The Unlikely Spy (26 page)

“I think it’s time we asked him,” Gareth
said.

They turned the corner and spied the
merchant backing out of his stall with his arms full of fabric.
Gareth was upon him in two strides, catching Iolo by the back of
his collar. “There you are.”

“My lord! My lord! I have done nothing!”

“You’re doing something now,” Gareth
said.

Iolo set the cloth on the table upon which
his wares were displayed during the day, and then Gareth turned him
around to face him, his fists catching the lapels of Iolo’s
coat.

“Why did you lie to me?” Gareth said.

“I didn’t! I didn’t! What did I lie
about?”

“See, now this is the problem.” Gareth
unclenched his fists, straightening Iolo’s collar and jacket with a
few swipes of his hands across the man’s shoulders. “You’re lying
to me again. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I—”

Gareth cut him off with a glare. “I spoke
today to Pawl, the inn keeper, which I suspect you already knew, or
else you wouldn’t be trying to leave in such a hurry.”

Gwen couldn’t tell in the torchlight if
Iolo’s face paled, but his mouth turned down at the same time that
his hands started working together in front of him. “Why should I
care if you spoke to Pawl?”

Gwen couldn’t believe that Iolo was still
trying to brazen out his deceit.

Gareth tsked through his teeth. “Pawl says
that he met Carys on the day Gryff died. Gryff introduced her as
his wife and at no time would Pawl have said that Gryff and Madlen
were married. You lied to me. Worse, you lied to Prince Rhun and
indirectly to Prince Hywel. Tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you
right now for obstructing my investigation into Gryff’s death?”

Iolo stuttered a reply that was hardly more
than gibberish, and then managed to say, “I’m sorry, my lord. You
have my deepest apologies. It was not I who lied, or at least not
at first. And it certainly wasn’t my idea.”

“Explain,” Gareth said.

The merchant looked down at his toes as if
he might find an answer to his difficulties there. Either that or
he intended to lie again and was afraid to look Gareth in the eyes
when he did it. Gwen stepped closer, hoping that by watching him
carefully, she would be able to tell the difference.

Gareth sensed her presence and put out a
hand to keep her back. He looked ready for anything, balancing
evenly on his feet with his hands loose at his sides.

With a sigh, Iolo scrubbed at his short
black hair with both hands, rubbed at his slightly protruding
belly, and hitched up his breeches. He was stalling, but eventually
he lifted his head and looked directly into Gareth’s face. “It was
all Madlen’s idea. I didn’t even know she had told you she was
Gryff’s wife until you came to the booth to question us.”

And then he sprang sideways to race away
into the darkness.

Gareth

C
ursing, Gareth ran
after Iolo.

The merchant had something of a belly, but
he was fueled by fear and the knowledge that whatever Madlen had or
had not done, he would be blamed.

And rightfully so.

Madlen had lied about her relationship with
Gryff, but Iolo had supported her lie. And the moment he was
caught, he betrayed her to save himself. Gareth’s respect for
Iolo—never high to begin with—had fallen through the floor.

Gareth thought back to when he and Rhun had
questioned Iolo the first time at his booth on the day Gryff had
died. When Gareth had relayed the news of Gryff’s death and asked
to speak to Madlen as his wife, Iolo had given him a blank stare.
Despite the fact that Gareth was currently leaping over lines and
weaving between tents chasing after the man, he believed Iolo may
actually have been telling the truth when he pointed to that moment
as his first indication of Madlen’s lie. The question now—or one of
them—was why Madlen had lied. The more pressing issue was why Iolo
had chosen this moment to run.

The merchant puffed ahead of Gareth, heading
for the exit to the market grounds, but Gareth’s long legs carried
him at speed down the aisles after him. Twenty paces from where
Goch stood guard, Gareth threw himself forward, grasped Iolo around
the shoulders, and brought him to the ground.

When they hit the grass, both men
whuffed
as the air left their lungs. Gareth was fitter and
stronger, however, and Iolo, who was pinned to the ground beneath
him, could do nothing to rise.

“I’m here, my lord.” Goch left his post to
give aid.

Chasing after Tangwen all day kept Gwen fit
enough not to have fallen far behind either.

