The Faithless Fool Read online

  The Faithless Fool

  The Gareth & Gwen Medieval Mysteries, Volume 14

  Sarah Woodbury

  Published by The Morgan-Stanwood Publishing Group, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE FAITHLESS FOOL

  First edition. July 25, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Sarah Woodbury.

  ISBN: 979-8201310462

  Written by Sarah Woodbury.

  Table of Contents

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Historical Note

  A Gareth & Gwen Medieval Mystery

  The Faithless Fool

  by

  Sarah Woodbury

  Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Woodbury

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  May 1149. Unexplained death follows Gareth and Gwen wherever they go, as does their reputation for solving murders. So when a man turns up dead at Carlisle Castle, where the pair have traveled as representatives of Gwynedd, King David of Scotland naturally turns to them for answers.

  But as the investigation unravels, fractures begin to appear within Gwynedd's proposed alliance, and once again, Gareth and Gwen find themselves at the center of a conspiracy with the throne of England on the line. The Faithless Fool is the fourteenth Gareth & Gwen Medieval Mystery.

  Complete Series reading order: The Good Knight, The Uninvited Guest, The Fourth Horseman, The Fallen Princess, The Unlikely Spy, The Lost Brother, The Renegade Merchant, The Unexpected Ally, The Worthy Soldier, The Favored Son, The Viking Prince, The Irish Bride, The Prince’s Man, The Faithless Fool. Also The Bard’s Daughter (prequel novella).

  www.sarahwoodbury.com

  To Deborah

  Cast of Characters

  Gwen—Prince Hywel’s investigator, Gareth’s wife

  Gareth—Prince Hywel’s steward, Gwen’s husband

  Llelo—Gareth and Gwen’s son

  Dai—Gareth and Gwen’s son

  Conall—Ambassador from Leinster

  Godfrid—Prince of Dublin

  Caitriona (Cait)—Godfrid’s wife, Conall’s sister

  David—King of Scotland

  Stephen—King of England

  Maud—Holy Roman Empress, rival to the English throne

  Henry—Maud’s son

  Hamelin—Henry’s half-brother

  Ranulf—Earl of Chester

  James Carr—Scottish nobleman

  Margaret Carr—James’s wife

  Douglas MacGregor—King David’s commander

  Æthelwold—Bishop of Carlisle

  Father Dunstan—Priest at Carlisle Castle

  Chapter One

  Carlisle Castle

  22 May 1149

  Day One

  Gareth

  King David of Scotland placed a naked blade on the shoulder of his great-nephew, Prince Henry, who was kneeling at his feet, and recited the words of chivalry in a commanding voice that carried throughout the hall.

  “Au nom de Dieu, je te fais chevalier.” Be thou a knight in the name of God. Then he stepped back and made a motion with his hand. “Avance, chevalier.” Arise, knight.

  As Prince Henry rose to his feet, stamping, shouts, and applause filled the hall. Henry was sixteen years old, exactly halfway in age between Gareth’s boys, Dai and Llelo, who were fifteen and seventeen respectively. Both sons had stopped cold at the sight of the prince receiving his knighthood from the King of Scots.

  Envy was plain in their faces, prompting Gareth to put a hand on a shoulder of each. “Your time will come. Never fear. The prince is young to be knighted, but he is also a prince and may one day be King of England. Do not begrudge him his day of glory.” He paused a beat before adding in a low voice, still in Welsh and for their ears alone: “The next one may be a long time coming.”

  The arrival of the Welsh party had been delayed, thankfully not by a storm in the Irish Sea, but by the slowness of the journey through the estuary at the mouth of the River Eden and then up the Eden to Carlisle Castle. With all the rain they’d been getting, a continuance of the rains of the winter, the river was running high and fast, so they’d been rowing upstream against a heavy current. At times, walking would have been faster, except they hadn’t wanted to stop along the way. Although this area of Scotland had once been Norse—and British before that—now it was populated by people who cursed the sight of a Viking longship. And not without reason, given the centuries of Danish conquest and warfare.

  That the ship flew the white flag of peace and was helmed by none other than the mighty Godfrid, Prince of Dublin, was beside the point. The people on shore didn’t know who he was, nor that he had Conall of Leinster and Gareth of Gwynedd beside him. They saw only the round shields of Vikings hung on the sides of the ship and armed men at the oars.

  Still, none of the locals had attempted to stop them, not only because a second look had reminded them of the folly of taking on Danish warriors, but also because the ship carried women and children—Gareth’s wife, Gwen, and their children, of course; and also Caitriona, Godfrid’s wife (and Conall’s sister). Thus, they had reached Carlisle in one piece, found their lodgings at the cathedral guesthouse in the town, and then hastened to the castle. As it turned out, their timing had been perfect, and they’d entered King David’s majestic hall just in time to witness his bestowal of knighthood on Henry.

