The Fallen Princess (31 page)

Godfrid had been following their
conversation with a furrowed brow. “Were any of the men mine?”

“Several,” Adda said, “though I couldn’t
tell you their names.”

Daff straightened from his crouch beside
Dewi’s retching form. “When was he brought food?”

“After I came on,” Adda said.

“Who brought the tray?” Gareth said.

“One of the serving boys from the kitchen,”
Adda said.

“His name?” Gareth said.

“I don’t know, my lord.” Adda shrugged, as
Hywel knew he would. Adda was an old soldier who prided himself on
his elevated station. He didn’t trouble himself with the names of
his inferiors if he didn’t have to know them.

“What do you think it was, Daff?” Hywel
said.

“Not poppy,” Daff said, “nor Mandrake, I
don’t think. Belladonna is my best guess, which is why the emetic
should work. He was very fortunate you discovered him when you did,
Adda. Who would want him dead?”

“Erik,” Godfrid said instantly. “Dewi was
the only one who could testify to his wrongdoing.”

“Erik would have had a difficult time moving
around the castle without being recognized and stopped, even in
this crowd,” Gareth said.

“Five years have passed since Tegwen’s
disappearance,” Hywel said, “and while Dewi was discreet enough not
to allow word of her fate to get out, he could have talked to
someone he shouldn’t have since the discovery of her body.”

“Perhaps he had other secrets,” Gareth said.
“Perhaps we haven’t asked the right questions yet.”

“We certainly asked some of them if this is
the result.” Hywel turned back to Adda. “Did you overhear Dewi’s
conversation with my uncle?”

“No, my lord,” Adda said. “He closed the
door behind him, and they spoke softly.”

Gareth and Godfrid both growled at the same
time. Dewi, meanwhile, moaned and clutched his stomach.

“What do you say?” Gareth said to Daff.

“He’ll live, but it may be morning before
he’s coherent,” Daff said.

“We’ll leave him until dawn.” Hywel looked
at Godfrid and then at Gareth, noting the deep circles under his
captain’s eyes. “Dewi isn’t going anywhere.”

“I will stay with him in case he has a
relapse,” Daff said.

“Keep everyone away,” Gareth said to Adda.
“Nobody is to hear of Dewi’s fate until the morning. Is that
clear?”

“Yes, my lord,” Adda said.

“That includes my uncle,” Hywel said.

Adda ducked a nod.

“We’ll cover up the window in the cell so
nobody can see inside either,” Gareth said.

Hywel led the way out of the stables,
stopping to observe the dancing around the bonfire with detachment.
“Dewi was poisoned, Brychan knifed.”

“And you were ambushed,” Gareth said. “Our
murderer has many talents.”

“Or he’s panicked and tying up loose ends.”
Hywel cursed. “If my uncle is involved more than we already know, I
am going to kill him.”

Neither man blanched at Hywel’s invective.
Instead, Gareth rested a hand on Hywel’s shoulder. “Right now, what
I’m most concerned about is all of
us
living through the
night.”

“Right.” Hywel put two fingers to his
temple, thinking. “Gareth, speak to the workers in the kitchen and
then come find me. My father must know what has transpired.”

“Yes, my lord,” Gareth said.

“Godfrid, would you mind inquiring of your
men if they saw anything unusual tonight?” Hywel said.

“Of course.” Godfrid put his heels together.
“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have a chat with my uncle,”
Hywel said.

Even at nearly midnight, the hall was full
of revelers. The long tables had been pushed to the side, and
Meilyr was playing a lively tune while a hundred people danced,
both in the hall and outside in the courtyard around the fire. The
fire in the hall was out, and as soon as the chapel bell tolled
midnight, it would be relit with flames from the bonfire. Hywel’s
father sat resplendent in the full regalia of his station as King
of Gwynedd, Rhun at his side. It looked as if Cristina had retired
for the night. Hywel knew from experience that the gathering would
descend into debauchery within the hour, and he wasn’t surprised
that she didn’t want to be here to see it.

His uncle sat near the end of the dais and
even as Hywel approached, he poured a full cup of mead and drank it
down. Hywel pulled up a spare chair at the end of the table and
sat. “Greetings, Uncle.”

Cadwaladr shot him a sour look. “What do you
want?”

