The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

a few swipes of his boot.
    What had Anarawd been doing in the woods? Had he run from the battle as Hywel had surmised? And yet, the wound was to his chest. Gareth returned again and again to the indications that Anarawd had to have known—or at least momentarily trusted—the man who killed him. Otherwise, Anarawd would never have allowed him to get so close.
    Abandoning the quest for answers for now, Gareth headed the last miles north to Dolwyddelan, marveling at the vagaries of fate. Because he hadn’t ridden these miles the other day, he’d failed in his duty to escort Anarawd to his wedding. And yet, because of that same failure, Gareth and Gwen had been thrown together on a joint task that allowed them opportunity to speak and work together as friends. Whatever the cost to Owain Gwynedd, Gareth couldn’t feel sorry for that.
    DolwyddelanCastle sat on a rocky knoll, guarding a mountain pass through the Vale of Conwy, one of the greenest and windiest regions of Wales. Dolwyddelan was primitive compared to Aber, but nonetheless, Gareth liked it. He’d first encountered Hywel here and it was here that Hywel had offered him a second chance at honor.
    At the time, Gareth hadn’t dared travel all the way to Aber to meet the prince, fearing that his reputation had preceded him. It had, but that hadn’t been a hindrance in Hywel’s eyes. Although he’d never mentioned it directly, Hywel had hinted that they were two of a kind. His father delegated his more unsavory tasks to Hywel, but not all of them could be done alone. Which is where Gareth came in.
    The heavy wooden gate was open when Gareth reached the earth and timber wall that surrounded the castle. The guard waved him through.
    “Sir Gareth!” A familiar figure trotted down the steps to the keep and across the courtyard to where Gareth waited.
    “Gruffydd, my friend,” Gareth said, dismounting. “It’s a pleasure to see you—a delayed one, I might add.”
    “We heard what happened to King Anarawd.” Gruffydd shook Gareth’s hand. “I know you have much to preoccupy you in your service to Prince Hywel, but I’m glad you’re here. We’ve just found a body.”

Chapter Seventeen

    “ Y ou’re doing it again, Gwen!” Gwalchmai strode up to Gwen, his chin jutting out and his expression fierce.
    “Doing what?” Gwen sniffed at the mint in her basket, half-listening to him. She’d come to the garden to be alone, but Gwalchmai didn’t seem to understand the concept. She couldn’t pinpoint the source of his outgoing personality, not even in her temperamental father, from whom he’d gotten his voice. Their mother had been a shy mouse, overwhelmed by Meilyr and hardly ever opening her mouth in company, for all that she loved her children and husband.
    “Protecting me,” Gwalchmai said. “I’ll be twelve soon and in two years I’ll be a man.”
    “I know that, Gwalchmai.” Gwen lowered her basket and turned to look at him. “I know you don’t need me.”
    Gwalchmai softened. “I don’t mean that. But I’m not six years old anymore. I can take care of myself.”
    Gwen gazed at him. Gwalchmai had no idea how she held herself back, telling herself it would be to his disadvantage if she continued to mother him as she always had. His future as a bard was clear; hers was much less so. She could continue to travel with them, to cook and clean and nag them, but … did she want that for the rest of her life? By Gwen’s age, every other woman she knew was married. Except for Cristina, who’d somehow managed to stave off all other suitors until King Owain noticed her. It looked to Gwen as if she thought him well worth the wait.
    “Have I said you can’t?” she said. “I’ve hardly seen you for days.”
    “And that’s exactly the problem,” Gwalchmai said.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about you,” Gwalchmai said. “Taking risks, putting yourself in harm’s way. Keeping it all to yourself because you think I’m too young to understand what’s going on.”
    Gwen gritted her teeth, damping down her irritation at his attempt to mother her . Her father did that quite enough, even if she’d long since figured out how not to listen to him. “We’re at Aber. It’s hardly dangerous here. I let Gareth go south without me, didn’t I? Am I worried, even though he’s been gone a day longer than he’d said? No. Here I am, pruning the beans in the garden on a sunny afternoon, minding my own business and not