The Unlikely Spy (31 page)

“He was a spy!” Madlen threw out the words
in a sudden burst of anger that was much more like the Madlen
they’d been dealing with up until now. “Is that what you wanted me
to say?”

“For whom did he spy?” Hywel said.

Madlen’s shoulders hunched, and even after
all this, Gareth thought she wasn’t going to speak, but then she
said, “King Cadell of Deheubarth.”

“Let’s talk about the cross,” Hywel said,
“the one you claim is etched with your grandparents’ initials. That
isn’t the case, is it?”

“No.” Madlen remained slumped. Gareth almost
preferred her defiant because at least then she wasn’t looking at
the floor.

“And Gryff?” Hywel said. “What was his
role?”

“He carried messages for my uncle,” Madlen
said. “People were used to seeing him and ignoring him.”

“Like you did?” Rhun said.

Hywel shot his brother a quelling look. Rhun
nodded his understanding. It was better not to antagonize Madlen
now that she was talking. But Gwen either didn’t see the look or
had a different agenda. She leaned forward. “You didn’t love Gryff,
did you? That too was a lie.”

Madlen jerked her head to the left to look
at Gwen. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Talk us through what happened at the chapel
when you claimed to be his wife,” Gwen said.

Madlen seemed to prefer hearing the
questions from Gwen, because she answered readily enough. “It
seemed to be the easiest way to gain access to the body. We’d only
just discovered the cross was missing, and my uncle was sure that
Gryff had taken it.”

“Why would Gryff have done that?” Gareth
said in a gentle voice.

“Uncle Iolo thought he might have been
thinking of going to you.” Madlen looked directly at Hywel and then
returned her eyes to the floor. “We thought we still had time,
because no soldiers had confronted us. We didn’t know where he’d
put it, so one of us needed to get his purse before anyone opened
it and found the cross on him.”

“But you didn’t tell your uncle what you’d
planned until you’d already done it, did you?” Gwen said. “He was
genuinely surprised when Gareth and Prince Rhun mentioned that you
were married.”

“I went to the monastery hoping to see Gryff
and ended up needing to improvise,” Madlen said. “It should have
been easy.”

“But it wasn’t easy because Gryff had been
murdered, which I gather your uncle didn’t tell you before you
went,” Gwen said. “In truth, Iolo should have checked Gryff’s purse
before he put him in the millpond. It was stupid of him not
to.”

“My uncle didn’t murder Gryff! He drowned.
We had nothing to do with it!”

Gwen pressed her lips together in a quick
smile. She’d goaded Madlen on purpose by calling her uncle stupid.
Iolo had prided himself on his intelligence and his ability to live
a secret life. Still, with her uncle dead, it would have been
convenient for Madlen to blame him for Gryff’s murder.

Madlen calmed herself. “We didn’t realize
the cross was missing until after he was dead, and it was too
late.”

“What is the significance of the cross?”
Hywel said, bringing Madlen’s attention back to himself. “The ‘C’
and ‘G’ stand for—”

Madlen sneered. “Cadell ap Gruffydd. I can’t
believe you didn’t figure that out for yourselves. You should have
known it the first moment you laid eyes on it. No peasant like
Gryff could have afforded it.”

Which was why Carys thought Gryff had stolen
it—though Gareth didn’t say that.

Hywel rested his elbow on the arm of his
chair and tapped a finger to his lips, studying Madlen. “What would
have been the plan for dealing with Gryff if not to kill him?”

“I don’t know,” Madlen said. “Gryff didn’t
show up at the stall, and then my uncle discovered the cross was
missing and feared the worst. And then we learned that a body had
been found in the millpond.”

“And you assumed it was Gryff?” Gareth
said.

“He was missing, wasn’t he?” Madlen
said.

Gareth pursed his lips. She had a point. The
miller had expressed the same concern to Prince Rhun when he’d
learned of the body, and he’d been relieved to learn it wasn’t his
missing apprentice.

“What about Erik?” Gwen spoke again from her
seat to Madlen’s left. “Where does he come into it?”

And to Gareth’s astonishment, Madlen flushed
pink.

Gwen saw it too and pounced. “He was your
lover, wasn’t he? Since you obviously didn’t go to Borth as your
uncle told us last night, was your uncle covering for you when we
questioned him?”