  Having received a hug from his uncle and general congratulations from the other noblemen in his vicinity, Henry descended from the dais and made a beeline towards the Welsh party. Then, to Gareth’s utter surprise, Henry didn’t stop a respectful distance away but walked right up to him to embrace him. “I’m so glad you are here!” Pulling back, he seemed to realize that the hug had perhaps been slightly beneath his dignity. Clearing his throat, he added, “Welcome to Carlisle.”

  “Thank you.” Gareth bowed gravely back.

  “Were you in time?” Henry accepted everyone else’s obeisance and then raised them up with an impatient gesture. “Did you see?”

  “We did, my lord,” Gareth said. “Congratulations. The honor is most deserved.”

  Henry
made a face, again revealing himself to be sixteen and, in truth, no more (or less) mature than Gareth’s own sons. “I am not a child begging for a sweet. I would not besmirch my uncle’s action by suggesting that I am undeserving of the honor, but we all know that I have led few men in battle up until now—and those with little success.”

  “I think you underest—”

  “What did I just say?” Henry cut Gareth off with another gesture.

  Gareth bent his head respectfully. “Of course, my lord.”

  “Then again, now that you’re here,” Henry rubbed his hands together, “the task of taking back my mother’s throne can begin in earnest!”

  Chapter Two

  Day One

  Gwen

  Henry’s gleeful comment was another reminder, if Gwen needed one, that their partners in this alliance were taking the inclusion of the Welsh seriously. Henry truly wanted them there, and his desire to see them appeared to stem from a true affection that went far beyond politics. What’s more, he’d specifically asked for the presence of not only Gareth, but Gareth’s entire family. Llelo and Dai were as integral to this delegation as their parents. Even Taran and Tangwen, left behind tonight at their lodgings, had been wanted. It seemed that, for Henry, their alliance was not merely a means, as it undoubtedly was for Earl Ranulf of Chester, to keep King Owain Gwynedd from attacking his lands.

  While the bargain couldn’t have been offered simply because the young prince wanted to see them all again—and to share with them the moment of his knighting—Gwen had to wonder how much his hero-worship of Gareth had played in the proceedings.

  This journey had been nearly six months in the making. Once King Owain had agreed to Prince Henry’s offer of a treaty last December, discussions had been underway as to the best method to confirm their alliance. Not since the days of the great High Kings of Britain had anyone attempted to unify the powers of Wales, Scotland, and England, as Henry had proposed to do, should he go so far as to actually depose King Stephen as King of England. Everyone wanted the ceremony worthy of the historic occasion.

  So while discussions had been lengthy, they hadn’t actually been contentious. King David had made clear from the start that this treaty wasn’t Prince Henry’s alone, that he had the full support of not only David but Earl Ranulf as well, and they genuinely wanted to see King Owain at Carlisle.

  Still, generations of distrust between Gwynedd and the Normans remained a significant barrier to an actual in-person meeting. More than anything else, this had been a difficult matter to overcome. In the end, in fact, it had been an impossible matter. King Owain’s advisers believed that no member of the royal family could possibly venture into Chester, which was just over the border of Wales into England, much less all the way to Scotland, out of fear of being played false. Gwen felt that fear in her own heart. Even Prince Henry couldn’t deny that it had happened before, and that there was nothing he, King David, or Earl Ranulf could promise that would make Owain certain it wouldn’t happen again.

  It was one thing for these three other great magnates to unite against their common enemy. It was quite another to include King Owain, who shared no family connections with any of them. While blood ties were certainly no barrier to war—after all, King Stephen and Empress Maud themselves were cousins—sometimes they helped keep the peace. Why else would kings marry their daughters to their enemies? King David and Maud may not have been blood kin, but he was still Maud’s uncle, since her father, King Henry I of England, had married David’s sister, Edith.

  At the moment, King Stephen seemed far more concerned about the power of King David than that of Henry, who, as he himself had just admitted, had so far accomplished very little with his acts of rebellion. And really Stephen’s concern was legitimate. David of Scotland had stepped into the breach created by the death of Henry’s uncle, Robert of Gloucester, and was daily encroaching farther south into England. By the terms of this treaty they were signing this week, Henry, once he became king, would cede all of Northumbria to his uncle.

  The fact that Henry and his allies had also made overtures towards Dublin and Leinster only added to the significance of the event. It was King David, in fact, who’d asked Godfrid to sail to Wales to collect Gareth and Gwen—as well as Conall, who’d been acting as ambassador to Gwynedd. King David had arranged this for his own purposes, not knowing what close friends they all were, and during the journey they’d decided to keep their attachment to themselves, at least until they knew more about what they were walking into.

  Now, within moments of Prince Henry’s greetings, his eyes went to Llelo and then to the sword belted at his waist. “I see you still wear it!”

