The Uninvited Guest (25 page)

Hywel laughed. “You didn’t care that Enid
had been murdered?”

“
Why should I?” Cadwaladr
said. “I didn’t know her. I knew you two would be at it again,
questioning everyone in sight. It didn’t affect me one way or the
other. And since it meant Owain couldn’t marry Cristina that day,
it gave me a few more hours of sleep.”

Gwen just managed not to laugh too. Since
she was ten, she’d been responsible for her brother, Gwalchmai.
While King Owain had arranged a wet nurse for him after Gwen’s
mother died, the nurse had insisted on her sleep. If Gwalchmai had
cried in the night for anything other than a feeding, it was Gwen
who’d cared for him.

“
What about your ring?”
Gwen said.

“
What ring?”

“
When you took me to
Dublin, you wore a ring with a dragon crest. I noted it
specifically,” Gwen said.

Cadwaladr blinked. “I lost it overboard on
the return journey. I used to turn it over in my hand when I was
thinking. Some fool Dane knocked into me and it flew out of my
hand.”

“
And the man found dead in
the bath room?” Hywel said. “What about him?”

“
You can’t pin that murder
on me, either. What did I care about some servant?” Cadwaladr
wanted to persuade them of his innocence, but his impatience with
the necessity of it was beginning to show. “And I didn’t pay anyone
to kill him either.”

Cadwaladr had an answer to everything but
Gwen wasn’t buying it. She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m
not the one who locked myself in the chapel rather than discuss
this with King Owain.”

“
I tried to talk to him but
he wouldn’t listen,” Cadwaladr said. “He doesn’t care about Enid
anyway—it’s his own head that concerns him, not that I blame
him—but I’m not going to give him the opportunity to stretch my
neck for something I didn’t do.”

“
Then what did you do,
Uncle?”

Cadwaladr still hadn’t sheathed his sword
and now he rested the blade on his shoulder. “What do you
mean?”

Hywel gestured to the room at large. “This
is not the act of a man with a clear conscience.”

Just for an instant, Cadwaladr’s face lost
its façade of charm in favor of a murderous expression, and then
his features smoothed again. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

Hywel stood and approached to within two
feet of Cadwaladr, heedless of the sword or Cadwaladr’s volatile
temper. “Don’t you, Uncle?”

Cadwaladr glared again at
Hywel. “I did
nothing!
I told you.”

Hywel snapped his fingers in Gwen’s
direction. “Time to go.”

He set off for the rear door. Gwen hesitated
for a moment, and then stood to follow but Cadwaladr held out a
hand to stop her. “Wait.”

Gwen stayed out of arm’s reach, but didn’t
leave. Hywel turned on his heel, his hands on his hips, and simply
looked at his uncle.

Cadwaladr glanced from Gwen to Hywel. When
Hywel didn’t look away, Cadwaladr couldn’t maintain his stare. He
dropped his eyes to his feet.

“
What did you
do
, Uncle?” Hywel kept his voice soft.
“Just tell us.”

The sun had set while they’d been talking,
plunging the room into darkness. The single candle left burning on
the altar couldn’t penetrate the gloom. Gwen stepped around
Cadwaladr and began to light the candles in their sconces that
lined the walls, all the while keeping her ears pricked for
Cadwaladr’s response.

Cadwaladr grunted and finally sheathed his
sword. He sat down on the steps that separated the chancel from the
nave, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “It’s
not—it’s not anything my brother needs to worry about.”

“
What isn’t?” Hywel
said.

Gwen almost didn’t hear him speak, the words
were so quiet. She moved closer so she could see their faces, but
didn’t take her seat again, not wanting to interrupt the tenuous
exchange.

“
My broth—” Cadwaladr
stopped and tried again. “Your father has given you my lands in
Ceredigion.”

In the past, when Cadwaladr
had referred to Ceredigion as
my
lands
, the words had been accompanied by
fury. Now he seemed resigned.

Hywel nodded.

“
All he has left to me is
the rule of Aberffraw and the surrounding estates, plus a small
claim in Meirionydd,” Cadwaladr said.

