The Bard's Daughter (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) (2 page)

Gwen gazed down at the Collen’s body. She did know: shame, mortification, banishment. The fine—
galanas
—that he would owe Collen’s family would pauper them. Gwen swallowed down those thoughts. Her father hadn’t murdered Collen, and if he hadn’t murdered him, then someone else had.

“
I would have blood on my hands too if I came upon a friend who lay dead on the floor,” Gwen said. “My father touched Collen. He’s drunk enough that maybe he thought Collen was asleep at first. That is all.”

Neither Philip nor Edain looked convinced. Edain pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Gwe—”

Gwalchmai hurtled down the ladder and collided with Gwen, unable to stop his headlong rush. “I saw Gruffydd take Father away!” Gwalchmai wrapped his arms around Gwen’s waist. “What’s happening? What did he do?”

Gwen’s brother was ten years younger than she and developing a soprano voice that her father swore would shake the rafters of every hall in which he sang. To Gwen’s ear, it already did. Gwen took in a deep breath, knowing that she had to be strong for him, and then eased back from Gwalchmai enough to bend and put her hands to either side of his face. “Collen is dead. That’s all we know so far. I will come find you in a moment.”

Gwalchmai gazed into Gwen’s face, eyes wide. “Father has been accused of murdering Collen, hasn’t he, Gwen? I heard someone in the kitchen say it.”

“
You and I both know that he couldn’t have done anything like that, but it is what Gruffydd and Robert believe,” Gwen said.

Gwalchmai edged sideways, his eyes flicking all around the room, trying to look past Gwen to Collen’s body. “What if he did it?”

Gwen shifted her body to block his vision. “Gwalchmai! How could you even think such a thing of Father?”

Gwalchmai tried to pull away. “Everyone else is thinking it. How do you know Father is innocent?”

“
I just
do
! Regardless, you shouldn’t be here.”

“
But Gwen—”

“
Not now, Gwalchmai. Wait for me in the kitchen.” Gwen forcibly turned her brother around and marched him towards the ladder.

Gwalchmai’s face wore a mutinous look, but he allowed her to shove him up the steps. His feet stomped at each rung in turn until he disappeared and Gwen turned back to the body. She hated seeing the merchant this way, and hated even more that Philip now crouched beside the body.

“
Do you—do you see anything that could exonerate my father?” she said.

Philip gestured to Collen’s body. “Not from here.” He glanced up at her. “It could even be a hanging if Lord Cadfael is in a vindictive mood.”

Gwen and her family had spent the winter singing for Lord Cadfael, the ruler of Carreg Cennen. From here, Lord Cadfael oversaw Bychan, a cantref in the Welsh kingdom of Deheubarth, and was himself subject to the oversight of Deheubarth’s king, Anarawd.

The lump in Gwen’s throat was so big now that she couldn’t swallow. Thank goodness Collen lay face down so she couldn’t see the wound at his throat. Her eyes teared again as she gazed at him and she was honest enough with herself to admit that the tears were less for Collen than for herself and her family. If this accusation stuck, no man would ever respect her father again. And who would hire the son of a murderer to sing in his hall?

“
How long ago did he die?” Edain said.

Philip lifted up Collen’s wrist and dropped it. “He’s warm but stiff.”

“
What does that mean?” Edain stepped closer, bending forward with his hands on his knees, all eyes.

“
If he were warm but not stiff, Collen would have died within the last few hours. As it is, the stiffness implies that he died sometime after midnight, but before dawn.”

Gwen wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. She found herself trembling at how casually Edain and Philip discussed Collen’s demise.

Edain touched a finger to a spot on Collen’s breeches.

“
Here! What are you doing?” Philip said.

“
That’s not blood,” Edain said.

“
Of course it’s blood,” Philip said. “There’s blood all over him.”

This wasn’t strictly true. The pantry sloped away from its highest point by the ladder and the blood had poured from Collen’s wound towards a far corner, without sullying the floor under the rest of Collen’s body. Ignoring Philip, Edain leaned in and sniffed at the stain.

“
What is it?” Gwen said.

“
It smells somewhat sweet, maybe nutty,” Edain said.

Philip snorted in disgust. In a manner similar to the one Gruffydd had used with her father, though perhaps with even more understanding, he took Edain’s arm to pull him up and out of his way.

“
This is no place for you, boy,” Philip said. “For neither you nor Gwen.” He turned to her. “You should see to your brother.”

“
He’s right, Gwen,” Edain said.

Gwen backed away as two guards awkwardly lowered a body-sized board down the ladder. Philip caught one end and set it on the floor of the pantry. “Excuse us, Gwen,” one of the other guards said.

Philip nudged Edain and Gwen. “I know you’re curious,” he said. “But even if Meilyr isn’t guilty, there’s nothing you can do about it. Leave this to your betters.”

“
Yes, sir,” Edain said.

Gwen didn’t answer, just tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, feeling colder than she should have in the protected pantry. She was thankful for her thick woolen leggings and two petticoats that kept the worst of the winter air from freezing her to her bones. Gwen watched the guards lift Collen onto the board and then turned away. There was no going back to a time before Collen’s death. A wail rose in her chest.

What am I going to do?

Chapter Two

G
wen entered the garden, her heart pounding so hard in her ears that she could barely hear the crunch of her footsteps on the gravel of the pathway that led to the herbalist’s hut where she could hide. Then she stopped and shut her eyes. After she’d left the pantry, she’d gone to the kitchen to find Gwalchmai as she had promised. She’d told him that no matter what happened, she would take care of him. He needed her now. She had to be strong for him. Taking another deep breath, she turned on her heel and headed for the barracks where Gruffydd had taken her father.

