Madoc’s eyes seared into Cedric’s from over Tanon’s shoulder, but when he whispered close to her ear, his voice was cool and steady. “You’re a lady. Don’t tempt Cedric to strike you.”
When they reached Gareth’s brother, Cedric’s hand snaked around Madoc’s arm to stop his advance into the camp. “You’re bleeding.” The look of astonishment on his face matched Madoc’s when he’d first felt the sting of his wound. Cedric raised a questioning brow. “No one has ever touched a blade to your flesh, outside of battle, but Gareth.”
“She caught me unawares. I didn’t know she carried a dagger,” Madoc answered grimly.
“Nay, she weakens you.” Cedric pulled him closer. His low snarl grated against Madoc’s ear. “How will you fight Gareth if you cannot even fight his wife?”
Madoc shoved him away with a menacing scowl. “Worry about your part in this, Cedric. I know what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.” He tightened his grip on Tanon and dragged her away.
Tanon didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. When he trotted his horse next to hers, she moved her mount away, preferring to ride near Dafydd’s men. At least their hatred for Gareth was open and honest.
When they finally made camp for the night, Madoc spread his pallet close to hers. They both remained silent, staring up at the pinpoint lights strewn across the sky.
“The wound is close to your neck.” Tanon finally spoke. “Does it pain you?”
“Nay,” Madoc told her, folding his arms behind his head.
“Pity,” she sighed and turned over onto her side, away from him. “Next time I’ll aim lower.”
Gareth—Madoc thought to himself as he lay in the darkness—was a fortunate bastard.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Watching the advancingtroupe from a well-hidden position within a stand of giant oak, Hereward surveyed the armed soldiers surrounding Tanon as they made their way toward Llandeilo the next morning. Calculating their number to be about twenty strong, he cursed his meager bow. He could take out Cedric and Dafydd easily enough, but not without giving away his position. He could probably kill another five or six men before they reached him, ten if he wasn’t so weary from riding for the last few days without sleep. His eyes narrowed on Madoc. Would the commander try to stop him? Hereward ground his teeth together. He’d kill the bastard if he did. And then he would kill Gareth as well and bring his head to Tanon’s father.
At least Tanon appeared unharmed. Hereward said a silent prayer of thanks for that, and for Rebecca, who’d revived Ioan by dousing him with a bucket of cold water. It hadn’t taken much, just a few threats to skin the steward alive, to get Ioan to talk. What he had told Hereward had turned the Saxon’s blood cold.
The tension on Hereward’s bow increased as he drew back, ready to let his arrow fly. Something immensely hard slammed into his side, knocking him off balance. The arrow was snatched from his bow as it was released. Momentarily stunned, Hereward looked up at Alwyn, and then at Gareth clutching the arrow in his hand.
“You! You bastard!” Scrambling to his feet, Hereward balled up his fist and swung.
Gareth stepped backward and ducked, easily avoiding the bone-breaking blow. “Cease, Hereward!” he implored holding up his palms, his fingers still curled around Hereward’s arrow. “Hear me!”
“Nay.” The burly Saxon came at him again. Gareth sidestepped and looked at Alwyn for aid. Only Alwyn was large enough to keep Hereward still, but when he tried, Hereward knocked him aside as if he weighed nothing at all.
“What would you have me hear, you rogue bastard?” Hereward demanded. “That you put Tanon in jeopardy to stop a war? Aye,” he nodded when Gareth cast him a surprised look. “I know everything. Ioan told me what you have done before I put my fists to him a second time.” Hereward moved closer to Gareth. “’Twas clever of you to send Madoc to your brother pretending to be his ally after you learned that Cedric had returned to Wales.”
Gareth kept sharp, watchful eyes on Hereward as the Saxon began to circle him. “It was the only way to discover Cedric’s and Dafydd’s intentions,” he hastily explained. “Dafydd’s daughter told me that Cedric had been seen with her father. I had one chance, Hereward. One. To find out what they were planning. If this doesn’t proceed as I’ve arranged it, I won’t know when the next attempt will be on the king’s life.”
“And if Madoc truly does betray you—”
“He won’t.”
When Hereward reached for his sword, Gareth shook his head. “Don’t make me fight you. Please, my friend.”
Hereward lunged at him, lifting his mighty sword over his head. He brought it down with a chopping blow. Gareth sprang to his right. The blade sent dirt flying as it landed in the earth. Gareth spun around and kicked the sword out of Hereward’s grasp.
“King William doesn’t want a war, and neither do I.” Gareth spoke quickly, praying that Hereward would listen. “If the other princes join forces with Dafydd and Cedric, thousands of lives will be lost.”
“Has simply killing Cedric and stopping the attempt on the king’s life not occurred to you?”
“Aye, many times.” Gareth took a chancy step toward his heaving opponent. “For God’s sake, hear me. My brother doesn’t ride alone. King Rhys cannot accuse Dafydd of treachery without proof. To do so would bring the princes of Gwynedd and Powys against him, along with King Gruffudd of the north. We have to bring the proof to my uncle.”
“You didn’t have to bring her!”
“I didn’t want to,” Gareth insisted, his voice lowering to an anguished whisper. “I had no choice. Cedric believes I know nothing. He must continue believing that until the time is right. She won’t be harmed, Hereward. Cedric will do nothing to her until I’m dead. And my death isn’t part of this plan.”
Hereward would have laughed at Gareth’s arrogance if the young prince didn’t sound so convincing. “What’s to stop him from killing her and carrying her dead body straight to Rhys’ throne and dropping her at his feet?”