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Hywel turned to Rhiannon. “Whenever you are ready,” he said.
She started the horse up the gentle incline, and Hywel’s mount kept pace. They passed an outcropping of gorse bushes. Rhiannon guided her horse around the thorny branches, and Hywel followed. She glanced at him. He was unusually quiet.
“Something is worrying you,” she said.
“What do you suppose has become of Cadwaladr?” he asked.
Rhiannon bit her lower lip. Surely it was no coincidence that Hywel was thinking of his uncle after Dai had taken him to the place the tabards had been found. But what had prompted him to ask to see it in the first place?
“I was under the impression that he had gone to Ireland,” she said.
“Yes.”
She waited, but when he said nothing more, she glanced at him again. A crease lined his forehead as though he were deep in thought.
“Hywel,” she ventured. “What would have driven Cadwaladr to kill Anarawd?”
“That’s just it,” he replied. “After all this time, I have yet to land upon anything that makes any sense. There was no dispute between them, no vying for the same land or the same woman, no jostling for power. As far as I can tell, Cadwaladr would gain nothing from Anarawd’s death.”
“What if it was not him after all?” Rhiannon said, echoing Leif’s words.
Hywel ran his hand across his face, his expression haggard. “It crossed my mind as my father’s men razed Cadwaladr’s castle to the ground, but the evidence seemed so certain.”
Rhiannon recognized the distress in Hywel’s eyes. If her cousin was not experiencing genuine concern, he was a consummate actor. “If it was not him, then who?”
“How is anyone to know?”
“Think, Hywel,” she urged. “Is there a nobleman who was here with you that night who either had a great deal to gain from Anarawd’s death or who harbored bitter feelings toward him?”
“His brother, Cadell, surely had the most to gain, but he owns land south of here and as far as I can ascertain, that is where he wished to remain. He had no quarrel with his brother.
“William Montgomery was here. He is a marcher lord. It’s possible that he thought Cadell would be a weaker ruler and would, therefore, offer the Marcher Lords more power.
“It is no secret that my father had hoped to form an alliance between Gwynedd and Deheubarth through Gwenllian’s marriage. As such, he had more to lose than to gain with Anarawd’s death, and as Owain Gwynedd’s edling, I would place myself in that same position.
“Cadwgan has never fully overcome his bitterness over the death of his father, but Anarawd had nothing whatsoever to do with that.”
Cadwgan had mentioned his father’s early death the day he arrived at Bryn Eithin, but he had given her no details.
“What happened to his father?”
“It was long ago,” Hywel said. “There is no need to talk of it now.”
“If I am to be Cadwgan’s wife, I should know such things,” Rhiannon said. “And I would rather hear it from you than burden him with recounting a painful memory.” Already, the castle entrance was within sight. It would not be long before their opportunity to speak privately would be gone. “Tell me,” she urged.
“How much do you know of my ancestry?”
“My mother and your mother are sisters. I know little of your father’s family beyond recognizing it as the royal line.”
“My grandfather, Gruffydd ap Cynan, was the king of Gwynedd before my father. His wife, my grandmother, was Angharad ferch Owain. She was born into the family that ruled Dyffryn Clwyd. Upon her father’s death, her three brothers, Meilyn, Rhiryd, and Gronw, ruled over the area. My grandfather wished to annex Dyffryn Clwyd to Gwynedd. He sent my uncle Cadwallon to see it done. Cadwallon killed the three rulers of Dyffryn Clwyd in battle and claimed the land for Gwynedd.”
Rhiannon stared at him. “All three? Killed in one battle?”
“Aye. It was a military endeavor but brutal nonetheless.” Hywel sighed. “One of those killed was Cadwgan’s father, Gronw.” He gazed sightlessly at the castle before them. “When we were young, Cadwgan and I were wont to seek each other out at large gatherings. We spent many happy hours playing together. But after his father’s death, something changed. Whenever he visited the llys, he was petulant and listless. And then he stopped coming altogether. Over the next few years, Cadwallon continued to conquer more land for the kingdom of Gwynedd until, in 1132, he met an army from Powys and was killed. Einion, the younger brother of Meilyn, Rhiryd, and Gronw, claimed it was done to avenge their deaths. He also maintained that Cadwgan played a significant role in Cadwallon’s demise.”
Rhiannon’s grip upon the reins tightened, her nails biting into the flesh of her hand. Yet, somehow, she kept the horror she felt from showing on her face.
Hywel glanced at her, concern in his eyes. “Even though Cadwgan and I have never fully renewed the friendship we knew in our childhood, I would have you know that after Cadwallon’s death, he returned to court again and has gained much respect for the work he has done to improve the situation of those living in Dyffryn Clwyd.”