His uncle had never been a happy drunk, so
Hywel wasn’t surprised to find him morose tonight. Given that,
Hywel decided to address him straightforwardly. “Why did you visit
Dewi tonight?”

“Who?”

“Dewi. The man who ran from Aber, who is
presently residing in the cell at the back of the stables.”

“Oh, him,” Cadwaladr said.

Hywel waited a beat.

Cadwaladr drank what looked like another
half flagon of mead. “I wanted to know where his friend had got
to.”

“What friend?” Hywel said.

Cadwaladr gazed at Hywel, but his expression
didn’t hold defiance as much as puzzlement. “You know, the one he
ran off with.”

“Erik, the half-Dane?” Hywel said.

Cadwaladr snapped his fingers. “That
one.”

“Why did you want to find Erik?”

“I didn’t.”

Hywel felt like lowering his head to the
table. This was as bad as interviewing old Wynn. His uncle raised
his hands above his head, clapping in time to the music and the
dancers as the torch that would light the hearth fire wended its
way through the crowd. A huge cheer went up as the carefully
stacked logs in the fireplace were lit.

“Then why did you go to see Dewi?” Hywel
said, waving a hand to gain Cadwaladr’s attention.

“You had failed to get Erik’s whereabouts
out of him,” Cadwaladr said. “I thought I’d try.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

Cadwaladr’s brow furrowed. “You aren’t the
only one who can help your father, you know. Since you have been
occupied with the Tegwen investigation, I thought I would see what
I could discover regarding the Book of Kells.”

Hywel stared at his uncle. “My God.”

Cadwaladr smirked into his mead.

Hywel rose to his feet, shaking his head.
Cadwaladr’s story put to rest any accusation of wrongdoing
regarding either Dewi, Erik, or whomever Dai and Llelo had seen him
meet in Wena’s hut last night. He was searching for the Book of
Kells. That quest could lay a false front over any number of
sins.

“Where are you going?” With his last long
gulp, his uncle had gone from self-satisfied to bleary.

Hywel wasn’t about to tell his uncle that he
was going to speak to the king. “To bed,” he said instead.

Cadwaladr raised his cup. “
Daw haul ar fryn.”
Comes the sun to the hill
,
meaning that things would be better in the morning.

Hywel shook his head in disbelief. They
could hardly be worse.

Gwen

T
he door to their
room burst open, and Dai and Llelo bounded inside. “It’s already
too big to put out!”

Gwen sat up, staring wildly at the boys,
whose shapes were silhouetted in the doorway against the flames
behind them. Both Hywel and Gareth were on their feet in an
instant, pulling on their breeches and shoving their feet into
boots. Gwen helped Mari out of bed, while Hywel slammed the door
shut behind the boys, though not before a billow of smoke had
followed them into the room.

“I managed one good look. The flames are
already scaling the back wall.” Hywel crossed the floor to the
window.

Gareth swung the shutter wide. “I’ll go out
first and catch the girls. It’s hardly a drop at all.”

Gwen thanked whatever foresight had prompted
Taran to give them one of the rooms on the first floor. But the
manor housed other guests, who may well have gone to bed late,
drunk, and would be hard to wake. Gwen didn’t hear footsteps on the
floor above her. She prayed that some of them hadn’t found their
bed at all tonight and were sleeping safe at a table in the hall,
their heads on their arms.

In the few moments it took for Gareth to hop
over the windowsill and drop to the ground, Gwen grabbed the dress
she’d worn yesterday, her cloak, and her boots, and threw them out
the window, followed by Gareth’s sword. Gareth was tall enough to
still be able to see inside, and he held out his hands to Gwen, who
scrambled over the sill and into his arms. Gareth set her down and
immediately caught Mari, who followed close behind.

Gwen didn’t know that her heart had ever
pounded so hard. She ran to the postern gate, screaming to the
soldiers who guarded it, finding it incomprehensible that they
could not have noticed the danger only a few dozen yards away.
Finally, a man poked his head through the doorway. Gwen was
relieved to see it was Rhodri, still awake even at this late
hour.

“Raise the alarm! Fire! Fire!” Encompassing
the danger in a single glance, Rhodri ran across the courtyard
towards the gatehouse and barracks.

