been for the courteous silence that had followed him up the hall, and the one clear sound that carried in it. Shadows and smoke veiled the figure that followed respectfully at some yards distance, but the sound of its steps was plainly audible, and went haltingly, lighter and faster upon one foot. Cadfael’s eyes were upon the son when he came hesitantly into the torchlight from the high table. This one he knew, though the black hair was trimmed and thrown proudly back from a face not now sullen and closed, but open, hopeful and eager, and there was no longer a crutch under the leaning armpit.
Cadfael looked back from Anion ap Griffri to Griffri ap Llywarch, to whose drear and childless middle age this unlooked, for son had suddenly supplied a warm heart of hope and content. The homespun cloak hanging loose upon Griffri’s shoulders bore in its folds a long pin with a large, chased gold head secured with a thin gold chain. And that, too, Cadfael had seen before, and knew only too well.
So did another witness. Einon ab Ithel had come in, as one familiar with the household and desirous of making no inconvenient stir, by the high door from the private chamber, and emerged behind the prince’s table unnoticed. The man who was holding all attention naturally drew his. The red of torchlight flashed from the ornament worn openly and proudly. Its owner had the best reason to know there could not be two such, not of that exact and massive size and ornamentation.
‘God’s breath!’ swore Einon ab Ithel in a great bellow of astonishment and indignation. ‘What manner of thief have we here, wearing my gold under my very eyes?’ Silence fell as ominously as thunder, and every head whirled from prince and petitioner to stare at this loud accuser. Einon came round the high table in a few long strides, dropped from the dais so close as to send Griffri lurching back in alarm, and stabbed a hard brown finger at the pin that glowed in the drab cloak.
‘My lord, this, is mine! Gold out of my earth, I had it mined, I had it made for me, there is not another exactly like it in this or any land. When I came back from Shrewsbury, on that errand you know of, it was not in my collar, nor have I seen it since that day. I thought it fallen somewhere on the road, and made no ado about it. What is it to mourn for, gold! Now I see it again and marvel. My lord, it is in your hands. Demand of this man how he comes to be wearing what is mine.’ Half the hall was on its feet, and rumbling with menace, for theft, unmitigated by circumstances, was the worst crime they acknowledged, and the thief caught red, handed could be killed on sight by the wronged man. Griffri stood stricken dumb, staring in bewilderment. Anion flung himself with stretched arms and braced body between his father and Einon.
‘My lord, my lord, I gave it, I brought it to my father. I did not steal… I took a price! Hold my father blameless, if there is blame it is mine only…’ He was sweating with terror, great sudden gouts that ran on his forehead and were snared in his thick brows. And if he knew a little Welsh, in this extremity it did not serve him, he had cried out in English. That gave them all a moment of surprise. And Owain swept a hand over the hall and brought silence.
‘Sit, and keep closed mouths. This is my matter. I’ll have quiet and all here shall have justice.’ They murmured, but they obeyed. In the ensuing hush Brother Cadfael rose unobtrusively to his feet and made his way round the table and down to the floor of the hall. His movements, however discreet, drew the prince’s eye.
‘My lord,’ said Cadfael deprecatingly, ‘I am of Shrewsbury, I know and am known to this man Anion ap Griffri. He was raised English, no fault of his. Should he need one to interpret, I can do that service, so that he may be understood by all here.’ ‘A fair offer,’ said Owain, and eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Are you also empowered, brother, to speak for Shrewsbury, since it seems this accusation goes back to that town, and the business of which we know? And if so, for shire and town or for abbey?’ ‘Here and now,’ said Cadfael boldly, ‘I will venture for both. And if any find fault hereafter, let it fall on me.’ ‘You are here, I fancy,’ said Owain, considering, ‘over this very matter.’ ‘I am. In part to look for this same jewel. For it vanished from Gilbert Prestcote’s chamber in our infirmary on the day that he died. The cloak that had been added to the sick man’s wrappings in the litter was handed back to Einon ab Ithel without it. Only after he had left did we remember and look for the brooch. And only now do I see it again.’ ‘From the room where a man died by murder,’ said Einon. ‘Brother, you have found more than the gold. You may send our men home.’ Anion stood fearful but steadfast between his father and the accusing stare of a hall full of eyes. He was white as ice, translucent, as though all the blood had left his veins. ‘I did not kill,’ he said hoarsely, and heaved hard to get breath enough to speak. ‘My lord, I never knew… I thought the pin was his, Prestcote’s. I took it from the cloak, yes, ‘ ‘After you had killed him,’ said Einon harshly.