Madlen pouted and didn’t answer.

“You do realize that you were seen trying to
murder Erik,” Gareth said. “You really should be talking.”

Gwen made to speak again, but Hywel held up
his hand, telling her to wait. Most people were incapable of
maintaining silence. It was the natural instinct to fill it.

Madlen was no exception, and eventually she
broke. She ducked her head in a nod. “That’s why he ran from
you.”

Understanding came to Gareth. “You were at
the market last night, weren’t you?”

Madlen’s expression turned wretched. “My
uncle was trying to distract you from Erik and me. He had grown
afraid that you knew about his contact with Erik, since you had
seen them together at our stall.”

“At the time I couldn’t understand why he
ran,” Gwen said. “We weren’t that close to finding out the
truth.”

Gareth pictured the scene in his mind’s eye.
“Where were you?”

Madlen sighed. “Hidden between the stalls
behind you. He’d just told you that I was distraught over Gryff’s
death. It would hardly have done for you to have turned around and
seen me arm-in-arm with Erik.

“Tell me about my uncle’s signet ring,”
Hywel said.

Up until now, Madlen had been alternately
defiant and morose, but for the first time she looked genuinely
fearful. “You know about that?”

“Was that why Iolo took Gryff’s rucksack?”
Rhun said. “Because he hoped he’d find the ring hidden in it?”

Madlen wrapped her arms around her middle
and bent over. “Prince Cadwaladr passed it to my uncle to show King
Cadell, as proof that his words came from him. When my uncle
discovered it missing too, along with the cross, I thought his
heart would give out.”

Again it was Gwen who seemed to understand
her best. “You know the history between Cadwaladr and Cadell, don’t
you? And Cadwaladr and Prince Hywel?”

Madlen gave a jerky nod.

Gwen continued, “It was one thing to spy for
Cadell, but quite another to play a role in unseating the Lord of
Ceredigion. That your uncle had both the ring and the cross proves
that Cadwaladr and Cadell conspired together.”

Madlen burst into tears. “I never meant any
of this to happen! I’ve lost everything! What’s going to happen to
me now?”

Gareth looked down at his feet so Madlen
couldn’t see his irritation. He shouldn’t have been surprised that
despite everything that had happened Madlen’s greatest concern was
for herself.

Gwen leaned forward and spoke gently. “All
this time, you didn’t know that your uncle had anything to do with
Gryff’s death, did you?”

Madlen shook her head.

“Or Erik either?” Gwen said. “He confessed
to subduing the guards around your uncle’s tent. Do you still think
the same of him?”

Madlen’s head remained down and silent tears
dripped onto her lap. She was beyond sobbing now, beyond subterfuge
and equivocation. “I loved him.” Madlen’s words appeared to be only
for Gwen, the only other woman in the room. “He said he loved me
too.”

Every man held his breath as Gwen said, “And
yet you tried to kill him. Do you still believe he murdered your
uncle?”

Madlen’s heartbreak was almost tangible, a
physical thing in the room. Both Erik and Iolo had used her and
lied to her, though her uncle had tried to protect her in the
end.

Madlen nodded and shook her head at the same
time. “I do.”

Hywel

I
t was one thing to
arrest the underlings who’d perpetrated the crime, but it was quite
another matter to corner their master. At this point Hywel had
little interest in what King Cadell had or had not done, though he
knew he should. It was Cadwaladr he cared about. Cadell might be
standing on Hywel’s doorstep, but Cadwaladr lived in the heart of
Gwynedd and still had their father’s ear.

“We need to trap him,” Hywel said.

“Does Cadwaladr know that we’ve captured
Erik?” Rhun said.

“I don’t know.” Hywel looked out the window,
unable to hide his impatience. He was torn in two. Today’s musical
events were well underway. He needed to be out there, not dealing
with this investigation, no matter how important.

“Leave it to me,” Rhun said. “Whatever
happens after this, Gryff’s murderer is either dead or in custody.
We have more to unravel here, but you have people to see to.”

Relief crossed Hywel’s face. “Don’t kill our
uncle without me there.”

Rhun laughed, but even as he did so, he had
to know that Hywel was only half-jesting. “I won’t. We need to
question Erik again. We need to make him talk.”

Hywel sighed. “We could let him go. See what
he does.”

