The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

father had retaken Anglesey from them over twenty years ago. When King Owain succeeded to Gwynedd after the death of his father, he began reconstructing Aberffraw anew, quarrying stone from the east coast of the island and bringing slate from Snowdonia. Meanwhile he lived primarily at Aber, which if nothing else was a more convenient location for his many subjects to find him.
    “Rest easy, Gareth.” Evan stopped at Gareth’s right shoulder to look across the water with him. “Cadwaladr will not have harmed her.”
    Gareth turned to look at him. “Why do you say that?”
    “He had plenty of opportunity between Aber and here to kill her and dispose of the body,” Evan said. “Did he?”
    “No,” Gareth said. “We would have seen the signs.”
    “Exactly,” Evan said. “That means she still serves a purpose—and it’s not to warm his bed. I’m not saying he’s above that, but I’ve never heard that Cadwaladr enjoys forcing women, for all his other faults.”
    Gareth clenched his teeth, but nodded and returned his gaze to the water moving in front of him. Come Owain Gwynedd’s wrath, prison cell, or the very gates of hell, he was never letting Gwen out of his sight again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

    “ J esus ! I wish he would hurry!” Rhun cursed from beside Gareth.
    “Only a short while longer, my lord.” Gareth eyed the ferryman’s placid poling. “We’ll soon reach the other side.”
    As Hywel had planned, it was half an hour before low tide, the best time to cross the Straits. They all had to get across within that half hour, however, because once the tide turned, the current would shift so suddenly, it could capsize the boats. Unhindered, Gareth could swim (and had swum) the Straits, but that was as a youth. These were grown men—heavier, worried, out of practice—and in some cases, afraid of the water. The bards sang of the Welsh being caught between the mountains and the sea. But for the some of these men—those raised inland—the sea was as foreign as Ireland or London.
    The fog had risen to coat the trees, the shoreline, and the company in damp cobwebs of mist. Normally, that would have bothered Gareth, because it meant an enemy might sneak up on them unawares. In this case, however, it allowed them to cross the water unseen. He thought it unlikely that Cadwaladr had left scouts to watch the shore. The arrogant prince wasn’t a good enough soldier for that, even if some of his men knew better. It was one of the problems Gareth had encountered in serving in his company: Cadwaladr’s bravado wouldn’t let him admit when he didn’t have all the answers.
    It might even be that Cadwaladr had yet to admit that he’d done anything wrong in taking Gwen from Aber. His highest moral imperative was his own well-being. Anything that ensured it, Cadwaladr believed, was for the greater good of all.
    At last, the men gathered on the opposite shore, all in one piece. Gareth fought down shivers from the cold wind that blew from the west and checked his belongings before mounting. Then, Hywel and Rhun led them away from the Straits, down a narrow pathway that led to a wider road a half a mile from the shore.
    Once away from the water, the fog dissipated, revealing a remarkably beautiful day. Anglesey as a whole was comprised of flat farmland with rich crops, which upon harvest, were shared—sold, bartered, tithed—with the people of mainland Gwynedd. Now in mid-August, the wheat was nearly ready to harvest and the land was a patchwork of green, blue, and gold.
    The road went north-west from the Straits, through a region with farmland to the east and extensive mudflats to the west, interspersed with stands of well-leafed trees that thrived in the marshy land. Aberffraw had been built on one of the few hills on Anglesey.
    The Welsh had occupied that hilltop since before the Romans came. The foundations, then, were older than even the Roman fort that superseded it. Many other Welsh castles had been built the same way, on older foundations, rather than building from scratch. That was how Aber was blessed with an entire room devoted to bathing, not to mention two narrow tunnels leading from the main building, one heading south, towards Aber Falls, and the second to the beach.
    Another half a mile and the castle rose before them, the top of the gatehouse just visible above the trees that lined the road on either side. Although Rhun outranked him, it was Hywel who raised a hand to stop the company. Rhun