The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

had thrust a blade into Anarawd’s heart.
    “It looks…” Gwen hesitated, and then tried again. “The wound is different from all the others, isn’t it?” She traced the cut with one finger. “Narrower.”
    “Yes,” Gareth said. “A sword couldn’t have caused it.”
    “A knife, then?”
    “One with a notch in the blade.”
    Gwen looked more closely. “That’s why it didn’t cut cleanly?”
    “Yes.”
    “What do you suppose this means?”
    Gareth tugged down Anarawd’s shirt to cover his ruined torso and straightened. The wind blew through the trees and he listened for unnatural sounds above or beneath it. Rain had fallen in the night and now that the sun had risen high in the sky, light filtered through the leafy trees and the damp earth gave off an oppressive heat. “I couldn’t say. Not yet anyway.” He studied the ground around Anarawd. “What I can tell you is that Anarawd didn’t die where he lies.”
    Gwen got to her feet too, though her head was still bent and her eyes on Anarawd. “How do you know?”
    “By the lack of blood underneath the body and by the dirt and scuff marks on his toes,” Gareth said. “Someone dragged Anarawd face down from the place where he was killed.”
    “Why would he drag him face down?”
    “So he didn’t have to look at Anarawd’s expression and dwell on what he’d done?” Gareth said.
    Gwen thought about that. “It would have been easier to drag him by the feet, surely. Much less awkward.”
    “But then the skin on Anarawd’s face or the back of his head, were he face up, would have become marred,” Gareth said. “Anyone who found him would have asked questions.”
    “As it is, the killer didn’t reckon on you.”
    Gareth glanced at her, his expression deliberately unreadable, but it didn’t matter since her face remained downturned. She’d complimented him. He tried not to wonder if he still meant something to her. Then he gestured towards Anarawd’s chest. “From the stains on his shirt, he was standing up when he was stabbed and didn’t bleed out lying on his back.”
    “Can you find where he fell?” Gwen said.
    “Perhaps.” Gareth traced the perimeter of the battle with his eyes. “Anarawd knew his killer. He must have, to have allowed him to get so close.”
    “All of a sudden, the quiet feels menacing, doesn’t it?” Gwen said.
    One of the other men approached Gareth. “The attackers might still be out there, my lord. They might even return.”
    “I know that, Madog. But Anarawd wasn’t just ambushed. He was murdered. I’ll need to examine his body more closely once we reach Aber. Right now, however, I must survey the area and discover whatever I can before the men trample all the evidence.”
    “I’ll come with you,” Gwen said.
    Gareth met Madog’s gaze. His friend gave him a quick nod before moving away, out of earshot. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Gareth’s words trailed off as Gwen moved closer to him.
    “Hywel trusts me,” she said. “I can help you.”
    Gareth glanced to where Gwen’s father stood, his hands on his hips and his mouth in a thin line, staring at them. Gareth saw disapproval in his face, but whether he objected to Gwen’s close proximity to him or to the situation they were in, Gareth didn’t know. “And maybe with the two of us working together, we can get this over with more quickly so that you can get to Aber Castle sooner rather than later?”
    Gwen nodded her head sharply.
    “You’re worried about your father.”
    “We’re all worried about this meeting with Owain Gwynedd,” she said. “King Owain may have invited my father to sing at the wedding, but it was my father who swallowed his pride first and asked for King Owain’s patronage. Now, with Anarawd’s death, King Owain will be very angry. How much harder is that going to make his meeting with my father?”
    “As I recall, it was a mere spat that shouldn’t have solidified into enmity so easily.”
    “You’re right,” she said.
    “Remind me what happened.” The words came out an order, and he thought to backtrack since it wasn’t his place to order her about, but Gwen only shrugged and told him.
    “It was nothing. After King Gruffydd died, Owain Gwynedd didn’t immediately choose my father to continue in his service as court bard. My father was offended.”
    Gareth smirked. “That is an image I have no trouble picturing.”
    Gwen made a rueful face. “So we left. We’ve returned now only