The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

heading for the narrow path that led through the brush to the Danish camp. “Tell the king we do his bidding. He’ll know what to do if we don’t return.”
    “Yes, my lord!”
    With Hywel in the lead, Rhun behind him, and Gareth bringing up the rear, they dodged among the scrubby bushes that dotted the windswept dunes. Gareth understood that a recklessness had come upon the two princes. They’d fought battles together, risked their lives dozens of times—but this was a different matter. Gareth could picture the glee rising in Hywel’s chest at this sudden chance at adventure and risk.
    A cluster of stunted trees had found a niche on the edge of the beach, some thirty yards from the Danish fire circles and command tents. They dropped to their stomachs in the grass under the branches and took a moment to catch their breath. Then, Rhun lifted his head.
    “Do you see anything?” Hywel said. Of the three of them, Rhun had the best night vision.
    “Men surround the fires,” Rhun said. “Outside their light, it’s hard to see anything.” And then… “Wait, a man comes.”
    Rhun and Hywel ducked their heads. In contrast, Gareth popped his up, unsure of what instinct made him less cautious. He gazed at the man, noting his bulky shape silhouetted against the fire. Again it was instinct—and only his instinct—that told him what to do. He put a hand on Hywel’s shoulder. “Wait here.”
    Before the princes could protest, Gareth leaped up and ran at a crouching lope to where the man had paused. He fell on his stomach at the man’s feet. Instead of calling to the other sentries, the big Dane turned his back on Gareth and faced the sea.
    “Where is she?” Gareth said in a hoarse whisper.
    “King Ottar’s own tent,” Godfrid said. “Third from the left,”
    “Is anyone with her?”
    “Two stand guard outside the entrance,” Godfrid said. “You’ll need a diversion to get inside.”
    “Right. You’ll know it when you see it.” Gareth scuttled back to where Hywel and Rhun waited. “That was Godfrid. We need a diversion to get to Gwen.”
    “I’ll go,” said Rhun. “Give me a slow count of one hundred and then move.”
    “What are you going to do?” Hywel said.
    Rhun shot Hywel a mischievous grin. “I don’t know. Like my brother, I make it up as I go along.” And with that, he was off.
    Still sprawled in the grass, Hywel groaned and put his head into his hands. “I don’t even want to know.”
    Gareth kept his head just above the level of the grass. A dozen torches lit the Danish camp, ruining the Danes’ night vision, but the darkness wouldn’t hide Gareth and Hywel much longer. Sunrise was a long way off, but they had very little time before the sky lightened in advance of it.
    A flame shot into the sky further down the beach, near the shore of the Menai Straits, followed by roars of surprise by men in both camps. The soldiers around the Danish fire pits surged to their feet. Rhun had set the grass to the south of the camp on fire.
    Godfrid had moved the instant the fire had been lit, the first to shout the warning to his companions.
    “Now!” Hywel said.
    He and Gareth ran to the rear of the tent, Gareth held his sword to counter anyone who challenged them and faced outward, on guard. Meanwhile, Hywel cut through the rear of the tent with two quick slashes of his belt knife. They ducked inside.
    “Watch the front, Gareth,” Hywel said as he ran to Gwen.
    “I prayed you’d come. I don’t know what would have happen—”
    “We’re here now.” Gareth touched the top of Gwen’s head in greeting, though he wanted to pull her into his arms, and then bounded to the entrance of the tent. He peered through the opening. Only one guard had remained on duty, though he was now twenty feet further from the tent entrance than he should have stood. He wouldn’t be able to hear anything they said from that distance. Behind him, Hywel struggled to saw through the ropes that bound Gwen’s hands.
    “Hurry,” Gareth said.
    “I’m trying,” Hywel said, through gritted teeth.
    They were out of time. “He’s coming, my lord,” Gareth said. The guard appeared to be remembering his duty and was backing towards them, his shadow bouncing in the firelight. “We need to get out of here now!”
    Hywel freed Gwen’s hands and then pressed the knife into them. “You do your feet. I’ll defend the rear.” He stood, pulled his sword from its sheath, and stuck his head out of their ad hoc