The Unlikely Spy (29 page)

“What is that, my lord?” Gruffydd said.

Rhun turned to show the mirror to Goch and
Gruffydd.

“Odd that she didn’t take it with her,” Goch
said.

Rhun hesitated, looking back into the trunk
again. Two feet deep, it was full of clothing, and in fact, most of
that clothing had to be Madlen’s. A tendril of concern curled in
Rhun’s belly. “What if you’re right, Gruffydd? What if she didn’t
go anywhere after all?”

“Then why did Iolo say she did—?” Goch broke
off, and the men stared at each other. Spying was one thing. If
Iolo had murdered Gryff that was another, but murdering his niece
was something else entirely.

Gruffydd cleared his throat. “Surely
not?”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking. Don’t
deny it.” But then Rhun frowned and crouched even lower to look
underneath the shelf to the left of the trunk. A strap stuck out
from behind a stack of linen. Turning himself sideways so more of
the torchlight could shine past him, Rhun reached for it and pulled
it out. It was a crude rucksack, tied at the top with rope.

“Could that be Gryff’s?” Goch said.

“One can only hope,” Rhun said.

Rhun had cut the lock with nerves jangling,
not so much regretting the commitment, but what he feared might be
embarrassment when he discovered nothing. Now he climbed down from
the cart, the rucksack over his shoulder, his anticipation rising.
Gruffydd closed the door and rigged the pin lock so it closed, even
if it would never lock again.

Rhun walked to an adjacent cart with an
empty bed and set the bag in the back. While Goch brought the torch
close, Rhun untied the strings and laid out its contents. They
consisted of spare breeches and shirt, a spoon, and a small box
which when opened proved to contain salt. It was a valuable spice
but hardly worth killing over.

“Nothing.” Gruffydd picked through the few
items himself.

“This has to be Gryff’s bag,” Goch said.
“Iolo took it from the tavern.”

Rhun rubbed his chin and then dropped his
hand with a sigh. “I have no doubt of that, though why we don’t
know.” He gestured to the few possessions. “This is hardly worth
stealing, much like Gryff’s purse.”

“My lord, should we question Iolo?” Gruffydd
said.

“We should,” Rhun said, “but he is safe for
now. It’s late, and that can wait until morning. Madlen’s
whereabouts are of greater concern. We need to find her.”

“Sir Gareth was to send to Borth for her
tomorrow. We’ll know more then,” Gruffydd said.

“I feel strongly that we don’t want to wait
that long,” Rhun said.

Gwen

G
wen lay in bed,
staring up at the ceiling, having woken before the dawn and been
unable to go back to sleep. She’d been so tired after returning
from the festival that she had fallen asleep right away, but now
her mind spun. Her thoughts were focused less on what they’d
learned from Iolo, and more on the danger Cadwaladr posed to
Gareth. While not exactly dismissing her concerns, her husband had
underplayed the threat as more of the same kind of peril he always
faced.

But she’d seen the worry in Hywel’s eyes,
even as he denied there was anything to worry about. And he’d
ordered Rhodri and Evan to watch Gareth’s back. The prince’s
actions belied his words. She was almost afraid to start the
day.

Then she gasped and sat up. Maybe because
her attention had strayed from the investigation, her mind had been
free to work on its own. “The cross!”

Gwen had spoken too loudly, given the
silence of the hour. Tangwen rolled over on her pallet, which lay
beside Gwen and Gareth’s own. Elspeth lay beyond her. The girl
slept on, and after a few heartbeats, Tangwen did too.

Gwen put out a hand to the space beside her,
but Gareth had gone. Then a door banged below her. It was Gareth’s
departure rather than her thought that had woken her. Either way,
Gwen was awake now, and she scrambled out of bed and threw a dress
over her shift. Gareth couldn’t be allowed to leave without hearing
what she had to say.

Gwen clattered down the stairs and burst
through the door that led to the courtyard. Gareth stood talking to
Prior Rhys and Prince Hywel, and all three men held their horses’
reins. Evan and Rhodri stood nearby as they had all day yesterday.
She hoped that some of them had managed to sleep a little.

The sun had risen but wasn’t yet peeking
over the trees that lined the road outside the monastery. The
clouds of yesterday had dissipated without releasing their rain. It
was going to be another hot day.

