“We must time it right,” Cedric added. “I want Gareth with the king when we meet. We’ll strike swiftly, killing them both, and then we’ll kill Rhys’ young bratlings. No one knows that I’ve returned. You’re certain Gareth doesn’t suspect you?”
Madoc’s only reply was a thin smile.
“You will bear witness that Gareth murdered his uncle and his nephew and niece.” Cedric repeated their plan with chilling satisfaction. “I’ll return from exile to take my place as the only surviving heir to the throne. Once I’m king, all peace agreements with England will be cancelled, and when the Normans hear that I have taken Risande’s daughter it will seal their rage and they will declare war. With Prince Dafydd at my side, the north and the south will unite. We will defeat the Conqueror’s men and kill every marcher lord from here to Chester.”
Madoc nodded but said nothing.
“Tell me,” Cedric asked, eyeing the crowd again. “What is Hereward the Wake doing here?”
“We weren’t told, though my belief is that he was asked by the Norman king to keep watch over Risande’s daughter.”
“I see.” Cedric watched the hefty red-haired warrior leaning into a woman with pale yellow tresses. “Another traitor to his people.”
“I must go. I’ll be missed,” Madoc said evenly, taking a step away, toward the glen.
“Wait.” Cedric stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, though he knew Madoc didn’t like to be touched. “Swear to me now that you will never betray me as you betray him.”
Madoc moved away from Cedric’s fingers. “If you kill him, I will swear fealty to you at the throne of Llandeilo.”
Cedric smiled in the darkness. “I’ll be in contact with you before we leave for Llandeilo.”
*
Gareth drifted somewherebetween the realms of sleep and wakefulness. He heard Tanon’s voice in his thoughts and began to stir.
“Really, William. I’ve made such a mess of everything. When you think about it though, it is all Gareth’s fault.”
He was dreaming. Why else would she be speaking to the Norman king? Surely he would have been informed if King William had arrived inCymru.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her soft voice was so riddled with anxiety, it yanked Gareth awake with the need to go to her.
“I fear Gareth is going to kill me for this.”
Kill her? How could she think so poorly of him? He sat up and waited a moment until the murky effects of sleep wore off him completely before he left his bed. If King William was here, he wanted to be fully awake. But first, his wife needed to know that he would never harm her.
“Tanon, whatever you’ve done, I…”
Dressed in the gown Tomas’ wife had given her, at least Gareth assumed it was the same gown, Tanon sat in his lone chair with—he blinked, feeling like he’d been transported back in time—a little black pig in her lap. Thick soot covered every inch of them both. A thin layer blanketed the walls of the cottage as well.
“What happened in here? And who the devil are you talking to?”
At the sound of his voice, Tanon cringed and turned to face him, her eyes opened wide with apprehension. The sight of them, so vividly green against her soot-covered face was so comical, Gareth had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from smiling.
“I was just trying to clean the hearth. How was I to know you haven’t swept the chimney since you built it?”
Gareth looked around the cottage. They were alone. His eyes settled on the pig. “Where did that come from?”
“I found him in the glen this morn. He followed me back here.”
Gareth aimed his incredulous stare at her. “And you named him William?”
“Oui.”She coughed. “I almost choked to death on all the soot!” She sniffed, and then flung her head back and sneezed, losing the pig in her arms. The hog scrambled toward Gareth and plopped itself at his feet.
“I wanted you to be able to light the hearth fire. It would have been cozy, and now everything is ruined.” A single tear slid down her blackened cheek, creating a pink path to her jaw. “I was so afraid to wake you. I knew you would be angry.”
“Aye, mayhap even kill you.”
“Oui.” She nodded and more tears stripped her face. Gareth knew she was about to erupt. He wanted to tell her that there was no reason to weep. He didn’t care about the mess. But hell, did she still think he was such a monster that he’d put his hands to her over it?