The Honorable Traitor by Sarah Woodbury

Author:Sarah Woodbury
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: wales, middle ages, medieval, powys, gwynedd, madog, ranulf, chester, the anarchy, owain
Publisher: The Morgan-Stanwood Publishing Group Inc
Published: 2022-12-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-four

Day Three

Gareth

On first approach by the light of day, the mill appeared no more exciting than the field where Marc had been attacked. Abbess Nest had said she would ask the miller to meet Gareth before entering, not because she didn’t trust Gareth per se, but because Brother Francis would be affronted to have his domain disturbed, and she was conscious of the sensibilities of those in her charge. It was a small request as far as Gareth was concerned, though if Brother Francis was involved somehow in Cadwaladr’s intrigue, he could have come and gone at any time since she’d spoken to him and nobody would have been the wiser.

Being an investigator made a man suspicious. Sometimes too suspicious. Gareth would see what he thought about the miller once he met him.

Gareth had risen later than he had planned, but even so, hadn’t awakened his sons, knowing full well that they might feel affronted he’d started work without them. In this, however, Gareth was exercising his prerogative as their parent. They were their own men, and Gareth respected that, but in too many of their investigations, nobody got remotely enough sleep. As lead investigator, Gareth hadn’t deemed such deprivation necessary today.

He hadn’t disturbed Gwen either. It didn’t take six years of marriage to know better than to do that.

Gareth crossed the yard, as Dai said he himself had done after Cadwaladr had gone on his way, and approached the door. He was careful to tread lightly on the stoop where the residue of Cadwaladr’s muddy boots was still visible, the earth dried now and falling apart into smaller clumps.

Once past the dirt on the steps, Gareth set down the lantern Dai had taken from the mill, wanting to make sure it was returned to its rightful place. Then he stood off to one side, lifted the latch, and swung the door inward. Cadwaladr had entered and left openly, with no concern for where he put his feet. They knew he’d been inside. What was at issue was why? It would have been so much simpler if they could just ask him.

But that was something they could never do. According to Gruffydd, who as Gareth had passed had been yawning from a prime position near the pavilion, hot porridge in hand and affecting a casual attitude, the treacherous prince remained asleep in his tent alone. Even if he’d been wandering about the encampment, Gareth wasn’t worried about him returning to the scene of this particular crime, if that’s even what this was. What was more concerning was if Cadwaladr’s own spies were watching the mill—or watching Gareth. It was impossible. Heaven knew how anyone could remain loyal to Cadwaladr through all his treachery, but even now he had his supporters. And as had been the case since the beginning of time, the proper allocation of money could encourage a man to betray any virtue and sacrifice any friend.

Gareth couldn’t worry about it, or rather, shouldn’t. Maybe he should even

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