The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

your excuse for killing Anarawd?”
    Hywel shook his head. “You misunderstand. That’s not how it was.”
    “You mean you didn’t kill him?”
    “Oh, I killed him all right.” Hywel leaned back in his chair, an elbow on the arm, as if discussing manor accounts instead of the death of the King of Deheubarth. “But there’s more to it than that.” He gestured to the knife. “I could have thrown it away.”
    “You should have.”
    “But then you wouldn’t have ever known the truth, would you?”
    Gwen swallowed hard. “Why did you want me to know?”
    Hywel turned his head to look out the window. “I don’t know. I’d put the knife away and only wore it tonight on impulse.”
    “So tell me.”
    Hywel pointed to the chair across from him and Gwen obeyed, out of habit maybe, or because she was tired. Hywel, however, stood. He paced around his desk to stand at the window, staring out. It was open onto the green fields beyond Aber. The moonlight made a square of light on the floor behind him.
    “Word reached me that a band of men from Ireland—Danes or Irishmen the messenger didn’t know—had landed near Caernarfon the day before Anarawd reached Dolwyddelan. That concerned me, of course, as my western cousins aren’t known for their gentle passage through a countryside.”
    Despite herself, Gwen smiled. Even his excuses were more droll than those heard from the average man.
    “I gathered several of my men—Gareth not among them as you know—and picked up their trail. I went myself, on a whim. I had no idea what their plan was, or mine for that matter, or if I had a plan at all. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. We headed south from the standing stones at Bwlch y Ddeufaen, avoiding the roads and instead taking a trail that led into the mountains and would intersect the main road.” He shrugged. “We reached one of the many falls tucked into the hills and I called a rest to water the horses. It was a mistake to stop, of course, because in those moments of rest, the mercenaries attacked Anarawd’s band.”
    Gwen sat up, confused. “What are you saying? You weren’t there?”
    “I wasn’t tired or hungry, and I had a tickling in the back of my neck I’ve learned not to ignore. So I left my men to personally scout the ridge above the falls that overlooked the road. The Danes timed the attack perfectly. Anarawd hadn’t the least notion of their presence. The Danes killed them all.”
    “But…” Gwen stopped, trying to picture the scene in her mind’s eye: Hywel lurking above the ambush site while the Danes descended on Anarawd’s men. “What happened next?”
    “Gareth crested a more northern ridge, in my line of sight, but his eyes were only on the battle. Then he raced back the way he’d come, I presumed to go for help.”
    “You saw Gareth and didn’t—?” The rest of the question caught in Gwen’s throat.
    Hywel gave Gwen a pained look. “You think so badly of me, do you?” And then went on, not requiring an answer. “He could do nothing other than what he did. Anarawd’s men weren’t outnumbered, just unprepared. And when danger came, instead of fighting, Anarawd ran, leaving his men to fight the Danes alone.”
    Gwen leaned forward. “You’re telling me King Anarawd abandoned his men to save himself?”
    Hywel tsked through his teeth. “Even if he wasn’t the man I knew him to be, it could have been the right choice. His life was valuable, more valuable than that of his men. At times, running is the only option.”
    “But not in this case?”
    Hywel shook his head. “Anarawd’s captain was killed in the first onslaught and his men were never able to organize themselves properly for a counterattack. By the end, it was a slaughter.”
    “And where was King Anarawd by this time?”
    “Cowering in the woods,” Hywel said. “The Danes didn’t notice he’d run. They searched among the bodies—for the seal, it seems—left the dead as they lay in the road, and beat a retreat west, just as I told you. My choice was to return to my men and track them immediately, or…”
    “Or to find Anarawd,” Gwen said.
    “As you say,” Hywel said. “He was so happy to see me that he held out his arms to greet me. I put my knife into his chest instead. It was quite a job getting him back on the road without getting his blood all over me, I can tell you. That’s why I dragged him face down.”
    “And left a trail for Gareth to find,” Gwen said. “Along with