Fire was the danger of any dwelling, which
was why the kitchen was often kept separate from the main buildings
in a castle or in the lower level of a keep where the walls could
be made of stone or dirt. Gwen tried to calm her breathing, resting
in the doorway of the postern gate. She understood, now, why nobody
in the courtyard had noticed the smoke: the bonfire was still
blazing, although few people remained around it.

At Rhodri’s call, every man who could still
stand poured out of the great hall and the barracks, passing Gwen
at the gate. Rhodri returned too and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”

Gwen nodded, still breathing hard but less
panicked than before.

It was a matter of a few moments to collect
the necessary buckets; Hywel organized the beginnings of a human
chain from the creek that flowed to the east of the manor house.
With each new arrival, the line grew longer and the buckets of
water flowed from hand to hand with greater speed. The hope now,
given how quickly the fire had spread, was to prevent the fire from
spreading to the surrounding trees or the castle. The manor house
itself had been a lost cause before Gareth had set Gwen on the
ground.

Gareth came out of the front door with a
woman hung over his shoulder. He’d thrown a soaking wet blanket
over them both, and Gwen tried not to cry after the fact at the
danger he’d been in. Gareth laid the woman on the ground, and Gwen
ran to her. She started coughing and trying to sit up.

“That’s the last,” Gareth said.

“How many—?” Gwen choked back the question,
gazing up into Gareth’s face.

“We got everyone out,” Gareth said. “Several
of the rooms were empty.”

Gwen bent her head, hugely relieved, and
then Gareth put a hand on her shoulder. “I need to see to the
security of Aber.”

“Could the fire be merely a diversion?” Gwen
said.

“That’s what I intend to find out if I can.
Stay here.” He was off at a run to the postern gate.

Llelo and Dai were standing in the creek, at
the start of one of the lines of people passing buckets to put out
the fire. Gwen was about to join their group when her father puffed
over to her and threw a blanket around her shoulders. “Are you all
right?”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine,” Gwen said. “We
should help with the fire.”

“You’ll catch your death of cold out here,”
Meilyr said.

“I have clothes somewhere.” Gwen spied her
small pile of belongings by a tree thirty feet from the manor
house. Mari sat next to them, pulling on one boot. “Where’s
Gwalchmai?”

Meilyr pointed with his chin to the line of
water carriers. Gwalchmai had joined Llelo and Dai.

“If you see to them, I’ll join you in a
moment,” Gwen said.

Meilyr grunted his assent and moved off.
Gwen knew that he loved her, but she also knew that Gwalchmai’s
welfare was paramount in her father’s eyes. She no longer begrudged
him that fact, and since she was well, she didn’t waste any time
feeling disgruntled at coming in second yet again. And to be fair,
he had brought her a blanket first.

“Take the blanket, Mari,” Gwen said when she
reached her friend, who still sat under the tree. Mari held Hywel’s
sword in her lap, while Gareth’s leaned against the tree behind
her.

“What are you going to do?” Mari handed Gwen
her dress.

“Help.”

Mari put the sword aside to assist Gwen with
her clothes, but after she dressed, Gwen stopped her from following
her to the creek. “You stay here and rest. Let me do this for both
of us.”

Mari subsided without further protest,
indicating how unwell she really felt. With one last glance back at
her friend, Gwen headed off to join the lines of water carriers,
only to find that that King Owain himself had taken a spot two
people ahead of her. At the sight of Gwen, he motioned for the men
between them to change places with him, which they did without
question.

“A bad business, Gwen,” he said.

“Llelo and Dai woke us,” Gwen said. “If not
for them, we might not have escaped.”

“Are you sure you should be here?” he
said.

“I’ll stop if I feel unwell, but every hand
helps,” Gwen said.

King Owain nodded, still looking grim. “The
people are worried. Some are saying that Tegwen lies restlessly.”
He leaned closer to Gwen. “I spoke at length with Hywel and Gareth
before they retired last night.”

Gwen was glad she didn’t have to be the one
to update the king on the latest events. “Ghosts don’t start fires,
any more than a ghost murdered Brychan or poisoned Dewi. Next
they’ll be saying that Bran has risen from the dead to walk with
her.”

“I feel responsible,” King Owain said. “It
was I who directed you to speak to Brychan but then didn’t order a
watch set on him so we would know where he was at all times.”