The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

rigging of the ship—but he was listening.
    “Anarawd left Dolwyddelan a day earlier than he’d originally planned,” Gareth said. “It wasn’t by design but because he was impatient to reach Aber and his bride. As it turns out, Cadwaladr’s mercenaries were ready for him anyway. This you know.”
    Godfrid nodded.
    “Later, however, three more people died: a servant at Aber, a Dane, knifed and skewered through the belly in an abandoned fort not far from the ambush site, and a young stable boy at Dolwyddelan Castle.”
    Now, Gareth had Godfrid’s full attention. “And Cadwaladr killed all these too? Or had them killed?”
    “It’s hard to see that Cadwaladr was actually at the ambush, even if he paid for it. He’s never been fond of getting his hands dirty—but the others? I don’t know.” Gareth shook his head.
    Godfrid sniffed. “Anarawd was dead. That was all that mattered. Cadwaladr should have been satisfied with that.”
    “Cadwaladr has never been one for measured thinking,” Gareth said.
    “Were you numbered among Owain Gwynedd’s men who killed the mercenaries?” Godfrid said.
    “Yes,” Gareth said. “As was Gwen, though she was caught up in all this innocently enough, since her family was traveling the same road as Anarawd for the same reason—to attend the wedding. They were to provide the entertainment.”
    “Huh,” was all Godfrid said.
    “The stable boy and the servant are different matters. Their deaths were clearly designed to cover up wrongdoing: the servant because she was paid to poison me, and the stable boy because he was paid to sabotage Anarawd’s horse, whether to delay him until the mercenaries had readied their ambush, or to make him an easy target when they came upon him. But he nobbled the wrong horse.”
    “And you know this—how?” Godfrid said.
    “The horse he hurt belonged to Gwen’s father.”
    “And why do you think this is something I should know?”
    “Because you must understand that once Cadwaladr has what he wants, or feels close to getting it, it’s highly unlikely you will ever see your two thousand marks,” Gareth said. “What is the point of bringing you to Wales except to force King Owain to accept him back and restore his lands? And once he has done that, why should Cadwaladr pay you for your services? He won’t need you anymore because he’ll be back in the king’s good graces.”
    “He will pay us because we will ravage his lands if he doesn’t,” Godfrid said, a growl forming in his throat.
    “But by doing so, you risk King Owain’s wrath and the full weight of his armies against you,” Gareth said. “I’m surprised your father didn’t think of this already.”
    Godfrid let the silence drag out while he stared over the water, towards Wales, though they couldn’t yet see it. Finally, he nodded his head. “We did think of it. My father spoke with me before I left about the possibility of changing course, should it become necessary.”
    “Changing course—you mean going back to Dublin? What about Gwen?”
    “Not to Dublin, to Aber,” Godfrid said. “Through me, my father would have a word with your king.”
    Gareth stared at him. “You would go against Ottar?”
    “You object to the idea?” Godfrid said.
    “Of course not.” Gareth adjusted his expression. “I’m delighted. King Owain has no wish to fight the combined might of the Kings of Dublin.”
    Godfrid grunted and folded his arms across his chest. Gareth had told Prince Cadwaladr’s son, Cadfan, that politics were best left to others, but in this matter, it seemed Gareth himself couldn’t avoid them.
    They’d left at dawn, in hopes of reaching Anglesey before nightfall on the second day out, given that the winds were from the west (thus behind them), unlike when they’d sailed west and had to tack against them the whole way to Ireland. High winds rocked them that first night, however, with rain and storm so severe it was only the direction of the wind that told them which way to sail. Godfrid claimed the storm was a blessing from God on his course of action. Gareth couldn’t argue with that, since he didn’t want Godfrid to have second thoughts about betraying Cadwaladr, even if Gareth had to spend the entire time fearing for Gwen. But he would have done that anyway.
    The storm blew the boat off course—all of the boats, in fact—such that they lost track of the fleet in the night. Each captain put a lantern in the prow, but between the high