rushes in haste, servants were setting tables, and the maids ran with new loaves from the bakery, and great pitchers of ale.
‘If I can finish my business here,’ said Cadfael tempted, ‘I’ll ride with you, if you’ll have me.’ ‘I will so and heartily welcome.’ ‘Then I’d best be seeing to what’s left undone here, when Owain Gwynedd is free. While you’re closeted with him, I’ll see my own horse readied for the journey.’ He was so preoccupied with thoughts of the coming clash, and of what might already be happening in Shrewsbury, that he turned back towards the stables without at first noticing the light footsteps that came flying after him from the direction of the kitchens, until a hand clutched at his sleeve, and he turned to find Cristina confronting him and peering intently up into his face with dilated dark eyes.
‘Brother Cadfael, is it true, what my father says? He says I need fret no longer, for Elis has found some girl in Shrewsbury, and wants nothing better now than to be rid of me. He says it can be ended with goodwill on both sides. That I’m free, and Eliud is free! Is it true?’ She was grave, and yet she glowed. Elis’s desertion was hope and help to her. The tangled knot could indeed be undone by consent, without grudges.
‘It is true,’ said Cadfael. ‘But beware of building too high on his prospects as yet, for it’s no way certain he’ll get the lady he wants. Did Tudur also tell you it is she who accuses Elis of being her father’s murderer? No very hopeful way to set up a marriage.’ ‘But he’s in earnest? He loves the girl? Then he’ll not turn back to me, whether he wins his way with her or no. He never wanted me. Oh, I would have done well enough for him,’ she said, hoisting eloquent shoulders and curling a tolerant lip, ‘as any girl his match in age and rank would have done, but all I ever was to him was a child he grew up with, and was fond of after a fashion. Now,’ she said feelingly, ‘he knows what it is to want. God knows I wish him his happiness as I hope for mine.’ ‘Walk with me down to the stables,’ said Cadfael, ‘and keep me company, these few minutes we have. For I’m away with Hugh Beringar as soon as his men have broken their fast and rested their horses, and I’ve had a word again with Owain Gwynedd and Einon ab Ithel. Come, and tell me plainly how things stand between you and Eliud, for once before when I saw you together I misread you utterly.’ She went with him gladly, her face clear and pure in the pearly light just flushing into rose. Her voice was tranquil as she said: ‘I loved Eliud from before I knew what love was. All I knew was how much it hurt, that I could not endure to be away from him, that I followed and would be with him, and he would not see me, would not speak with me, put me roughly from his side as often as I clung. I was already promised to Elis, and Elis was more than half Eliud’s world, and not for anything would he have touched or coveted anything that belonged to his foster, brother. I was too young then to know that the measure of his rejection of me was the measure of how much he wanted me. But when I came to understand what it was that tortured me, then I knew that Eliud went daily in the selfsame pain.’ ‘You are quite sure of him,’ said Cadfael, stating, not doubting.
‘I am sure. From the time I understood, I have tried to make him acknowledge what I know and he knows to be truth. The more I pursue and plead, the more he turns away and will not speak or listen. But ever the more he wants me. I tell you truth, when Elis went away, and was made prisoner, I began to believe I had almost won Eliud, almost brought him to admit to love and join with me to break this threatened marriage, and speak for me himself. Then he was sent to be surety for this unhappy exchange and all went for nothing. And now it’s Elis who cuts the knot and frees us all.’ ‘Too early yet to speak of being free,’ warned Cadfael seriously. ‘Neither of those two is yet out of the wood, none of us is, until the matter of the sheriffs death is brought to a just end.’ ‘I can wait,’ said Cristina.
Pointless, thought Cadfael, to attempt to cast any doubt over this new radiance of hers. She had lived in shadow far too long to be intimidated. What was a murder unsolved to her? He doubted if guilt or innocence would make any difference. She had but one aim, nothing would deflect her from it. No question but from childhood she had read her playfellows rightly, known the one who owned the right to her but valued it lightly, and the one who contained the gnawing grief of loving her and knowing her to be pledged to the foster, brother he loved only a little less. Perhaps no less at all, until he grew into the pain of manhood. Girl children are always years older than their brothers at the same age in years, and see more accurately and jealously.
‘Since you are going back,’ said Cristina, viewing the activity in the stables with a kindling eye, ‘you will see him again. Tell him I am my own woman now, or soon shall be, and can give myself where I will. And I will give myself to no one but him.’ ‘I will tell him so,’ said Cadfael.
The yard was alive with men and horses, harness and gear slung on every staple and trestle down the line of stalls. The morning light rose clear and pale over the timber buildings, and the greens of the valley forest were stippled with the pallor of new leaf, buds like delicate green veils among the darkness of fir. There was a small wind, enough to refresh without troubling. A good day for riding.
‘Which of these horses is yours?’ she asked.
Cadfael led him forth to be seen, and surrendered him to the groom who came at once to serve.
‘And that great raw, boned grey beast? I never saw him before. He should go well, even under a man in armour.’ ‘That is Hugh Beringar’s favourite,’ said Cadfael, recognising the dapple with pleasure. ‘And a very ill, conditioned brute towards any other rider. Hugh must have left him resting in Oswestry, or he would not be riding him now.’ ‘I see they’re saddling up for Einon ab Ithel, too,’ she said. ‘I fancy he’ll be going back to Chirk, to keep an eye on your Beringar’s northern border while he’s busy elsewhere.’ A groom had come out across their path with a draping of harness on one arm and a saddle, cloth over the other, and tossed them over a rail while he went back to lead out the horse that would wear them. A very handsome beast, a tall, bright bay that Cadfael remembered seeing in the great court at Shrewsbury. He watched its lively gait with pleasure as the groom hoisted the saddle, cloth and flung it over the broad, glossy back, so taken with the horse that he barely noticed the quality of its gear. Fringes to the soft leather bridle, and a tooled brow, band with tiny studs of gold. There was gold on Einon’s land, he recalled. And the saddle, cloth itself…
He fixed and stared, motionless, for an instant holding his breath. A thick, soft fabric of dyed woollens, woven from heavy yarns in a pattern of twining, blossomy sprays, muted red roses, surely faded to that gentle shade, and deep blue irises. Through the centre of the flowers and round the border ran thick, crusted gold threads. It was not new, it had seen considerable wear, the wool had rubbed into tight balls here and there, some threads had frayed, leaving short, fine strands quivering.
No need even to bring out for comparison the little box in which he kept his captured threads. Now that he saw these tints at last he knew them past any doubt. He was looking at the very thing he had sought, too well known here, too often seen and too little regarded, to stir any man’s memory.
He knew, moreover, instantly and infallibly, the meaning of what he saw.
He said never a word to Cristina of what he knew, as they walked back together. What could he say? Better by far keep all to himself until he could see his way ahead, and knew what he must do. Not one word to any, except to Owain Gwynedd, when he took his leave.
‘My lord,’ he said then, ‘I have heard it reported of you that you have said, concerning the death of Gilbert Prestcote, that the only ransom for a murdered man is the life of the murderer. Is that truly reported? Must there be another death? Welsh law allows for the paying of a blood, price, to prevent the prolonged bloodshed of a feud. I do not believe you have forsaken Welsh for Norman law.’ ‘Gilbert Prestcote did not live by Welsh law,’ said Owain, eyeing him very keenly. ‘I cannot ask him to die by it. Of what value is a payment in goods or cattle to his widow and children?’ ‘Yet I think galanas can be paid in other mintage,’ said Cadfael. ‘In penitence, grief and shame, as
