The Faithless Fool Read online

  Gareth had brought the precious document, signed in the proper place by King Owain, who had already accepted the cost that would arise from it: allowing Cadwaladr, his treacherous younger brother, back into his court. By comparison, aiding Henry, Ranulf, and David in overthrowing King Stephen seemed a minor matter, even if on the surface it was a bold step and not one to be taken lightly.

  Nonetheless, it was one to be taken. David, Henry, and Ranulf had to have known it too, even as they sent Cadwaladr back to Owain. They either wanted very badly to get rid of him (perfectly possible given how odious he was) or they truly wanted Owain on their side. Even with this lovely welcome into Carlisle Castle by Prince Henry, Gwen couldn’t help thinking that the former still outweighed the latter.

  And yet, the truth could not be gainsaid: as long as King Stephen remained in the ascendancy and retained the English throne, whatever these great magnates were agreeing to, and whatever alliances they made, were just words. For over a year, the war had been at a standstill, if not a stalemate. Just that spring, Stephen had failed to take Worcester from Queen Maud’s allies, even as he built two castles nearby in an attempt to counter the alliance’s power. So far, it was only King Owain who’d made any real concession.

  Meanwhile Dai, from his position slightly behind his brother, was practically dripping with jealousy. Despite the envy, which not a single soul here could blame him for feeling, he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and said in a loving way in Welsh, “If anyone deserves this, Llelo, you do.”

  “But wait!” Henry was practically bouncing on his toes. “He shouldn’t do this alone, Uncle.”

  Gwen’s heart broke to see the sudden joy and hope in Dai’s face in the heartbeat between when Henry said those words and when he cupped his hands around his mouth and called across the hall, “Hamelin!”

  Chapter Three

  Day One

  Conall

  The young man at whom Prince Henry had shouted had been listening intently to a nobleman with a thick beard and an expansive manner, judging by the way he was gesticulating broadly. At Henry’s summons, Hamelin made his excuses and hurried over. His red hair was almost exactly the same color as Conall’s own—and Henry’s own—though Conall wore his clipped to almost nothing, and the young man’s was more of a mop on his head.

  As Dai’s expression shuttered, Conall moved to his side, but didn’t touch him. To do so would mean acknowledging the range of emotions Dai had experienced in an astoundingly short period of time. Conall was nearly three times his age, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t remember what it was like to feel so fully.

  Hamelin appeared to have missed the entirety of the conversation between the king, his half-brother, and Llelo because he strode across the room with an expectant air but not one that expected anything in particular. Gareth and Gwen had met this illegitimate half-brother to Prince Henry during their investigation in Bristol, and from his cheerful expression, he was having no trouble remembering all of them.

  He stopped a few feet away, made a respectful bow, and then reached out a hand to Llelo. “Welcome! I saw you come in, but I couldn’t get away from old Carr sooner.”

  Llelo clasped his forearm in return, unable to keep the outsized grin off his face. “It is marvelous to see you here!”

  For his part, King David said, “Hamelin,” in mild rebuke.

  Hamelin bowed more fully in his direction, but while his words were apologetic, his manner was insouciant. “My apologies, my king. Please forgive my slip of the tongue. My thoughts were entirely focused on how happy I was to see an old friend.”

  He said the word old this second time completely without irony. When one was nineteen, the year and a half he’d known Llelo was a long time.

  David made a motion accepting the apology, and Henry nodded indulgently, since all three of them seemed to be in agreement that nobody enjoyed being cornered by old Carr, the man to whom Hamelin had been speaking, who didn’t appear to be as old as the name implied either. He was fifty, perhaps, but not ancient.

  And then Hamelin listened with widening eyes as Henry explained what he planned for Llelo, and added, “I’d like to knight you and Llelo together.”

  Conall had never seen a man look more astonished than Hamelin did in that moment. Henry’s smile broadened to see the impact of his words. He was Hamelin’s younger but legitimate half-brother, and for him to offer Hamelin the chance at knighthood, on the heels of his own ascension, was almost too much to take in.

