The Fallen Princess (24 page)

“You spoke with all three of them?” Hywel
said.

Evan nodded. “Do you want me to find them
for you?”

“Not right now,” Hywel said. “I trust that
you learned what you could from them.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Evan stood a little
straighter.

Hywel was itching to talk to Bran’s men, but
Evan was coming along as a lieutenant, and Hywel didn’t want to
dampen his enthusiasm or make him think he didn’t trust him. “I
want to know about Bran’s visits home to Bryn Euryn and Aber that
spring and about the ambush two years later. Did you ask them about
those times?”

“I did, my lord,” Evan said. “The two boys
were present only for the ambush, and all they could do was
describe to me the flurry of rearing horses and frightened men.
Half of Bran’s men charged into the forest after the archer while
the two boys were among those who stayed in the road, huddled over
Bran’s body.”

“Was that the first time either of them had
been under any kind of assault?” Hywel said.

“So I understand, my lord.” Evan’s lips
twitched. “From the shame in their eyes, I imagine they lost their
breakfast in the process.”

Hywel heaved a sigh. “And the old man?”

“He was reluctant to speak ill of the dead,
as he put it, but Bran was not faithful to his wife, nor a
dedicated captain to King Owain in Powys.”

“That is what we expected to hear, isn’t
it?” Hywel said.

“Yes, my lord.”

Hywel hadn’t told Evan about Bran’s liaison
with Gwladys, but his information upheld Lady Alice’s story.

“We still must wonder: how did Tegwen get to
Aber with nobody noticing?”

Evan shook his head.

“What’s more, although the head wound makes
me think her murderer killed her in anger, the burial and the
subsequent cover-up seem more calculated.
Why
did she die
when she did?”

“Could the murderer have been afraid of
something Tegwen knew—or something she’d seen?” Evan said.

“I don’t know.” Hywel shook his head. “Why
do I get the feeling that with every hour that passes we are
getting further from Tegwen’s killer?”

“Further sounds better to me.” Evan gave an
involuntary shiver. “The murderer has remained hidden for five
years. But with Tegwen’s body coming to light, and Madog’s death
besides, what is to prevent him from killing again in order to keep
his secrets?”

Gareth

G
areth lay on the
pallet he shared with Gwen, listening to her easy breathing. His
mind churned with all the pieces of the puzzle they were trying to
put together. It was only now that he remembered that he had
neither returned to Wena’s hut to look for more clues nor had made
a concerted effort to find Brychan among the crowd at Aber.
Godfrid’s arrival and his story of the Book of Kells had put both
concerns completely from his mind.

Dawn was still some time off, but Gareth
rose from the pallet, unable to lie still any longer. He glanced up
at the big bed to make sure Mari remained asleep and tiptoed to the
door. Gwen rolled onto her side, murmuring in her sleep. He thought
he saw a gleam which could have been her eyes opening, but then she
closed them again, and he went out the door.

The manor house in which they were staying
consisted of four rooms on two floors, each built around a central
stair that was more of a ladder. The sole purpose of the manor was
to accommodate the overflow of visitors from the castle. Since the
manor was built outside the castle walls, it was vulnerable if an
opposing army was ever to attack Aber, so it was unadorned,
consisting of nothing more than the eight rooms. Gareth didn’t
think he had a war to worry about today. The border with Powys was
quiet, and the Earl of Chester had his hands full maintaining his
own lands without trying to push into Gwynedd.

Coming down stairs from the front door,
Gareth almost stumbled over the turnips piled on the steps. With
Hallowmas that night, the people had been getting ready for days.
Before sunset, the turnips would be hollowed out and candles lit
within them to guide the souls of the dead who had trouble finding
their way to the next world. From the furor in the hall yesterday,
it seemed many feared that Tegwen would be among them.

She would be buried in a few hours, which
King Owain hoped would ease the people’s anxiety. Gareth wasn’t
sure King Owain would even wait for Hywel to return. The needs of
the dead today superseded those of the living. Hywel hated funerals
anyway, and even if the investigation hadn’t been urgent, Gareth
wouldn’t have put it past Hywel to visit Bryn Euryn simply to avoid
Tegwen’s interment.

