The Unlikely Spy (15 page)

“King Cadell and I have been discussing the
wars in the east as well,” Hywel said. “Earl Ranulf of Chester
remains a prisoner of the king, but it seems that negotiations are
underway for his release.”

“That man has switched sides so many times,
it’s a wonder that any side in this quarrel might trust him again,”
Rhun said.

The quarrel in question was between Stephen,
the dead King Henry’s nephew, and King Henry’s daughter, Maud.
Although King Henry had secured the promise of all his barons to
support Maud’s claim to the throne, upon Henry’s death, Stephen had
crossed the English Channel and been crowned king before Maud had
set foot in England. It helped that one of Stephen’s brothers was
the Bishop of Winchester and had been the one to do the
crowning.

England had been at war ever since, a prize
half torn apart by the maneuvering of these two Norman rulers. What
the Saxons, the conquered inhabitants of England, actually thought
of who ruled them, Rhun didn’t know. The Welsh had never minded
when a man married a foreigner. Rhun’s own mother was Irish. But
Rhun felt himself to be wholly Welsh, and to his mind, any Welshman
who tolerated Norman rule was not a man at all.

“Agreed. But if Earl Ranulf goes free, he
will still be powerful,” Hywel said. “Both sides will want him on
their side, though we all know that the only side he truly cares
for is his own.”

Since Rhun had last spoken with Earl Ranulf
two years ago, the earl had abandoned Empress Maud for King
Stephen, and then almost immediately quarreled with Stephen’s
supporters, who’d accused him of plotting against the king’s life.
Stephen had subsequently thrown Ranulf into prison, where he rotted
to this day. No matter what promises he made to Stephen in order to
secure his release, he would remain a threat—possibly to both
sides.

“That is all one has to remember about
Ranulf,” King Cadell said. “King Stephen will release him, but if
he does, he should watch his back. Ranulf will renew his allegiance
to Maud, and the fighting will start yet again. Mark my words.”

“I mark them.” Rhun raised his goblet to
King Cadell. “Before Stephen imprisoned him, Ranulf was planning a
campaign against my father and trying to gather support from the
other Norman barons for the campaign. Once free, I have no doubt he
will look to our borders, with or without the support of Earl
Robert of Gloucester.” Earl Robert, the bastard son of King Henry,
was Maud’s half-brother and her chief supporter and general in this
war.

“I will be interested to hear how it goes
for your father in the east in the coming months,” Cadell said.

Rhun set down his goblet, taking care not to
upset it. It was a move matched by Hywel. While Cadell returned to
his meal, seemingly unaware—or feigning unawareness—of the
significance of what he’d just said, Rhun could not dismiss the
words so easily. Cadell was telling Rhun and Hywel that if Ranulf
made war on Gwynedd, he would sit to one side and watch. He would
not come if King Owain called him. Gwynedd and Deheubarth were
still ostensibly allied, but Cadell was stating clearly that war on
Gwynedd’s borders was of no concern to him.

Rhun and Hywel looked at each other. It was
as if the lines between them and Cadell had been drawn in the air
around them. With Cadwaladr still sitting beyond Hywel at the
table, they were literally surrounded by enemies.

Angharad made a slight movement under the
table with her hand, almost touching Rhun’s leg but drawing back at
the last instant. Rhun caught the motion out of the corner of his
eye. If he hadn’t been so finely tuned to his surroundings, taking
in every cleared throat, every ducked head, he might have missed
it. He reached out and caught her hand instead.

They sat together through a dozen heartbeats
as the tension at the table eased, and everyone started breathing
again. Neither Rhun nor Angharad acknowledged the other or the fact
that Rhun still held her hand under the table. Then, finally,
Angharad turned her head slightly towards Rhun and spoke in a low
voice. “Do not think I share my uncle’s hatred of all things
Gwynedd.”

Rhun glanced past her to Cadell to see if he
was paying attention to his niece, but at that moment he pushed
back his chair to stand and move down to the far end of the table
to speak to another of Hywel’s guests. Rhun’s eyes narrowed to see
it, thinking of all the ways the evening could play out because of
what Cadell had said. Rhun’s mind didn’t often contemplate plots
and subterfuge, but he knew betrayal was of constant concern to his
father—and for good reason.

He turned to look fully at Angharad. “Do you
not?”