As she approached the door to her father’s cell, the guard glared at her as if she, too, had murdered someone. She looked past him, through the barred window. Her father had transferred his slumped posture from the stool in the pantry to a bench against the wall in a cell with a stone floor and walls. The door was locked and guarded, too, and the guard outside admitted Gwen only after she handed over her belt knife.

Gwen came to a halt in front of her father. She didn’t know what to say to him and she was afraid that anything she said might come out as an accusation, not that one from her would be worse than what he already faced. “Can you tell me what happened?” she said.

“
I don’t know, girl,” her father said. “I don’t know how I got into the pantry. I remember only bits and pieces of yesterday afternoon and evening.” Meilyr’s brow furrowed, and then he shook his head. “I have a memory of making music during the evening meal … unless that was the day before? But after that … I don’t remember anything that happened until the cook screamed in my ear and I saw Collen dead at my feet.”

Gwen bit her lip. “You were supposed to meet me in the herbalist’s hut after we sang in the hall for Lord Cadfael. I practiced by myself until well past moonrise because you never came.”

Meilyr gazed down at his feet. “Could I have stopped for a quick drink in private?”

Gwen suppressed the groan that formed in her chest. Her father certainly could have done that, though she’d hoped that he’d put those days behind him. At the same time, she was pleased that even in his decrepit state, he was aware enough of the hold drink had over him to ask the question of himself before she could.

“
You never saw Collen?” she said.

Meilyr’s eyes shifted to the left, just like Gwalchmai’s did when he lied to her, even as her father shook his head and said, “No.”

Gwen glared at him. “You did see him. When?”

Meilyr scrubbed at his graying hair. He had been allowed to wash the blood from his hands before they put him in the cell. “You have no right to question me, Gwen. I didn’t kill the man. That’s all you need to know.”

Gwen was afraid that her father still didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of his situation, nor understand that if he was convicted of murder, his children would suffer too. “It’s not me you have to convince,” Gwen said. “It’s Gruffydd, Robert, and Lord Cadfael.”

“
They are all good men,” Meilyr said.

Gwen felt her temper rising. “Good men? If any one of them believes you murdered Collen, as it seems both Gruffydd and Robert already do, Lord Cadfael could hang you! What will happen to Gwalchmai and me, then?”

“
Cadfael won’t hang me. Why would he?”

“
Because you killed Collen!”

Meilyr shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re talking about a hanging. At the most, the
galanas
I am required to pay will be more than we can afford.”

Gwen shook her head, a deep unease in her bones. “We’re in the south, Father, not in Gwynedd. Even if King Anarawd is in the ascendency now, the Normans have a strong hold here. We don’t know if Lord Cadfael will abide by the old laws.” Payment of
galanas
from the murderer to the victim’s family was the traditional Welsh method of punishing a murderer. Punishment by dismemberment and death was a Norman innovation, though one that some Welsh lords were employing despite the law.

“
Don’t talk that way,” Meilyr said.

“
Don’t you understand how bad this looks?” Gwen said. “Remember what happened to Gareth!”

At the mention of Gareth’s name, the tension between Gwen and her father filled the room to the point that Gwen could almost see it. Her father sat still, just looking at Gwen. She stared at her feet. She’d sworn she wouldn’t say Gareth’s name, ever again, even if she’d thought about him every day since she was sixteen years old.

Her first love—and her only one—Gareth had been a man-at-arms in the service of Prince Cadwaladr, ruler of Ceredigion. Gareth had wanted to marry Gwen but had been dismissed from Cadwaladr’s service before he could. His single act of disobedience—the refusal to cut off the hand of a young thief—had reverberated through all their lives. Cadwaladr had been angry, impetuous, and unreasonable, and Gwen feared that in respect to her father, Cadfael might be the same.

Meilyr cleared his throat. “Just because I don’t remember what passed during the evening, doesn’t mean Lord Cadfael will think I killed my old friend.”

“
Robert certainly thinks you did, and he will testify to Lord Cadfael to that effect,” Gwen said.

Meilyr rubbed at his chin. “Somebody wants it to look like I did it.”

“
But why?”

Meilyr snorted. “So it doesn’t look like they did it, of course.” Meilyr’s voice was all patience, as if Gwen had the intelligence of Dai, the castle’s resident imbecile who hauled the slops from the kitchen and cleaned the latrine.

“
But why you?” Gwen said.

“
I don’t know.”

“
You made it so easy for the killer. You walked right into his trap.”

Meilyr snorted, though whether at Gwen or in agreement with her, Gwen didn’t know. She closed her eyes, trying to rein in her temper. She shouldn’t have shouted at her father, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. Thankfully, he hadn’t felt the need to slap her down just now.

“
You must speak to Gruffydd,” Gwen said. “He’s very certain that you killed Collen, but if you tell him about your loss of memory, it might introduce a morsel of doubt.”

Meilyr leaned back against the wall. “He won’t listen to me, not unless someone else comes forward to support what I have to say.”

Gwen eyed him. “Father, despite your denials, are you worried that you might have killed Collen?”

Meilyr shrugged.

“
Why would you think that of yourself, even if you were drunk?” Gwen said.

“
He and I had a slight disagreement yesterday,” Meilyr said.