Gareth hated funerals too, though what was
there to enjoy about them, really? This was one he couldn’t avoid
attending, but he could occupy himself in the meantime. The sooner
he figured out who had murdered Tegwen and Bran, the sooner he
could begin the search for the Book of Kells. While far too many of
the people who had known Tegwen were already dead, he had a castle
full of people to talk to today. He needed to find the one man who
might know more than he was currently saying: maybe not because he
was deliberately hiding something, but because he might not realize
that bits of what he did know could be important.

King Owain’s longtime friend and steward,
Taran, bobbed to the top of Gareth’s list.

The king himself would still be asleep,
presumably with Cristina, though one never knew, but Taran was an
early riser. He was often up with the dawn even in the summer. He’d
been awake when Gwen had come to him the previous morning; he would
be awake now. Gareth found him, as he thought he might, hard at
work in King Owain’s office off the great hall, going over the
castle accounts.

Gareth knocked on the doorframe, since the
door itself was halfway ajar, and Taran looked up. The smile that
flashed across his face at the sight of Gareth turned wary within a
single heartbeat. “Hello, Gareth. Please tell me you aren’t here to
inform me of another death.”

“No, sir,” Gareth said.

“I’m delighted to see you then.” Taran
pointed to the chair opposite his own on the other side of his
table. “How may I help you?”

“I want to tell you everything that I know
so far about Tegwen’s disappearance and death—and Bran’s for that
matter, which is very little—and ask that you speak to me of what
you remember of that time.”

“We do have ourselves a puzzle, don’t we?”
Taran rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and clasped his
hands in front of his lips. “King Owain is greatly troubled by his
niece’s death. I will help you in any way I can.”

Gareth took a moment to collect his thoughts
and then said, “It is my understanding that you were here and not
in Powys at the time of Tegwen’s disappearance.”

A distant look came into Taran’s eyes. “That
is correct. The King had gathered his nobles to him, and though I
rode with him in the first forays, I returned to Aber after only a
few weeks.”

“Why was that?”

Taran coughed, his expression reluctant. “He
was having … domestic troubles and needed someone he trusted here
at Aber.”

“He wanted you to keep an eye on Gwladys,”
Gareth said.

Taran’s expression cleared. “How did you
know?”

“I would prefer not to reveal that,” Gareth
said, “not unless I must.”

“Of course, of course.” Taran rubbed at his
forehead with the heel of his hand. “Well, if it helps, I was here
when Tegwen ran away—died, I suppose—but I don’t know how that
helps you.”

Gareth looked curiously at the old steward.
“You loved Tegwen.” Gwen had told him of Taran’s emotional reaction
to her death. “I can hear it in your voice when you say her
name.”

“She was a sweet little thing, growing up,”
Taran said.

“Were you in support of her marriage to
Bran?” Gareth said, not that it mattered now, but he was curious,
given what they’d learned of Tegwen’s husband.

“He was a second son but a lord of Rhos
nonetheless. He wasn’t my first choice, but I didn’t know what I
know now—or what I learned of him after her marriage.” Taran’s jaw
firmed at the memory.

“He didn’t love her,” Gareth said. “Did he
hurt her?”

Taran pointed a finger at Gareth. “I never
saw bruises, which is why I didn’t intervene in their relationship.
He ignored her, certainly, and as a result, she retreated to her
own world. She wouldn’t leave him; she denied any wrongdoing on his
part. She was a simple girl at heart. I know that she married him
under duress, having fallen in love with that man-at-arms, Brychan,
but it was my impression that she grew to love her husband and
turned to drink because he didn’t share her love.” Taran’s
shoulders lifted and then fell in resignation. “It’s not an
uncommon story.”

“When was the last time you saw Bran?”
Gareth said.

Taran raised his brows. “Why do you
ask?”

Now it was Gareth’s turn to shrug. “It may
be that he had something to do with her death.”

“Really?” Taran said. “I’m disappointed,
then, that I can’t tell you when I saw him. Not before Tegwen
disappeared, certainly.”

“My informant believes that Bran and Gwladys
met each other in Wena’s hut during their affair, which ended
before Tegwen’s disappearance. Bran knew this area well enough to
know about the hut, and given that Tegwen’s body was found at the
hut …” Gareth’s voice trailed off at the look of astonishment on
Taran’s face. “What?”

