minutes, long enough to have been all the way to the gatehouse and peered anxiously along the Foregate towards the town, but he came back in dour silence, laid aside the saddle, cloth he was still carrying, and went to work without a word or a look aside.
‘Not come yet?’ asked his neighbour with careful sympathy.
‘No,’ said Eliud shortly, and continued working vigorously on the bright bay hide.
‘The castle’s the far side of the town, they’ll have kept him there until they were sure of our man. They’ll bring him. He’ll be at dinner with us.’ Eliud said nothing. At this hour the monks themselves were at their meal in the refectory, and the abbot’s guests with him at his own table in his lodging. It was the quietest hour of the day; even the comings and goings about the guest, hall were few at this time of year, though with the spring the countryside would soon be on the move again.
‘Never show him so glum a face,’ said the Welshman, grinning, ‘even if you must be left here in his place. Ten days or so, and Owain and this young sheriff will be clasping hands on the border, and you on your way home to join him.’ Ehud muttered a vague agreement, and turned a forbidding shoulder on further talk. He had Einon’s horse stalled and glossy and watered by the time Brother Denis the hospitaller came to bid them to the refectory, newly laid and decked for them after the brothers had ended their repast, and dispersed to enjoy their brief rest before the afternoon’s work began. The resources of the house were at their disposal, warmed water brought to the lavatorium for their hands, towels laid out and their table, when they entered the refectory, graced with more dishes than the brothers had enjoyed. And there waiting, somewhat in the manner of a nervous host, was Elis ap Cynan, freshly brushed and spruced for the occasion, and on his most formal behaviour.
The awe of the exchange, himself the unwise cause of it and to some extent already under censure for his unwisdom, or something else of like weight, had had its effect upon Elis, for he came with stiff bearing and very sombre face, who was known rather for his hearty cheerfulness in and out of season. Certainly his eyes shone at the sight of Eliud entering, and he came with open arms to embrace him, but thereafter shoved free again. The grip of his hand had some unaccountable tension about it, and though he sat down to table beside his cousin, the talk over that meal was general and restrained. It caused some mild wonder among their companions. There were these two inseparables, together again after long and anxious separation, and both as mute as blocks, and as pale and grave of face as men arraigned for their lives.
It was very different when the meal was over, the grace said, and they were free to go forth into the court. Elis caught his cousin by the arm and hauled him away into the cloister, where they could take refuge in one of the carrels where no monk was working or studying, and go to earth there like hunted foxes, shoulder warm for comfort against shoulder, as when they were children and fled into sanctuary from some detected misdeed. And now Eliud could recognise his foster, brother as he had always been, as he always would be, and marvelled fondly what misdemeanour or misfortune he could have to pour out here, where he had been so loftily on his dignity.
‘Oh, Eliud!’ blurted Elis, hugging him afresh in arms which had certainly lost none of their heedless strength. ‘For God’s sake, what am I to do? How shall I tell you! I can’t go back! If I do, I’ve lost all. Oh, Eliud, I must have her! If I lose her I shall die! You haven’t seen her? Prestcote’s daughter?’ ‘His daughter?’ whispered Eliud, utterly dazed. ‘There was a lady, with a grown girl and a young boy… I hardly noticed.’ ‘For God’s sake, man, how could you not notice her? Ivory and roses, and her hair all pale, like spun silver… I love her!’ proclaimed Elis in high fever. ‘And she is just as fain, I swear it, and we’ve pledged ourselves. Oh, Eliud, if I go now I shall never have her. If I leave her now, I’m lost. And he’s an enemy, she warned me, he hates the Welsh. Never go near him, she said…’ Eliud, who had sat stunned and astray, roused himself to take his friend by the shoulders and shake him furiously until he fell silent for want of breath, staring astonished.
