The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

Cadwaladr,” he said, hissing through his teeth. “Why are you doing this?”
    “It won’t please your father, that’s for sure,” Evan said.
    “The real question is what has Cadwaladr gotten himself into—and does he know how to get himself out of it again?” Rhun said. “Danish allies are not to be taken lightly and if my uncle reneges on any deal he’s made, they’ll kill him and sleep untroubled afterwards, even if he is Owain Gwynedd’s brother.”
    “He’ll be telling himself that it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Gareth said.
    “That’s where all bad ideas start, don’t they?” Evan said.
    “And end the same way too,” Gareth said. “He’ll expect that King Owain will get him out of whatever trouble he’s made.”
    “He’ll have to surrender to Hywel,” Rhun said. “He can’t possibly believe he’ll get away with this.”
    Oh yes he can , Gareth said, but only to himself.
    Rhun peered over the top of the bush. He was rewarded for his efforts with another arrow that just skimmed off the top of a dune and over their heads.
    “If they’re meaning to miss, it’s not by much,” Evan said.
    “I’m worried about our friends on the other side of the castle,” Gareth said.
    “We’ve only a few men,” Rhun said. “We’re not a threat—out here or at the gate—and Cadwaladr knows it. He’s playing with us.”
    “That may be,” Gareth said, “but these arrows aren’t shot from toy bows.”
    “For the love of Christ, my lord,” Evan said. “See reason. Cadwaladr’s men are shooting at you, the heir to throne of Gwynedd!”
    “He doesn’t know—” Rhun stopped and shook his head. “Uncle Cadwaladr would know better than to harm one of King Owain’s sons.”
    “Well he damn well should know it,” Evan said. “But he doesn’t, else he wouldn’t be shooting at all. Who does he think we are? Normans?”
    “Perhaps he’s too scared to think straight?” Rhun said.
    “Scared?” Gareth gestured towards the castle. “Maybe Cadwaladr is frightened beneath all that bluster, but if I had forty-five Danishmen at my back, I wouldn’t fear much. Certainly not us when we’re out here and he’s in there.”
    “I could come back here with an army in a day,” Rhun said. “Cadwaladr has to understand that.”
    As Rhun spoke, Gareth caught a flash of color from the trees. It was Alun, waving for them to come in. “It’s time to find out what’s going on,” Gareth said.
    With a glance among themselves for reassurance and a one, two, three , the three men dashed across the grass to the cover of the trees. They reached it before the assailants on the wall loosed any more arrows. Stopping to look back up at the castle from the safety of the woods, Gareth strained to see Gwen’s face again but couldn’t.
    “I saw her too,” Alun said, without having to ask for whom he was looking. “She’s gone now. Whatever we’ve started, it’s pushed Cadwaladr into action.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

    T he companions trotted through the woods to the spot to which Hywel had retreated, still under the cover of the trees, some hundred yards from the castle gate. A good archer was easily accurate at that distance, which was why Owain Gwynedd had cleared the trees around the castle to that extent. The sea air and wind had kept stunted the plants that tried to grow back.
    As Gareth and Rhun rode up to him, Hywel acknowledged them with a nod. “Stay in the woods at first. If I show either of you to Cadwaladr, he’ll realize the game is up. I can’t decide if I want that or not.”
    “Whatever we do, we can’t play the same game Cadwaladr is playing,” Gareth said. “He will set a trap for us. We must avoid it.”
    “No doubt.” Hywel turned his head, studying Aberffraw’s façade. “He doesn’t know my father well if he thinks he’ll let the murder of Anarawd and his men pass.”
    “We still don’t know if we can lay that at his door,” Rhun said. “He has taken Gwen. That is all we know.”
    “Then we must force him to admit it,” Hywel said. “He has something up his sleeve, something that worries me. Taking Gwen is far too confident a move for a man who has plotted against the King of Gwynedd, even if he and my father are brothers.”
    “What he has, brother,” Rhun said, “are three dozen Danes in the fort with him. Their boats lie on the beach, guarded by six more.”
    Hywel turned his attention to Rhun, his face expressionless, but then his eyes