Read The Uninvited Guest Online
Authors: Sarah Woodbury
Tags: #female detective, #wales, #middle ages, #cozy mystery, #medieval, #prince of wales, #historical mystery, #british detective, #brother cadfael, #ellis peters
The Uninvited Guest (26 page)
“
You have the right of it.”
King Owain threw back his head and gazed at the ceiling.
Gwen and Hywel remained silent, letting the
king think. The sounds of the meal going on in the great hall
filtered through the closed door. Hywel and King Owain had been so
caught up in their conversation, they hadn’t requested that food
and drink be brought to them. Gwen stood and went to the window to
peer through the shutters. Her nose turned instantly pink at the
cold air coming through it. After a quick look, she closed the
shutters again and turned back to the room.
King Owain brought his head down. “Still …
what shall we do about your uncle?”
“
He’s never going to
change, Father,” Hywel said. “You know that.”
“
I do,” King Owain said.
“It may even be that he decided to reveal this new crime as a way
of distracting us from the attempt on my life.”
Hywel nodded. “Just because he says he
didn’t conspire against you, or kill Enid, doesn’t mean he didn’t.
We only have his word.”
“
Which is worth nothing—”
King Owain broke off at the sound of feet pounding along the
corridor. They stopped outside Hywel’s door.
“
No, no, no, no!” King
Owain didn’t wait for the messenger to knock. He yanked on the
latch so fiercely that Evan fell into the room.
“
What is it, Evan?” Hywel
said.
“
Prince Cadwaladr has left
the chapel. We don’t know where he’s gone.”
King Owain stormed from the room. Evan, who
knew better than to follow any closer, let him get ahead, and then
after shooting a rueful look at Gwen, pulled the door closed behind
him. Hywel remained behind his desk and Gwen settled onto the bench
underneath the window.
“
I want to laugh,” Hywel
said. “I would if it weren’t so serious.”
“
Go ahead.” Gwen said. “We
may not get another chance for a long time.”
But Hywel didn’t. Instead, he fingered the
papers on his desk. Gwen recognized this as a sign that he had
something important to say. “This is the first time we’ve been
completely alone since last August.”
“
Is it?” Gwen said, though
she knew it was. And she knew why. It seemed Hywel did
too.
“
Do you hate me that
much?”
“
I don’t hate you,” Gwen
said.
“
But you are angry with
me,” Hywel said. “I’ve killed many men, you know, and few deserved
it more than Anarawd did.”
“
It’s that!” Gwen’s temper
rose to the top of her head and through it. She stabbed a finger at
Hywel. “That’s what I hate! Your smug—” She swallowed down the acid
that had risen into her throat and bit her lip.
Hywel gazed at her, his expression curious,
rather than hurt or angry. “Is that really what bothers you about
me, Gwen? Or is it, rather, that you hate what I did but not
me?”
Gwen hunched forward, her arms wrapped
around her waist, trying to contain her emotions before they
flooded the room. “I don’t know.”
“
You have to get past
this.”
“
I thought I
had.”
“
I did something you think
was bad, but Wales isn’t divided into good people and bad
people.”
“
Except for your uncle.”
Gwen stared at the floor. “Sitting in the chapel with us, he was
smug too. Sure of himself. Always with excuses as to why what he
did was the right thing. How do you expect me to tell the
difference between him and you?”
Hywel rubbed his lips with his fingers. “I
suppose I deserve that.” He barked a laugh that came out bitter.
“And yet, I’m hurt that you would compare me to my uncle who
betrays us with a Norman—”
“
Cadwaladr erred in
public,” Gwen said. “He’s had to face the whole world with what he
did. You’ve only had to face me.”
“
And Gareth.” Hywel leaned
forward, no longer affecting light-heartedness. “Look at me,
Gwen.”
Gwen didn’t want to, but she raised her
head.
“
I make hard choices,”
Hywel said. “I do things that I don’t like and that must remain
hidden else Gwynedd be brought to her knees. The difference between
Cadwaladr and me is that what I do—whether in regards to Anarawd,
or rousting a wayward servant of my father—is not for me. It’s
never been for me.”
Gwen gazed at Hywel with her hands folded in
front of her lips.
