The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

“Someone will tend to your wounds shortly. Can’t you remember anything? Anything at all about why you brought a knife to my father’s hall?”
    “Prince Hywel—” Gareth managed a good growl and Hywel’s lips twitched. At that point, Gareth figured he’d better shut up or they’d both give the game away.
    “I will see to this, Sir Gareth.” Hywel pointed to the doorway. “Stand over there.” He turned back to the boy. “Now. Tell me what you do remember.”
    The youth licked his lips, glanced from Hywel to Gareth, who continued to glower at him. The boy cowered against the wall until Hywel shifted to block Gareth from his view. “I-I-I remember coming into the castle with many other people. It was mid-morning, I think.”
    Gareth glanced at Taran, who was standing with his arms folded across his chest a few paces from the boy. He nodded. “That’s right.”
    The boy turned his head as if seeing Taran for the first time. “I spoke with someone about serving the king. He gave me a piece of warm bread with butter before I started work … was I hired to work in the kitchens?”
    Taran stepped closer. “Yes, you were. I hired you. Do you remember my face?”
    “It is you! I do remember you!” The boy’s eyes widened. “You were the one who ordered me to kill the king!”
    Taran’s mouth fell open. “What? That’s ridiculous!”
    “No! No! It was you!”
    Hywel swung around, gazed at Taran for six heartbeats and then stood. He waved a hand at Taran and Gareth, indicating that they should follow him, and marched from the room. “I’ll be back.” He kicked the door closed behind him.
    “Make a note of what he says,” Gareth said to one of the guards, a friend named Alun. “But don’t believe it.”
    Alun nodded. “Yes, my lord.” The other guard nodded nervously.
    “And don’t tell anyone what has passed here tonight,” Gareth said. “Either Prince Hywel or I will return before your relief and speak to both of you.”
    Hywel locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. “No one goes inside without my permission, is that clear?”
    “What about food and water?” Alun said. “And his head wound—”
    “Not for anything!” Hywel said. “Not unless I am there to witness it!”
    Another nod and two yes, my lords . Hywel waved again at Gareth and Taran. “Come.”
    They came, with Taran hurrying to come abreast with Hywel. “I had nothing to do with this. King Owain has been my friend—”
    “He has been your friend,” Hywel said. “I am willing to believe the boy is lying—about this and the fact that he can’t remember anything. I’m not going to throw you into a cell, as my father did to Gareth last summer, not on the word of that boy.” Hywel stopped and grabbed Taran’s arm. “If you know more than you’re telling, however, speak now. I can give you the benefit of the doubt because you have been a friend, but I will get to the bottom of this. You know that.”
    “I do, my lord.” Taran swallowed hard. “I swear to you, the boy lies.”
    Gareth fell in behind them. Taran had sweated enough for all four men, and that meant he was nervous. Maybe he didn’t hire the boy to kill the king … but was that the whole truth? And what about Prince Hywel? Gareth couldn’t get the idea out of his head that Taran wasn’t the only one who knew more than he was telling.
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