“
Bran
was Gwladys’s lover?”

“You didn’t know?” Gareth said, suddenly
confused himself. He’d thought he and Taran had been in accord.

“No, I didn’t know it was he!” Taran said.
“I thought it was Gruffydd, Tegwen’s grandfather.”

Gareth almost choked on his own saliva.
“That’s not what I was told.”

Taran sat back. “It would make more sense if
it was Bran. Gruffydd has always been a friend, and that spring
he’d broken his leg, which was why I felt I was wasting my time at
Aber when I could have been serving Owain in the field.”

“So you never saw Bran at Aber?” Gareth
said.

“All these years and I never harbored a
suspicion against him.” Taran shook his head. “I would apologize to
Gruffydd for misreading him, but Gwladys’s affair was not common
knowledge. Or so I believed until now.” He glared at Gareth.

Gareth put up both hands, palms out. “I will
tell no one. I only brought it up because it seemed you already
knew.”

Taran subsided, still looking disgruntled.
“I will have to speak to the king.”

Gareth was glad that task would not be his.
“So, if I may ask again, when did you last see Bran?”

“I was about to repeat that I didn’t, but—”
Taran put up his finger again. “Give me a moment.” He pushed to his
feet, went to a shelf on the wall, lifted out a heavy book, and
began flipping through the ancient pages. Gareth had seen the book
before, though he’d never been given the opportunity to read it: it
was an account of important events in Aber since its founding, all
the way back to Rhodri Mawr. “Here it is. It was the twenty-second
of April.
Bran ap Cynan, Lord of Rhos, rode to Aber to tell of
the disappearance of his wife, Tegwen ferch Cadwallon
.”

“May I see that?” Gareth rounded the table
and read where Taran pointed. “I don’t understand.”

Taran spread his hand wide. “What’s there to
understand?”

“Tegwen’s grandfather, Gruffydd, told us
that Tegwen disappeared on the Feast of St. Bueno, which I believe
is only two days earlier.”

Taran closed the book and looked at Gareth.
“Bryn Euryn is only ten miles from Aber. He could have easily
ridden this far in a day.”

“Except that he was supposed to be fighting
in the east; I wouldn’t have thought that he could have known of
her disappearance yet, much less reach Aber so quickly.”

“Perhaps when Prince Hywel returns, he can
shed light on these events.” Taran put the book back on the
shelf.

“Why didn’t you send word to Gruffydd that
his granddaughter was missing?” Gareth said.

Taran shook his head. “Now that I’ve seen
the writing and the date, I remember Bran’s visit but little about
it other than the fact of Tegwen’s disappearance.” His brow
furrowed. “I do believe he told me that he had already informed
Gruffydd that she was gone.”

“Gruffydd claims otherwise,” Gareth
said.

“I can’t tell you any more than I’ve said.”
Taran pinned Gareth with a sharp look. “Where is this going in your
head?”

“Gruffydd and Brychan both accused Bran of
killing Tegwen,” Gareth said. “I have no other suspects at the
moment.”

“Given that he’s dead, he is certainly a
convenient one,” Taran said.

“You don’t believe he could have done it?”
Gareth said.

“Wouldn’t it have been smarter to murder her
near Rhos?” Taran said. “And if he wanted to hide the body, there
are smarter things he could have done with it. Why bring her all
the way here?”

“Perhaps because he was already here,”
Gareth said. “Are you sure that he couldn’t have met Gwladys during
that same time period?”

Taran lowered himself back into his chair.
“I do sleep, you know.”

“Maybe he was smart enough to kill her far
away from Bryn Euryn where nobody would suspect him if the body was
eventually found,” Gareth said. “Did Bran get along with
Cadwaladr?”

Taran snorted laughter. “No. They hated each
other.”

“Do you know why?” Gareth said.

Taran’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “In
truth, I couldn’t say. Bran was a good ten years younger than
Cadwaladr, so it must have been something that happened once they
reached manhood.”

“Maybe they were too much alike,” Gareth
said.

Taran eyed Gareth, his lips twisting in a
wry smile. “Thinking always of themselves and nobody else? You may
be right.”