“
You haven’t been entirely
honest with yourself,” Hywel said. “What offends you, and what
makes you most angry, is that I lied to you and Gareth. You don’t
care that the man is dead, since he so clearly deserved it. You
care that I lied to you about killing him.”
Gwen could barely breathe. “Yes.”
“
Earlier, you thought about
withholding information from me, in case I was the one who killed
Enid.”
“
Yes,” Gwen said. “I
did.”
“
You hid it, or you thought
about hiding it?”
“
I thought about it.” Gwen
leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. The lack of sleep
from the night before was catching up with her. “Gareth persuaded
me otherwise.”
“
Why did you let
him?”
“
Because he was right. I
knew he was right. If we are to continue in your service, we can’t
serve at half-measures. We must be either all in, or
out.”
Hywel smiled. “Good for Gareth. So you
agreed?”
Gwen nodded.
“
But you can’t accept it in
your heart?”
“
I don’t know,” Gwen said.
“As I said, I thought I had.”
Hywel studied her through a count of ten,
and then said, using the same soft voice he’d used with Cadwaladr.
“And for the rest of what I said?”
Gwen wanted to grind her teeth. She hated
admitting she was wrong. She brushed back her irritation before it
could spill out. “I’m angry that I cannot muster the moral outrage
to hate you. I’m angry that I can understand what you did and why,
and not regret it, as you said. I’m even more angry that Cadwaladr
walks among us. He churns my stomach, even to the point that I
would let him hang for something he didn’t do.”
Hywel sat with an elbow on
the armrest of his chair and his fist to his chin, his foot tapping
a quiet staccato. She looked away. The last thing that made her
angry—the thing she hadn’t admitted to anyone, even Gareth, was
that she couldn’t banish her memories of last summer. When she’d
entered the chapel and seen Cadwaladr, the most overwhelming
emotion she’d felt wasn’t anger, but
fear
.
Hywel studied her and she felt he could see
right through her. And so he could. He stood and came around his
desk; then crouched in front of Gwen and took her hand. “One day,
Gwen. I promise you. One day, Gareth and I will make Cadwaladr pay
for what he did to you.”
Chapter Twenty
P
rince Cadwaladr was gone. The best they could tell, he had
left the chapel by the back door and fled through the postern gate,
though not before putting his fist into the face of the man who
guarded it, who’d done his duty and tried to stop him. It appeared
from the hoof prints that a few of Cadwaladr’s men had met him on
the other side of the wall with a spare horse.
King Owain had sent men in all directions to
try to discover his route, though not before raging around two full
circuits of the hall.
“
It’s a blessing, you
know,” Hywel said, in an aside to Gwen after the storm was over and
King Owain had retired to his rooms.
“
Because the king would
have had to act?” Gwen said.
“
Yes,” Hywel said. “Could
it be that Cadwaladr realized only once he was inside the chapel
that plotting against my father with Earl Ranulf was a far worse
betrayal than murdering Enid?”
“
He seemed to have realized
it, towards the end of our conversation,” Gwen said.
“
And so he fled,” Hywel
said.
“
Leaving us no closer to
our murderer,” Gwen said, “and with yet another issue to vex the
king.”
* * * * *
By mid-afternoon the next day, all of the
men sent out from Aber to track Cadwaladr returned, reporting that
he hadn’t crossed the Menai Straits, nor gone south to Dolbadarn or
Dolwyddelan. He’d taken the high road, to Caerhun and points
further east. It was the same country into which Gareth had
disappeared. The garrison at Caerhun hadn’t stopped him, of course,
because they hadn’t known that they should.
Gwen and Hywel were left with two bodies and
a houseful of suspects, none of whom Gwen had any interest in
questioning. She was tired of the whole thing and wanted nothing
more than to be with Gareth. Worse, she’d spent the prior evening
responding to people’s sympathy at Gareth’s loss and trying to
maintain a mask of brave grief. It had been trying. She hated lying
to everyone, especially Mari, who’d taken her hand and spoken
genuine words of comfort.
