The Fallen Princess

by Sarah Woodbury

  “It was too dark to make out the features of either the driver or a second man who walked ahead of the cart. Both were well-wrapped in cloak and hood. But he knew the horse.”

  That was the kind of news Gareth lived for. “Go on.”

  Llelo’s eyes were bright. “The horse pastures on a steading west of the Aber River and just south of the road to Penrhyn.”

  Gareth looked at Prince Hywel. “Do we know who lives there?”

  Hywel’s brow furrowed. “I’m trying to think. I should know.” He looked at Llelo. “Once we get Tegwen settled at Aber, we’ll want to speak to the boy and his parents. Do you know where they live?”

  Llelo nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  Which was only as Gareth would have expected. He and Gwen had taken on Llelo and Dai out of charity, as two boys lost in the expanse of England, but it was the boys who’d added joy to their lives. Llelo had turned out to be thoughtful, responsible, and mature beyond his years. He was also curious and energetic, and combining all those qualities together had produced a boy who dug clams in the early hours of the morning and knew every farm and homestead—and their inhabitants—from here to Bangor.

  Although Gareth had been absent all summer in Ceredigion and hadn’t witnessed it himself, Gwen reported that Llelo and Dai had ranged all over the region since they’d come home. At Aber, they’d joined the pack of boys that included Gwalchmai, Gwen’s brother, and Iorwerth, the king’s eldest son by his first wife, Gwladys. Under Cristina’s rule, the boys had found Aber Castle less hospitable than before her tenure. Particularly now that she was pregnant, she had shown resentment towards King Owain’s sons by other women, and the boys had learned very quickly that life went more smoothly when they stayed out of her way.

  “Stay close so I don’t have to hunt you down later. And don’t speak of this to anyone else. I believe this investigation will be one of the more—” Gareth glanced at Hywel, who’d gone back to ruminating on his failings, “—delicate ones we’ve undertaken.”

  “Yes, Da,” Llelo said and fell back to walk behind Gareth with the other soldiers.

  It was only a half-mile from the beach to Aber Castle: a short walk, if somber. The driver brought the cart to a halt before entering the castle, and King Owain came out from underneath the gatehouse to greet them. He paced towards Prince Hywel, who bowed along with everyone else at his approach. Gareth and the other men held that position until Hywel raised his head.

  “Sire,” Hywel said.

  “I’d like to see her for myself before you take her inside,” King Owain said.

  Hywel stepped to the cart bed and gently peeled back the hood that covered Tegwen’s face.

  King Owain reached out a hand, hovering it over her hair and hesitating. “Do you really think this is she, son? Her features are unrecognizable, and her hair has more red in it than I remember.”

  “Perhaps. But you haven’t yet seen the whole of her.” With two fingers, Hywel carefully opened the cloak at her throat and lifted up the garnet ring that rested on its chain. “This was hers, as was the cloak.” He pointed to the embroidery on the hem.

  King Owain recoiled slightly but recovered after a moment and moved closer again. This time, he rested a hand on the top of her head. “What became of you that your life ended here?”

  As a kinswoman, Tegwen’s welfare had been King Owain’s responsibility more than Hywel’s. King Owain’s father, also named Gruffydd like Tegwen’s grandfather, had been king at the time, but Owain had already shouldered much of the responsibility for the kingdom by the time Tegwen married Bran. Her death was made all the worse by the fact that he’d pictured her happy, far away in another land. They’d mourned her at the time as they would have mourned any similar loss, but this was a different kind of grief.

  Pain was etched into the king’s face as he turned to his son. “Gwen says Tegwen was murdered.”

  “It seems so, Father.”

  King Owain touched the side of Tegwen’s head, feeling at her scalp as they all had. Hywel didn’t stop him. A crowd of people had followed the king out of the castle, gathering around the cart and the soldiers who’d accompanied it from the beach. Gareth didn’t know that he’d ever seen a people as silent as they, not even at chapel, as they watched their king stand over the fallen princess. Finally, King Owain sighed and covered Tegwen’s face again. “You will find out who did this.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  And with those simple words, King Owain once again delegated a sensitive and difficult task to this younger son. With a wave from King Owain, the driver of the cart urged his horse through the gate and into the courtyard of the castle. Hywel hung back to confer with Gareth, allowing his father the opportunity to walk behind the cart alone. “We need to move quickly. Hallowmas is only a day away. My father will want to see real progress between now and then.”

