The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

clenched so tightly she didn’t know if she’d be able to pry them apart. That the truth could get so distorted never ceased to amaze her. She wanted to say something, but at a warning look from Hywel, kept her mouth shut.
    King Owain narrowed his eyes at his son. “You will do well to remember that the punishment for treason is death.”
    Hywel swallowed hard. “I would not have forgotten that, Father.”
    King Owain nodded curtly and left, Cristina on his arm, leaving Gwen and Hywel alone once again.
    “That means Gareth stays where he is, doesn’t it?” Gwen said.
    “For now.”

Chapter Eighteen

    B ack in the stables, Gwen and Hywel gazed down at Gareth, who lay flat on his back on the hard, dirt floor, rather the worse for this incarceration. “I’m tired of being thrown in here for something I did not do!” His tone was emphatic, but the volume was weaker than Gwen liked. “And now you tell me that King Owain thinks that because Bran was with the Danes, I was too? To what end? Nothing could be further from the truth.”
    Gwen knelt beside him and felt his head. “Are you much hurt?”
    “I’m fine.” Gareth grasped her hand. “But what about you?” He touched the redness that spread from the corner of her mouth to her cheek. And then his voice hardened. “Who did this?”
    Gwen glanced up at Hywel, who lounged against the doorframe, one hand resting on his sword. He grimaced, but didn’t answer.
    “Gwen—” Gareth’s voice had a warning tone to it.
    She sighed. “Cadwaladr.”
    “Goddamn—” Gareth swallowed whatever else he was going to say, squeezed her hand hard and then let go. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and glared at Hywel. “Nice of you to intervene, my lord.”
    “I have no obligation to explain myself to you,” Hywel said. “But I will repeat what I told Gwen: this is a long game I’m playing and it wouldn’t do to confront Cadell—or Cadwaladr—over something that doesn’t matter.”
    Gareth opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. “Doesn’t matter—” He mumbled further under his breath, but didn’t openly protest.
    “What did you discover on your journey?” Hywel said.
    “A couple of bodies.” Now Gareth scrambled to his feet, holding a hand to his belly and moving more stiffly than usual. Gradually he straightened and stretched. “A few bruises, Gwen, that’s all.” He’d read the concern on her face correctly. “As Lord Hywel pointed out, it’s a small matter.”
    Gwen nodded, going over in her head what she’d seen earlier in front of the cell. At the time, it had looked as if Cadell’s men had beaten Gareth badly, but maybe her eyes had fooled her. They might have been pulling their punches, wanting to make it look good to please their lord. Gareth had told her that for the years he’d served Prince Cadwaladr, many of his friends had learned to shade their actions so as to not openly violate their orders, but not exactly follow them either. It was a matter of living with oneself afterwards.
    Then Gareth’s words registered. “More bodies?” she said.
    “I found one in the Roman fort near the intersection of all those trails,” Gareth said, “and a second at Dolwyddelan. The castellan discovered that death an hour before I arrived. The murderer had stuffed him into the latrine. It was just his bad luck that the slops came to clean it when they did. The body was cold and stiff; it had been in there—or at least dead—no more than two days.”
    “Do you know the identities of the dead men?” Hywel said, still leaning against the doorframe.
    “The first was a Dane. Someone killed him with a knife to the chest.”
    “The same method as Anarawd,” Hywel said.
    “Yes, but a different knife,” Gareth said, “one that the killer left behind. In addition, the killer drove a spear through the man’s middle—after he was dead, mind you.”
    “How very interesting,” Hywel said.
    “Why skewer a dead man?” Gwen said.
    Hywel turned to her. “Why indeed?”
    Gareth nodded. “I brought his effects home to Aber. They’ll be in my saddlebags still.” He paused. “Someone saw to Braith, I hope?”
    “I made sure of it,” Hywel said. “And the second?”
    “The second was a stable boy at Dolwyddelan Castle.”
    “Really?” Gwen catalogued the boys she’d seen when she was there with her family. Then she pulled herself up short, disturbed that she could be so calm about so many murders. It wasn’t right that