The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

had (delightedly) made clear from the start that this was Hywel’s task while Rhun was just along for the ride. Obeying Hywel’s unspoken order, the company turned off the road and into the woods to the west of it. The men circled around Hywel, expectant.
    “What now?” Rhun said. Then, at Hywel’s uncharacteristic silence, he threw back his head and laughed in perfect imitation of their father. “No wonder you’ve been so silent for the last five miles. You don’t actually have a plan, just now, do you?” Hywel had the grace to smile sheepishly. His brother was one of the few who could get away with that kind of comment. Rhun slapped Hywel on the shoulder. “Never mind. You’ll think of something. You always do.”
    “I was waiting to see if Aberffraw was truly our destination before formulating one,” Hywel said. His words didn’t come out defensive, just matter-of-fact. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.” He pointed a finger at Gareth. “Three of you circle around the fort to the south and west, three to the north. Feel free to draw their attention—and their arrows. I want to know what we’re up against. Alun will stay with me and watch the front gate. If my uncle means us no harm, this will be like singing scales. If he orders his archers to shoot…”
    “He’s not that much a fool,” Rhun said, ever the optimist.
    Hywel met Gareth’s gaze with a skeptical one of his own. “We’ll meet back here in half an hour. At that point, I’ll need to speak with Cadwaladr, if he is, indeed, here. We must know if Gwen is his prisoner.”
    “If he’s here, he has Gwen,” Gareth said.
    “Likely,” Hywel said, “but I owe it to all of us—and to my father—to be sure.”
    With a chorus of “my lords,” the men dispersed to their tasks. Gareth had the luck to partner with Rhun and Evan. They surreptitiously crossed the Ffraw River before it opened into the estuary, and, a quarter mile from the entrance to the castle, slipped from tree to tree, careful not to give the watchers on the wall of the castle above them any glimpse of their passage. Not yet anyway. Gareth didn’t expect Cadwaladr to leave sentries down here. The view from the castle walls would provide him with all the warning he needed if anyone got too close.
    At one point, Gareth thought he caught a glimpse of a face in an upper floor window and stopped. “Evan, your eyes are better than mine. What do you see?”
    Evan peered through the trees to get a better look. “A woman. Could be Gwen.”
    A few dozen yards further, the forest could hide them no longer. It hadn’t been thick to begin with, but the closer they got to the beach, the more scrub-like the trees became. Once they petered out entirely, grass and sand were all that stood between them and the ever-widening Ffraw River. On one side, it wended it’s way the last half-mile to the sea, while on the other, the castle sat on its higher hill above the north bank of the river.
    It was Gareth’s job to protect the trio’s southern flank and he scanned the grass, looking for archers or traps. Consequently, he didn’t see the threat on the other side until Rhun grasped his shoulder and pulled him down into the grass.
    “Watch out!”
    A heartbeat later, an arrow slammed into the sand where Gareth had been standing a moment before. Scrambling behind a scrubby bush, the three men crouched among the cheat grass, thankful they’d tied their horses a hundred paces away, out of sight and arrow range.
    “So much for finding a peaceful solution,” Gareth said. “Cadwaladr doesn’t mean well.”
    “It gets worse,” Evan said, looking around the bush, first at the castle and then at the water behind them.
    “How so?” Rhun said, his back to a too-small dune.
    Evan jerked his head. A hundred yards away, on a half-moon of sand created by a bend in the river, three Danish ships rested. Six men guarded them—two to a boat. Bad enough that the Danes outnumbered them two to one, but each ship was big enough to carry an additional fifteen men. Those were odds that would give even Hywel pause. Knowing it, the Danish guards smirked at them, not even bothering to stir from their posts. Instead, they had the look of men watching an archery contest from a ringside seat.
    “We have to get back,” Gareth said. “This is already more than we bargained for.”
    Rhun took in a deep breath and tipped back his head, gazing at the wispy clouds above their heads. “Uncle