The Fallen Princess (28 page)

Hywel almost laughed. That was something he
hadn’t ever considered, for all that he’d killed men. He’d never
wanted to hide a body, though, and he could imagine the desperate
search that must have ensued when Bran found his wife dead at his
feet.

“Whose idea was it to put her behind the
wall?” Gareth said.

“Bran’s,” Dewi said. “He made a shroud out
of a deerskin he found in a box at the foot of the bed, and we
carried her up the ladder to the loft.”

“And left her,” Hywel said.

“It was all Erik’s fault,” Dewi said. “He
was the one who brought Tegwen to Aber. We didn’t even know she was
coming until she arrived.”

“What were you doing at Aber?” Gareth
said.

“I attended to Lord Bran.” Dewi lifted his
head, a remnant of pride returning.

“Why were you at Wena’s hut?” Hywel said.
“Bran was supposed to be in Powys with my father.”

Dewi’s face flushed, and he didn’t
answer.

Gareth’s expression turned menacing, and he
stepped closer. “Both Tegwen and Bran are dead, Dewi. But you’re
not. Telling us everything you know can only help you now.”

Dewi licked his lips. They were badly
chapped, even with the fall of water on his face. His eyes flicked
to the side of the road.

“You have no way out of this, Dewi,” Gareth
said. “You don’t want to hang for a murder you didn’t commit.”

Even with that empty threat, Hywel was
afraid they would have to use harsher methods to compel Dewi to
spit out any more information, but then he said, “It was Queen
Gwladys who was supposed to come to the hut that night.”

A whisper of unease swept among the men, and
Hywel held up one hand to stop Dewi from speaking further. Gareth
tipped his head to Evan, who began to disperse the men back to
their horses. Hywel was still struggling to believe that the truth
had been right in front of him all this time, if only Dewi had been
willing to tell it.

“Why don’t you tell us about that meeting?”
Gareth said.

Dewi sneered, realizing he’d struck a nerve.
“Gwladys was Bran’s lover.”

Hywel kept his expression blank.

Dewi waited for a response, but when it
wasn’t forthcoming, his shoulders sagged. “Oh. You already knew
that.”

“We did,” Gareth said.

“Then why did you ask?” Dewi said.

“To see if you did,” Gareth said.

That seemed too complicated for Dewi, who
then shrugged. “She’d broken it off with him, but Bran had begged
her to talk to him one last time.”

It was always the one last time that was the
undoing of any secret. Gwladys appeared to have known that, even if
Bran hadn’t.

“But she didn’t come,” Hywel said.

Dewi shook his head. “It was Tegwen who
came. Lord Bran had sent Erik on an errand to Bryn Euryn, and
somehow she convinced him to bring her to Aber.”

“That’s a fifteen-mile ride if you don’t
take the ferry,” Hywel said. “She must have been very
convincing.”

Dewi shrugged again. Hywel was growing to
despise the gesture. “He would never tell me anything.”

Gareth motioned with one hand, silently
asking Hywel to step away from Dewi to confer with him and Godfrid.
They put their heads together.

“Tegwen would not be the first wife to lie
with her husband after-the-fact, thinking to convince him seven
months later that the child was born early,” Godfrid said.

“When Brychan refused to run away with her,
she must have been desperate,” Gareth said.

“Nor would Erik be the first Dane to hide a
soft heart behind a warrior’s countenance,” Godfrid said.

Gareth returned to Dewi. “Why did you
run?”

“Erik said that it was only a matter of time
before someone remembered that we’d both served Bran,” Dewi said.
“He knew that Prince Hywel had gone to Rhos. He didn’t trust me to
lie. He said that I either had to come with him, or he’d kill
me.”

“Did it occur to you that he might kill you
once he got you out of Aber?” Hywel said.

At Dewi’s wide eyes, Hywel tsked his
disbelief.

“Walk me through that night, Dewi,” Gareth
said. “Erik and Tegwen arrived at the hut. Tegwen went inside,
leaving you and Erik to wait outside … and then what?”

Dewi hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t hear
all that Tegwen and Bran said. They were quiet at first, and then
they started shouting.” He looked down at the ground. “Erik and I
stayed with the horses until Bran came to get us.”

“That’s not all you heard, though, is it?”
Gareth said.

