The Unlikely Spy by Sarah Woodbury Page A

gamut from very wealthy to little more than peddlers,
moving from house to house and village to village, hawking their
wares. Gareth had never heard of Iolo, but he was far less familiar
with the people of southern Wales than those who lived in the
north, and he’d had little interaction with merchants in his time
here. Other than his wish to buy Gwen a new dress, he hadn’t had a
need for fabric for new clothes this summer. He’d have to ask Gwen
to have a look at Iolo’s wares, however. She would be able to tell
him something of the quality and selection.
    “We’ll have to speak to him,” Hywel
said.
    Madlen had gone back to her weeping, but at
Hywel’s words, she looked up. “Why?”
    “You’re husband died at the millpond. We’d
like to know how that came about,” Hywel said.
    “But—” Madlen broke off, looking from Hywel
to Gareth and back again. Then she caught sight of Rhun standing in
the darkness, out of the candlelight. Her eyes widened, but she
said, “I was told he drowned.”
    Rhun had been leaning against the wall
throughout the interview, his arms folded across his chest, but now
he stepped forward. “Madlen, allow me to find someone to escort you
back to your uncle. Let the prince and Sir Gareth take care of
Gryff.” He held out his elbow to her.
    Madlen’s shoulders sagged, and she rose to
her feet to take the prince’s arm. She and Prince Rhun disappeared
back into the main part of the chapel.
    Hywel raised his eyebrows at Gareth. “I
can’t leave you alone for an hour without you stumbling across a
murder?”
    “Was it that obvious?” Gareth said. “I was
hoping we were more subtle than that.”
    “It was obvious only to me, I think,” Hywel
said.
    But Gareth was staring at Gryff’s body.
Something about it had changed. He hesitated, deciding that he must
be mistaken, but then he looked back and realized what he’d
noticed. Gryff’s purse, which had been suspended from his belt
earlier, was gone.

Chapter Six
    Gwen
     
    F or all that
Tangwen rarely slept, she was otherwise a fairly biddable child.
Gwen had a moment’s pause at leaving her with Elspeth yet again,
but her nanny promised to keep Tangwen from eating the rocks in the
monastery garden and allow her to dig in the dirt with a wooden
spoon on the edge of one of the gardens. Tangwen would come to
dinner filthy from head to toe, but she’d be happy, which made the
whole endeavor worthwhile.
    When Gwen entered the courtyard, it was
empty except for Prince Rhun, who was just entering the chapel
through the front door. She followed him, and once inside the
chapel, it didn’t take much looking to find Gareth. He was standing
over the body as she knew he would be. She took in a breath at the
sight of him. He’d cut his hair short again for summer and was
clean-shaven. He was thirty years old now, seven years older than
Gwen, and his broad shoulders bespoke a lifetime of soldiering. He
was courageous, strong, and intelligent. Those blue eyes, which at
the moment were studying the body before him, had seen right
through many a suspect.
    And he was hers.
    Gareth had removed the dead man’s shoes and
bared him to the waist. His sopping clothes were piled under the
table in a heap, which was just like a man to do. Although Rhun had
arrived only moments before Gwen, by the time she reached the
vestibule, he’d taken up a comfortable position in one corner,
propped against the wall and out of Gareth’s way. Prince Hywel was
there too, taking precious time away from coordinating his
festival.
    All three men looked up as she stepped into
the little room. Gareth gave her a small smile, and the others
acknowledged her presence with a raised hand or eyebrow (that was
Hywel), but then they returned their attention to the body. While
she wasn’t particularly sorry that she wasn’t examining the dead
man herself, the looks of consternation on the men’s faces had her
hesitating in the doorway. “What is it?”
    “We had a visit