The Uninvited Guest Read Online Free Page A

The
harvest is over, you see, and many men like him have no real homes
…” Taran’s voice trailed off as the force of Hywel’s attention
became apparent.
    “ But did you know him
yourself?” Hywel said. “Before this week?”
    Taran shook his head. He wiped the moisture
from his forehead with a handkerchief, sweating even though the
stables were many degrees cooler than the hall. “He was one of
several who arrived at the same time as Cristina’s family. He is
from Powys, I believe.”
    “ Does my father know he
arrived with Lord Goronwy?” Hywel’s gaze was piercing. “Or at least
appeared to?”
    “ No. I would have answered
all his questions but he didn’t care to listen. I tried … but it
would have meant interrupting him. He is much occupied with his
guests. He sent me to you instead.”
    Gareth ran a hand through his hair. “That
someone tried to kill the king is bad enough without bringing the
complication of Cristina’s family into it.” Cadwallon, Owain’s
older brother, had led a campaign through eastern Gwynedd and Powys
in 1132. His mandate had been to bring these lands, that had once
belonged to Gwynedd, back into his father’s hands.
    In carrying out these orders, he slew
several of his own maternal uncles (his mother’s brothers, who were
also Cristina’s uncles) before dying himself. This left Cristina’s
ancestral lands bereft of lordship and King Owain’s father annexed
them back into Gwynedd. Cristina’s father had escaped the
familicide by marrying into a Norman family in Flintshire and
wisely renouncing his holdings in Gwynedd.
    King Owain hoped that this marriage, rather
than opening old wounds, might heal them.
    “ To which of Cristina’s
relatives did the man owe allegiance?” Hywel said.
    “ I don’t know.” Taran
scrubbed at his hair with both hands as he thought, and then
dropped them. “I have failed you all.”
    “ You couldn’t have known
what the boy would do,” Gareth said. “Unless, perhaps, you paid him
to do it?”
    “ Gareth—” Hywel stopped
himself, knowing as well as Gareth that these questions had to be
asked.
    Taran gaped at Gareth. “You can’t think that
I had anything to do with this? That I would conspire to murder my
king?”
    “ It’s all right, Taran.”
Hywel put a hand on Gareth’s arm as if holding him back from an
imminent assault on the steward. The two of them had slipped
effortlessly into their well-practiced roles of friendly questioner
(Hywel) and unreasonable interrogator (Gareth). “He’s only doing
his job.”
    “ It is my job to ask,” Gareth said. “And I
note that you didn’t answer, Taran. Did you hire the boy to kill
King Owain?”
    “ No!”
    Hywel patted Taran’s shoulder but spoke to
Gareth, though for Taran’s benefit. “There’s no point in
speculating when we have so little information. The boy will wake
soon and we can question him then.”
    The three men gazed at each other, and then
at the youth on the floor. “He’s coming around.” Taran crouched
next to the prisoner.
    To Gareth’s eyes, the steward had aged
considerably in recent months. Owain Gwynedd rode out with his men
from time to time, still vibrant in his forties despite the
thickening around his waist. For all that Taran was of an age with
his friend and lord, he looked fifteen years older. His once nearly
black hair had gone mostly gray, and his shoulders were no longer
those of a fighting man, but rounded. Of late, he’d spent too much
time at his papers and ledgers.
    The prisoner coughed once and then opened
his eyes. He stared up at the three men, blinked, and pushed
himself to his elbows. “Where am I?”
    “ In the stables at Aber
Castle.” Hywel met Gareth’s cynical look with one of his own. “What
is your name?”
    “ I-I-I can’t say.” The
boy’s eyes widened in panic at this lack of knowledge. Or seemingly
so. Gareth, for his part, remained skeptical.
    “ Why did you try to kill
King Owain Gwynedd?” Hywel