The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

dead body on his back, but seemingly unconcerned about either it or the activity around him.
    Gareth caught Gwen’s chin and looked into her face. It had been a long time since they’d gazed at each other like this. She wasn’t sure she could read him anymore and for a moment didn’t know if he would agree—and what she would do about it if he didn’t. But then he nodded.
    “You’ll tell me next that Hywel would want me to let you come.”
    “He would. You know he would,” Gwen said.
    Gareth narrowed his eyes at her, but Gwen shrugged him off and walked toward the fallen cart as if the matter was already decided. It would be a bad start to their renewed friendship if she had to force his hand, or follow him from Caerhun without him knowing. A quick look through the jumble of belongings on the ground produced the bag of medicines and bandages that her father had kicked to one side in his anxiety to determine the state of his instruments. She’d tied the top tightly when she packed it to protect what was inside and now crouched to open it. Then Gareth was beside her again.
    “Do you know what these all are for?” He pawed through the collection of vials and herb boxes, picking up one and then another to study the labels. She almost laughed. It shouldn’t have surprised her that in the five years since she’d last seen him, he’d learned to read. It was just like him.
    “As well as anyone who spent half her life in the company of an active younger brother, I suppose,” Gwen said. “My father worked very hard to control Gwalchmai, and perhaps that’s why when he was allowed out, he ran wild—and inevitably injured himself or his friends.” She paused. “And you?” She wished she could read Gareth as well as the letters on the vial, as he shot her yet another look she couldn’t interpret.
    “I’ve spent far too much time in the company of wounded men. I know less about healing than I would like, but certainly enough to help you doctor these men until we can get them to someone more knowledgeable.”
    “Then come,” Gwen said. “We’ve work to do.”
    But this time, Gareth didn’t reply. He stood frozen to the spot, a few steps from the cart, and then walked quickly to a body that had fallen underneath two others. He shoved at them and Gwen trotted up to help.
    “What is it?” she said.
    “I pray—” Gareth stopped speaking and swallowed hard instead. He’d revealed the face of a man who was still alive, but hadn’t long to live.
    “Bran!” Gareth knelt to cradle the man’s head. “Talk to me!”
    Bran opened his eyes and brought a hand up to Gareth’s cheek, before dropping it. “Glad you’re alive.”
    “What? Why? Why are you with these Irishmen?”
    “Not Irish. Danes. We had to come back. Didn’t know you’d be here. I tried to warn you.” Bran moaned and would have closed his eyes again but Gareth shook him to keep him awake.
    “ Why did you have to come back?”
    “Had to get Anarawd’s seal. Prove the king was dead.”
    “Prove to whom, Bran! Who bought you—”
    Silence.
    Gwen reached over and closed Bran’s eyes while Gareth settled Bran onto the road. He put a hand to his forehead, with his elbow resting on his knee. He held that position, his throat working, though he didn’t make a sound. Gwen put a hand on his shoulder and Gareth reached back with his other hand to grasp it.
    “Who was he?” she said.
    “He was my milk brother. Though why—” Gareth swiveled to survey the men around his fallen brother.
    “Why would he ride among Danes?” she said.
    “I don’t know,” Gareth said. “The last news I had from him was that he rode in Anarawd’s teulu . I looked for him among the fallen earlier, thinking he might have died defending Anarawd, and was relieved to find him absent. But now…”
    Gwen didn’t know what to say other than, “I’m sorry.”
    Gareth got to his feet, his shoulders stiff and frozen. He stared at his brother’s body as if he