Gareth raised himself up enough to put his
knee into the small of Iolo’s back. He grabbed each of Iolo’s
wrists, pulling them down and behind him. Gareth accepted a length
of rope from Goch with which to tie Iolo’s hands. “Why did you
run?”

Iolo didn’t answer, so Gareth hauled him to
his feet and handed him to Goch. “Take him to the castle. He can
cool his heels beside Alun for a while until he decides to
talk.”

“What about my stall? My goods—”

“You should have thought of that before you
ran,” Gareth said. “Where’s Madlen?”

“She couldn’t bear to stay,” Iolo said,
suddenly talkative where before he’d hemmed and hawed. Having one’s
hands tied behind one’s back could do that to a man. “Today broke
her heart, working without Gryff, so I sent her to my cousin’s
house. She lives nearby.”

Gwen stepped closer to look into Iolo’s
face. “You did what?”

Even with his hands tied behind his back,
Iolo shrugged, giving off an air of surprising nonchalance, given
his flight of a moment ago. There were too many contradictions
here, and Gareth was having a hard time figuring out which Iolo he
was talking to at any given moment: the affable merchant, the
clever strategist, or the loving uncle.

“Where?” Gareth said.

Iolo’s face went utterly blank, much like it
had during that first interview, and Gareth prepared himself to
hear a lie—or something Iolo didn’t want to tell him. “Uh … she
went to Borth.”

“And what was your plan? You decided to pack
up your stall and leave Aberystwyth?” Gareth said. “You would do
that without selling all your goods?”

Iolo shook his head. “Without Gryff or
Madlen—”

Gareth gave a tsk of disgust. “You’re trying
to tell me that Madlen is so distraught at Gryff’s death that she
had to be sent away, but that doesn’t explain why she lied about
being married to him.”

“She loved him. She wanted to be married to
him.”

“Not according to Pawl, the inn keeper,”
Gareth said.

Iolo made a
what do I know?
motion
with his head and upper body. “That’s what she told me. I can’t
help what other people think.”

“How could Madlen think Gryff’s real wife
wouldn’t find out?” Gwen said.

“As I said earlier, Madlen wasn’t thinking
straight. She loved Gryff, and his death tore her apart,” Iolo
said. “She wanted the respect and sympathy that comes with being a
grieving widow, even if that role wasn’t rightfully hers.”

“Still, she allowed his real widow to
believe that he had betrayed her,” Gwen said. “It seems
extreme.”

Iolo sighed. “I know.”

Gwen, too, was looking at Iolo like she
couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. He’d run rather
than talk, but nothing he was saying now was worth running
over.

“Why did you run?” Gareth asked again.

“I panicked.” Iolo looked down at his feet.
“Gryff is dead. Madlen loved him but he’s dead. Why can’t you let
the man rest in peace?” He kept his head bowed.

Gareth studied him. Maybe it was finally
time to say a little more. “You must understand. Gryff’s death was
not an accident.”

“What?” Iolo’s head came up, and his mouth
dropped open. “Gryff killed himself after all?”

“No.” Gwen had her arms folded across her
chest, and she was gazing at Iolo with an expression akin to
hostility.

“Then what?” Iolo looked from Gwen to
Gareth. The merchant had been doing a great deal of gaping during
their conversation. “Don’t tell me that you suspect foul play?”

When Gareth neither confirmed nor denied it,
Iolo’s jaw dropped further. “Surely not! Gryff was an innocent! Why
would anyone want to harm him?”

Gwen raised one shoulder. “That’s what we
are trying to find out.”

“Why do you think it might be murder?” Iolo
said.

“We have our reasons,” Gareth said. “Thus
I’m sure you can see how it would look if everyone associated with
him departed before we discovered who killed him. The people of
Aberystwyth don’t yet realize they have a murderer in their midst,
but our investigation will begin to attract attention soon. You
wouldn’t want Prince Hywel to arrest the wrong man, would you?”

Iolo swallowed hard, realizing full well
that Gareth meant
him.
“How can you be sure Gryff was
murdered? He was found in the millpond.”

“He was stabbed in the chest.” Gwen was
giving no quarter.

Iolo rocked back on his heels. “You can tell
that even after a day in the water?”

“Yes.” While Gareth hadn’t told any of his
suspects about the stab wound, he agreed with Gwen that right now
was as good a time as any to let the news out. “Such a wound is
usually an indication of murder.”

