The Unlikely Spy by Sarah Woodbury Page B

from the dead man’s wife,
Madlen,” Gareth said. “Prince Rhun has just returned from escorting
her out of the monastery.”
    “Oh good. Do we know his name now?” Gwen
said.
    “Gryff, apparently,” Hywel said.
    “Then what’s the problem?” Gwen said.
    “Madlen took the purse that was tied to his
belt—and she did so secretly, making sure we didn’t see her do it,”
Prince Rhun said.
    Gwen looked to the dead man’s waist and saw
that the prince was right. She had examined the contents of the
purse right away, and they hadn’t told her anything. It was
disconcerting to think that she might have missed something, or
that Madlen valued the purse so highly as to steal it. “How did she
manage to hide her actions from you?” Gwen made sure when she spoke
that no tone of accusation crept into her voice. A mourning woman
could be a daunting prospect for any man.
    “She threw herself across him when she first
arrived. Gareth had to pry her off him,” Rhun said.
    Gwen’s brow furrowed. “She threw herself
across him?”
    Hywel turned to look at her. “That surprises
you?”
    “Well … yes,” Gwen said. “I mean, he spent
the day in the water, so he’s soaking wet and smelling more than a
little ripe.” She moved her hand to Gareth’s arm. “I love you very
much, but I can’t see myself doing that.”
    Hywel’s attention remained on Gwen. “You do
have a curious way of looking at things.”
    Gwen shrugged, not entirely sure what Hywel
meant by that. It was his fault that she’d developed a suspicious
mind, and suspicion was what she felt towards Madlen at present. “I
didn’t see her, of course. I don’t mean to tell you your job.”
    “She could have feared to leave it,” Rhun
said. “A man of Gryff’s station wouldn’t have had much, but what he
did have would have been all the more important.”
    “I would agree, but did you see how well she
was dressed?” Hywel said.
    Gwen could tell from the look on Rhun’s face
that he had—and that he was irritated with himself for not noticing
earlier what was obvious to him now. From the sheepish expressions
on the men’s faces, Gwen could tell that Madlen had made quite an
impression on all of them. Gwen resolved to meet this woman as soon
as possible and judge her for herself.
    “So, you’re wondering how it was that Gryff
could be so poorly dressed and his wife dressed so fine?” Gwen
said. “Perhaps he was doing rough labor and wore his worst clothes,
and she came to the chapel dressed in her finest.”
    “Her uncle is a cloth merchant,” Hywel said.
“Iolo is his name.”
    “Gryff is no advertisement for his wares
though, is he?” Gareth said. “Especially as a member of the
family.”
    “That’s something we should ask Madlen
about,” Gwen said.
    “In retrospect, one of many things we should
have asked her about while she was here,” Gareth said.
    “Did you tell her that Gryff was murdered?”
Gwen said. “Did she notice the knife wound?”
    “Not that she said, and we didn’t say,”
Gareth said. “I think it’s good policy to continue as we’ve started
and not tell anyone what we know.”
    “I agree,” Gwen said. “As time goes on,
people may well become suspicious that we are putting so much
effort into finding out about a man who drowned, but it would be
better if that particular rumor didn’t fly around immediately.”
    “Madlen and her uncle will have to be
treated carefully.” Gareth looked at his lord. “Shall we strike
while the iron’s hot?”
    Hywel made a rueful face. “I can’t. I have
to see to Mari, and then I must return to the festival grounds. The
contest is heating up. I can’t avoid my duties as host.” His regret
was obvious, though less that he was hosting the festival than that
he couldn’t be in two places at once.
    Gareth nodded in acknowledgement. “Then I
will question Iolo.” He looked at Gwen, seemingly about to speak,
and then transferred his gaze to Prince Rhun. “If