The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

thoughts, or feelings. “I could have run like Cadwaladr, but I didn’t!”
    Godfrid hesitated, half in and half out of the doorway. “It would have been better if you had.” He didn’t look at her, and she realized he was afraid—he, Godfrid, a prince of Dublin. He spoke over his shoulder. “You are now the only leverage Ottar has against Owain Gwynedd. Let’s hope that King Owain has more honor than his brother.”
    “But—”
    “Don’t speak another word. It isn’t safe.” He shook his head at her, just once, and was gone.
    The transition from asleep and free to bound prisoner had happened so fast Gwen was having a hard time keeping up with the change. She took in a deep breath, trying to slow her frantic thoughts, and assess her situation. She’d gone from being Cadwaladr’s prisoner to being Ottar’s; from hovering on the edge of Ottar’s consciousness, to landing smack in the center of it. Like Cadwaladr, he still thought she was pregnant with Hywel’s child. It seemed that was the only reason she was still alive.

Chapter Thirty-Four

    G areth stared across the dunes that separated him from Gwen.
    “It was the right choice,” Hywel said, coming up beside him. As usual, he was more perceptive than Gareth felt comfortable with. Gareth had just been thinking that he wasn’t sure he should have allowed Godfrid to leave without him. “For all that Godfrid is a Dane, he is my cousin. He will protect her.”
    “If he can,” Gareth said, feeling that familiar growl forming in his throat. He’d felt it often around Gwen—that possessiveness that she would have dismissed as foolish but that had the hackles rising at the back of his neck at the thought of her anywhere near another man.
    “He’ll be able to protect her far more than you could as a potential prisoner,” Hywel said. “Cadwaladr is mistaken, of course, that Gwen carries my child, but even if she did, my father wouldn’t necessarily do what he asked in order to save her life.”
    “I know it,” Gareth said. “And though I would do everything in my power to save her, I can’t ask a king to sacrifice his kingdom for one woman.”
    “Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Hywel said.
    Together, they turned back towards the fire pits and the pavilion where Owain held court. Given that the weather remained clear for now, King Owain had opted not to retreat to Aberffraw but to remain close to the beach with his men. They’d gone only a few paces, however, when Rhun intercepted them. Gareth couldn’t make out his features so far from the torch lights, but his voice was grim.
    “Bad news,” he said.
    Gareth looked past Rhun to the encampment. Men moved about, but in no great hurry.
    “What is it?” Hywel said.
    “Our uncle is here.”
    “He’s what?” Gareth said. “The Danes let him go?”
    “It appears he snuck out,” Rhun said. “He’s meeting with Father now.”
    “God have mercy!” Hywel said. “What a sorry excuse for a prince. We’d better find out what he’s got to say.”
    They hurried to the king’s tent. Knowing his place, Gareth skirted the inside wall while Hywel and Rhun strode to where the two royal brothers spoke. Although Cadwaladr’s voice didn’t carry far, it was otherwise completely silent in the tent and Gareth had no trouble hearing their conversation.
    “I’m sorry for Anarawd, brother,” Cadwaladr was saying as Gareth came to a halt about ten feet from him, to the right of the king’s position. “I never thought—”
    “You never do think, brother .” King Owain had brought a chair specifically for himself so he wouldn’t have to lounge on the ground, a fallen log, or stand like everyone else, but he wasn’t using it. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and stared at Cadwaladr, using all of his considerable height to intimidate his brother. “It’s been a long while since this was about Anarawd, though his murder is what so starkly revealed your cowardice to me.”
    “My cowardice?” Cadwaladr sputtered at the word.
    King Owain turned up the fire. “Yes, your cowardice!”
    “What are you talking about, Owain?” Cadwaladr said. “I did what I had to—”
    “Why did you have Anarawd killed?” Owain said.
    Now, that is a question.
    Cadwaladr straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I did what I thought was best. I believed it was more advantageous to us for Cadell to become King of Deheubarth. If I was wrong, I am sorry.”
    Owain Gwynedd seemed