Iolo looked suitably chastened and bowed his
head again. “I had no idea. I understand your fervor now and
apologize even more profoundly for obstructing your investigation
in any way.”

“I appreciate your apology,” Gareth said,
“but it doesn’t excuse your lies.”

Iolo fell to his knees before Gareth.
“Please, I beg you. I will stay in Aberystwyth. I will help you in
any way I can. Just allow me to return to my stall.”

Gareth rubbed his chin. He had only one cell
at the castle into which he might put criminals, and that cell was
already occupied by Alun. While it might be entertaining to put
Alun and Iolo in together, it wasn’t ideal. “For now, I am
confiscating your horse and cart. I suggest you ask at the
monastery for a local boy who could help you sell your wares
tomorrow. He might not be knowledgeable about cloth, but he could
be an extra hand and give you the ability to leave your stall at
times if you needed to.”

Iolo’s almost collapsed in relief. “Thank
you, my lord. I will do that.”

Gareth gestured to Goch, who began to untie
Iolo’s hands. Gwen’s face was a thundercloud, though she didn’t
openly question Gareth’s decision to let Iolo go.

Iolo rubbed at his wrists, easing the place
where the rope had rubbed.

Gareth turned away and put a gentle hand on
Gwen’s shoulder, leaning in close to whisper into her ear. “Trust
me.” Gwen subsided, and Gareth turned back to Iolo. “I have one
more question. Gryff had very few possessions. We’re looking for
his rucksack. Have you seen it?”

“N-no,” Iolo said. “Not since he died. In
fact, I asked Pawl, the inn keeper, about it the other day. He said
he’d put it away for Gryff’s wife to claim. Has it gone
missing?”

“Yes,” Gareth said.

“Perhaps Carys claimed it,” Iolo said.

“Perhaps,” Gareth said.

Iolo hesitated and then made a swinging
motion with his arm. “Well, I’ll be off then.” He hurried away
without looking back.

Gareth pointed to Goch with his chin. “Find
his horse and have one of the men bring it to the castle stables. I
want his cart watched and if he goes to it, someone must inspect
everything he puts in it or brings out.”

“Yes, my lord.” Goch frowned. “You’re really
letting him go?”

“Of course not,” Gareth said. “We’re going
to watch him closely. Tell the others on duty that I want to know
everything he does, where he goes, and who he talks to. I’ll return
to the castle and arrange for more men. We’ll need three on duty at
any one time.”

Goch put his heels together and bowed. “It
will be done.”

As Goch hurried after Iolo, Gwen took in a
breath and let it out sharply. “You had me fooled too for a
moment.”

“Really, Gwen, would I have let him go, just
like that?” Gareth said.

“No.” She pursed her lips. “Do you think
Iolo believes he’s walking free?”

“Not if he’s as smart as I think he is,”
Gareth said.

“Did you believe anything he told you?” Gwen
said.

“I think we need to reexamine everything
that either Iolo or Madlen has said to us, from the first moment
Madlen appeared at the chapel,” Gareth said. “Iolo appeared
surprised to hear about the stab wound. If he was the murderer,
you’d think he’d have been expecting it.”

“He was surprised that
we
knew about
the stab wound,” Gwen said. “That isn’t the same thing.”

“I bow to your superior observational
skills.” Gareth placed his arm around Gwen’s shoulders. They began
walking back towards the festival pavilion.

“Will you go to Borth, then?” Gwen said.

“I’ll send someone to collect Madlen first
thing in the morning,” Gareth said.

“The miller’s apprentice went to Borth,
didn’t he?” Gwen said. “Is that too much of a coincidence?”

Gareth laughed. “With this investigation, I
can’t tell what’s reasonable and what isn’t. For now, I intend to
deliver you back to our daughter, and then I will have a chat with
Alun.”

Gareth

G
areth was slightly
disappointed that Gwen didn’t protest about him leaving her again,
but he wasn’t surprised either. Before their marriage, music had
been her life. Even now, nine times out of ten he would arrive home
to find her soprano voice filling the house or wherever they were
staying. He hoped Tangwen would someday share her gifts, and when
they had a son, God would bless him with even half the voice
Gwalchmai had been given.