“Cadell has no sons.” Her eyes moved to her
plate, and she looked very hard at it rather than at him.

“You mean he has no one to watch his back as
Hywel and I watch our father’s,” Rhun said. She might also be
telling him that if he married her, he might have a claim to the
throne of Deheubarth. But to think that was definitely getting
ahead of himself.

“My uncle is following a dangerous path.
When he took Llanstephan, he challenged his own uncle, Maurice, who
held the castle for King Stephen. Uncle Cadell is not in as secure
a position as he would have you believe.” Angharad was telling Rhun
what he needed to hear. “The truth is, he cannot afford to help
your father hold off the Earl of Chester. He cannot leave the
south, even for a good cause.”

Hywel might have said that anytime anyone
promised the truth, very often what came out was anything but the
truth. But Angharad’s assertions coincided with Rhun’s own
assessment of Cadell’s situation. Rather than confess his weakness
in order to use it as an excuse (and a legitimate one) not to
fight, Cadell had chosen to brazen it out, knowing that Hywel would
never dream to challenge a guest, no matter how bold the
provocation.

Rhun put his head close to hers. “Be very
careful, Angharad. I would not have you speak so plainly if it
means rousing your uncle’s ire.” He squeezed Angharad’s hand and
let it go.

“You need to know what he plans,” Angharad
said. “He wants Ceredigion.”

“We have known that for some time. Don’t
trouble yourself over the matter.”

“He doesn’t care how he gets it.” Angharad’s
attention was still mostly on her plate, but she shot him another
look, and this time he saw fear in her eyes. “He has brought men
with him.”

Rhun’s stomach clenched. “What?”

Angharad’s mouth barely moved as she spoke.
“He has another fifty cavalry, in addition to those who camp with
us on the festival grounds. He left them off the road to the south
of Aberystwyth.”

Rhun felt again for her hand. “If you need
anything—anything at all—you come to me. I can keep you safe.”

Angharad eased out a breath. “Thank
you.”

Rhun would have given anything to take
Angharad out of the hall immediately. He could have housed her with
Gwen and Mari at the monastery. But such an act, more than anything
else he could have done short of pulling out his sword right there
and then and challenging Cadell directly, would have violated the
pledge of hospitality Hywel had given Cadell. It would also have
been tantamount to eloping with her. On the whole, Rhun wasn’t
opposed to the idea, but he hadn’t discussed marriage with her yet,
and a few squeezed hands did not amount to a lifelong promise.
Hywel might think nothing of sneaking around with whomever caught
his eye, but if any conversation should be plainly spoken, it was
when a man asked a woman to marry him.

Still, elopement was not without precedent
between Gwynedd and Deheubarth. For a moment, Rhun amused himself
contemplating the parallels and possibilities. When Rhun’s aunt
Gwenllian was fifteen years old, she eloped with King Cadell’s
father, Gruffydd. Anarawd and Cadell were the sons of a previous
marriage, so there was no blood relationship between Rhun and
Cadell, but custom called them cousins.

It was Gwenllian’s death, in fact, that had
prompted Gwynedd to get involved in Deheubarth in the first place.
The Normans had hung Gwenllian from the battlements when she’d
defended her castle in her husband’s absence. Ironically, Gruffydd
had been in Gwynedd, arranging for Rhun’s father and Cadwaladr to
come to Deheubarth to help him defend Ceredigion.

Besides, it wasn’t so much propriety that
demanded Rhun sit on his hands, but a desire not to ruin Hywel’s
festival. Cadell might have fifty hidden men, but he hadn’t turned
them on Hywel, and now that Rhun knew about them, he and Hywel
could devise a strategy for addressing the problem.

Rhun also didn’t have any indication that
Angharad was, in fact, in danger from her uncle. And within a few
moments of the end of their conversation, her chaperone signaled
that Angharad should retire with her women to her tent, leaving her
uncle to continue his revelry. The longer Rhun spent with King
Cadell, the more the king’s manner irritated him. It seemed to Rhun
that he kept looking around the hall, measuring it with his eyes as
if he was evaluating where he’d put his tapestries when he moved
in.