  Gareth didn’t know how that was going to be possible, but he would certainly try. He didn’t say as much to Hywel, however, merely nodded. Once inside the castle, he signaled that his men should see to their duties. They dispersed, and Gareth tossed the reins of his horse to one of the stable boys who came forward to take them.

  “While I speak to whoever had guard duty from midnight to dawn,” Hywel said, “you find Gwen. Meet me in my office.”

  “Yes, my lord.” It was on the tip of Gareth’s tongue to suggest that he join Hywel and speak to the guard with him, but then he thought better of it. There was a glint in Hywel’s eye this morning that told Gareth it would be best for everyone if he did as he was told and didn’t question his orders without a very good reason to do so.

  Thus, he left Hywel to his task and went in search of Gwen. He found Meilyr first. There was a time when any interaction with Meilyr had been awkward and uncomfortable for both of them, but either Meilyr had mellowed since Gareth’s marriage to Gwen or Gareth had. Or both. Gareth found himself actually glad to see his father-in-law.

  “A bad business,” Meilyr said by way of a greeting.

  “Indeed,” Gareth said.

  “I accompanied Gwen to see the king,” Meilyr said.

  “Thank you for that,” Gareth said and meant it. “It was a difficult task. If I couldn’t be with her myself, I’m glad you could.”

  Meilyr didn’t seem to know what to say to that, but his lips pressed together as if he was pleased.

  “We don’t know much more than we did before,” Gareth said. “I’ll be off in a moment with Prince Hywel in pursuit of the few leads we currently have.”

  “I assume you will limit my daughter’s involvement in what will surely be a lengthy investigation,” Meilyr said.

  “Of course.” Gareth bowed slightly. “I appreciate your concerns.” He said this even though he knew as well as Meilyr that a man limited Gwen at his peril. Then Gareth smiled to see the woman herself appear in the doorway of the great hall.

  “There you are.” Gwen came down the steps and hurried across the courtyard towards him.

  Gareth broke away from Meilyr to meet her halfway. He caught her in a tight hug and then released her. “Your father was just telling me of your ordeal.”

  “I survived.” She nodded towards the cart. Only now were men lifting the body from it. “You brought Tegwen home, I see.”

  “She’ll lie in a room in the barracks until we can bury her,” Gareth said.

  Meilyr cleared his throat, causing Gwen to turn to him. “Hello, Father.”

  “I don’t like to see you involved in this, Gwen. Not with my first grandchild on the way.”

  Gareth smirked but then looked away, hoping Meilyr hadn’t noticed. Meilyr hadn’t changed so much that pomposity was beyond him.

  “I will do nothing to endanger the child, Father.” Gwen put a hand on his arm and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Gareth will make sure that anything dangerous takes place as far away from me as possible. I won’t even leave Aber. I promise.”

  “That’s what you always say,” Meilyr said, grumb
ling.

  “And I always mean it,” Gwen said.

  Gareth looked down at Gwen. “Prince Hywel asked that we meet him in his chambers.”

  She took Gareth’s hand while smiling at her father. “We can talk later.”

  Meilyr waved his hand at his daughter, a growl still on his lips. “Take care of her.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gareth said. As they walked back inside, he touched Gwen’s rounded belly and kissed her cheek. “Are you really all right?”

  “I’m fine. A little sad that this has happened.”

  “Hywel has already impressed upon me the urgency of sorting out at least something of what happened to her by tomorrow evening,” Gareth said and related the details of what they’d discovered since she’d left the beach, including the information about the cart and Cadwaladr’s pendant. He concluded, “King Owain will certainly bury her before the sun sets tomorrow evening.”

  “It is making everyone uncomfortable that her body turned up right before Hallowmas. They fear her ghost,” Gwen said.