  Nonetheless, Hamelin managed an eager nod of acceptance, followed by an even lower bow. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I’m thinking the vigil should be at St. Mary’s this time,” King David said.

  “We’ll go now.” Hamelin grabbed Llelo’s elbow and set off with him, heading down the great hall towards the main door, all the while motioning with his free hand and talking animatedly. Llelo hastened to keep pace, nodding that he was listening, in that diplomatic manner he’d learned from his father. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still grinning madly.

  Dai watched them go with as neutral an expression as Conall had ever seen, even on wizened diplomats. He was apprenticed to become a member of the Dragons—Prince Hywel’s special force of highly trained men—in whose service he had already performed great deeds. But today was not to be his day, and he was struggling with the disappointment at the loss of an honor he hadn’t known moments before was even a possibility.

  Conall had no children of his own, so he was hardly one to counsel another man’s son, but he liked Dai and didn’t enjoy seeing him suffering. Leaning close, he said under his breath in Danish, which Dai spoke fluently, “I wasn’t knighted until I was ten years older than you, and I’m a king’s nephew. Your time will come.”

  Though Dai’s expression remained more wooden than was typical for him, his breathing settled. “Father was in his twenties too.”

  Meanwhile, Gareth was talking to the king. “I apologize, my lord. I don’t know Carlisle well. Is St. Mary’s another name for the cathedral? As perhaps you know, we are staying in their guesthouse.”

  That was where Conall’s sister, Caitriona, had chosen to remain rather than coming to the castle that evening with the other adults. She was pregnant with her first child and unwell with the whole process—even as she was overjoyed that she’d been able to conceive. She hadn’t produced a child during her first marriage, and she and Godfrid had gone into their union knowing that natural children might never be forthcoming.

  Godfrid’s brother, Brodar, who was also the King of Dublin, had at one point questioned Godfrid’s decision to marry Cait at all, given her apparent barrenness. Godfrid had held up Gareth and Gwen’s example of adopting two sons as an option if natural means of producing an heir failed. In the Danish world, as in the Welsh one, the only relevant factor in a child’s inheritance was the acknowledgement of the father.

  It was as if Caitriona had been holding herself together just until they arrived in Carlisle, at which point she’d collapsed into bed. Any one of them—Gwen, Godfrid, or even Conall—would have stayed at her side if they hadn’t been shooed away by Cait’s own maidservant, as well as by Cait herself.

  “St. Mary’s is the church located within the outer bailey of the castle,” Prince Henry said. “I did spend last night and much of the day at the cathedral, since the Bishop of Carlisle saw fit to oversee my vigil, but at this hour Hamelin and Llelo will be better off at the castle’s church. We’ve disrupted the cathedral’s schedule enough this week.” Then his brow furrowed as he turned his head towards the doors, through which the pair had disappeared. “Hamelin did hear you, didn’t he, Uncle?”

  For a castle to have its own church was not unusual, especially a castle as large as Carlisle. When they’d arrived, they’d had to traverse a portion of the outer bailey in order to reach the inner gatehouse and then the great hall. Conall had never seen a bailey that encompassed as large an area as Carlisle’s palisade, which even now the king was rebuild
ing in stone. Conall guessed the line from the southeastern corner to the northwestern one was nearly two hundred yards.

  “Dai can steer them aright.” Gareth motioned to Dai and switched to Welsh. “Follow them, son. Before they begin their prayers, they will need to wash their faces and hands, which they may not remember, anxious as they are to begin. Thank goodness Llelo put on a clean shirt at the guesthouse before we came here. Make sure they both have what they need, including your support in word as well as deed.”

  “Yes, Father.” Dai had recovered enough to nod vigorously and then was off like an arrow from a bow after his brother and Hamelin.

  Gareth then turned to face the prince and king. “Thank you, my lords. This is an entirely unexpected honor. We are grateful beyond measure.”