Hywel had noted that downcast look too,
which indicated Dewi was
still
hiding something.

“Nobody can be harmed by Bran now,” Gareth
said. “It’s best if you tell the whole truth.”

Dewi’s lower lip stuck out as if he were
Dai’s age instead of Gareth’s. “I don’t want to hang.”

Gareth glanced at Hywel, who answered for
him, “My father will be merciful as long as you didn’t do anything
wrong beyond withholding the true story.”

Dewi ducked his head. “Tegwen told Bran that
she’d kept his secrets and that he owed her.” Now Dewi lifted his
eyes to Hywel’s face. “She claimed he was responsible for
Marchudd’s death.” Marchudd was Bran’s older brother, the eldest
son of the three, who’d died in battle in Ceredigion after Bran’s
marriage to Tegwen.

The three men stood silent absorbing that
bit of news, and then Hywel reached around Dewi’s back, untied his
hands, and began to retie them in front of him. “Is that when he
hit her?”

Dewi nodded.

The rope was water-logged and stiff, and
Hywel’s own hands were cold. By the time they arrived at Aber, the
only way to remove the rope might be to cut it. After some
frustration with trying to tie the last knot, Gareth stepped in to
finish the job while Hywel put his hands to his mouth to warm
them.

“Did Tegwen truly know something about
Marchudd’s death?” Gareth said. “Was Bran really responsible?”

Dewi put his face into his bound hands. “I
don’t know. It was in Ceredigion.” Then he lifted his head to look
at Hywel. “You know what that war was like, that last battle in
particular.”

“Who’s to say when a man dies that his death
truly came at the hands of his enemy?” Godfrid said.

Hywel nodded. “War is chaos.” They’d all
lost loved ones that day.

Gareth

“D
id I miss the
funeral?” Hywel said.

“Not yet.” Gareth rode beside his lord with
Godfrid a half pace behind on the other side. “Tegwen was to be put
in the ground as the sun was setting. Your father hoped that the
delay would give you enough time to return.”

Gareth expected Hywel to express regret or
at least grimace that he’d failed to miss the funeral. But instead
he opened his mouth and sang:

A bright fort on a shining slope stands;

A girl, shy and beautiful, plays with the
gulls.

Though she thinks of me not,

I will go,

on my white horse,

my soul full of longing;

to seek out the girl whose laughter fills my
heart,

to speak of love,

since it has come my way.

“Up until this moment, I didn’t want to
attend, but now I will sing that for her,” Hywel said.

Gareth was having a hard time finding his
voice. He glanced behind him and saw that several of the men had
overheard Hywel’s tenor and were clearing their throats and
surreptitiously wiping at the corners of their eyes.

“Did you compose that for Tegwen?” Gareth
said.

“It has been forming in my mind since I left
Aber,” Hywel said. “I wish she were still alive to hear it.”

“She won’t be remembered because she ran
away with a Dane anymore but because of your song,” Gareth
said.

“She was lost,” Hywel said simply.

Gareth glanced at his prince. “So you
believe Dewi’s story?”

“Perhaps not every word, but in the main?
Yes.”

“Bran must have known that someday the body
would come to light. He didn’t dispose of her cloak,” Godfrid
said.

“That close to Aber, everywhere else was
equally fraught with peril,” Hywel said.

“He should have burned the cloak,” Gareth
said. “He could have stolen a boat and thrown her body into the
sea.”

“His wife was dead by his hand,” Hywel said.
“I submit that he might not have been thinking clearly and would
have been concerned primarily for his own skin. He didn’t want
anyone to see him. He’d come to Aber in secret. He wanted to keep
it that way.”

“Do you think—” Gareth hesitated, biting his
lip.

“Do I think what?” Hywel said.

“He may have known the village children
thought the house was haunted,” Gareth said. “He probably knew that
Cadwaladr met his women there. Perhaps he hoped that if Tegwen was
found, suspicion would fall naturally on Prince Cadwaladr. I myself
assumed it when we found the body.”

“What is the word for such a man?” Godfrid
said. “Devious, I think you would say.”

“One never knows what a man can do when he’s
desperate,” Gareth said, “as surely as Bran must have been
desperate having killed his wife.”

“My lord Hywel, your father will be pleased
you solved her murder, if not Bran’s, in time to lay her to rest,”
Godfrid said.