  Gareth eyed his wife. “Do you?”

  “Of course not, but maybe Cadwaladr does,” Gwen said.

  Gareth’s brows came together. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he left the body on the beach!” Gwen said. “Why do that unless he was afraid of her somehow?”

  “He kept the body hidden for five years,” Gareth said. “Why would it bother him now when it didn’t before?”

  “That I don’t know,” Gwen said, “but people are already saying in the hall that she walks among us. Someone saw a white light along the road last night, and in another hour, half the castle will have seen it too.”

  Gareth nodded slowly. “I would be more afraid of the man who murdered her than of Tegwen herself.”

  “You would,” Gwen said, “but you don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Why leave her on the beach now, though?” Gareth said. “Cadwaladr has to know that five years on, the only possible outcome of bringing her death to light is to stir up trouble.”

  “Maybe he preferred trouble to retribution,” Gwen said, “though I think there has to be more to it than that.”

  Gareth raised his eyebrows. “What more?”

  “I think we’re looking at this wrong. Cadwaladr may not have felt he had a choice but to move the body,” Gwen said, “since it may be that he only recently found it.”

  Gareth stopped outside Hywel’s door, looking down at his wife. “Cariad, how could that possibly be right? Cadwaladr would know where he left the body.” And then his eyes narrowed as he understood what she was saying. “You think the man who killed her and the man who left the body on the beach aren’t the same person.”

  Gwen nodded. “As much as we all would like to see Cadwaladr hang for Tegwen’s murder, I am wondering if there aren’t two opposing minds at work here: one belongs to the man who hid the body, the killer. Knowing we all thought Tegwen happy somewhere else, he never wanted her found; the second man feels the exactly the opposite: he wants the body as far away from him as possible and doesn’t want to be reminded of it ever again.”

  Gareth rubbed his chin. That Cadwaladr was to blame for Tegwen’s death would wrap this investigation up in a neat bow. He didn’t want Gwen to be right, but the more he considered what she’d said, the more he had to grant the possibility that she was.

  Gwen’s brow remained furrowed in concentration. “I confess that the latter sounds more like Cadwaladr than the former.”

  Gareth urged Gwen across the threshold of Hywel’s office and closed the door behind them. Hywel was alone in the room. “Have you caught the killer yet?”

  “Not quite,” Gwen said.

  “Gwen has decided that the killer and the man who left the body on the beach are two different people,” Gareth said.

  “Is that where we are now?” Hywel said.

  “It’s an idea,” Gareth said. “Under the circumstances, it is one you may prefer.”

  Hywel’s mouth twisted into an apologetic smile. “I had considered it.” Then he looked at Gwen. “Thank you for speaking to my father. It went well? He didn’t eat you, I see.”

  “He was angry at first but then was more sad than anything else.” She looked around the room. “How did you convince Mari not to join us?”

  Hywel grimaced. “Breakfast did not sit well with her.”

  Gwen focused on Hywel’s face. “I noticed that she was picking at her meal.” She took a step towards the prince. “Mari is with child?”

  Gareth’s mouth fell open. That wouldn’t have been his first thought, but then, he apparently wasn’t thinking clearly this morning in many ways.

  Hywel’s face split into a grin. “We think so.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Gwen threw her arms around Hywel and hugged him. Then she backed off, holding both of his hands. “But I just spoke with her. She said nothing to me.”

  “We swore to each other that we wouldn’t mention it, not to anyone, until we were sure,” Hywel said.

  Gwen hadn’t told Gareth she was pregnant until she was sure either, and they’d both held the news in for half the summer during Gareth’s absence. It did no one any good to raise hopes only to dash them later.

  “You can tell her I guessed,” Gwen said. “And I didn’t get a chance to tell Gareth yet, but she’s already helped this investigation. She knew Tegwen better than any of us, I think.” Gwen gave an account of her conversation with Mari to the men.

  Hywel began to pace in front of the window. He left the shutters open except in the bitterest of weather. Today it was warmer outside than in. “I spoke to the men on guard. Those on duty after midnight saw nothing and heard nothing.”