“
That is what I
understood.” A look of comprehension crossed Hywel’s face. “But you
want more.”

“
Of course I want more!”
The fire was back, but Cadwaladr quickly banked it. He had to
realize that this was a delicate moment. He needed to clarify the
difference between whatever he’d done to try to gain more power and
land, and the plot to murder his brother. Cadwaladr scrubbed at his
hair with both hands. He was the younger of the two brothers, but
his hair had more gray in the blonde than King Owain’s. “I’ve been
speaking to Ranulf, the Earl of Chester.”

Gwen’s heart sank. This was exactly what
King Owain had feared Cadwaladr might do. It was why he’d appeased
his brother after the events of the summer. He’d forced Cadwaladr
to pay the Danes to leave Wales and stripped him of his lands in
Ceredigion, but he hadn’t done worse.

King Owain could have kept Cadwaladr in a
cell. Even Rhun had argued strongly for it. And yet, King Owain had
made peace with his brother. In so doing, he’d opened the door for
the very resentment he’d worked so hard to avoid. He’d feared that
punishing Cadwaladr even a little more would push him into the arms
of an enemy.

But that is exactly what had happened.
Chafing at the new restrictions upon him, Cadwaladr had opened
negotiations with a Norman baron—at best, to gain more land for
himself, or at worst, to overthrow King Owain. Cadwaladr hadn’t
conspired to murder his brother, just to take his place as King of
Gwynedd.

Hywel eased forward and found the bench on
which he’d sat earlier. He straightened his legs, one at a time.
“Is that so?”

Cadwaladr nodded.

“
How far have your
discussions progressed?” Hywel said.

“
Not far at all! Not at
all!” Cadwaladr threw out an arm, pointing towards the front door
of the chapel, behind which he’d find King Owain. “But I knew if my
brother heard of it, he would immediately jump to the wrong
conclusion.”

“
You mean there’s a right
conclusion?” Hywel said. “One in which you didn’t betray
him?”

“
I didn’t—”

“
You hoped—with Norman
backing—to unseat him,” Hywel said.

“
Ranulf has chafed under
the rod of Empress Maud, whom he supports against King Stephen. But
Stephen has him hemmed in, too. Since Ranulf lost control of his
lands to the north, he was looking west …” Cadwaladr’s voice
trailed off.

Hywel didn’t glare at him. Rather, he
studied his uncle as if he were a caged bear at a village fair.
Having finally explained his plot out loud, did Cadwaladr realize
only now how treasonously he’d behaved?

“
Ranulf has been at peace
with my father, who supports neither claimant to the throne of
England,” Hywel said. “You know that.”

King Stephen and Empress Maud had been
fighting each other for the crown since King Henry died in 1135.
Maud was Henry’s daughter, but Stephen was his nephew, a grandson
of William the Bastard, the first Norman king of England. Both
claimants were essentially French, spoke French, had lived much of
their lives in France, and knew little about the English—or rather,
the Saxons, as the Welsh called them—they governed. It almost made
Gwen feel sorry for the English, since the Norman treatment of them
was so familiar. That was how the Normans treated the Welsh
too.

Upon Henry’s death, Stephen had moved more
quickly than Maud to claim the throne. He’d also had the support of
the majority of the Norman barons and was far more personable than
Empress Maud. Two years earlier, the Londoners had refused to crown
her and barred her from their city.

“
I don’t know which is
worse,” Hywel said. “Trying to have my father killed, or that you
negotiated with a Norman. What did you promise him for unseating my
father? How much of Gwynedd would become his?”

Cadwaladr spread his hands wide. “Really, it
has come to nothing—”

Hywel cut him off. “You want me to tell my
father this? That you didn’t murder Enid but you sought to betray
him in other ways?”

“
It wasn’t
betrayal—”

“
How can you think that I
will defend you to him?” Hywel said.

Cadwaladr didn’t seem to be listening.
“Please, Nephew. Speak to your father. You know I didn’t hire that
boy to murder him. I am not guilty of what I’ve been accused of
doing.”

Hywel folded his arms across his chest. “I
will have to tell him of your plotting.”

