no other ending, when Owain spoke so softly and reasonably at the first advance.
“I go to my brother,” he said, grimly smiling, “and what I bring back with me shall be to your gain as well as mine.”
Brother Mark sat with Cadfael in a hollow of the sand dunes overlooking the open sea, in the clear, almost shadowless light of afternoon. Before them the swathes of saud, sculptured by sea winds, went rolling down in waves of barren gold and coarse, tenacious grass to the water’s edge. At a safe depth offshore seven of Otir’s ships rode at anchor, four of them cargo hulls, squat and sturdy, capacious enough to accommodate a wealth of plunder if it came to wresting their price out of Gwynedd by force, the other three the largest of his longships. The smaller and faster vessels all lay within the mouth of the bay, where there was safe anchorage at need, and comfortable beaching inshore. Beyond the ships to westward the open, silvery water extended, mirroring a pallid, featureless blue sky, but dappled in several places by the veiled gold of shoals.
“I knew,” said Mark, “that I should find you here. But I would have come, even without that inducement. I was on my way back to the meeting-place when they passed by. I saw you prisoners, you and the girl. The best I could do was make for Carnarvon, and carry that tale to Owain. He has your case well in mind. But what else he has in his mind, with this meeting he has sought, I do not know. It seems you have not fared so badly with these Danes. I find you in very good heart. I confess I feared for Heledd.”
“There was no need,” Cadfael said. “It was plain we had our value for the prince, and he would not suffer us to go unransomed, one way or another. They do not waste their hostages. They have a reward promised, they are bent on earning it as cheaply as possible, they’ll do nothing to bring out the whole of Gwynedd angry and in arms, not unless the whole venture turns sour on them. Heledd has been offered no affront.”
“And has she told you what possessed her to run from us at Aber, and how she contrived to leave the llys? And the horse she rode, for I saw it led along with the raiders, and that was good harness and gear from the prince’s stable, how did she come by her horse?”
“She found it,” said Cadfael simply, “saddled and bridled and tethered among the trees outside the walls, when she slipped out at the gate behind the backs of the guards. She says she would have fled afoot, if need had been, but there was the beast ready and waiting for her. And what do you make of that? For I am sure she speaks truth.”
Mark gave his mind to the question very gravely for some minutes. “Bledri ap Rhys?” he hazarded dubiously. “Did he indeed intend flight, and make certain of a mount while the gates were open, during the day? And some other, suspicious of his stubborn adherence to his lord, prevented the departure? But there was nothing to show that he ever thought of leaving. It seemed to me that the man was well content to be Owain’s guest, and have Owain’s hand cover him from harm.”
“There is but one man who knows the truth,” said Cadfael, “and he has good reason to keep his mouth shut. But for all that, truth will out, or the prince will never let it rest. So I said to Heledd, and the girl says in reply: “You foretell another death. How does that amend anything?””
“She says well,” agreed Mark sombrely. “She has better sense than most princes and many priests. I have not yet seen her, here within the camp. Is she free to move as she pleases, within limits, like you?”
“You may see her this moment,” said Cadfael, “if you please to turn your head, and look down to the right there, where the spit of sand juts out into the shallows yonder.”
Brother Mark turned his head obediently to follow where Cadfael pointed. The tongue of sand, tipped with a ridge of coarse blond grass to show that it was not quite submerged even at a normal high tide, thrust out into the shallows on their right like a thin wrist and hand, straining towards the longer arm that reached southward from the shores of Anglesey. There was soil enough on its highest point to support a few scrub bushes, and there a minute outcrop of rock stood up through the soft sand. Heledd was walking without haste along the stretched wrist towards this stony knuckle, at one point plashing ankle-deep through shallow water to reach it; and there she sat down on the rock, gazing out to sea, towards the invisible and unknown coast of Ireland. At this distance she appeared very fragile, very vulnerable, a small, slender, solitary figure. It might have been thought that she was withdrawing herself as far as possible from her captors, in a hapless defence against a fate she had no means of escaping in the body. Alone by the sea, with empty sky above her, and empty ocean before her, at least her mind sought a kind of freedom. Brother Cadfael found the picture deceptively appealing. Heledd was shrewdly aware of the strength, as well as the weakness, of her situation, and knew very well that she had little to fear, even had she been inclined to fear, which decidedly she was not. She knew, also, how far she could go in asserting her freedom of movement. She could not have approached the shores of the enclosed bay without being intercepted long before this. They knew she could swim. But this outer beach offered her no possibility of escape. Here she could wade through the shallows, and no one would lift a finger to prevent. She was hardly likely to strike out for Ireland, even if there had not been a flotilla of Danish ships offshore. She sat very still, her bare arms wreathed about her knees, gazing westward, but with head so alertly erect that even at this distance she seemed to be listening intently. Gulls wheeled and cried above her. The sea lay placid, sunlit, for the moment complacent as a cat. And Heledd waited and listened.
“Did ever creature seem more forlorn!” Brother Mark wondered, half aloud. “Cadfael, I must speak with her as soon as may be. In Carnarvon I have seen her bridegroom. He came hotfoot from the island to join Owain, she should know that she is not forsaken. This Ieuan is a decent, stalwart man, and will put up a good fight for his bride. Even if Owain could be tempted to leave the girl to her fate here, and that is impossible!, Ieuan would never suffer it. If he had to venture for her with no forces but his own small following, I am sure he would never give up. Church and prince have offered her to him, and he is afire for her.”
“I do believe,” Cadfael said, “that they have found her a good man, with all the advantages but one. A fatal lack! He is not of her choosing.”
“She might do very much worse. When she meets him, she may be wholly glad of him. And in this world,” Mark reflected ruefully, “women, like men, must make the best of what they can get.”
“With thirty years and more behind her,” said Cadfael, “she might be willing to settle for that. At eighteen, I doubt it!”
“If he comes in arms to carry her away, at eighteen that might weigh with her,” Mark observed, but not with entire conviction in his tone.
Cadfael had turned his head and was looking back towards the crest of the dunes, where a man’s figure had just breasted the rise and was descending towards the beach. The long, generous stride, the exuberant thrust of the broad shoulders, the joyous carriage of the flaxen head, bright in the sun, would have given him a name even at a greater distance.
“I would not wager on the issue,” said Cadfael cautiously. “And even so, he comes a little late, for someone else has already come in arms and carried her away. That issue, too, is still in doubt.”
The young man Turcaill erupted into Brother Mark’s view only as he drew towards the spit of sand, and