Hywel, as host, was required to maintain his
seat for far longer than he otherwise might have. Fortunately, an
hour after sunset, Hywel’s steward appeared in the rear doorway to
the hall and sent a boy to Hywel’s side. At the message, Hywel rose
from his seat, and Rhun rose to go to the door with him. By then,
the formal aspect of the feast had broken up and most of the seats
at the high table were empty, as their various occupants had moved
to other locations in the hall. Most of the women had left.

The steward was waiting for them in the
courtyard of the castle. With the sun finally having set into the
sea, a cooler breeze wafted past Rhun. The hall had been stifling
in comparison, but such were the high spirits of most everybody
involved that nobody minded. Rhun was also pleased to see that the
problem with the latrines had been sufficiently addressed. He could
smell sea air, wood smoke, and the verdant scents of a warm August
evening.

“What is it?” Hywel said to his steward, a
capable man named Morgan whom Taran had found for him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your meal, but a
messenger has come from Prior Rhys asking for more men to guard the
monastery. He also sent this for your eyes only.” Morgan handed a
piece of paper to Hywel. “I already sent the men.”

Rhun peered over his brother’s shoulder to
read the letter, understanding immediately why the prior had
written down what he wanted to say to Hywel rather than trusting
the whole of the message to another man to relay verbally. The
letter told of a possible other wife for Gryff, and that Gareth had
gone to fetch her. Prior Rhys also explained why Gareth was
concerned for the safety of Mari and Gwen.

“Thank you for sending the guards,” Hywel
said. “I myself will go now to inspect the grounds and speak to my
wife.”

“Could there be some trouble along the lines
of which we spoke earlier—” Morgan hesitated.

“Not yet. Not here, but I understand Prior
Rhys’s concern.” Hywel turned to Rhun. “Will you come?”

“Of course.” Then Rhun scowled at his
brother. “You really shouldn’t have exaggerated my past role in
your investigations to Cadell. I have been of very little use, and
you know it.”

“You sell yourself short. I rely on you.”
Hywel turned back to Morgan. “More people have come to the festival
than I anticipated, and I am wary about having Cadwaladr and Cadell
in the same hall. I need you to watch them more closely than
ever.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You weren’t there in the hall to hear
Cadell speak.” Hywel related the conversation with Cadell to
Morgan, whose expression grew even more concerned.

“It wasn’t a declaration of war, but Cadell
certainly resents Gwynedd,” Rhun said.

“We also need to be more careful about our
guests,” Hywel said. “I’m not suggesting that anyone be searched or
made aware of my concerns, but even the kitchen staff need to be on
their guard for suspicious behavior. One murder is quite enough for
the week.”

“I will see to it,” Morgan said.

“Meanwhile, Rhun and I need our horses
saddled. We’ll ride to the monastery now.”

“And then to the northeast?” Morgan
said.

“Indeed,” Hywel said.

“Northeast?” Rhun said as Morgan turned
away.

“Cadwaladr brought more men with him,” Hywel
said. “Fifty cavalry. I want to see them with my own eyes.”

Rhun stared at his brother. “I was going to
tell you at the first opportunity that Cadell left fifty men hidden
in the woods to the south of Aberystwyth.”

It was Hywel’s turn to stare at Rhun. “Who
told you that? Angharad?”

Rhun nodded.

“So we’re surrounded, though not by numbers
I would normally fear.”

“I share your puzzlement,” Rhun said.

“I need Gareth back, except something tells
me this murder can’t wait either.” Hywel sighed and looked down at
the ground. “I must have been mad to think this festival was a good
idea.”

“It was a good idea,” Rhun said immediately.
“It still is.”

Hywel shook his head, but Rhun cut him off
before he could speak again. “At the very least, you can view it as
a chance to flush out your enemies.”

Hywel’s head came up at that.

Rhun nodded to see it. “Don’t you think King
Cadell sees this week as an opportunity? He isn’t here for the
music, I can assure you. He’s here to evaluate the state of your
domain, the nature of your rule, and to assess your defenses.”

Hywel was nodding slowly. “Already we have
learned that Cadwaladr and Cadell brought small armies with them. I
haven’t forced them to act, but they have acted anyway.”

“Now, the question before us is if they are
working together,” Rhun said.

“I shudder to think.” For the first time in
a week, Hywel genuinely smiled. He clapped a hand on Rhun’s
shoulder. “You have brought me back to myself. A spy I am and
always will be. I was a fool to ever forget it.”