The Unlikely Spy by Sarah Woodbury Page B

composed
except for the way one hand fidgeted with the hem of his tunic.
Soon he might wear a hole in the fabric. Then Iolo saw Gareth
looking, and he hurriedly clasped his hands behind his back.
    Meanwhile, Rhun entered the tent. Madlen hid
her face in her apron, as if that would somehow stop her from
having to answer any more questions.
    Rhun crouched before her. “Madlen.”
    As with Hywel, Madlen couldn’t ignore the
prince. The tears for Gryff may well have been genuine, but she
didn’t seem to be able to resist the attentions of a handsome man,
and today she’d been graced by two powerful and charismatic
princes.
    Gareth looked down at the picture he’d
sketched. In life, Gryff may well have been handsome too. And in
fact, if he were handsome, that would explain a great deal—in
particular, how he could win a place beside Iolo when he seemed to
lack any of the skills required, and win Madlen’s heart, she who
was beautiful, wealthy, and more well-bred than he appeared to
be.
    “Madlen,” Rhun said, “I imagine you want us
to discover the circumstances surrounding your husband’s
death?”
    After a moment of hesitation, she
nodded.
    “We’d like to know why Gryff was at the
millpond, if he was with someone at the time, and how it was that
he ended up in it. Don’t you want to know that too?” Rhun said.
    Madlen nodded again.
    “So, we need you to show us the purse you
took from Gryff’s body this morning and tell us why you took it.”
Rhun was speaking to Madlen as if she were only a little older than
Tangwen, each word simple and clear in its meaning. As with the
earlier questioning of Iolo, Rhun’s instincts were good, and Gareth
was glad he’d come along. His ability to woo women was an
unexpected bonus.
    Usually, everyone thought of Hywel as the
brother who was able to turn the head of every woman he met. In
fact, before his marriage, he had turned every woman’s head,
whether he intended to or not, and coaxed any woman he wanted into
his bed simply by smiling at them. Rhun had always had more
restraint than Hywel, though Gareth was realizing only now that he
had the same skill.
    After another long pause, Madlen turned on
her stool and felt inside a sewn leather bag set on the ground
behind her. She pulled out the small leather purse Gareth had seen
at Gryff’s waist earlier that afternoon and handed it to Rhun. “He
owned very little, you know. I didn’t want to leave what he did
have in the chapel overnight in case someone took it.”
    Gareth thought Prior Pedr might have
something to say about her distrust, but Rhun nodded. “I
understand, Madlen, but you should have asked us first.” Rhun stood
and handed the purse over the table of fabrics to Gareth, who took
it.
    Madlen’s face crumpled, threatening tears
again. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
    Finally, in the first sign of sympathy he’d
shown her, Iolo went to his niece and patted her on the shoulder.
Rhun left the tent through the open flap, and Gareth untied the
strings on the purse. The contents were unchanged from what Gwen
had described, and despite Madlen’s concerns about theft, few would
have bothered with what Gryff possessed.
    Gareth showed the items to Rhun, whose upper
lip lifted in something of a sneer. He opened his mouth to speak,
glanced at Madlen and Iolo, and then closed it. Gareth nodded and
said in an undertone, “We’ll speak of this later, my lord.” Then he
tied up the purse again. “Thank you. She can keep this now if she
wants.” He held the purse out to Iolo.
    He took it, and the action seemed to decide
something for him because he clenched it in one hand and lowered
his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “Please forgive my niece. She isn’t
herself.”
    “We understand,” Gareth said. “Grief can do
strange things to people.”
    “We will take our leave,” Rhun said.
    Iolo bowed. Gareth and Rhun departed, though
Gareth glanced back as they were leaving and caught a glimpse of
the blond man