  Llelo’s sword had come from the hand of Henry himself, in the course of events at Bristol Castle the last time they’d seen him.

  “Of course, my lord.” Llelo bowed low. “I count myself a lucky man every single day that I was in the right place at the right moment to act, and I remain humbly honored that you would bestow such a magnificent weapon upon me.”

  It was a fine speech, and Gwen would have patted her son on the back at how well he’d done if it wouldn’t have disrupted the proceedings and called attention to him in a way he wouldn’t want. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, nearly as tall as his father, though thin as a rake, Llelo was growing into his position as his father’s apprentice, not only in regards to assisting with investigations, but also by learning to be diplomatic.

  Henry smiled. “I hope you know that if I had been a knight myself when I gave it to you, I would have knighted you on the spot.”

  He hesitated. And then, in the pause that followed before Henry’s eyes lit, all those watching him, except perhaps Llelo, saw the thought that came into his mind as if it were written in the air above his head. Spinning around, Henry strode towards his uncle, who had remained near the dais in conversation with several noble men and women.

  King David broke off to greet Henry, bending close to hear what he had to say. Though his hair was entirely white, compared to Henry’s tight red curls, King David was unbowed by age. He was also taller than Henry, who was short and stocky. Even so, the set of their shoulders was similar, and Gwen thought she could see the uncle in the nephew, despite not sharing blood. Henry admired David so profoundly he looked to emulate his mannerisms.

  After a brief consultation, King David lifted his head to look over Henry’s shoulder and, for the first time, openly inspected the newly arrived Welsh contingent. His eyes narrowed for a moment in what Gwen saw as calculation, and then he patted Henry on the shoulder. Whatever he said made Henry spin around, a grin splitting his face, while the king himself made a magisterial gesture from behind the young prince, summoning them all forward.

  Gareth led the way, followed immediately by Conall and Godfrid, as was their right, with Gwen and her two boys close behind. As he waited for Gareth to reach him, the king slid the sword by which he’d dubbed Henry into its sheath with an air indicating he was accustomed to its use. His hand had been steady as he’d made his great-nephew a knight, but upon closer inspection, David’s face was thinner than was perhaps healthy, whether due to age or illness, Gwen didn’t know. Nonetheless, his eyes were nearly as bright as Henry’s as he looked over his guests.

  “I couldn’t be more pleased to finally meet the great Lord Gareth.” His eyes were assessing but not critical. “Prince Henry speaks of you often—as well, of course, of the bravery of this young man.”

  Llelo straightened under the king’s gaze, realizing it was to himself the king was referring. “You honor me with your kind words, my lord.”

  “How old are you, son?”

  “Seventeen, my lord.”

  “Older men have been knighted for far less than saving the life of the future King of England.” A low rumble came from within the king’s chest.

  “My lord, that isn’t what happen—” Llelo began to explain, but the king overrode him.

  “In our tradition, each candidate for knighthood must spe
nd the night in the church, as Henry did last night, praying and asking for forgiveness for his sins, so that he might be reborn anew as a knight. It is, in a sense, another baptism, if the priest would not think such a comparison unholy. Are you willing?”

  In a matter of a quarter of an hour, they’d gone from huddled together in the doorway of the great hall, feeling awkward and uncertain about their welcome in this strange castle, to being offered an honor beyond Llelo’s wildest dreams. Or rather, it was an honor straight out of Llelo’s wildest dreams.

  From Llelo’s expression, he could hardly believe his good fortune—though, in the heartbeat before he replied to the king, he shot a glance in his father’s direction, worried perhaps that there was a diplomatic reason he should decline, or that the knighting was taking place under false pretenses. Like Gwen, however, Gareth had been there when Llelo had stopped a killer who’d drawn a knife in the prince’s presence, albeit to murder another. He gave the briefest of nods.

  In response, Llelo straightened his spine that was already straight as a poker, and, as with Henry, his thoughts were plain on his face before he spoke them: “Yes, my lord. I am ready.”

  Even with his burgeoning maturity, the excitement of what lay before him was too immediate for Llelo to understand the true significance of what he was being offered. Gwen didn’t think Prince Henry understood either. She was quite certain, however, that King David was fully aware of the symbolism behind the gesture. The pause between Henry’s query about the possibility of knighting Llelo and David’s approval had involved a brief assessment of the consequences of knighting a young Welshman as one of Prince Henry’s first acts as a full-fledged knight himself.

  Everyone, even Prince Henry and Gwen’s boys, were very aware of the momentous nature of bringing Gwynedd into this pact between England, Scotland, and Chester. To do so was to acknowledge Gwynedd’s power and authority as a kingdom equal to any of the others. In that light, knighting Llelo was no small thing. Gwen had seen David come to the conclusion that he could not regret tying Gwynedd more closely to Henry, and thus to David. In fact, the tighter the better.