The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

that led across the high, windswept moors of Gwynedd from Caerhun to Aber. The standing stones of Bwlch y Ddeufaen stood stark in the moonlight, looming over them eight feet high on either side of the road that wended among the hills. Those stones had guarded the pass from all comers since before the Romans came. At least the fine weather continued, and they weren’t forced to ride these ten miles in the rain.
    “What did my father say about me traveling with you?” Gwen said.
    “This and that,” Gareth said, having no intention of sharing anything about that conversation.
    At first, all Gareth had done when he’d encountered Meilyr standing with his hands on his hips, blocking Gareth’s retreat from the dining hall, was hand him the few coins Madog had set aside for Gwen. Gareth hoped she’d accept them later, even if they made her uncomfortable now. Although he didn’t like Meilyr, the man was neither a wastrel nor a miser. He would save them for Gwen.
    “Fine time for you to appear,” Meilyr had said. “You mind telling me what you’ve been up to all these years before I allow my daughter to go off with you?”
    Gareth could read nothing in Meilyr’s face but his usual suspicion, so he ventured to reply. “You heard I was a mercenary?” Gareth asked the question even though he already knew the answer from his earlier conversation with Gwen.
    Meilyr gave him a short nod.
    “Those days are past,” Gareth said.
    “Landed on your feet, then?” Meilyr’s voice remained casual, denying the intensity of his expression.
    Gareth warred with himself as to whether or not to tell Meilyr the truth. If Meilyr was going to give his approval, Gareth preferred he gave it to him because he trusted him, instead of being blinded by an obsession with rank. Still, if he was to have any chance with Gwen, it was better if Meilyr heard it from him.
    “I am a knight.”
    Meilyr grunted. “Are you now?”
    “I understood it to be the requirement,” Gareth said.
    “Left it a bit late.”
    “Is she betrothed?” Gareth’s gut roiled. Gwen hadn’t said as much to him but she might not, given how awkward that conversation could become.
    Meilyr laughed, but the sound came out more sour than humorous. “Could have been. Just last month I had someone asking for her. Wasn’t thinking of you, of course, but I couldn’t let her go to just anyone, especially not a spoiled child-man like him.”
    Gareth’s heart settled a bit. He still had time. “With your permission, I’d like to speak of this further. For now, I’m afraid I’ve work to do.” He gestured towards the stables where Braith waited. “Aber isn’t getting any closer and King Owain won’t like to have been kept waiting.”
    “Owain Gwynedd doesn’t like anything that he doesn’t control or foresee,” Meilyr said. “How did you end up under his wing?”
    “I’m not under his, but Hywel’s,” Gareth said.
    Meilyr grunted again, acknowledging the difference.
    “Though it was King Owain’s eldest son, Rhun, who knighted me, and that raised my standing in the King’s eyes,” Gareth said.
    “King Owain knows of your troubled history with his brother, Cadwaladr?”
    “He knows,” Gareth said.
    For the second time that day, he’d had a civil conversation with Meilyr. With that, Gareth hadn’t wanted to tempt his luck any further, not after the traumatic events of the day, and retreated to the stables.
    “What did your father say to you?” Gareth said. “When you demanded to come with me , that is.” He smiled because he had no doubt that’s exactly what Gwen had done.
    Gwen didn’t rise to the bait. “He accepted it, and since the kitchens at Caerhun would be there to prepare his breakfast in the morning, he could dispense with me. He didn’t want to give me his horse, necessarily, but in the end he gave way. What payment did you promise Madog to get him to loan my father a better one?”
    “Gwen—”
    “Don’t try to deny it. I know how these things work.” Gwen matched him smile for smile, as if to indicate that she was comfortable with these kinds of machinations and her own perceived value. He wasn’t fooled.
    “Your father loves you,” he said.
    “Does he?” Gwen said. “Fathers are supposed to love their daughters, but … Would he miss me if he awoke one morning and I was gone forever?”
    “He loves you enough not to give you to just anyone,” Gareth said, and then bit his tongue because of what that statement