“I’ll tell you what I’m glad about,” Gareth
said. “I’m glad that I’m not bringing your lifeless body into Aber,
my lord.”

Hywel waved off Gareth’s concern. “The
archer’s aim was poor.”

Gareth shook his head. “Why now? Why take a
shot at you? Bran killed Tegwen. What are we missing that has put
you in an archer’s sights?”

“You do have a second murder, that of Bran
himself,” Godfrid said.

Gareth clenched the reins tightly and then
forced himself to relax. “I would not have said we were getting
close to identifying him.”

“And yet, if this ambush is related, our
murderer must not agree,” Hywel said.

“He has stayed hidden for three years,”
Gareth said. “What has made him lose his grip?”

Nobody had an answer to that.

“Are you going to tell your father about
Tegwen’s accusation against Bran?” Gareth said.

“I will have to,” Hywel said.

“If I may suggest, my lord,” Gareth said,
“it would be better if only your father knows what we know. We have
inadvertently flushed out another wrongdoer. We want to keep him
guessing.”

“I agree,” Hywel said.

They had finally come off the beach path to
the main road that ran past Aber. Torches shone from the gatehouse
where a crowd had gathered, forming up on either side of the road
to the castle, and Meilyr’s drum pounded out a solemn rhythm.

“Tegwen’s funeral is about to start.”
Godfrid bowed. “I am sorry for your loss, my prince.”

Hywel nodded absently and dismounted at the
crossroads where the track that ran down from the castle met the
main road. Gareth waved at the men to dismount and then went to
help Dafydd off his horse himself. Dafydd’s wound had turned out to
be less serious than it could have been because his boiled leather
armor had stopped most of the arrow’s force. The point had
penetrated the muscle of his upper arm, however, and he needed
proper treatment before the wound suppurated. Directing another
man-at-arms to give him support, Gareth sent Dafydd into the castle
by a back pathway that led to the postern gate.

The rest of the men picketed their horses in
the grass beside the road. Dewi had been walking with his hands
tied in front of him on a lead behind one of the horses, and Evan
pulled him off the track behind the other men, keeping one hand on
the rope. Dewi hadn’t tried to run away, but Tegwen’s funeral would
present him with the best opportunity, with his guards more focused
on the procession than on him.

It wasn’t long before Tegwen’s coffin passed
their position, with Gruffydd, Sioned, and King Owain following
immediately behind the pallbearers. Hywel moved towards Rhun, who
nodded his head almost imperceptibly in greeting. Mari, who walked
next to Rhun, shot her husband a glare and lifted her chin. Gareth
couldn’t help smiling at his prince’s discomfort, confident that he
knew what that was about. Gwen walked with Gwalchmai, Llelo, and
Dai further back in the procession. At their approach, Evan nudged
Gareth’s arm. “Go on.”

Gareth didn’t need a second urging. He took
Gwen’s hand, and they walked across the bridge that spanned the
Aber River to the burial ground of many of Aber’s royal family,
located to the south of the village. An ancient chapel and hedge
surrounded the circular site. By the time the people had filled in
every available space to listen to the words of Aber’s priest, it
was nearly dark. As they lowered Tegwen into the ground and Hywel
opened his mouth to sing his paean to her, the rain finally
stopped. To the west, the clouds lifted long enough to reveal the
sun setting in a fiery ball.

As the last note faded, the congregants
murmured their approval. Then, at a nod from his father, Hywel
launched into the Latin benediction, one everyone in the audience
knew well. It soared above their heads, Gwalchmai’s soprano acting
as counterpoint to Hywel’s tenor.

It was completely dark by the time they made
their way back into Aber Castle. With the cessation of the rain,
temporary though it might be, candles and more torches had been lit
all along the road to light their way—and Tegwen’s. Many common
folk still believed in their heart of hearts that she needed
guidance to her final rest in the next world, despite the
exhortations of the Church to the contrary.

Gwen and Gareth held back to allow most of
the crowd to leave them behind as he gave her a hurried summary of
all that had happened in the last few hours. He’d tried to move out
of earshot of Dai and Llelo, but as he finished his tale, Dai
appeared at his right elbow. “You should know that Prince Cadwaladr
met a man at Wena’s hut last night.”