The Unlikely Spy (33 page)

“You did what nobody else did. We have
honored you for it all these years. And that’s why we’re here.” The
father took in a breath. “Llew works at the mill; he sleeps above
it at night. He was there the night that man died.”

Gareth’s jaw dropped, and his gaze went to
the boy. “Where have you been?”

The father cleared his throat. “He didn’t
come home until last night. He’s been afraid of what he saw.”

Gareth let out a breath. “Come with me,
please.” He led the way back to Hywel’s office. Hywel was no longer
there, but Rhun stood gazing out the window. Gruffydd had propped
himself in the same corner Gareth had occupied earlier. Rhun turned
as they entered, and Gareth said, “This is our missing mill
apprentice. He has something to tell us.”

Committed now, Llew stood before Prince Rhun
like a soldier—legs spread, arms behind his back—and stared at a
spot somewhere near the top of the wall ahead of him. “I was at the
mill the night that man died. I wasn’t supposed to be there because
my father had sent me to Borth to bring food to my aunt who lives
alone.”

“She lost her husband last year and refuses
to come live with us in Llanbadarn Fawr,” Llew’s father said as an
aside.

Llew cleared his throat. “I hoped to meet a
girl.”

“Llew—” That was from his mother, but Gareth
made a chopping motion with his hand, and she stopped.

“Go on,” Gareth said.

“I thought the morning would be soon enough
to go to Borth. If I left at first light, I could be there and back
before anyone noticed I hadn’t gone when I said I would,” Llew
said.

His father looked like he wanted to say
something else, but another hard look from Gareth had him closing
his mouth too. Gareth didn’t want to stop the flow of information
now that it had started.

“I was standing in the doorway to the mill,
watching for her. It was after midnight by then, and I’d realized
she wasn’t coming, but I wasn’t ready to give up. Then I saw a man
pass by on the road, hardly more than a shadow really. He greeted a
second man, who was waiting for him in the woods. I followed them.”
Llew stopped.

“Why?” Gareth said.

Llew shrugged. “It seemed odd to me that
they would be out so late. Why meet in the woods? They had to be up
to no good, and—” Llew raised his handless arm.

Gareth studied the young man with both pity
and understanding. “You have learned to counter those who look down
on you or bully you by knowing more about them than they want
known?”

Llew had the grace to look sheepish. “I
recognized one of them. I’d seen him around Llanbadarn Fawr on and
off, though I never learned his name. He was a big man, and in the
moonlight his hair was almost white. I didn’t like him.”

Gareth knew who that was. “Had he come to
the mill before?”

Llew shook his head hard. “No.”

“And the other man?” Gareth said.

“He was shorter, darker, older too, with a
bit of belly,” Llew said. “They were talking. I couldn’t hear what
they were saying. Then the big man left. The smaller man stood at
the water’s edge for a while. I was afraid he might hear me. I
could hardly breathe. But it wasn’t me he heard.” Llew stopped
again.

“Go on, son,” Llew’s father said.

“The first man said, ‘Is that you?’ Another
man stepped out of the trees and said, ‘I know what you’re up to.
You won’t get away with it.’ The first man moved towards him. It
all happened so fast, I could hardly believe it.”

“What did the first man do?” Gareth
said.

“I couldn’t exactly see, but the man who’d
just arrived ended up on the ground. The first man dragged him into
the water. I was so scared.”

“So you hid,” Gareth said.

“He should have come forward sooner, we
know,” Llew’s father said, “but with what happened before—”

“Prince Hywel is not Prince Cadwaladr,”
Gareth said.

“We know. We know,” Llew’s mother said.
“That’s why we’re here.”

“I know what happens when a body goes into
the water. Usually it doesn’t come up for days,” Llew said. “I
didn’t think anyone would believe what I’d seen, and I was afraid
if I said anything, that man would find me. I always slept in the
mill. He could have found out that I’d been there and killed me
too.”

“Thank you for coming forward at last,”
Gareth said. “I’ll have you know that the murderer will never be
able to hurt you. He is dead. You’re safe now.”

Such was Llew’s sigh that he gave the
impression of melting through the floor.

Prince Rhun tipped his head to Gruffydd, who
took Llew’s arm and led him away, followed by his parents. That
left Gareth alone with Prince Rhun and Gwen.

