The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

to see if Gareth obeyed, Meilyr launched himself from his seat into Gwalchmai who’d been walking beside the cart, and rolled with him into the ditch beside the road.
    Gareth turned Braith’s head, but his initial hesitation cost him his opportunity. Two men appeared around the turn in the road behind them, galloping towards the battle from the south, swords raised high. Forward or back, Gareth had no choice but to fight. He urged Braith into the seething mass of men. Using the advantage being mounted gave him, he swung his sword at the first enemy soldier he came upon. As it sliced through the man’s shoulder, Gareth tried to remain contained, breathing steadily to control the rush of energy that poured through him. It worked about as well as it usually did, which was to say, hardly at all. Instead, he felt as if he were flinging his sword about uncontrollably.
    A second man attempted to waylay them and Gareth killed him with a sharp thrust to the throat. Gwen, meanwhile, clung to him, her arm clenched around his waist, while she slashed with her belt knife at any man who came at them from Braith’s other side. Again Gareth thrust his sword, this time at a man who was trying to catch Braith’s reins. Gareth killed two more men before he reached Madog, who, though heavily beset, was holding his own.
    Gareth swung at an assailant’s head and then launched himself from Braith’s back, taking down a second attacker. Without pausing for breath, he pushed to one knee and shoved his sword through the man’s midsection. And with that, the flow of battle moved away from him and his senses began to work again.
    He turned, looking for Gwen. She’d managed to gather Braith’s reins and stay on the horse’s back. Gwen’s breath came in gasps and her eyes were wide with fear, but like Braith, her head was up and she wasn’t screaming. Beyond, men and horses pushed back and forth at each other, some in such close combat that their swords weren’t doing the fighters any good. Despite the ferociousness of the attack, Owain Gwynedd’s men had been able to withstand the initial assault. Even the two horsemen who’d ridden into the fray from behind had gone down.
    “They overestimated their ability to surprise us,” Gareth said. “And we had the greater numbers.”
    Madog grunted and moved towards the thick of the fight, calling to the men, “Keep one alive!”
    “If they can’t hear you, we’ve got one here.” With his boot, Gareth toed the side of one of the men he’d downed.
    Madog turned back and crouched beside the wounded man. A gash in his side bled heavily, but he was still conscious.
    “Who sent you?” Madog said.
    The man grinned, revealing blood-stained teeth, and answered in Welsh, but with a thick accent. “Why should I tell you?”
    Madog glanced up at Gareth, who nodded. Just by speaking, the man had told them plenty. Now, they were looking not only for a rich, powerful lord, but one with the wherewithal to buy mercenaries from Ireland. Either that, or someone from Ireland wanted Anarawd dead and had put great effort into ensuring it.
    “You should tell me who it was, because no matter how much he paid you, you won’t collect the money now. Why not bring him down with you?” Madog said. “No use dying here for nothing.”
    The man grinned again and seemed about to speak, but then choked as blood from his lungs bubbled into his mouth. He coughed, tried to lift his head, and then fell back, his mouth slack.
    “ Cachiad ,” Madog said. “We’ll have to find another.”
    Gareth turned, prepared to search among the other fallen men for one who was still alive. Then Gwen, who still sat astride Braith, gave a cry. “Father!” She spurred Braith back the way they’d come.

Chapter Five

    “ T hanks be to God, you’re all right.” Gwen fell to her knees beside her father and Gwalchmai. The latter sat up, rubbing the side of his head.
    Meilyr patted Gwalchmai all over. “You’re not hurt? Your chest, your fingers…” Meilyr clasped both of Gwalchmai’s hands in his.
    “We’ve routed them.” Gwen put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart slow.
    “I’m fine, Father.” Gwalchmai pulled away. “And so is Gwen.”
    “I can see that.” Meilyr glanced at his daughter once before turning his attention back to Gwalchmai.
    Gwen smiled inwardly at the usual pattern: her father ignored her and Gwalchmai remembered. It was always he who reminded their father that he had another child.