The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

She looked a little ill herself. “Regardless, this moves Cadell to the top of our list,” he said. “He stands to gain the most from Anarawd’s death.”
    “And he’s smarmy,” Gwen said. “The way he spoke to Hywel…”
    Footsteps sounded in the passage outside Gareth’s cell, and the man himself reappeared. “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Hywel said, his eyes alight as he took in the sight of Gwen cradling Gareth.
    “Did you speak with King Owain?” Gareth pushed up from Gwen’s lap. He struggled into a sitting position and came to rest with his back against the wall beside her.
    “I did. He grants that you are unlikely to have poisoned yourself. With reluctance, he is setting you free for the time being within the confines of the castle.”
    Gareth leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m delighted to hear it,” he said, but didn’t move. He opened his eyes far enough to catch the glance Gwen and Hywel shared.
    “It’s a start,” Gwen said. “Was anyone else there when you spoke to your father?”
    “Taran and Cristina,” Hywel said.
    Gwen wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Now everybody will know.”
    “They would have anyway, the moment Gareth appeared in the hall.” Hywel braced his shoulder against the frame of the door. “While we wait for this dashing fellow to recover, why don’t you give me news of your travels, Gwen. It’s been months since I’ve seen you.”
    “Someone tried to marry her, you know,” Gareth said before Gwen could say anything.
    Gwen stuttered and shoved Gareth’s shoulder. “Not that kind of news.”
    “You turned him down?” Hywel said.
    “My father did,” Gwen said.
    Hywel smirked. “Families are complicated, aren’t they?”
    Gareth looked away and found Gwen watching him, amusement and the words they certainly are in her eyes.

Chapter Eleven

    “ G et up! Get up!” The words hissed in Gwen’s ear.
    She sat up with a start, thinking that her unsettled dreams had become reality. This most recent one had been full of fighting men, their swords swinging wildly in her direction. Gwen calmed as Gareth settled on the edge of her pallet and put a hand to her arm to hush her so she wouldn’t wake the woman next to them. A dozen ladies, many of whom had come for the cancelled wedding and would go home disappointed, slept around her on the floor. Cristina, King Owain’s assumed intended, occupied the only bed.
    “Anarawd’s body has disappeared.”
    Gwen swallowed hard as she gazed at Gareth, finding it difficult to marshal a reasonable reply. “Will it never end? This gets more complicated by the hour.”
    Gwen pushed at Gareth to move him out of her way so she could gather her things and get out of the room. With her dress under her arm and her boots in her other hand, she followed him into the corridor. Looking left and right for stray observers, she relaxed against the wall and tipped her head back to gaze at the ceiling.
    “Come on,” Gareth said when she didn’t instantly spring into action.
    “This is just too much.” Gwen slipped the dress over her head, covering her undyed shift. “It ties in the back.” She turned to face the wall. “Can you fix it for me?”
    To his credit, Gareth didn’t hesitate; far more expertly than Gwen would have thought him capable, he laced her dress up the back. “I never got a chance to examine the body, you see,” Gareth said.
    After Gareth had felt well enough to stand, the three of them had gone to the great hall and found a spot in the corner for him to rest. Over the course of the evening, Gareth had recovered more fully, until he’d been able to consume a piece of fresh bread and a hunk of cheese. He’d refused the mead, however, for which Gwen couldn’t blame him. But still, much to his disgust, she’d insisted on tasting everything he’d been offered to eat or drink before she’d let him have it.
    Gwen turned to face him. “You don’t think the job Hywel and I did was adequate? We did what we could.” That last bit came out defensive and Gwen wished she could take it back.
    Gareth shook his head, seeming to understand. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or respect your abilities, it’s just …” He paused as he thought. “Hywel spoke to me of the ragged edge in Anarawd’s wound. You showed it to him?”
    “Yes,” Gwen said.
    Gareth nodded. “Do you remember when you came upon me at that first ambush site?”
    “Of course,” Gwen said, “how