The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

forced Gwen to set it down.
    “It’s all right,” Gwen said. “I won’t eat too much this time.”
    Godfrid nodded. He turned sideways on the bench, leaned against the pillar that buttressed it, and crossed his arms. “Cadwaladr is not here.”
    Gwen looked at him over the top of the bowl, and then gave a quick glance around the room. “Where’s he gone?”
    “To Ottar,” Godfrid said.
    “And that upsets you?”
    Looking even more pensive, he drummed his fingers on the table. “A company of Ottar’s men went to Wales ten days ago and have not returned.”
    “Oh.” Gwen took another sip of her soup and then swallowed hard, feeling a bit sick again.
    Godfrid caught the nuance beneath that short utterance. “You know of it?”
    “Yes,” Gwen said. “It’s why Cadwaladr is here. I suppose it’s not surprising you don’t know the whole story, given what followed.”
    “Tell me.” Godfrid swung his legs down from the bench, braced his elbows on the table, and hunched over them. “I must know.” His blue eyes glared at her beneath his bushy blonde brows.
    Gwen sighed, not feeling like she had a choice but to tell him the whole story. “Cadwaladr hired your people—or rather Ottar’s people—to murder the King of Deheubarth. A man named Anarawd. Anarawd was to marry Owain Gwynedd’s daughter—Hywel’s sister—and was on his way to the wedding when he was murdered.”
    “Ho.” Godfrid pushed off his elbows and gazed at Gwen with a stunned expression. He tsked through his teeth. “That is a tale.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Why did Cadwaladr do this?”
    “I couldn’t tell you why,” Gwen said, “except that he saw an advantage in it for himself.”
    “If the money was good, such a proposition would tempt Ottar, though I find it distasteful myself,” Godfrid said. “What went wrong?”
    “They killed Anarawd and all his men, as Cadwaladr intended,” Gwen said. “But later they attacked the company bringing King Anarawd and his dead companions to Caerhun for burial.” She shrugged. “They underestimated their opponents.”
    “You mean Ottar’s men are all dead,” Godfrid said.
    Gwen nodded. “Owain Gwynedd is very angry. He didn’t take kindly to Anarawd’s death and even less to Danish mercenaries being hired to see to it.”
    “I see,” Godfrid said, and Gwen knew he really did see. On one hand, Godfrid may have participated in any number of similar acts, but as a prince himself, he understood that King Owain couldn’t condone what his brother had done under any circumstances. “And what will Owain Gwynedd do?”
    “I don’t know yet,” Gwen said. “Cadwaladr abducted me from Aber before the King knew that Cadwaladr was behind Anarawd’s death.”
    “And now he does know,” said Godfrid. “I overheard the conversation between Cadwaladr and Prince Hywel.”
    “I imagine so,” said Gwen.
    “Does it seem to you that Hywel will come to Ireland, to rescue you from his uncle?” Godfrid said. “He came to Aberffraw for you.”
    “He did,” said Gwen. “But that was his own country. Hywel won’t know what bargain Cadwaladr has made with Ottar or your father. Or even if it’s with them at all. Ireland is a big country. Besides, we don’t have ships like yours.”
    “Where does Cadwaladr rule in Wales?”
    “Ceredigion,” Gwen said. “Lands that Owain gave him.”
    “So Hywel might think he took you there?”
    “It’s likely,” Gwen said. “Hywel’s responsibility will be to secure those lands for his father and root out any who remain loyal to Cadwaladr, not to chase after me.”
    Godfrid held Gwen’s eyes, his gaze steady. Gwen held her breath, not sure what he was seeing. And then… “You don’t love him,” Godfrid said.
    Gwen looked away, unable to lie that well. “It’s not like that. You don’t understand.”
    “Ah, but I do.” Godfrid pointed a finger at her. “Not only do you not love him, but you are not his lover either.”
    Gwen blinked. “I…” Her mind worked furiously to think of how to answer without giving the game away. “Yes, I am.”
    Now, Godfrid laughed. “You are a very bad liar.” He leaned back from the table, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “I am right. You thought you could pretend that Cadwaladr spoke the truth as long as nobody asked you about Hywel directly. Nobody has asked you directly before this.”
    “No—” Gwen said.
    Godfrid wagged a finger in her face. “I watch my men when they lie.