The Bard's Daughter (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) (10 page)

As she looked at Meilyr, however, Eva’s face had transformed from that of an innocent beauty to a vengeful matron.

Gwen stared at her, and then flicked her attention away, just as Eva trained her eyes on Gwen and Gwalchmai. By the time Gwen dared to raise her head, Eva had faced back to Denis who was pouring her a cup of wine from a flagon.

Robert had remained standing. “As a last request, Meilyr asks your pardon, if not your forgiveness, and joins us in the celebration of Cadoc’s birth day.”

At Robert’s nod, Meilyr led Gwen and Gwalchmai up the center aisle to the dais. A stir ran around the room. To the eyes of everyone there, Meilyr was a dead man walking. She knew her father was hating every step he took, hating to be the object of scorn and ridicule—and pity. It gave a poignancy to the moment that Gwen herself didn’t feel. She was too caught up in worrying about the aftermath of the singing, and whether they really would be able to ride away from Carreg Cennen in one piece.

When they reached the high table, Gwlachmai and Meilyr bowed and Gwen curtseyed.

“
Bard,” Cadfael said.

Even with the unveiling of Robert’s deceit, Gwen was pleased to see no animosity in Cadfael’s eyes as he looked at them. From beside his father, Cadoc’s face was lit from within. He had become a man today, shot a deer with his own arrow and then slit its throat, and from now on would take up his duties as his father’s right hand man. Gwen hoped that he had learned something from these past few days and would not follow his father’s duplicitous example.

“
My lord,” Meilyr said, speaking formally. “We have prepared a song in honor of Lord Cadoc’s birthday. Do we have your permission to sing it?”

“
Yes,” Cadfael said.

The three singers moved to one side of the dais and then turned to face the audience. Gwen allowed her focus to blur, so she couldn’t see individual faces. On a happier day, she might have enjoyed the guests’ expressions, but not tonight.

Gwalchmai began with a long solo, and then Meilyr and Gwen joined him. The song was a complicated one, in which Gwen and her father traded melodies while Gwalchmai’s soprano soared above the rest. Gwen, Gwalchmai, and Meilyr held the last note in perfect harmony.

And then Meilyr clutched his chest, staggered, and fell to the floor.

The hall erupted once again in noise and confusion.

Instantly, Cadfael was on his feet, Cadoc beside him, their faces a caricature of shock. Then Gwen caught Cadfael’s eye and lifted one shoulder, just slightly. Cadfael’s mouth snapped shut. With identically blank expressions, both men lowered themselves back into their chairs. Gwen was sorry to ruin Cadoc’s birth day feast, but since he was in on the deception, if not the exact moment it would occur, she couldn’t feel too bad. Meilyr and Gwen had felt that everyone’s surprise would be more authentic if the two of them chose the manner of Meilyr’s demise, rather than leaving it to the dark hours of the morning.

Saran pushed her way through the crowd. “Let me past! I can help him.”

The onlookers gave way, though Gwen heard an older man mutter something about it being “better this way.” Saran fell to her knees beside Meilyr and Gwen leaned over her father, to block them from the general view of the hall. Meilyr was trying to lie still and unmoving on his own but once Saran held a cloth under his nose and he breathed in the scent—only one breath but it was enough—he relaxed completely and his head flopped to one side.

Saran slipped the cloth back into its pouch and sat back on her heels. Gruffydd, who had been crouching near Meilyr’s head, his hands resting on his knees, straightened. That motion quieted the hall and Gruffydd held up one hand. “He is dead.”

Gwalchmai had pressed his back to the wall, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Gwen went to him and pulled him into her arms. “It’s all right, Gwalchmai.”

He’d known of the plan too, but even so, the shock of its implementation had a trickle of tears running down each cheek. Gwen kissed the top of his head and looked out at the other diners, most of whom had settled back into their seats. Gruffydd already had his men working to carry Meilyr from the hall.

Cadoc appeared on Gwen’s left. “You saw Eva’s reaction to Robert’s announcement?”

“
I did,” Gwen said.

“
Did we miss something there?” Cadoc said.

Gwen glanced at him. He was tall for fourteen, with a man’s voice, and his tone was that of a man too. He would make a fine heir to Cadfael if he kept his head. “Eva brought my father to the pantry the night Collen died.”

“
She what?” Cadoc spoke louder than he should have and several heads turned in their direction. He moderated his tone. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

“
I only found out about it a few hours before my father’s sentencing. And since I had no more evidence than a maidservant’s middle-of-the-night vision, I thought it best to leave it as it was,” Gwen said. “I had your agreement that my father didn’t murder Collen. Eva played a part, surely, but she didn’t murder her husband.”

Cadoc pursed his lips. “Perhaps not.”

“
She is too small and slight to subdue a man twice her size. But did she help it along?” Gwen nodded. “I think so.”

“
I will keep an eye on Denis,” Cadoc said. “He’s worn gloves ever since he arrived.”

“
Given Eva’s anger, that he is involved is a natural assumption,” Gwen said.

“
I, for one, would like to know the reason behind her anger,” Cadoc said.

“
I would say
galanas
, or the lack thereof,” Gwen said.

“
You may be right.” Cadoc eyed Gwen. “If your hunch is correct, we should know more soon.”

“
And if I’m wrong,” Gwen said. “Then my father will have a miraculous recovery.” She took a step towards the door, bringing Gwalchmai along with her. “I should be with him, my lord.”

“
Of course.”

“
Best wishes on your coming of age,” Gwen said, because she did truly wish him well.

