The Unexpected Ally by Sarah Woodbury Page B

it their hideout.”
    “True—”
    “The debt remains,” Conall said. “As you
said a moment ago, it is hard to discern at the time when it is
destiny sitting on your right shoulder rather than chance.”
    Gareth held out a hand to Conall and met his
eyes. Among the Irish and Welsh, a life debt was never to be taken
lightly by either party. Conall might think he owed Gareth his
life, and Gareth couldn’t deny the truth of it, but saving a man’s
life incurred a responsibility in the other direction too. A
connection had been formed between the two men, and Gareth now had
a responsibility for the life Conall led from this point on. All of
this Conall knew without either of them needing to articulate it,
and he grasped Gareth’s forearm and shook.
    But then Gareth grinned. “We are both alive,
and that’s what matters. Work beside me for long, and you may find
any debt paid off very quickly.”
    Conall smiled with his eyes and shook his
head. “I’m beginning to understand why that might be. You could no
more turn away when you are needed than you could stop
breathing.”
    “I’m thinking I could say the same about
you.”
    Conall opened his mouth, prepared to
protest, but Gareth forestalled him with another laugh. He moved
his right hand to Conall’s left shoulder and shook him a little,
careful not to hurt him. “Friends.”
    Conall canted his head thoughtfully, but he
put an even more gentle hand on Gareth’s left shoulder.
“Friends.”
    Satisfied that the exchange had cleared the
air between them, Gareth released Conall and gestured to the coins.
“I don’t know about you, but I find it very hard to believe that
finding silver coins in the mud near where the body of a servant to
a prince of Wales was found is a matter of chance.” He finally bent
to pluck the coins from the mud. Straightening, he rubbed the dirt
off with his thumb and turned one over in order to peer at the
faded lettering and image. “This is seventy years old, issued under
King William.” He held it out to Conall.
    Conall gingerly took the coin. “It’s a long
way from home.”
    Gareth waggled his head back and forth.
“Maybe. Few Welsh kings have issued coins. If a Welshman is to have
one, it is likely to be English in origin.”
    The rain hadn’t at all lessened, but the
pounding of hooves of a horse ridden hard along the track to the
barn could be easily heard, coming from the south, the direction in
which the monastery lay. Gareth didn’t actually say what
now? because it seemed a pointless question, and a moment
later, a young monk reined in near the fence. “My lords! My lords!
I have a summons from the abbot!”
    Gareth and Conall exchanged a look—resigned
and wary at the same time. The monastery had few riding horses, so
even without the monk’s urgent words, Gareth would have known that
the reason he’d been sent was important. Abbot Rhys wouldn’t have
known how far his messenger might have to ride before he found
them.
    “Just tell me.” Gareth took the horse’s
bridle to hold him steady and looked up at the monk, who was
breathing hard with excitement and the effort of his ride.
    “Another dead man.” The monk put his hand to
his heart. “He was found in a field to the north of here. The abbot
is already on his way, and he asked that you meet him there.”
    “We will follow you,” Gareth said.
    With a whistle, Gareth rounded up Llelo and
Dai, who were already on their way to him, having heard the horse’s
hooves too. It seemed pointless to leave the boys on guard at an
empty barn, and their purpose was to watch Gareth’s and Conall’s
backs, not the murder site. As befitting the sons of Hywel’s
captain of the guard, Llelo and Dai had their own mounts and, in
short order, they all cantered after the young monk.
    The spot where the body had been found was a
mile and a half from the barn and, as promised, Abbot Rhys was
already there when they arrived. Neither Lwc nor Anselm was beside
him: Lwc might