“One murder solved.” Gwen said.

“What about Iolo?” Rhun said.

A growl formed at the back of Gareth’s
throat. “With Llew’s testimony and the knife, we have all the
evidence we need to convict him for Gryff’s murder. Madlen, as his
heir, will pay
galanas
to Carys for his death.”

“I feel bad that I never knew who the boy
was.” Gwen looked at her feet. “I knew how you’d disobeyed
Cadwaladr, of course, but until today, I’d only ever thought about
what your decision had done to you and me.”

“You do realize that they came forward only
because they trusted you,” Rhun said. “Everywhere you have gone,
you’ve made an impression.”

Gareth shook his head. “All I did was not
cut off that poor boy’s hand. He lost it anyway.”

“And all you did was protect that convent of
women in Powys, and in exchange, Godfrid recovered the Book of
Kells and we uncovered another murderer,” Gwen said.

“What other lives have you changed without
knowing it?” Rhun said.

* * * * *

“You let Erik go?” Gareth stared at Hywel.
The prince was in between conferring with some of the judges and
appeasing two contestants, one who claimed the other had stolen his
song. “He will betray you!”

“Maybe,” Hywel said, “but since we now have
proof that Iolo, not Erik, murdered Gryff, we would have had no
reason to hold him anyway.”

“You didn’t know that at the time. You had
only his word!” Gareth knew he needed to get his emotions under
control, but it was a struggle. Whatever satisfaction he’d felt at
learning the true cause of Gryff’s death was gone, replaced by
frustration at his lord’s relentless practicality. He was still
feeling a tendril of guilt at Iolo’s death as well. If Gareth had
thrown him in a cell, rather than letting him believe himself free,
he might still be alive. The investigation had all but concluded,
and he felt no triumph.

Rhun was studying his brother. “Only if
treason isn’t a reason.”

“He’s hardly committing treason if he’s
working for me.” Hywel looked sternly at Gareth. “You have to
understand, Gareth. I have no need to prove a point or waste a man
with skills I can use. I would never include Erik in my garrison or
my
teulu
, but he can go where I can’t and bring me
information I need. He already has. You should be grateful he
talked, since he told us about Cadwaladr’s plans for you.”

Gareth ground his teeth. “What’s to prevent
Erik from running back to Cadwaladr?”

“Why would he do that?” Hywel said.
“Cadwaladr cast him off. And King Cadell would have had him dead.
It is I who am paying him now.”

Gareth hated to concede the point. Only
yesterday, Hywel had told him how he valued Gareth’s services
because of his fine sense of honor, and now his lord went and did
this. Gareth looked into Hywel’s eyes, both of them seeing this
moment for what it was: Gareth was either going to have to concede
to Hywel’s authority as his lord or walk away from his service.

“Let it go, Gareth,” Prince Hywel said after
a moment. “I didn’t ask you to make this decision. This isn’t your
compromise. It’s mine.”

Rhun spoke as if they’d said nothing to each
other. “I can see how it all fell out now. Iolo used Gryff as a
surrogate spy, passing messages that Iolo wrongly assumed Gryff
didn’t understand. Iolo thought Gryff wasn’t intelligent enough to
realize what he was up to and wouldn’t have cared if he did.

“But Gryff hated Cadwaladr for something he
did three years ago and probably doesn’t even remember.” Rhun
looked significantly at Gareth. “A single, small act can have
consequences that ripple outward in an unending circle.”

“You never know the measure of a man until
he’s tested,” Hywel said.

Gareth took in a breath, understanding that
Hywel’s comment was meant as a peace offering. “Gryff was tested,
and he wasn’t found wanting.”

“It just cost him his life,” Rhun said.

Gwen

K
ing Owain sat in
an ornate chair he’d brought with him from Gwynedd and was eating
at a trestle table with Mari when his two sons, flanked by Gareth
and Gwen, appeared in front of him. The king had raised the sides
of his tent to allow whatever evening breeze existed to blow past
him. Everyone was thankful the sun had gone down because today had
been the hottest day yet. Mari sat beside her father-in-law,
nursing Gruffydd, who nonetheless was flailing an arm behind him to
reach what was on the table. She’d already finished eating—or, more
likely, had given the meal up as a lost cause as long as she had an
active one-year-old in her arms.

