The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

Brodar, invited me to your hall, over the objections of Prince Cadwaladr. I am Gareth ap Rhys, a knight in Hywel ap Owain Gwynedd’s company.”
    “Welcome,” Godfrid said.
    Gwen didn’t even detect a hint of a growl in his throat, which later might be disappointing, but now was pure relief that she wasn’t going to be caught between these two men.
    “We must sit and drink,” Godfrid said. “I sense that my father and Ottar will speak to everyone after they’ve conferred.”
    “Ottar’s here too?” Gwen said as she and Gareth followed Godfrid back to their table. Gareth’s arm remained firmly around her waist as he steered her across the room.
    Godfrid canted his head towards his father’s chair. Cadwaladr had found a seat on Ragnall’s left, with Ottar on the right, and the three huddled together, deep in conversation.
    “Long odds that this conference bodes well for my king,” Gareth said.
    Gwen almost cried aloud, so glad was she to hear that subtle mockery again. The only person with whom she’d been able to converse had been Godfrid, but his Welsh wasn’t sophisticated, though perhaps in his own language he was just as clever as Gareth.
    Godfrid, for his part, still had other things on his mind. “How is it that Cadwaladr was able to abduct Gwen?” He accompanied his query with a belligerent set to his chin.
    “I can’t answer that.” Gareth eyed Gwen. “I still don’t know exactly what happened because I’ve not had a chance to speak to her since he took her from Aber.”
    “Wasn’t your fort protected?” Godfrid said, not yet backing down. “Don’t you look after your women?”
    Gwen put a hand on Gareth’s arm in hopes it would stop him from throttling Godfrid in frustration and turned to the big Dane. “Cadwaladr’s men-at-arms threw Gareth in prison and Owain Gwynedd allowed it. King Cadell, Anarawd’s brother, had false information pointing to Gareth as the killer of Anarawd, instead of Cadwaladr. Prince Cadwaladr, of course, supported him.”
    Godfrid’s eyes flashed to Gareth, who still glared at him, and then he barked a laugh, the sound coming from that constant well of amusement inside him. “That sounds so much like Cadwaladr, it’s a wonder you didn’t see it coming yourselves. I had to put up with him for years in my father’s hall when he lived in Dublin. Still, coupled with the other things you’ve told me, it is clear he has become more devious since he returned to Wales. That, I wouldn’t have expected.”
    “Nor I, to tell the truth,” Gareth said.
    “How is it that you got free?” Godfrid waved his hand to encompass the space Gareth took up. “You are not imprisoned now. You stood with Prince Hywel at Aberffraw when he confronted Cadwaladr.”
    “Prince Hywel released me from my confinement, once it was clear that Gwen was missing,” Gareth said. “Owain Gwynedd had instructed Hywel to track down Gwen—along with Cadwaladr if indeed it was he who had taken her—and my lord deemed me necessary to the task.”
    Godfrid’s eyes lit again at that. “I see. And here you are in Dublin, and you have my brother to thank for it.” He gestured towards Brodar who broke away from another table to come to theirs.
    “That is true,” Gareth said, though Godfrid wasn’t listening anymore.
    Godfrid stood so he and his brother could clasp hands. They slapped each other on the back. “How is it that you are here?” he said, still speaking in Welsh, even though both men would have been more comfortable in Danish.
    “Ahh,” Brodar said. “He hasn’t told you yet? Prince Hywel came to Aberystwyth and burned us out.”
    Gwen turned to Gareth. “Is that true?”
    Gareth nodded. “King Owain stood before the nobles of Wales and disowned Cadwaladr for acts beyond forgiveness.”
    “So what happens next?” Gwen said.
    Gareth nodded towards the three lords at the front of the hall. “Cadwaladr plans to return to Gwynedd at the front of a horde of Danes.”
    “Horde?” Godfrid caught the derogatory term.
    Gareth held out a hand. “Company. Army. Contingent. I spoke without thinking.”
    “But it is what King Owain will be thinking, Godfrid,” Gwen said. “You must know this. Your people raided our shores for centuries before Gwynedd and Dublin made peace. King Owain’s father sought asylum with you, much as Cadwaladr has, but his was a rightful claim to the throne of Gwynedd, not the shameful retreat of a man disgraced and honorless.”
    “I