  “Except for the light that passed by on the road,” Gwen said.

  Hywel stopped his pacing. “What was that?”

  “The talk in the great hall is that one of the guards saw … well … an ethereal light passing along the road in the early hours of the morning. He has the entire hall convinced that it was Tegwen’s ghost.”

  Hywel snorted in disgust. “That’s just what we need: a haunting. Next thing we know, the shade of Tegwen will be meeting Bran at midnight in the woods, since he had the poor judgment to get himself killed too.”

  Gareth nodded. “Ill-fated lovers.”

  “My lord, I am loath to bring this up, but when do you plan to tell your father about Cadwaladr?” Gwen said.

  Gareth sent a look of thanks in Gwen’s direction, but she was focused on the prince and didn’t see it.

  Hywel resumed his pacing. “I say we wait to speak of Uncle Cadwaladr until we track down this horse and cart and determine where the body came from.” He glanced at Gwen. “Gareth and I will see to that while you find out about Tegwen’s last days.”

  Gwen put her hands on her hips. “You give me all the thankless tasks. Do you have any suggestions as to how I might accomplish that?”

  Hywel ignored Gwen’s irritation. “Everyone has gathered at Aber for the holy day. The sudden appearance of her body will bring memories to the surface. Gather them.”

  “More specifically,” Gareth said, “Mari spoke of Tegwen’s unhappy marriage and of a lover. Who was he? Where is he now? What might he know of the events leading up to her disappearance? Someone here has to be able to tell us more about her life.”

  Gwen looked thoughtful now instead of defiant. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Meanwhile, Gareth and I—” Hywel halted his pacing, his expression clearing with the promise of activity, “—are off again.”

  Privately, Gareth was still wondering if the body really was that of Tegwen and not someone else wearing her clothing and necklace, but one look at Hywel’s face had him swallowing down any argument. He would go where his lord pointed, as he always did.

  Chapter Six

  Gwen

  Gwen grumbled to herself as she said goodbye to the men and walked out of Hywel’s office. She’d promised her father that she wouldn’t leave Aber; she had know
n before she met with Hywel and Gareth what the end result would be. More and more of late, her condition was preventing her from doing what she wanted to do. It wasn’t because she couldn’t be as active as in the past, necessarily, and certainly Gwen cared little about what people thought, but the worst thing would be to do something strenuous and damage the baby. She would never forgive herself if she miscarried the child.

  The frustrating confinement of Gwen’s pregnancy would be easier to accept if Mari was pregnant. Although Mari had never been as adventurous as Gwen herself, they’d kept each other company during the long summer without their men. Gareth had journeyed with Hywel to Ceredigion in the south, and from the little Gareth said, Gwen knew that Hywel was consumed with solidifying his hold on his lands in the wake of Cadwaladr’s treachery last summer. He and Gareth had fought more than one battle already in pursuit of that goal, and she was terribly afraid that they would be fighting many more.

  Because the Norman influence was greater in the south, most of the pressure on Hywel’s rule came from them, not Cadell, the King of Deheubarth. Hywel’s forces had raided the Norman castle of Aberteifi (which the Normans called Cardigan) and come away victorious, having burned the castle to the ground. The repercussions of that raid were still to be felt, which was why Hywel (and Gareth) would be staying in Gwynedd for only a few months before heading south again after the Christmas feast. Gwen already felt the pang of longing at the thought of Gareth leaving again. They hadn’t had enough time together. They never had enough time together.

  And if he left, Gareth wouldn’t be with her when their baby was born. She had already been on her knees praying for inclement weather that would prevent Hywel from leaving Aber and for the baby to come early.

  Gwen stopped in the corridor with one hand on the wall and the other on her belly, feeling the baby shift under her hand. Gwen could hear the hubbub in the great hall and needed to compose herself before joining it. Too many times since Gwen had discovered her pregnancy, she’d found the fear of the future engulfing her. She feared dying in childbirth. She feared Gareth’s death in battle. As always, she told herself to put aside her fear, because it would prevent her from living in whatever time she had left. That, however, was easier said than done.