  “All the better for being unexpected.” The king smiled, and Conall thought his pleasure was genuine, since his eyes twinkled too.

  Gwen, in turn, laughed, even as she shook her head in disbelief. “This was not how we thought we would end the day when we began it. I’m so pleased for Llelo.” She looked at Prince Henry. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “It is the least I can do.” Henry frowned. “I am not unaware that I have left your other son out, but he is only fifteen ...” His voice trailed off.

  “A little suffering could be good for him.” Conall took the liberty of stepping in. “You are right that he is disappointed, but also right that he is young. You can already see that he is rising to the occasion.”

  “It isn’t in victory that the mettle of a man is made clear, but in disappointment and defeat.” King David gestured to the high table. “Have you dined?”

  “No, my lord.” Gareth put a hand to his breast pocket. “I have the signed docu—”

  “There will be time enough for that. Suffice that you are here. You shall eat with us.” King David patted Prince Henry on the shoulder. “My nephew is hanging by a thread. He was given water and bread, but otherwise hasn’t had any food since yesterday. It would do nobody any good to have him expiring within hours of his knighting!”

  Since the ceremony had ended, the table on the dais had been rearranged such that chairs lined both sides, seating upwards of twenty people. Some regulars to King David’s court had to be displaced with the arrival of Conall’s party, but he saw no disgruntled faces among the onlookers. All appeared well in King David’s domains—at least on the surface. Conall’s uncle, the King of Leinster, had charged him with the task of ferreting out any unpleasantness going on underneath. Rivalries, conflict, and outright betrayal were endemic to Irish royal courts. Conall had heard no rumor of similar proclivities in Norman or Scottish ones—barring the war for the throne of England, which overshadowed them all.

  King David was still smiling. “Here at the end of my life, I find myself valuing the simple pleasures: good food, great wine, and companions to go with them.”

  Conall bent his head. “I must say that I agree, though you are not that much older than I, my lord.”

  The king’s lips twitched with amusement. “I am old, Lord Conall. I will see a few more winters; that is all.”

  “Are you ill, my lord?” Gwen asked.

  King David turned to her, but before he could answer the question—if, in fact, he had been going to answer it—Dai returned to the hall.

  Although he’d skidded to a halt in the doorway, and his urgency was unmistakable to anyone who knew him, he managed to make his way somewhat more sedately to the dais where his parents were standing. By the time he reached them, he had himself fully under control and spoke in Welsh, so as not to make an announcement to the whole hall, “We found a body in the church. And before you ask, it definitely isn’t where it’s supposed to be.”

  Chapter Four

  Day One

  Llelo

  Someday Llelo was going to head up an investigation all by himself, but he wasn’t sorry that the moment for that particular ascension wouldn’t be today. He had his hands full with the woman who’d found the body. To Llelo’s mind, the woman’s response was a far more difficult thing to have to deal with than the body itself.

  To his utter and complete horror, she was currently sobbing uncontrollably in his arms. In the dim light of the candlelit church, her manner appeared entirely genuine, completely overcome by the shock of seeing the decayed and dirt-covered body reclined in the priest’s chair next to the lectern.

  So far, that a body had found its way into the chair, a place it absolutely should not be, was all he’d been able to determine about the crime scene. Somehow, it had fallen to him to hold her in his arms. He longed to get closer to the corpse, as Hamelin was doing. He was sorely tempted, in fact, to call Hamelin over and make him take her. After all, Llelo was the investigator, and Hamelin was an older Frenchman. He knew all about women!

  More than anything, Llelo felt it was his task to have a better idea of what they were facing before Dai returned with his parents. He would have liked to be able to tell his father when he arrived a litany of details about the scene, ones Llelo had already elicited from both the body and the woman. But all he had managed to determine since he found her in the church porch, opening her mouth to scream for help, was information he himself could see just as easily.