Gareth turned as she appeared, a smile on
his face even though she was sure she presented a shocking sight,
similar to yesterday when she’d confronted the two monks by the
river: her hair was half undone, still in its night braid, and she
had no shoes on her feet. She was glad the abbot hadn’t risen
yet.

Then Gareth’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?
Is Tangwen—”

Like any parent, his thoughts had flown to
fever and illness, which could come upon a child without notice.
Gwen shook her head. “No, no. She’s fine. This is about the
cross.”

“What about the cross?” Gareth said.

“If Madlen was never married to Gryff, and
he didn’t love her, would she have given the cross to him no matter
how much she loved him? And if she did, would he have accepted it
only to turn around and give it to Carys?” Gwen gazed up at her
husband.

Gareth took both of Gwen’s arms in his,
holding her. “No, she wouldn’t have.”

“And if Madlen didn’t give the cross to
Gryff as she said, and Gryff didn’t find it as he told Carys, how
did he acquire it?” Gwen said. “Did he steal it like Carys thought?
And if so, from whom?”

Hywel picked at his lower lip. “From the one
who killed him.”

“Madlen came to the chapel feigning that she
was Gryff’s wife, with the purpose of stealing his purse,” Gareth
said. “She could have been hoping the cross was in it.”

“Except it wasn’t, because he’d already
given it to Carys,” Gwen said. “Which makes the cross Madlen’s to
begin with.”

“What is so important about the cross that
Madlen pretended to be Gryff’s wife to get it back?” Hywel
said.

“I think I can answer that.” Rhun’s voice
carried to them as he, Gruffydd, and Goch appeared from underneath
the gatehouse archway, having dismounted before the gate rather
than wake the house with the clatter of hooves on the cobbles.
Everyone turned to him.

“You look like you’ve been to hell and
back,” Hywel said, amusement in his voice, perhaps still half-drunk
from last night’s performance. “Have you even slept?”

“No,” Rhun said, “and it’s a good thing we
didn’t.”

“Where have you been?” Hywel said.

“Borth,” Rhun said. “Looking for
Madlen.”

Gareth raised his eyebrows. “You saved me
the trip, my lord, but there was no need—”

“There was every need. Angharad told me last
night that her uncle had placed a spy among us. I told her we knew
it already. But then she named him. It’s Iolo.”

Rhun paused for his words to sink in.

“Iolo is spying for Cadell,” Hywel said, not
as a question.

Rhun smirked and then said, “What if Gryff
carried messages for him? We know he was good at it. Even Alun said
so.”

“But what does this have to do with the
cross?” Prior Rhys said.

“Gryff could have discovered the truth
behind what he was doing for Iolo,” Gwen said. “Everything that has
happened since has been to protect that secret.”

“I still don’t understand,” Prior Rhys
said.

Gwen took in a breath. “The letters ‘C’ and
‘G’ were etched on the back of the cross that Prince Rhun took from
Madlen and Carys yesterday. Carys said the letters represented
‘Carys’ and ‘Gryff’ because that is what Gryff told her. Madlen
claimed they were the names of her grandparents, but if Iolo really
spies for Cadell, then they more likely stand for Cadell ap
Gruffydd.”

“Gryff took the cross as proof of Iolo’s
spying and gave it to Alun to give to Carys for safekeeping,”
Gareth said.

Prior Rhys ran a hand through his very short
hair. “So if Iolo is Cadell’s spy, and Gryff discovered what he was
up to and objected, that would be grounds for murder.”

“Yes, it would,” Hywel said.

“Gryff must have been terrified when Carys
appeared in Aberystwyth wearing it,” Gwen said. “No wonder he sent
her away so quickly.”

“He came looking for me shortly after that.”
Hywel said. “Do we think he decided to tell me what he knew?”

“That makes sense to me,” Gareth said. “What
did you find in Borth, my lord?”

“Not Madlen,” Prince Rhun said. “If we think
Iolo killed Gryff because he threatened to expose him, what might
he have done to Madlen?”

“I need to get to the market grounds now.”
Gareth pulled Gwen to him in a brief hug and kissed the top of her
head. Then he mounted beside Evan and Rhodri. “We’ll start with his
booth.” They turned their horses’ heads and were away.

