The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

waves and the wind, by midnight, Godfrid’s ship was alone in the Irish Sea.
    At one point, Godfrid found Gareth cowering in the prow of the boat, trying to shield his face from the rain. “We’ll steer to the north and sail around Anglesey. God smiles upon us. He approves of this new plan.”
    Gareth didn’t know about that. “And the other boats?”
    “Cadwaladr’s intent was to land at Abermenai, at the mouth of the Menai Straits, on Anglesey.”
    “He might have already reached shore, given these winds,” Gareth said.
    “Or he too could have been blown off course,” Godfrid said. “His boat could be just on the other side of the next wave for all we know.”
    “If we don’t want him to discover us, we should douse the lantern,” Gareth said.
    Godfrid cursed, having forgotten it. He shouted to a man in the prow, who extinguished the light, plunging the boat into darkness.
    Dear God. Keep Gwen safe.
    The waves rolled on and eventually Gareth fell into a fitful sleep. The storm gradually spent itself, and by first light, Gareth woke to find that not only were none of the other boats in sight, but they were already skirting the northern tip of Anglesey.
    The rain subsided to a drizzle and, tugging his sodden cloak closer, Gareth staggered to the stern where Godfrid addressed several of his men. He was speaking in Danish but turned as Gareth approached.
    “At present rate, we’ll reach Aber before another two hours have passed,” Gareth said, by way of greeting.
    “What will your king think when he sees a Danish ship riding up on his beach?” Godfrid said.
    Gareth laughed, his dark mood lifting as they neared the Gwynedd shore. “He won’t be happy. But he should be wise enough not to shoot first and ask questions later.”
    Godfrid guffawed and clapped Gareth on the back. “I like the way you think. I leave this in your hands.”
    “At the very least, I should ride in the prow,” Gareth said. “If Hywel returned from Ceredigion in good order, he will know that I went to Dublin.”
    “Prince Hywel will forgive you the impulse?” Godfrid said.
    “I hope so,” Gareth said. It didn’t matter so much if Hywel forgave him or not at this point, unless it meant that Gareth was out on his ear again. For Gareth’s part, he knew going to Dublin had been the right decision, though that would be small comfort when his purse was empty.
    Gareth watched the shoreline with some apprehension. The watchers on Aber’s battlements saw them coming long before they reached the shore. They had time to organize a company of men. One Danish ship wasn’t as much of a threat to Aber as many more would have been. It was only as they neared the beach that Gareth spared a thought for the uncertainty involved and that he hadn’t had time to think this through thoroughly before facing a potentially angry king.
    The soldiers came on at a trot, and Gareth’s heart lifted to see Hywel’s banner streaming above the cavalry. It was Hywel himself, with two dozen men arrayed behind him. Exactly as Gareth had hoped.
    While the others waited in the boat, which Godfrid deliberately did not beach, Gareth leaped out, soaking himself to his knees, and waded into shore.
    “My lord.” Gareth bowed his head.
    “I’m glad to see you in one piece, my friend,” Hywel said. “What have you brought us?”
    With that, Gareth understood that it was going to be all right. This one sentence that acknowledged Gareth’s absence might be all Hywel ever said of Gareth’s decision to leave Wales without permission.
    “Godfrid ap Ragnall.” Gareth waved a hand behind him for Godfrid to come forward. Still, Godfrid didn’t beach the boat. He stepped over the rail as Gareth had and trudged the short distance to Prince Hywel’s stirrup.
    He held out his hand in greeting, as one king’s son to another. “I am pleased to meet you, Hywel ap Owain Gwynedd. I bring you greetings from my father, King Ragnall of Dublin.”
    Hywel leaned down to clasp Godfrid’s forearm. “If you come in friendship, you are welcome.”
    “I do,” Godfrid said. “May I invite my men ashore?”
    “Certainly,” Hywel said. “You are my guests.”
    “I believe your father will be interested in what I have to say.”
    “I will take you to him,” Hywel said.
    Godfrid gestured to his crew and with one stroke, the oarsman had them on the beach. Godfrid left two men to guard the ship and the rest paired off to march behind him. The mounted Welshman