The Unexpected Ally by Sarah Woodbury Page B

all know it.
Since Rhun’s death, King Owain has been neglecting his kingdom. Not
as many lords have rallied around his banner as might have a year
ago.”
    “I didn’t know.” Gwen bit her lip. “That’s
bad—bad for all of us.”
    “It is a bargaining piece for Madog, who is
clearly in the wrong at the moment. The key will be getting both
sides to back down without losing face.”
    Then Lwc returned, looking satisfied. “They
are ready, but I can tell you already that none of them know
anything.”
    Gwen struggled not to grind her teeth, since
she had wanted to be the one to question them without predisposing
anyone to conclusions. She should have said something before Lwc
went in there. It was fine giving the young monk the satisfaction
of leading them, but he knew nothing about investigations. If she
allowed him to continue as he had, he would hinder her.
    “Thank you, but you know I have to ask.”
Then she leaned into him and whispered. “You intimidate the others
because you are the abbot’s secretary. I am grateful for your
assistance with the questioning, but it would be better if you let
me do the talking from here on out. As a woman, I am less
threatening.” She raised her eyebrows innocently as she finished
her little speech.
    Lwc nodded emphatically. “Yes. Yes, of
course. I understand.”
    “Thank you.” Gwen looked at Evan. “If you
wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer it if you stay by the door too.”
    Evan smirked from behind Lwc’s back, having
enough experience working with her and Gareth to know full well
what Gwen had just accomplished. He nodded, acquiescing so it would
be easier for Lwc to do the same.
    Gwen entered the room and went to each monk
in turn, introduced herself, and explained that Gareth had asked
her to show the image of Erik to as many people as possible in
hopes that somebody had seen him. Unfortunately, Lwc was right that
none of the six monks in the scriptorium claimed to have been awake
in the middle of the night other than for the vigil of the night
office. None of them had ever seen Erik before, even when Gwen
added to their understanding of the black and white image by
describing his size and coloring.
    As Gwen and Evan progressed through the
monastery, they found nobody with useful information. Not in the
laundry, among those who worked in the kitchen or the stable or
tended to the needs of Abbot Rhys, or among the novices. The
guesthouse had been completely taken over by King Owain and his
retainers, so there were no guests to question this time. Even the
monk who oversaw the gatehouse had been aware of no activity last
night or any night that seemed to have a bearing on Erik’s death.
Everybody looked at the sketch of Erik that Gareth had drawn and
shook his head.
    This particular monastery was unfamiliar to
Gwen—Gareth had been here only briefly several years ago—but she’d
spent time in monasteries in the past, most recently in Aberystwyth
and Shrewsbury. It was enough to have grown familiar with how
things were supposed to be done. Above all, especially in a
monastery run by Abbot Rhys, there was dignity, reverence for God’s
creation, and order. Gwen could see it in the well-trimmed hedges
and the carefully edged pathways through the garden. The guesthouse
had been sparsely but adequately furnished and immaculately swept
and dusted. The bread last night had been a small slice of heaven.
Gwen suspected that every book and paper in the scriptorium was
aligned perfectly with every other, and woe betide the novice who
spilled his ink.
    What’s more, Rhys had an entire monastery of
innocent monks.
    More than a little disheartened, though Gwen
knew she shouldn’t be since this was part of the job of an
investigator, and it was more usual than not to spend a great deal
of time asking questions nobody could answer, by mid-afternoon Gwen
and Evan found themselves underneath the gatehouse tower, watching
the rain cascade off the roof and spatter on the flagstones