  While he knew from experience that hearing her true thoughts when they were fresh would save time later, so far, the woman’s own story was a nearly impenetrable mix of tears, recriminations, and anguish, all said in French with a broad Scottish accent that was hardly more than mush in his head. He’d spent most of the time he’d been holding her simply trying to soothe her and stop her (unsuccessfully) from soaking his shoulder with tears.

  Finally, he was able to seat her on a bench against the wall, shielded from the body by a pillar and the altar. The woman was thin, almost angular. If he’d had to guess, given the lines around her eyes and mouth and touches of gray in her hair, she was in the vicinity of fifty years of age.

  “Madam, if you could just tell me what you know, I would be most grateful.” Llelo was crouched in front of her, far enough back so that he wasn’t touching her anymore. Thankfully, she’d pulled a handkerchief from her waist and was dabbing her eyes with it.

  “I came here to pray as I often do in the evening. Once the knighting ceremony was over, I saw no reason to stay in the hall.” Her voice firmed slightly. “I knew my husband would be well entertained with the other nobles and their wives, and he gave me leave to depart. I first refreshed the flowers by the front door and afterwards started my prayers. But then I noticed this horrible smell wafting towards me from beyond the altar, and then I saw that—that—that thing in the priest’s chair only a few yards away from where I was kneeling. How could I not have noticed him sooner? How long has he been just—just—just sitting there?” These last comments were accompanied by stuttering and renewed sobs.

  As the woman’s tears began again in earnest, Dai returned with their parents in tow—and Prince Henry and King David. Llelo took a few steps away from the woman in order to bow. “My apologies, my lords, for disturbing your evening.”

  He might have added, I also didn’t intend for my brother to fetch you too along with a warning glare at Dai, but Llelo was going to be knighted (he hoped, provided the appearance of the body didn’t change what Prince Henry wanted), and he needed to be careful about chastising those beneath him, as Dai had suddenly become, especially when the situation was hardly his fault.

  The thought was a revelation. By Welsh law, Llelo had become a man at fourteen, but he’d known it for the lie it was. Now, however, whether or not he really felt himself to be an adult inside, he needed to make it so.

  And Llelo supposed it was inevitable that the king and prince would want to see the body for themselves. Even if Gareth had come alone, he probably would have had to fetch them. It was the king’s church after all.

  King David motioned with one hand, in a manner Llelo had seen him use several times already in the short while since they’d met. “It was necess
ary.”

  Gareth halted next to Llelo. “Summoning us was the right thing to do. While we didn’t actually come to Carlisle to investigate the whys and wherefores of an unexplained body, it seems inevitable somehow that one has come for us anyway.”

  A burst of sobbing came from the bench where Llelo had left the woman. In those brief moments of normalcy, he’d genuinely forgotten her.

  “My dear Margaret.” King David moved towards her. “I am so sorry you had to see this. Would you like me to send for your husband?”

  Margaret’s tears ended abruptly, and she gave a vehement shake of her head. “You and I both know that Lord Carr is averse to unpleasant smells and even more to unpleasant scenes.” Then she flung out her hand in a dramatic gesture to point in the direction of the priest’s chair, which she couldn’t see from where she sat. “Just look at him!”

  None of the others had been immediately cognizant of the body that had brought them here in the first place. Hamelin, who was the only one who had so far approached the corpse, was almost invisible in the shadowed church. He hadn’t initially come forward to greet his brother and the king, leaving such formalities to Llelo.

  Now, he took a few steps away from the body, such that his white face and the blonder highlights in his red hair reflected some of the candlelight that was working ineffectively to light the church. “It’s over here.” He bit his lip. “Just as a warning, it’s an ugly sight.”

  Llelo hovered between where the king now looked down at Margaret sitting on her bench, and the corpse, which he wanted to see up close. Whether his father saw his hesitation and took pity on him, or had simply decided the way things needed to go, he looked at Llelo’s mother, canting his head in Margaret’s direction as he did so and raising his eyebrows questioningly.