‘What are you telling me? You have a girl here? You love her? You no longer want to make any claim on Cristina? Is that what you’re saying?’ ‘Were you not listening? Haven’t I told you?’ Elis, unsubdued and unchastened, heaved himself free and grappled in his turn. ‘Listen, let me tell you how it fell. What pledge did I myself ever give Cristina? Is it her fault or mine if we’re tied like tethered cattle? She cares no more for me than I for her. I’d brother the girl and dance at her wedding, and kiss her and wish her well heartily. But this… this is another matter! Oh, Eliud, hush and hear me!’ It poured forth like music, the whole story from his first glimpse of her, the silver maiden at the door, blue, eyed, magical. Plenty of bards had issued from the stock to which Elis belonged, he had both the gift of words and the eloquent tune. Eliud sat stricken mute, gaping at him in blanched astonishment and strange dismay, his hands gripped and wrung in Elis’s persuading hands.
‘And I was frantic for you!’ he said softly and slowly, almost to himself. ‘If I had but known…’ ‘But Eliud, he’s here!’ Elis held him by the arms, peering eagerly into his face. ‘He is here? You brought him, you must know. She says, don’t go, but how can I lose this chance? I’m noble, I pledge the girl my whole heart, all my goods and lands, where will he find a better match? And she is not spoken for. I can, I must win him, he must listen to me… why should he not?’ He flashed one sweeping glance about the almost vacant court. ‘They’re not yet ready, they haven’t called us. Eliud, you know where he’s laid. I’m going to him! I must, I will! Show me the place!’ ‘He’s in the infirmary.’ Eliud was staring at him with open mouth and wide, shocked eyes. ‘But you can’t, you mustn’t… He’s sick and weary, you can’t trouble him now.’ ‘I’ll be gentle, humble, I’ll kneel to him, I’ll put my life in his hands. The infirmary, which is it? I never was inside these walls until now. Which door?’ He caught Eliud by the arm and dragged him to the archway that looked out on the court. ‘Show me, quickly!’ ‘No! Don’t go! Leave him be! For shame, to rush in on his rest…’ ‘Which door?’ Elis shook him fiercely. ‘You brought him, you saw!’ ‘There! The building drawn back to the precinct wall, to the right from the gatehouse. But don’t do it! Surely the girl knows her father best. Wait, don’t harry him now, an old, sick man!’ ‘You think I’d offer any hardihood to her father! All I want is to tell him my heart, and that I have her favour. If he curses me, I’ll bear it. But I must put it to the test. What chance shall I ever have again?’ He made to pull clear, and Eliud held him convulsively, then as suddenly heaved a great sigh and loosed his hold.
‘Go, then, try your fortune! I can’t keep you.’ Elis was away, without the least caution or dissembling, out into the court and straight as an arrow across it to the door of the infirmary. Eliud stood in shadow to watch him vanish within, and leaned his forehead against the stone and waited with eyed closed some while before he looked again.
The abbot’s guests were just emerging from the doorway of his lodging. The young man who was now virtually sheriff set off with the lady and her daughter, to conduct them again to the porch of the guest, hall. Einon ab Ithel lingered in talk with the abbot, his two companions, having less English, waited civilly a pace aside. Very soon he would be ordering the saddling of the horses, and the ceremonious leave, taking.
From the doorway of the infirmary two figures emerged, Elis first, stiffly erect, and after him one of the brothers. At the head of the few stone steps the monk halted, and stood to watch Elis stalk away across the great court, taut with offence, quenched in despair, like our first forefather expelled from Eden.
‘He’s sleeping,’ he said, coming in crestfallen. ‘I couldn’t speak with him, the infirmarer turned me away.’ Barely half an hour now, and they would be on their way back to Montford, there to spend the first night of their journey into Wales. In the stables Eliud led out Einon’s tall bay, and saddled and bridled him, before turning his attention to the horse he himself had ridden, which now Elis must ride in his place, while he lingered here.
The brothers had roused themselves after their customary rest, and were astir about the court again, on their way to their allotted labours. Some days into March, there was already work to be done in field and garden, besides the craftsmen who had their workshops in cloister and scriptorium. Brother Cadfael, crossing at leisure towards the
