The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

know it.” Godfrid glanced over his shoulder at Cadwaladr, laughing now beside Ragnall. “Anarawd was to be King Owain’s son-in-law?”
    “Yes,” Gwen said.
    Brodar took a drink. “Cadwaladr has got us all in a right mess this time, hasn’t he?”
    Nobody could argue with that.
    Gwen leaned close to Gareth. “What did Cadwaladr say when he saw you?”
    “He went for his sword, but Brodar told him to put up, since I’d come to Dublin as his guest.” Then Gareth grinned. “He cast aspersions on my antecedents.”
    “And you—” Gwen was almost afraid to ask.
    “I am a better man than he,” Gareth said. “He’ll get his comeuppance soon enough.”
    Those in the hall ate and drank in merriment, and as the meal came to an end, Ragnall stood to silence the crowd and speak to his people. Gwen didn’t understand his words, but Godfrid leaned in and translated quietly underneath his father’s speech: “I have spoken with my friends, Cadwaladr of Gwynedd, and my fellow ruler of Dublin, Ottar. They tell me that Cadwaladr has been dispossessed of his lands in Wales.”
    “How do we know this is true?” This came from one of the men near the front.
    Ragnall looked to Brodar, who raised a hand. “I saw it myself.”
    Ragnall continued: “Prince Cadwaladr has informed me that he will pay us two thousand marks to come with him to Gwynedd and persuade…” Here, Ragnall paused, allowing for general laughter around the room, “… his brother to reinstate him.”
    Cadwaladr nodded sagely, still seated at the table on the dais.
    “I say we go!” Ottar raised a fist into the air.
    “So say I,” Ragnall said, in a more level voice. “We leave in two days’ time.”
    Two days. Gwen glanced at Cadwaladr, expecting him to look expansive and satisfied as before, but now he glared at their table. He wasn’t looking at her, however, so much as at Gareth, who was talking to Godfrid and Brodar and didn’t notice. Still not looking at her, Cadwaladr stood, excused himself from the two kings, and strode towards Gwen’s table. All three men looked up at his approach, and all three rose to their feet.
    “The girl stays with me,” Cadwaladr said. “Now that we are returning to Wales, I insist upon it.”
    “You gutless bastar—” began Gareth, but Godfrid had already stepped in front of Gwen, his hand to Cadwaladr’s chest.
    “You will not touch her,” he said, all amusement gone.
    Cadwaladr snorted. “What would I want with her? She’s Hywel’s whore, not mine.”
    Before the debate grew even more heated, Ragnall and Ottar appeared on either side of Cadwaladr. Ragnall edged between Cadwaladr and Godfrid, his eyes on his sons. “We agree with Cadwaladr that she was part of his protection,” Ragnall said, and then added something in Danish that Gwen didn’t understand. Godfrid, at least, eased away from both his father and Cadwaladr, who reached forward to grasp Gwen’s arm.
    “Let go of me!” Gwen jerked her arm, trying to twist it out of Cadwaladr’s grip.
    Gareth had his arm around her waist again, looking daggers at Cadwaladr.
    Cadwaladr put his hands up. “Ragnall. See to this bitch.”
    Gareth’s hand went to the hilt of his sword but before he could draw it, Godfrid had his forearm in a tight grip while Brodar tugged at the back of Gareth’s hair.
    “She goes with him,” Ragnall said, not looking at Gwen but at his sons and Gareth.
    “You’re going to let her go? Just like that?” Gareth said to Godfrid.
    Godfrid, for his part, let go of Gareth in order to grab Gwen’s chin so he could look into her eyes. “My father assures me that you will be safe.”
    Gwen shook them all off. While some part of her couldn’t be unhappy that men were fighting over her, it would only get Gareth in trouble. “All right; all right. Heaven forbid any of you come to grief because of me. I will go.” Her stomach roiled at the thought of leaving Gareth so soon after reuniting with him, but Cadwaladr had proven to be a fearsome, yet fickle, foe. If her going could protect Gareth, she could bear his presence for a while longer.
    “Gwen—”
    Gwen grasped the edges of Gareth’s cloak. “Stand down.” And then softened her words by going up on her toes and pecking Gareth on the cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
    Ragnall tugged her away from Gareth. With a last glance back at the three men, all of whom looked murderous, she allowed Cadwaladr to lead her out of the hall.

Chapter Thirty-One

    G areth