Cadwaladr looked at his feet, contrite
again. “I know.”

“
I don’t know what he’ll
say,” Hywel said.

Gwen did. King Owain was
going to be as angry as he’d ever been. Maybe more angry than he
was last summer (which was saying something), if only because it
was a
new
betrayal,
coming hard on the heels of the old.

Cadwaladr nodded.

Hywel pointed to the priest’s chair which
Gwen had vacated earlier. “Sit there and wait for me to
return.”

Hywel tipped his head to
indicate that Gwen should come with him to the front door. He
strode down the nave, his shoulders stiff and his chin
raised.
He
was
angry too. Hywel unbarred the door and pulled it open. Torches lit
the courtyard as if it were day. For her part, Gwen wasn’t angry,
merely resigned.
Should they really have
expected anything different from Cadwaladr?

Her stomach growled, wanting her dinner. She
wasn’t sure she was going to get it quite yet. Although the crowd
clamored for information, Hywel made a shooing motion with his
hand. “All is well. Go about your business.”

King Owain lifted his chin.
“You heard my son. It’s over.” To aid in the decision to vacate the
courtyard, the smell of roasting meat wafted from the open door to
the great hall. People turned toward it, though Meilyr paused on
the front step for a long look at Gwen. She raised her hand to him.
She hoped he understood that all
was
well, at least for her.

King Owain brought her attention back to him
and Hywel. “Talk to me.”

“
Not here, Father.” Hywel
rubbed his hands together, warming them, as several more men
brushed past them. The courtyard emptied. Only those who should be
there remained: the men of the garrison who had this watch at the
gatehouse or on the battlements.

King Owain pointed at two members of the
garrison who hovered near the steps to the chapel. “Guard the
Prince. Make sure he doesn’t leave.”

“
Yes, my lord.” They took
up positions on either side of the door.

Gwen glanced through the open doorway.
Cadwaladr sat where they’d left him, in the priest’s chair, gazing
at his feet. He turned her stomach. It was a relief to follow the
king to the side door that led to Hywel’s office. This was where he
and King Owain always conducted business, rather than in King
Owain’s own suite. Perhaps it was because King Owain didn’t want
Cadwaladr’s deceit trickling into his domain.

Not that he could stop it.

King Owain paced in front of the desk.
Hywel’s window faced west and was just high enough so that in the
daytime, he could see above the curtain wall to the mountains. This
evening, the darkness pressed into the room and Hywel closed the
shutter before he turned to his father.

“
What did my brother say?”
King Owain said.

In a few short sentences, Hywel related the
gist of the conversation with Cadwaladr. King Owain’s pace didn’t
falter, but blood suffused his face as he listened. Then, he gained
control of himself. This was a King Owain that Gwen didn’t often
see—cold rather than hot—and she wished that Cadwaladr was there to
see him too. Then again, Cadwaladr would probably misconstrue King
Owain’s silence as acceptance, rather than wrath.

“
Ranulf has always been
protective of his own power, but he and I have had an amicable
relationship,” King Owain said.

Gwynedd’s domains had ebbed and flowed over
the years. At times, the Normans had maintained a presence as far
east as Rhuddlan, or even to the Conwy River. King Owain, and his
father before him, had spread his hand over all of the north, up to
the great Dyke just west of the city of Chester.

“
It was Uncle Cadwaladr who
led the Welsh vanguard against King Stephen and in support of Earl
Ranulf and Empress Maud two years ago,” Hywel said.

“
Indeed,” Owain said. “And
I sent him east for that purpose. But he was also part of the rout
at Winchester that left Robert of Gloucester captive and Ranulf
fleeing for his life. That’s when Ranulf should have found out what
kind of man my brother really is.”

“
If that’s true, why would
he be negotiating with Cadwaladr now?” Gwen said.

King Owain growled. “Because he did find out
what kind of man my brother is. Think what power Ranulf would have
in Wales if I were dead and Cadwaladr sat in my place?”

“
I’m not so sure about
that, Father,” Hywel said. “Ranulf has to know that if he allies
with Cadwaladr, he’s getting into bed with a viper.”