‘No! I swear it! I never touched the man.’ He turned in desperate appeal to Owain, who sat listening dispassionately at the table, his fingers easy round the stem of his wine, cup, but his eyes very bright and aware. ‘My lord, only hear me! And hold my father clear of all, for all he knows is what I have told him, and the same I shall tell you, and as God sees me, I do not lie.’ ‘Hand up to me,’ said Owain,’that pin you wear.’ And as Griffri hurried with trembling fingers to detach it, and reached up to lay it in the prince’s hand: ‘So! I have known this too long and seen it worn too often to be in any doubt whose it is. From you, brother, as from Einon here, I know how it came to be flung open to hand by the sheriffs bed. Now you may tell, Anion, how you came by it. English I can follow, you need not fear being misunderstood. And Brother Cadfael will put what you say into Welsh, so that all here may understand you.’ Anion gulped air and found a creaky voice that gathered body and passion as he used it. Shock and terror had contracted his throat, but the flow of words washed constraint away. ‘My lord, until these last days I never saw my father, nor he me, but I had a brother, as he has said, and by chance I got to know him when he came into Shrewsbury with wool to sell. There was a year between us, and I am the elder. He was my kin, and I valued him. And once when he visited the town and I was not by, there was a fight, a man was killed and my brother was blamed for it. Gilbert Prestcote hanged him!’ Owain glanced aside at Cadfael, and waited until this speech had been translated for the Welshmen. Then he asked: ‘You know of this case? Was it fairly done?’ ‘Who knows which hand did the killing?’ said Cadfael. ‘It was a street brawl, the young men were drunk. Gilbert Prestcote was hasty by nature, but just. But this is certain, here in Wales the young man would not have hanged. A blood, price would have paid it.’ ‘Go on,’ said Owain.
‘I carried that grudge on my heart from that day,’ said Anion, gathering passion from old bitterness. ‘But when did I ever come within reach of the sheriff? Never until your men brought him into Shrewsbury wounded and housed him in the infirmary. And I was there with this broken leg of mine all but healed, and that man only twenty paces from me, only a wall between us, my enemy at my mercy. While it was all still and the brothers at dinner, I went into the room where he was. He owed my house a life, even if I was mongrel, I felt Welsh then, and I meant to take my due revenge, I meant to kill! The only brother ever I had, and he was merry and good to look upon, and then to hang for an unlucky blow when he was full of ale! I went in there to kill. But I could not do it! When I saw my enemy brought down so low, so old and weary, hardly blood or breath in him… I stood by him and watched, and all I could feel was sadness. It seemed to me that there was no call there for vengeance, for all was already avenged. So I thought on another way. There was no court to set a blood, price or enforce payment, but there was the gold pin in the cloak beside him. I thought it was his. How could I know? So I took it as galanas, to clear the debt and the grudge. But by the end of that day I knew, we all knew, that Prestcote was dead and dead by murder, and when they began to question even me, I knew that if ever it came out what I had done it would be said I had also killed him. So I ran. I meant, in any case, to come and seek my father some day, and tell him my brother’s death was paid for, but because I was afraid I had to run in haste.’ ‘And come to me he did,’ said Griffri earnestly, his hand upon his son’s shoulder, ‘and showed me by way of warranty the yellow mountain stone I gave his mother long ago. But by his face I knew him, for he’s like the brother he lost. And he gave me that thing you hold, my lord, and told me that young Griffri’s death was requited, and this was the token price exacted, and the grudge buried, for our enemy was dead. I did not well understand him then, for I told him if he had slain Griffri’s slayer, then he had no right to take a price as well. But he swore to me by most solemn oath that it was not he who had killed and I believe him. And judge if I am glad to have a son restored me in my middle years, to be the prop of my old age. For God’s sake, my lord, do not take him from me now!’ In the dour, considering hush that followed Cadfael completed his translation of