Hywel turned back to the others. “What are
we missing? Is it really that simple? When has a merchant’s spying
been worth killing over? You spied for me, Gwen, and I don’t see
any of the lords whose castles you frequented clamoring for your
head. We all take it as a given that any stranger in our midst
isn’t to be trusted. That doesn’t mean we don’t provide
hospitality. We just keep our secrets the best we can.”

“There’s another element to it,” Prince Rhun
said. “Angharad told me that Iolo passed messages from Cadell to
Cadwaladr through that half-Dane, Erik.”

The others gaped at Rhun, and Hywel said,
“Cadell was working with Cadwaladr?”

“She says they plotted Anarawd’s death
together,” Prince Rhun said.

“If Gryff had proof, that would be something
worth killing over,” Hywel said. “Both Cadell and Cadwaladr have
worked very hard to keep that connection hidden. Cadell’s brothers
would revolt if they knew.”

“That’s all very well and good,” Gwen said,
“but why would Gryff have cared what Iolo was doing? By all
accounts, he was a dreamer. He didn’t know one day from the next.
What was it about Iolo’s work that caused him to go to such lengths
to disrupt it?”

“He hated Cadwaladr,” Hywel said. “That’s
what Alun told Gareth.”

Prince Rhun seemed about to say something,
but then he looked down at his feet.

“What is it?” Hywel took a step towards his
brother, a ‘v’ of concern between his brows.

“What if Angharad is in real danger from her
uncle?” Rhun said.

“If you’re worried, go find her,” Hywel
said, “but I don’t share your concern. Cadell knows of your
interest in her, but like most men, he underestimates her
intelligence. He doesn’t even know to fear what she knows. That’s
why women make such good spies.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rhun said. “When
we’re done here, I’m going to speak to Father about her hand. I
would bring her back to Gwynedd with me.”

Gwen’s eyes widened. She hadn’t realized his
relationship with Angharad had progressed that far. It seemed Rhun
knew a thing or two about keeping a secret too.

The thought prompted her to put up a hand to
the others. “Wait. Just wait. I’ve had an idea. Don’t go anywhere
until I get back.” She ran towards the kitchen, knowing even as she
did so that the monks who cooked in it would be less than happy to
see her appear in the doorway.

When she reached it, however, she found
Prince Hywel on her heels. “Tell me what you’re thinking,
Gwen.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything because it’s
probably nothing,” Gwen said, “but do you remember how Gryff
fetched the gatekeeper’s dinner on the day he died?”

“Yes,” Hywel said. “So what?”

“Why did he do that?”

“Because he was Gryff,” Hywel said. “He was
a dreamer, not unkind.”

“I think there was more to it. He was so
anxious to find you that he trekked from Aberystwyth, to the
castle, to here, but then he takes the time to carry the
gatekeeper’s dinner to him? I don’t think so.”

Gwen stepped through the kitchen doorway to
find the head cook three paces away, glaring at her, though his
expression softened the instant he saw Hywel at her right
shoulder.

“Please, brother,” Gwen said, “were you here
when the dead man, Gryff, asked to bring Sion’s dinner to him the
night before he died?”

“I was.”

“Did Gryff seem anxious to you at the time?”
Gwen said.

“Did he seem anxious?” The cook scoffed.
“His eyes flicked from one corner to the next as if he was trying
to see the whole kitchen at once. If we had anything worth stealing
in here besides food I would have taken him for a thief.”

“Could you tell us what he did while he was
here?” Gwen said.

“He collected Sion’s dinner,” the cook
said.

“What did he do while he waited for you to
fix it?” Hywel said.

“Oh … well … I sent him to the pantry to
fetch a tray on which to carry Sion’s dinner,” the cook said. “By
the time he returned, I had it ladled out, and I sent him on his
way.”

“May we have a look in the pantry?” Hywel
said.

“Of course, my lord. It’s this way.”

The cook pointed them to a narrow doorway
covered by a curtain. Hywel swept it aside, revealing a small room
lined with shelves. It was full of dishware, not food.

“What are we looking for?” Hywel rubbed at
his chin, scruffy this morning as he hadn’t taken the time to
shave.

“Anything out of the ordinary or out of
place.” Gwen began moving aside the plates and bowls and upturning
pitchers to see if anything had been left inside them. “If Gryff
left something here, it would have had to have been small—probably
small enough to fit inside his purse.”

Hywel looked through the items on the other
side of the pantry, and then they met in the middle,
frustrated.