The Bard's Daughter (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) Read Free Page A

said. “You’ve always liked Collen.”
    “ Which is why I didn’t want to tell you or Gruffydd what passed between us,” Meilyr said. “He and I discussed the formation of a business relationship, since I travel through Wales as much as he does.”
    Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “This business relationship would have involved what, exactly?”
    Meilyr tsked through his teeth. “He proposed that I might carry an item or two for him from one place to the next, at which point he’d collect it and pay me for my time.”
    Gwen didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of items?” she said, and then she bit her lip when she recognized from the impassivity in her father’s face what he meant. “Collen was talking about stolen items! He wanted you to smuggle valuables out of a castle for him! As a bard, nobody would suspect you, and then he would meet you later to collect what he’d stolen.”
    Meilyr canted his head. “As you say.”
    Gwen shook her head in disbelief. “Did you agree?”
    “ Obviously not,” Meilyr said. “I thought about it, though not for long. It simply wouldn’t have been worth the risk, not with Gwalchmai’s voice being what it is.”
    Gwen nodded. Gwalchmai’s voice was going to be their entry into any hall in any cantref for many years to come. His soprano already rivaled that of the finest singers in Wales. In a few years his voice would change, true, but with his knowledge of music and poetry, instilled by her father who was himself a poet and scholar, Gwalchmai could become one of the most revered bards of his generation. That, at least, was her father’s plan. He had stopped over-drinking because of that promise. He would do nothing to jeopardize it.
    “ What about the mead?” Gwen said.
    Meilyr shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember drinking any.”
    “ What do you mean, you don’t remember?” Gwen said, her voice rising again. “You clearly had a great deal of it.”
    Meilyr opened his mouth, perhaps to deny her words, but then he closed it and shifted awkwardly on his bench. “I did not mean to imbibe.”
    “ Then why did you?”
    “ I don’t remember.”
    Gwen felt like ripping out her hair and knew that she was going to ruin the most civil conversation she’d had with her father in months, even if it was about murder. “You know that on bad days you can’t even have one sip without falling into drunkenness. And look. That’s exactly what you’ve done.”
    A knock came at the door before her father could answer, and Gwen turned away in relief. Saran, the herbalist, poked her head into the room. “You asked to see me, Gwen?”
    Saran was of middle-age, comfortably-figured, and as far as Gwen knew, had never married. Her coal-black hair was braided and coiled in a rope around her head. Gwen had seen it down once. It fell almost to her ankles.
    Gwen ran to the door and took both of Saran’s hands in hers. “Yes! Thank you for coming!” She pulled Saran into the cell and once again, the guard shut the door behind them.
    “ Hello, Meilyr.” Saran stopped in front of the bard, who lifted his head. He’d been coherent while he’d conversed with Gwen, but his eyes were still bleary.
    “ Hello, Saran.”
    “ What have you got yourself into this time?” Saran put her fingers underneath Meilyr’s chin and turned his head from side to side. “You don’t look well.”
    “ I had too much to drink,” Meilyr said.
    Gwen was surprised that he admitted it, but he seemed comfortable in Saran’s presence.
    “ Hmmm … it’s something else, I think,” Saran said.
    “ What do you mean?” Gwen stepped closer.
    Saran leaned in and sniffed before turning to Gwen. “Do you smell that?”
    Gwen felt awkward standing so close to her father and sniffing at him, but she did as Saran asked. “Yes. I …” Gwen thought a moment. “Edain said he smelled something sweet or nutty on Collen’s breeches earlier, before they took him from the pantry.”
    Saran