The Fourth Horseman by Sarah Woodbury

depending on what he tells the empress, we can
decide what role in the continuing investigation we choose to
have.”
    “ Father would not want us
to leave yet,” Rhun said, “not with so much unsettled.”
    “ He would want us to leave
if staying meant risking our lives and those of our companions.
When Gareth returns, we will ask to speak again with Earl Robert.”
Hywel shook his head. “I wish I understood more about what is
happening here.”
    Rhun scoffed under his breath. “I don’t
think I will ever understand Normans.”
    “ Since I told Gareth I
would, it’s probably best if Mari and I visit Prior Rhys,” Gwen
said. “Perhaps he is well enough to talk. Regardless, he shouldn’t
be left alone.”
    “ He’s not alone,” Hywel
said. “One of the ladies of Earl Robert’s court is sitting with
him.”
    “ Even so, my lord, I think
you know what she means.” Mari had a way of speaking to Hywel that
skirted the edge of disrespect.
    Hywel bowed. “You are correct, of course. I
give way to your better sense.”
    Gwen looked down at her feet to hide her
expression. It had her worried that Hywel didn’t seem to mind how
Mari talked to him as long as she did and in fact seemed to enjoy
sparring with her. Gwen took her friend’s hand, and they left the
room, though not before Mari threw yet another admiring look over
her shoulder at Prince Hywel.
    “ He is a very handsome
man,” Gwen said.
    “ Who?” Mari
said.
    Gwen glanced at her friend. “Prince
Hywel.”
    Mari blushed. Gwen
shouldn’t have had to clarify who he was, and Mari knew it. “Yes. Very
handsome.”
    They’d reached the lower landing in the west
wing of the castle and came to a halt when a guard, who’d been
leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest,
straightened at their approach.
    Gwen nodded to him. “We’re looking for Prior
Rhys,” she said in her halting French.
    The man pointed to a door. “At the end of
the corridor.”
    Gwen thanked him, but Mari
swept past him like he wasn’t there. Such behavior was expected of
high-born Norman women, and here at Newcastle, Mari was Norman, not
Welsh. With that thought, Gwen’s brow furrowed , suddenly unsure as to how it was
that Mari was accepted as a Norman. Gwen had never asked her friend
what exactly her relationship was to Lord Goronwy. It had never
been important to know before.
    They reached the door. Mari hadn’t looked at
Gwen since the mention of Hywel, and her color remained high. She
lifted her hand to knock, but before she could, Gwen asked, “Did
you grow up in England, Mari?”
    Mari’s hand stayed suspended before the
door, and Gwen wished she could take back her words. Mari’s face
had crumpled. She looked down at her shoes and took a breath,
smoothing out her features and returning to her usual composed
self. “I am as Welsh as you, Gwen.”
    Gwen put a hand on Mari’s arm. “I know
that.” Her voice was as gentle as she could make it. “I didn’t mean
to ask you so abruptly. I would never mean to imply that we did not
share a love for Wales.”
    Mari blinked twice, and the tears that had
threatened to spill out of her eyes receded. “My mother was a
Welshwoman. She died before I was ten.”
    Gwen ducked her head. “I asked because I was
admiring your poise. You look as if you belong at Newcastle far
more than I do. And then for the first time it occurred to me that
as a cousin to Cristina, whose mother was Norman, that you might
have Norman blood too.”
    Mari looked away. “I do.” She cleared her
throat. “My mother was Uncle Goronwy’s sister, but my father’s
family came from Normandy. Although they lost their lands there
several generations ago, my father served in King Henry’s retinue,
and later in his son’s.”
    “ You mean he served Henry’s
son, Prince William? The one who died when the White Ship was lost
at sea?”
    “ No.” Mari pursed her lips.
“I thought you knew all this. My father was one of Robert