The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

alongside the curtain wall until they reached the southern corner, and then headed across the cleared space that surrounded Aber. No shout came from the walls, though that might have had less to do with Hywel’s planning and more to do with the pitch-black night and heavy cloud cover. It had rained while he’d been in the cell—he’d known of it because of the dripping in the corner, and thus the need for the bucket that Gareth had enjoyed kicking.
    Now, the grass and dirt in the field squished under his boots and he trod carefully so as not to slip. Once through the field, they entered the trees to the west of the castle. It was even darker than before, if that was possible, and he struggled to keep up with the still-silent Hywel. Soon, they reached a trail that led northwest. And at last, Hywel began to talk.
    “After I left you, I circled the wall, looking for any sign that a member of the garrison, rather than simply workman, had left the castle on foot. We found boot prints outside the postern gate—the one we just came through. One pair of shoes had sunk so heavily into the mud that the man either weighed double me or carried something heavy.”
    “You’re thinking it was a man carrying Gwen?” Gareth said.
    “Could be,” Hywel said. “The guards on the wall had no answers for me, nor did the men working on the wall, as they don’t use the postern gate. Nobody saw anything amiss and I had no one left to question.”
    “So you talked to Madog,” Gareth said. That’s what he would have done, every time.
    “Of course,” Hywel said. “It just so happened that I found him in the presence of my father, who swore that he’d given none of the lords permission to leave Aber and that it was inconceivable that any of them would have defied him.”
    Even in the darkness, Gareth recognized the tone Hywel’s voice took on when he knew something that others didn’t and that he’d accompanied the knowledge with a smirk. “Go on,” Gareth said.
    “Madog begged to differ—and begged is not too strong a word in this case as my father’s sentiments are well known. He hates being contradicted or proved wrong… Anyway, Madog told my father that Prince Cadwaladr had left before dawn with all of his men.”
    Gareth halted abruptly, stunned. “And nobody noticed? King Owain didn’t notice?”
    Hywel had walked another pace before realizing that Gareth had stopped. He paused and turned back. “The next Council meeting isn’t until tomorrow—or rather, today,” Hywel said, with a quick check for the moon, which the clouds still veiled. Gareth, for his part, had no idea what time it was. “Too many people are staying at Aber right now to keep track of them all. Apparently Cadwaladr told Madog he would return before the evening meal, which, of course, he did not.”
    “How did your father take this information?”
    Hywel paused, choosing his words carefully. “Not well. Coming hard on my assertions of my faith in you—and Cristina’s admissions—it made him fear that his trust in Cadwaladr has been misplaced.” Hywel continued walking. Gareth fell in beside him. “It does not please my father to find himself in error.”
    “I can imagine,” Gareth said.
    “Did you know that Gwen cursed Cadwaladr when he ordered your imprisonment?” Hywel said. “I warned her to stay away from him.”
    “You should have warned him to stay away from her.” Gareth’s sudden anger threw him off his stride and he took a deep breath to calm himself.
    “Cadwaladr wouldn’t have listened to me,” Hywel said. “If he spirited her out of Aber without anyone seeing, it implicates him in Anarawd’s death far more than anything else he could have done.”
    “I have no doubts, now,” Gareth said.
    “But you are biased,” Hywel said, matter-of-factly. “I still think Cadell is good for it.”
    “Is that because you don’t want him marrying your sister?” Gareth said. It was impertinent, but Cadell’s excessive effusiveness rubbed Hywel the wrong way too, and Gareth had seen the disgust in Hywel’s face when he’d looked at him at table.
    Hywel didn’t dignify that with a response. “Be that as it may, I’m coming around to your way of thinking.” He put a hand on Gareth’s arm. “You have to be prepared for what he might have done to Gwen, Gareth.”
    Gareth clenched his fists. Rape? Murder? “She’s not dead,” Gareth said. “I would know it.”
    Hywel didn’t contradict him. “It may have