King Owain, for his part, decided to take
matters into his own hands, whether on his own accord or because he
had given in to Cristina’s tears. He stood in the hall at sunset,
lifted a cup to his gathered barons, friends, and retainers and
said, “Please join Cristina and me in one hour at the chapel. We
will no longer put off what we have long desired: our wedding.”
Relieved sighs circled the room, and then
scattered applause. Mari leaned in, whispering close to Gwen’s ear.
“Praise the Lord. I didn’t know if I could handle an unmarried
Cristina one more day.”
Gwen turned to her new friend. “She’s been
causing you trouble, has she?”
“
Every moment she feared
King Owain would call off the wedding,” Mari said. “The rumors
about a curse have grown more prevalent with each passing
day.”
“
I can see why some might
think a curse existed,” Gwen said.
“
Probably the murderer
started the rumor of it himself.”
Gwen turned to look into Mari’s face. “What
did you say?”
Mari’s brow furrowed. “It makes sense that
he would. He killed two people to prevent the wedding from taking
place. And now it’s happening anyway.”
“
Wh-why do you say he
killed to prevent the wedding?”
Mari canted her head as she looked at Gwen.
“It occurs to me that we’ve been thinking about these murders the
wrong way around. What if Enid’s death wasn’t about something Enid
had done, but instead had to do with King Owain’s wedding
plans?”
“
You’re saying the killer
wanted to stop King Owain and Cristina from marrying and didn’t
care how he did it?” Gwen said. “You’re saying that the murderer
didn’t have to choose Enid. He could have killed
anyone?”
“
Maybe not anyone.” Mari
gestured to their fellow guests, who’d gone back to their business
now that they knew the wedding for which they’d traveled so far
would finally happen. Lord Goronwy, Cristina’s father, was smiling
happily to several other barons over his cup of mead by the fire.
“Enid did dose Lord Goronwy with poppy juice, after all. All these
incidents are linked, but perhaps heading towards a different
outcome than the one we’ve been assuming.”
“
King Owain’s
death—”
“
Not his death,” Mari
talked over her, “his
wedding
. The assassination attempt,
the murders, the loss of Gareth, even Cadwaladr’s flight were to
lead to one thing: a further postponement of the
wedding.”
“
He killed two people!”
Gwen said.
“
And for all that, his
efforts have come to nothing,” Mari said.
Gwen glanced to where Cristina and King
Owain stood, two goblets of wine on a tray in front of them. Gwen
hadn’t seen who’d brought them and as her gaze fell on the royal
couple, her attention sharpened.
“
What hasn’t the murderer
tried?” Mari said. “If my supposition is correct, he’s about to
lose everything.”
“
He hasn’t tried … to harm
Cristina!” Gwen spoke the words almost as an afterthought, because
she was racing across the room even as she said them. Cristina and
King Owain had taken their cups and hooked their elbows one to the
other such that they were joined as they brought the wine to their
lips.
“
Stop!” Gwen skidded to a
halt. She grabbed Cristina’s cup with one hand, King Owain’s with
the other, and yanked them away, sloshing the burgundy liquid as
she did so. One-third of the liquid in each cup splashed to the
floor.
King Owain’s color was dangerously red yet
again. “Girl! What are you doing?”
Gwen ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Sire.
Please excuse me but I couldn’t forgive myself if something
happened to either of you.”
King Owain opened his mouth, probably to
berate Gwen further, but Cristina clutched at his arm. “No, my
lord. Listen to her.”
King Owain leaned into Gwen. “You think the
wine is tainted?”
“
I fear it.” Yet again,
neighbor jostled neighbor, trying to see and hear what was
happening on the dais. Gwen looked at her feet. “I feel now that I
overreacted. I disrupted your festivities for no
reason.”
Cristina moved close to Gwen and lifted her
chin with one finger. “I will always treasure the knowledge that
you reacted so quickly because you feared for my life. I am not
bothered if you were wrong in the specifics.”
Hywel looked into one of the cups, which
Gwen still held. He dipped his pinky into the wine and brought it
to his nose. “I’m not sure she was wrong.” He was about to touch
his finger to his tongue when Gwen bumped into him with her
shoulder, as both her hands were full.
“
No! Think of what you’re
doing!” She set the cups on a nearby table, away from
him.