“What?” Gareth spoke up from the corner
where he’d propped himself against the wall, unfolding his arms
from his chest and straightening. “No.”

“Without more information, we’re as stuck as
we were before,” Hywel said. “We can’t place him at the scene of
Gryff’s murder, and it’s Iolo whose knife is suspect. Although Iolo
is dead, all we have to hold Erik on are questions about his fight
with Madlen, who herself admits that she attacked him, and two
guardsmen who remember nothing. Hardly something we can hang him
for.”

“I don’t like it,” Rhun said.

“I don’t either,” Gareth said.

“I’m not saying I
like
it,” Hywel
said. “We can let him believe Cadwaladr used his influence to get
him free, and that we reluctantly agreed.”

“And then we follow him.” Rhun nodded.

“It’s risky,” Gareth said. “We could very
easily lose him.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Hywel said.

All three men looked at the floor, not
speaking. Hywel’s frustration was almost unbearable. Then a knock
broke the silence. Gareth went to the door and opened it. Morgan,
Hywel’s steward, stood on the threshold. “Sir Gareth, there’s some
people here to see you.”

Gareth’s brow furrowed. “To see me?”

“Yes,” Morgan said. “Your lady wife is with
them in the hall.”

Gareth looked over at Prince Hywel, who
waved a hand at him. “We all have matters to see to.”

Gareth went.

“Have you spoken to Father about Angharad?”
Hywel said.

“No,” Rhun said. “With all that has
happened, there hasn’t been time. I need a moment to decide what to
say, and then I planned to seek him out.”

“Good,” Hywel said.

“The music awaits you,” Rhun said.

Hywel left his brother staring out the
window and followed after Gareth, though he took the rear exit
rather than going through the hall. He found Morgan back in the
kitchen, talking to the head cook about the preparations for the
next meal. Even if the majority of guests would be eating at the
festival grounds, dozens remained in the castle and needed to be
fed.

Hywel waited for them to finish and then
said, “Everything all right?”

“We may spend the winter at half-rations,
but supplies are holding,” Morgan said. “We may even survive the
day.”

Hywel managed a laugh and clapped his
steward on the shoulder. “Let’s hope so.”

“It’ll be easier now that King Cadell and
Prince Cadwaladr have gone,” Morgan said.

Hywel froze, his hand still on the steward’s
shoulder. “What did you say?”

Morgan looked at him warily. “Didn’t you
know?”

“I hadn’t heard.” Hywel spared a thought for
Rhun, who even now was preparing to ask Cadell for Angharad’s hand.
“When was this?”

“King Cadell broke camp within this hour,”
Morgan said. “Your uncle left while it was still dark.”

Hywel didn’t know what would become of his
brother’s betrothal now, though he would hold out hope for the
best. This was a matter Rhun would have to take up with their
father.

Morgan bowed. “I apologize, my lord. I
should have brought the word to you immediately, but you were in
conference—”

Hywel motioned with one hand. “It’s nothing.
They’re gone.”

Morgan picked at his lower lip with two
fingers, obviously still concerned about his failure.

“So they didn’t leave together?” Hywel
said.

“No, my lord. They didn’t,” Morgan said.
“The scouts were clear on that.”

That would be the good news. It was bad
enough that his uncle was nearly impossible to pin down. Whatever
Hywel had expected to happen today, it wasn’t this. He paused for a
moment, wondering if he ought to feel snubbed, or if their sudden
and joint absence boded ill for the festival or his rule. One
hundred cavalry could wreak havoc on any domain, but they weren’t a
true army.

Leaving Morgan to his work, Hywel entered
the courtyard of the castle. Evan spied him immediately and
hastened to greet him, accompanied by two other men, one of whom
was Cadwaladr’s man from years back. Hywel didn’t know the man on
Evan’s left.

“My lord.” Evan bowed. “I believe you know
Sir Aedden. He brings Lord Cadwaladr’s apologies for his sudden
departure, but the prince had an urgent matter to attend to
elsewhere.”

That was surely the vaguest excuse Hywel had
ever heard, but he took it politely enough. Then the second man
stepped forward.

“I am Ralff, cousin to King Cadell, and I
bring his apologies as well. He has received word that his uncle is
marshalling his forces near Llanstephen in a possible attempt to
retake the fortress. My cousin could not wait to make his excuses
in person.”