him of any
wrong doing,” Gareth said. “And as a small consolation, that is no
different than what King Owain has asked of everyone. Nobody is to
enter or leave without permission. Not until we have more
information.”
“
Which we are unlikely to
get as long as our assassin insists that Taran paid him,” Gwen
said. “In addition, you keep calling him ‘the boy’. He hasn’t told
you his name?”
“
He says he doesn’t know
it,” Gareth said.
“
He can accuse Taran but
not remember his own name?” Gwen said. “He’s lying.”
“
At first he said he
couldn’t remember why he’d come to Aber,” Gareth said, “or even
that he was at Aber. But that was before he realized I wasn’t
buying his act.”
“
You put his back to the
wall, Gareth,” Hywel said. “He saw his life flash before his eyes
and knew he had to come up with something to ensure we’d keep him
alive a while longer.”
“
How many other people
heard him accuse Taran?” Gwen said.
“
Alun and Rhys were
standing guard outside the room,” Gareth said. “I spoke to them,
and they
should
keep it a secret, but …”
“
Secrets are hard to keep
at Aber,” Gwen said. “So the real question is
who is he protecting and why
? Surely,
he knows that he will hang as easily for trying to kill the king as
if he’d succeeded. Why not take his master down with
him?”
Gareth folded his arms across his chest.
“Who’s going to say what we’re all thinking?”
“
I would prefer it if
nobody did,” Hywel said. “I benefitted from his downfall. It would
be unwise for me to be even in the same room with him just
now.”
Gwen waved a hand. “You don’t need to worry.
Your father has already brought it up. He asked that if we suspect
Prince Cadwaladr of wrongdoing in this matter, we tell him
immediately and present whatever evidence we have, however flimsy.
He doesn’t want to be surprised this time.”
The door to the hall at the top of the
stairs swung open and a long square of light shone on the
hard-packed earth of the courtyard. Prince Rhun and Lord Tomos, the
soon-to-be owner of Nefyn, leaned on each other as they staggered
down the steps arm-in-arm, both having had a bit too much to drink.
It wasn’t every day the king survived a brush with death in his own
hall. That and his wedding tomorrow were something to
celebrate.
Rhun clapped his brother on the shoulder.
“What are you three doing here, hiding in the dark?”
“
Just talking,” Hywel said.
“It’s too hot and noisy in the hall.”
“
Tomos has been giving me
suggestions as to how to make my estate in Penllyn more
profitable.” Rhun’s words slurred at the start of his sentence and
then straightened out. He was trying very hard to articulate
clearly.
Hywel clasped Tomos’ hand. “Perhaps later
you could counsel me on my new holdings in Ceredigion, Tomos.”
“
It would be my pleasure,
my lord.” Tomos bowed grandly to Hywel, and then he and Rhun weaved
their way across the courtyard towards the barracks, arms around
each other’s shoulders, at first humming, and then singing the
chorus of the song Gwen’s family had just sung.
Hywel turned back to Gareth and Gwen, all
business. “We won’t get anything further done tonight, not with the
mead flowing.”
“
There’s one more thing, my
lord,” Gwen said. “I was hoping Taran would mention it to you, but
I see he hasn’t.”
Hywel’s eyes narrowed and his voice was
wary. “What is it?”
“
This isn’t the first … uh
… evening to have gone wrong,” Gwen said. “Nor the first attempt on
your father’s life.”
“
It isn’t?” Gareth
said.
Hywel stared at her, aghast. “When?”
“
One incident occurred just
after you left for Ceredigion, my lord. The king was riding in the
company of his men when an arrow flew from a stand of trees two
hundred yards away and narrowly missed him. I wasn’t there, of
course, but Alun reports that it skimmed the top of the king’s
shoulder before lodging in a tree on the other side of the road.
His men charged into the woods after the archer, but …”
“
But found nothing,” Hywel
said.
Gwen shrugged. “King Owain’s men hunted all
around and found what Alun said was the vantage point from which
the archer had shot. He was up in a tree.”
“
Yet, long gone by the time
the king’s men arrived,” Gareth said. “That is the curse and the
blessing of ruling a country in which the bow is the weapon of
choice for peasants and lords alike.”
“
It could have been a
hunter’s arrow that went astray,” Hywel said.
“
That’s what King Owain
said,” Gwen said.
Hywel sighed. “And the other incidents?”
“
Closer to home but even
less definitive,” Gwen said. “The king slipped on wet tiles upon
entering the bath room. He crashed to the floor and skidded towards
the steps that lead down into the bath itself.”