“It’s a delegation,” King Owain said by way
of a greeting. “I am suddenly worried.”

“You have nothing to fear,” Prince Rhun
said, “though we do have a story to tell you.”

“Oh good,” Mari said. “I’m tired of being
kept in the dark.”

Hywel bent to kiss the top of her head.
“That was never my intent.”

“At least now I’ll be able to sleep.” Mari
lifted Gruffydd from her breast and put him to her shoulder,
patting him on the back until he burped.

The festival was over. The last bard had
finished his song, and the judges had conferred. They’d awarded the
top prize to the bard who’d replaced Gwen’s own father at Carreg
Cennan. With Meilyr, Hywel, and Gwalchmai not participating in the
contest, Gwen hadn’t had much interest in the overall outcome. The
young man in question, however, had been very good, and both she
and Hywel had approved of the choice. He’d beaten out many older
men to win.

King Owain plucked a shred of roasted
chicken skin from his teeth and leaned back in his chair. “Pull up
a stool.” He looked at Hywel. “I have wanted to say many times
since I arrived that I cannot be more proud of you, son.”

Hywel dropped his gaze to his feet, but he
was smiling. Gwen was glad to hear King Owain say that. Hywel did
deserve whatever accolades were heaped upon him, not only for the
festival itself, but for what he’d accomplished in Ceredigion. If
nothing else, the resolution of Gryff’s murder showed that: a boy
who’d lost his hand because of Cadwaladr had come forward because
the man who’d refused to take it from him had come to serve Hywel.
Whether or not Hywel had made the right decision in releasing Erik,
he’d had sense enough to put his trust in Gareth.

Hywel raised his head. “We’ve had some
trouble, and Rhun and I thought it was time we told you about it.”
He then launched into a summary of Gryff’s murder and the
subsequent investigation. The four of them had conferred with each
other on and off over the course of the day, clarifying the various
points to each other as they’d had time to think about them.

King Owain listened intently throughout
Hywel’s recital, and looked particularly pleased at the discovery
that Llew had witnessed the murder itself. As Hywel fell silent,
King Owain rose to his feet and began to pace back and forth behind
his chair.

It was Mari who spoke first. “I don’t
understand something. Gryff gave the cross to his wife one day but
didn’t hide the ring until the next. Why the delay?”

“We may never know,” Hywel said. “Perhaps he
didn’t know himself, except that I can see how the ring—clearly
Uncle Cadwaladr’s own—wasn’t something he could give to someone
else for safekeeping. Regardless, at some point he decided to seek
me out, and when he couldn’t find me to show me the ring, he hid it
in the best place he could think of.”

“It does seem that Gryff became bolder as
time went on,” Gwen said. “His final act was to confront Iolo with
his treachery. Who knows where that courage came from?”

“From a sense of righteousness,” Rhun said.
“The man seemed to drift through his life in every other way, but
he hated our uncle.”

King Owain had continued to pace during
their exchange with Mari, but now he stopped and looked at his
sons. “So my brother and Cadell have had a falling out?”

Hywel scratched the back of his head and
shot Gwen an amused look. His father had latched onto this piece of
information as the most important point when he’d hardly blinked at
the news that Cadwaladr and Cadell had colluded to ambush Anarawd
three years ago. Cadwaladr’s future plans, as great or small as
they might be, needed to be their concern now.

“It seems so,” Rhun said. “Cadwaladr left
before dawn, and Cadell departed afterwards, perhaps once he
learned of Iolo’s death. Our scouts report they went different
ways. Whatever may have been the initial reason for Uncle
Cadwaladr’s presence here, he does not appear to be assisting
Cadell with any incursions on Deheubarth’s southern border.”

King Owain looked at his older son. “And
Angharad?”

“She went with him,” Rhun said. “I was not
able to speak to her before she left.”

“We will find a way, son,” King Owain
said.

“Thank you, Father.”

King Owain studied the darkness beyond the
tent and shook his head. “Those two will be the death of me—” He
turned back to his sons. “Let me see the ring.”

Rhun took two steps forward and carefully
placed Cadwaladr’s signet ring on the table in front of his
father.