The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

friends, receded into the rising mist.

Chapter Twenty-Five

    G areth could only stare, horrified, as the fog and distance obscured Gwen’s boat from his view. He slowed Braith, allowing the others to catch up to him. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that Cadwaladr would flee so precipitously, and in that direction? It should have. He’d seen the ships. But for him to have left his entire Welsh garrison behind, along with all of their horses, was wholly unexpected. Gareth, Hywel, and Rhun had wasted precious time in front of the gate, dithering, waiting for Cadwaladr to return or for more information, before they’d realized that he wasn’t coming back.
    Hywel pulled up beside Gareth. For a moment, Gareth couldn’t look at him—couldn’t bear to look at him—and then he couldn’t contain the rage any longer. The blood thrummed in his ears. Even so, he managed to control his voice. “We must know where they’re going.”
    Hywel nodded. “If that ship is bound for Dublin, there’s nothing we can do for her. You know that.”
    “I know it,” Gareth said.
    “Either way, Cadwaladr’s lands in Ceredigion are forfeit,” Hywel said. “If we get there and she’s there, we’ll roust him out. If not… .”
    “If not, she’s in the hands of the Danes, for as long as they wish to keep her.” Gareth gazed out to sea for a long count of three and then turned his head to face his lord. “You haven’t denied it.”
    “You know so little of me that I have to?”
    “Yes.” The word hissed through Gareth’s teeth.
    Hywel put a hand on Gareth’s arm and Gareth just managed not to twitch away and brush him off. “I swear to you I’ve never touched her. I think of her as a sister.”
    Gareth’s jaw was so tight he wondered that he hadn’t ground his teeth to the nubs. Then his shoulders fell. He’d known it, but it was better that Hywel had said it. “As far as I know, Cadwaladr has it completely wrong. She belongs to no one and isn’t carrying any man’s child.”
    “She’s smart enough not to admit it to Cadwaladr—or to anyone,” Hywel said. “She has time before they discover the deception. Weeks maybe; they’ll be back before then.”
    “Why do you say that?” Gareth said.
    Hywel tipped his head to one side. “So many years in Cadwaladr’s company, and mine, and that’s not clear to you either?”
    Gareth felt like the words could have been mocking, but they weren’t. Hywel was merely curious. “Tell me,” Gareth said.
    “Cadwaladr is a child in a man’s body,” Hywel said. “He was thinking only of himself when he gave the order to murder King Anarawd—certainly not of the consequences were he caught—and that’s all he’s still thinking about. He cannot put himself in another’s shoes long enough to understand how seriously my father will take this betrayal.”
    Gareth nodded as this piece of Cadwaladr’s character slid into place. “You think he’ll come back just as soon as he can. That he honestly doesn’t believe your father is angry and will punish him as he deserves.”
    “He deserves hanging,” Hywel said. “But Cadwaladr has calculated correctly in this at least. My father’s bark is usually worse than his bite.”
    Gareth nodded again. He’d viewed Cadwaladr as a bully, which he was, but he was more like a five-year-old searching for attention—and any kind of attention was better than none. “That doesn’t mean we can condone what he’s done,” Gareth said.
    “Of course not,” Hywel said. “Cadwaladr isn’t a child but a middle-aged prince of Gwynedd. He might excuse his own actions, rationalize them away, but the rest of us can’t. Not even my father will be able to, this time.”
    This time. Hywel had recounted to Gareth his confrontation with his father when he broached the subject of Cadwaladr’s potential treachery. But King Owain had claimed that Cadwaladr had been loyal up until now. Hywel hadn’t contradicted his father but that didn’t mean that what the King said was true. Perhaps Cadwaladr wasn’t the only one who’d been lying to himself. For Gareth’s part, this time he was even more of a pessimist than Hywel. King Owain would do what he pleased as it suited him. Far from hanging Cadwaladr, he might pardon his brother’s crimes, no matter how heinous, if he had a good reason.
    Hywel gathered the other men who’d ridden to the beach and led the way back to Aberffraw’s main gate. They arrived to find Rhun observing two