The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

been her dead body that got carried through the postern gate, but somehow I doubt it. It would have been far easier for her to die in any of number of ways—even smothered in her sleep—than for Cadwaladr to kill her and hide the body.”
    “We’ve one missing body as it is,” Gareth said. “Surely that’s enough.”
    “Anarawd,” Hywel said. “But he was dead to start with.”
    Gareth nodded, glad to move on from Gwen’s demise as a topic. “Does your father—”
    “—know I’ve released you?” Hywel said. “No.”
    “Was that wise?”
    “Who cares for Gwen more than you?” Hywel continued walking up the trail. “Besides, you know how to track and fight. And you know Cadwaladr, perhaps better than I do.”
    “I’ve fought with him, or rather, for him,” Gareth said.
    Hywel smirked. “Never did much fighting himself, did he? Much like Anarawd. That ambush must have been a shock.”
    “What did you say?” Gareth said, confused. “Anarawd didn’t like to fi—”
    “Never mind,” Hywel said, interrupting and changing tack again. “We’ll leave it that King Owain tasked me with finding Gwen and that I will do, using whatever means I believe necessary.”
    Gareth nodded to himself. That was the metal that lay beneath Hywel’s open-hearted façade—and the part of him he’d gotten from his father.
    “When I tracked the footprints from the postern gate, they entered the woods just as we did,” Hywel said. “Then they disappeared, replaced by dozens of hoof prints. My guess is that whoever took Gwen met up with the rest of his company.”
    “Just as, I hope, we will?” Gareth said.
    “Ahead,” Hywel said.
    Good as his word, after another quarter mile of walking, the trail came out on the road that headed west from Aber to Bangor and Caernarfon. When they reached it, half a dozen of Hywel’s men stood in a clearing to the side of the road. Relieved to know they wouldn’t be doing this alone, Gareth clasped Evan’s forearm in greeting.
    “They’ve been waiting for you,” Hywel said. “These were the ones who most objected to seeing you locked up in the first place.”
    “In truth, a dozen more wanted to ride with us, but my brother settled for six.” Rhun grinned, his bright hair gleaming gold in the torchlight.
    Evan laughed. “Madog told me if our young prince here didn’t break you out before the King hanged you, he’d do it himself. He’ll be glad that he didn’t have to test his resolve.”
    “I told Evan it’d be good for you, being locked up,” another man piped up, this one named Alun. Like Evan, he was of an age with Gareth, in his late twenties, though he’d been part of Hywel’s guard since Hywel became a man ten years before. “Teach you patience.”
    Gareth laughed. “Thanks, gentlemen … my lords,” he said, touched by their concern. “I’m none the worse for the experience. I am worried about Gwen.”
    Immediately, everyone sobered. Here they were, past midnight, on the road half-way between Aber and the village of Bangor, and Gwen had been missing since before dawn.
    “We have every reason to believe that she’s alive,” Hywel said. “Perhaps he thinks he can use her as a bargaining chip.”
    Hywel didn’t say who he was, but they all were thinking Cadwaladr . The evilness of the deed made Gareth sick to his stomach. As long as Cadwaladr believed Gwen to be useful to him, she would be safe. At the same time, while she meant something to Gareth himself, he still didn’t see why Cadwaladr would place value on her life. He obviously thought she knew enough to indict him, thus the abduction. But why not simply kill her? Gareth kept his fears to himself. Better for his friends to view this as a rescue rather than as a quest for revenge.
    Since he’d left Cadwaladr’s service, he hadn’t often had cause to think about the man himself—had, in fact, avoided thinking about him and what he’d done for him—but even after his dismissal, Gareth wouldn’t have guessed Cadwaladr would go as far as this. Still, a man never knew what was in another man’s heart, even his own brother’s. It seemed clear now that Gareth’s milk brother, Bran, had betrayed Anarawd. At Cadwaladr’s behest? It sickened Gareth to think on it.

Chapter Twenty-One

    T he small company rode through the early hours of the morning, stopping every now and then for Gareth to dismount and ensure they still followed the proper path. Even though much of the stonework of