“
Thank you. I will be sure to remember you the next time we have a murder at Carreg Cennen. My father should call upon you to solve it.” Cadoc gave her a slight bow before turning away, leaving Gwen speechless, staring after him.

Chapter Nine

G
wen tucked a blanket all around her father and leaned in to kiss his forehead. He lay on the table in an alcove in the chapel. In a larger, more well-appointed castle, the chapel would have had a room set aside specifically for housing the dead, but not here.

A door banged and Gwen spun around to see Gruffydd marching towards her. He’d let in a waft of cold air and a swirl of the snow that had begun to fall after the midnight hour had passed. Gruffydd came to a halt beside Meilyr’s body. “How is he?”

“
Asleep,” Gwen said. “He’s barely breathing, but Saran says that’s normal. As we progress towards morning, he should come awake. He’ll be disoriented then.”

“
Can you leave him?” Gruffydd said.

“
I—” Gwen paused and narrowed her eyes at the captain of the guard. “Why?”

Gruffydd took Gwen’s arm. “He’ll be fine. Come with me.”

“
Where are you taking me?” Gwen trotted beside Gruffydd, trying to keep up. He wasn’t exactly dragging her out of the chapel, but his grip on her arm was firm.

“
Cadoc told me what he saw in the hall this evening, and of your conversation with him.”

“
You mean Eva?” Gwen said, no closer to understanding why Gruffydd was hauling her halfway across the castle in the middle of the night. Unusually, given the hour, the courtyard was lit as if it were day and so many boot prints had marked the new snow that hers barely made an impression.

They reached the barbican that guarded the castle and went through it. Built primarily in wood, with an accompanying wooden palisade, Carreg Cennen Castle primarily relied on its position on the top of a mountain for defense. The castle dominated the landscape with a spectacular view of the countryside for miles around. At the same time, Cadfael had done what he could to bolster the defenses.

The castle was protected by a fortified gateway, beyond which a series of bridges crossed several deep pits. Each had been built so that anyone seeking entry to Carreg Cennen had to walk along a narrow walkway with no railings to reach the entrance. At any time, the bridges overlying the pits could be drawn away from their supports, creating an insurmountable chasm-like barrier.

Gruffydd took Gwen to the second bridge, stopped in front of the guard standing in the middle of it, and pointed into the ditch below. The snow-covered body of a woman lay at the bottom, her torso jammed on a pointed stick, one of many that filled the hole and were designed to kill anyone who fell into it.

“
Sweet Mary,” Gwen said. “It’s Eva.”

Gruffydd tipped his head to the two men-at-arms who had climbed into the pit to retrieve the body. “Bring her up.”

“
Who found her?” Gwen said.

“
At the change of duty, one of the men-at-arms spotted her from the tower,” Gruffydd said.

“
How could he even see her in the dark and the snow?”

“
He has eagle eyes,” Gruffydd said. “But it wasn’t her he spotted as much as the remains of footprints in the snow leading from the barbican to the bridge, and then stopping.”

Gwen couldn’t take her eyes off the gruesome scene. “What a horrible way to die.”

Gruffydd took Gwen’s shoulders and turned her around so she faced him instead of Eva. “Her satchel lies beside her. It looks as if she was leaving Carreg Cennen and slipped on her way across the bridge.”

“
It
looks
?” Gwen said. “She had to pass through the gatehouse to get here. Who saw her leave?”

Gruffydd looked away, his jaw working. “No one.”

“
How is that possible?” Gwen glanced past him to the barbican. The heavy wooden door was open. “Wasn’t anybody guarding the gate?”

“
The main gate was closed at nightfall, but the wicket gate beside it can be opened at need. The guard on duty was drunk and doesn’t remember anything,” Gruffydd said.

“
Was the wicket gate found locked, even after she passed through it?” Gwen said.

“
Yes.”

“
Then—”

Gruffydd understood where Gwen was going without her having to voice her question. “Then who closed it behind her? I don’t know.”

“
My lord!”

Gruffydd turned towards one of his soldiers, who handed him the strap to Eva’s satchel. He opened it and allowed Gwen to peer into its depths with him. “Is that what I think it is?” he said.

“
I think so.” Gwen reached inside and removed a small, stoppered vial. She held it up. “The potion, do you think?”

“
It seems likely. I will inquire of Saran in the morning,” Gruffydd said, taking it from Gwen.

“
Were there two sets of footprints leading to the bridge?” Gwen said.

“
The guard didn’t notice,” Gruffydd said. “By the time one of the men woke me, the snow was too muddled to tell.”

“
Someone could have pushed Eva off the bridge,” Gwen said.

“
Someone
,” Gruffydd said. The word came out a growl. “Our murderer is still here at Carreg Cennen. Let’s hope my plan works.”

But by noon the next day, it didn’t seem like it was going to. Fortunately the weather prevented all but the hardiest from leaving the castle—and none left before Gruffydd had inspected their hands. Gwen sat alone on a bench at one of the far tables, feeling morose, while Cadoc picked at a trencher of food, mostly uneaten.

Half an hour earlier, they’d been entertained by Denis berating Robert at his carelessness in letting Eva leave the castle under such severe weather conditions. The merchant was only appeased by the production of the three gold coins he’d coveted. That his unmarked hands had been bare for the first time since he’d arrived only added to the low mood of the watchers.

Several men-at-arms were seated around the room, one of whom was asleep with his head on arms folded on the table. From the bleariness in Cadoc’s eyes, he’d had more to drink than he should have to celebrate his birth day.