Free The Bard's Daughter (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) by Sarah Woodbury

compensate her father for their services?
    “ Why else would Robert keep the three gold coins that belonged to Collen?” Meilyr said. “He has always been upright in his dealings with me in the past. It is very unlike him to be dishonest. The only thing that makes sense to me is that once Collen was dead, Lord Cadfael ordered him to keep the coins secret.”
    “ Did he really think Collen wouldn’t have told Denis of them?” Gwen said.
    Meilyr stopped in mid-stride and turned to his daughter. “Have you learned nothing these last few days? How much more likely is it that Collen acquired the coins and kept that information from his partner and his wife.”
    Gwen’s shoulders fell. “Oh.”
    Meilyr rolled his eyes. “For all that you have a sudden propensity for uncovering truth in others, you need to be less trusting.”
    Gwen bit her lip, hating to be told she’d been naïve, but knowing her father was right. “You’re saying that Cadfael’s plan was to keep the coins, remain silent, and hang you.”
    “ Cadfael would have been the richer for it,” Meilyr said.
    “ But neither Cadfael nor Robert knew of Collen’s little book,” Gwen said. “They counted on their station to protect them from Denis.”
    “ What they didn’t count on was you defending me, upending their plans.” Meilyr shot Gwen a look that she wanted to interpret as pleased or proud, but it was an expression he so rarely directed at her, she wasn’t sure. “In the course of an hour, Cadfael loses both the gold coins and—with the evidence turning in my favor—still has to pay me for our time at Carreg Cennen.”
    Gwen shook her head. “And we can’t say a single word about it, for fear he changes his mind and really hangs you. Robert is going to announce that you are guilty at the start of the evening meal.”
    The power Cadfael wielded left Gwen with a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d always known that good and bad lords existed in Wales, but she’d grown up in a stable home, in the household of the old King Gruffydd of Gwynedd. Even their departure from Aberffraw, even the ending of her marriage hopes with Gareth, hadn’t opened her eyes to the ways of the world as much as this accusation of murder.
    “ I would almost rather have paid Eva the galanas and been done with it,” Meilyr said.
    “ Don’t say that!” Gwen said. “How can you say that? You’d let a murderer go free?”
    “ I would accept it, but the admittance of guilt would hang over my head, and thus yours and Gwalchmai’s, for the rest of our lives,” Meilyr said. “I could not do that to you.”
    Gwen swallowed. Her father had to be thinking primarily of Gwalchmai, but he had included her in his calculations too. She wasn’t used to him doing that. “Could you have paid her even without Cadfael’s contribution?” Gwen said.
    “ It would have beggared us,” Meilyr said.
    “ We’ve been poor before.” Gwen thought of that first year after they’d left Gwynedd. Her father had been proud and had not wanted to accept a place in any castle but that of a mighty lord. In the end, they’d spent the winter at Aberystwyth, the seat of Prince Cadwaladr, King Owain Gwynedd’s brother. That was how she’d met Gareth, since he’d been a man-at-arms in Cadwaladr’s retinue. Because of Gareth, Gwen couldn’t regret father’s choice of residence, but it had solidified the enmity between him and King Owain. It wasn’t a good thing to be on the bad side of a king, especially as a bard who had to sing for his supper.
    “ Not as poor as this would have made us,” Meilyr said. “I’m offended that Gruffydd gave me so little credit for my ability to think. He and Cadfael must have mocked me for being such an imbecile to have murdered a man with my own harp string and then stayed with the body. What did they take me for?”
    “ Men see what they want to see.” In the past few days, Gwen had learned that, at least.
    Gwalchmai appeared in the doorway.