“
How will we discover the
truth if I don’t test it?” He sniffed the wine.
“
My lord Hywel,” Gwen said.
“We have ways of finding out if the wine is tainted without you
putting your life at risk. What if the cup contains aconite or
nightshade? It takes only a drop of either to kill. You’re lucky
you don’t have a cut on your finger. You could already be
dead.”
But Hywel’s face had cleared. “It’s
mandrake.”
Gwen sighed with relief. Mandrake would have
made them ill, but not killed them, not in the quantity found in a
cup of wine. It was the same herb Gwen had given to Gareth last
summer to induce vomiting when he’d been poisoned. Regardless, it
surely would have postponed the wedding yet again.
Gwen turned to Cristina. “Who brought you
the wine?”
“
I-I don’t know,” Cristina
said. “I didn’t see.”
“
Someone must have.” Hywel
glared around the room.
“
It was a servant.” Mari
had stepped into their small circle and now stood on her toes to
peer over the crowed. “That one!” She pointed a finger towards a
girl who was clearing a table.
Hywel grabbed Gwen’s hand. “Come on!”
“
Wait!” King Owain hadn’t
yet caught on. “Where are you going?”
Hywel turned back to his father. “Get
married. Right now. Gwen and I will find the one who would have
poisoned you.”
King Owain stared at his son, and then
released one of his characteristic laughs. As Gwen and Hywel
disappeared through the doorway that led to the kitchens, King
Owain called to the crowd, “My friends! Come!”
“
You need to be with him,”
Gwen said.
“
It will take him a moment
to find the priest,” Hywel said. “My father needs him only because
he wants to thumb his nose at the Church. They could have signed
the papers before witnesses at any time before this
moment.”
“
He wanted his people
around him,” Gwen said. “You can’t blame him for desiring a small
spectacle, even if a larger one was denied him.”
Gwen and Hywel came to a halt in front of
the girl, who’d seen the commotion and stared at them with wide
eyes. She curtseyed. “My lord.”
“
You brought the wine to
the king, yes?” Hywel said.
“
Y-y-yes, my
lord.”
“
Where did you get it?”
Hywel said.
“
One of the barons, my
lord. He handed me the tray. He was here just now—” She swung
around to look toward the open doorway to the kitchen.
“
We’re wasting time.” Hywel
took off at a run for the kitchen. Half a dozen servants looked up
as he and Gwen entered. Hywel pointed a finger at Dai, the cook. “A
nobleman came through here, yes?”
The cook looked around. “Yes, my lord,
though he’s long gone.”
Hywel’s voice was harsh. “Did he leave by
the back door?”
“
Y-yes. He wore a deep
hood. I didn’t see his face,” Dai said.
Hywel ran to the door, Gwen just behind him.
They came out at the rear of the complex and circled around to the
postern gate.
Hywel practically leapt on the guard who
watched it. “Did a man leave just now through here?”
“
Uh … no, my
lord.”
Hywel grunted his disappointment.
“
What about through the
main gate, my lord?” Gwen said.
The guard’s face brightened. “A whole
company rode out, my lord.”
Hywel’s expression hardened. “Whose?”
“
I don’t know—”
“
Never mind.” Hywel ran to
the main gate of the castle, which was open. Following after him,
Gwen felt like a child’s toy pulled by a string. Early evening was
still a busy time of day with much coming and going from the
village and surrounding area. In the time it took for them to reach
it, a cart left Aber piled with refuse and another one came in
bearing fresh hay.
Hywel pulled up beside the soldier of the
garrison who was in charge of the gate. “Did you see who rode away
just now?”
“
Certainly, Sir. It was
some of Prince Cadwaladr’s men.”
That news set both Gwen and Hywel back a
pace. “It couldn’t have been,” Gwen said. “He left yesterday.”
The man appeared flummoxed. “I could have
sworn they wore the Prince’s colors.”
“
Damn.” Hywel stepped
through the gate and stared down the road that ran towards the sea,
before curving eastward around a bend. He turned back to Gwen,
shaking his head. “They’re gone.”
“
What do you want to
do?”
“
I have to speak to my
father,” Hywel said. “But first, I need to see him
married.”
