The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) by Woodbury Sarah

Author:Woodbury, Sarah [Woodbury, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

The small company rode through the early hours of the morning, stopping every now and then for Gareth to dismount and ensure they still followed the proper path. Even though much of the stonework of the old Roman road remained, grass and dirt had made headway between the rocks and revealed traces of a recent passage of men and horses. Cadwaladr’s company hadn’t tried to disguise their route. Like the act of killing Anarawd itself, it revealed a disturbing overconfidence.

At Caernarfon, some fifteen miles west of Aber, the trail ended, along with the road. Gareth dismounted to crouch beside the last traces of hoof prints, embedded deep in the sandy soil ten feet from the edge of the swift-flowing waters of the Menai Straits, which were just visible beneath the light of the waning moon that had finally managed to peek through the clouds. The other men stopped beside him and stared across the Straits to the opposite shore. Anglesey, the bread basket of Gwynedd, lay before them.

The water slopped at his feet, about half-way between high and low tide. The rest of the footprints had washed away. Cadwaladr’s company, if they’d had any sense, had taken the ferry across the Straits nine hours before, when the tide was at its lowest.

“It’s Aberffraw, isn’t it?” Gareth said to Hywel, who trotted his horse close to where Gareth stood.

“That’s my guess as well,” Hywel said. “I’ve thought so all along.”

I’ve thought so all along. As Gareth stared across the Straits, his prince beside him, Gareth understood Hywel as he never had before. Unlike most men, Hywel never lied to himself. He might not know what was at stake with every task he undertook, but he was clear-eyed about what he knew and what he didn’t know.

His stance and tone told Gareth that this particular venture was only beginning and that Hywel was prepared for it going bad to a degree that surpassed anything they’d ever experienced. It wasn’t that people were going to die, though they might, but that Hywel understood one true thing: that by bringing Cadwaladr to justice—if indeed that became necessary—he would break his father’s heart. By doing so, he would put himself, as the bringer of bad news, in a more precarious position than any he’d ever been in before.

In that light, Hywel’s choice to bring Rhun with them, or rather, to allow him to come along, was no longer odd. Rhun was always ready for adventure—in many ways he was more reckless than Hywel—but he’d not taken part in any of Hywel’s tasks up until this night. King Owain protected his eldest son, and thus he rarely participated in the less savory aspects of ruling Gwynedd. But he was here, now, because Hywel knew that if Rhun told King Owain that Cadwaladr had stolen Gwen; if Rhun told his father that Cadwaladr had been behind the murder of Anarawd and his men, his father would believe him when he couldn’t bring himself to believe Hywel.

For Gareth’s part, he no longer had any doubts.

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