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Chapter Eight. C adfael awoke to the pearl-grey light ofearliest dawn, the immense sweep of open sky above him, stillsprinkled at the zenith with paling stars

×èòàéòå òàêæå:
  1. Chapter 1
  2. CHAPTER 1
  3. CHAPTER 10
  4. Chapter 10
  5. Chapter 10
  6. Chapter 11
  7. Chapter 11
  8. CHAPTER 11
  9. Chapter 12
  10. Chapter 12
  11. CHAPTER 12
  12. Chapter 13

«^»

C adfael awoke to the pearl-grey light ofearliest dawn, the immense sweep of open sky above him, stillsprinkled at the zenith with paling stars, and the instantrecollection of his present situation. Everything that had passedhad confirmed that they had little to fear from their captors, atleast while they retained their bargaining value, and nothing tohope for in the way of escape, since the Danes were clearly sure ofthe efficiency of their precautions. The shore was well watched,the rim of the camp securely guarded. There was no need, withinthat pale, to keep a constant surveillance on a young girl and anelderly monastic. Let them wander at will, it would not get themout of the circle, and within it they could do no harm.

Cadfael recalled clearly that he had been fed, as generously asthe young men of the guard who moved about him, and he was certainthat Heledd, however casually housed here, had also been fed, andonce left to her own devices, unobserved, would have had the goodsense to eat what was provided. She was no such fool as to throwaway her assets for spite when she had a fight on her hands.

He was lying, snugly enough, in the lee of a windbreak ofhurdles, in a hollow of thick grass, his own cloak wrapped abouthim. He remembered Turcaill tossing it to him as it was unrolledfrom his small belongings as the horse was unloaded. Round him adozen of the young Danish seamen snored at ease. Cadfael arose andstretched, and shook the sand from his habit. No one made any moveto intercept him as he made for the higher ground to look abouthim. The camp was alive, the fires already lit, and the few horses,including his own, watered and turned on to the greener shelteredlevels to landward, where there was better pasture. Cadfael lookedin that direction, towards the familiar solidity of Wales, and madehis way unhindered through the midst of the camp to find a highspot from which he could see beyond the perimeter of Otir’sbase. From the south, and after a lengthy march round the tidal baythat bit deep to southward, Owain must come if he was ever toattack this strongpoint by land. By sea he would be at adisadvantage, having nothing to match the Norse longships. AndCarnarvon seemed a long, long way from this armed camp.

The few sturdy tents that housed the leaders of the expeditionhad been pitched in the centre of the camp. Cadfael passed by themclosely, and halted to mark the men who moved about them. Two inparticular bore the unmistakable marks of authority, thoughcuriously the pair of them together struck a discordant note, as iftheir twin authorities might somehow be at cross-purposes. The onewas a man of fifty years or more, thickset, barrel-chested, builtlike the bole of a tree, and burned by the sun and the spray andthe wind to a reddish brown darker than the two braids ofstraw-coloured hair that framed his broad countenance, and the longmoustaches that hung lower than his jaw. He was bare-armed to theshoulder but for leather bands about his forearms and thick goldbracelets at his wrists.

“Otir!” said Heledd’s voice softly inCadfael’s ear. She had come up behind him unnoticed, hersteps silent in the drifting sand, her tone wary and intent. Shehad more here to contend with than a good-humored youngster whosetolerant attitude might not always serve her turn. Turcaill was amere subordinate here; this formidable man before them couldoverrule all other authorities. Or was it possible that even hispower might suffer checks? Here was this second personage besidehim, lofty of glance and imperious of gesture, by the look of himnot a man to take orders tamely from any other being.

“And the other?” asked Cadfael, without turning hishead.

“That is Cadwaladr. It was no lie, he has brought theselong-haired barbarians into Wales to wrest back his rights from theLord Owain. I know him, I have seen him before. The Dane I heardcalled by his name.”

A handsome man, this Cadwaladr, Cadfael reflected, approving thecomeliness of the shape, if doubtful of the mind within. This manwas not so tall as his brother, but tall enough to carry his firmand graceful flesh well, and he moved with a beautiful ease andpower beside the squat and muscular Dane. His coloring was darkerthan Owain’s, thick russet hair clustered in curls over ashapely head, and dark, haughty eyes well set beneath brows thatalmost met, and were a darker brown than his hair. He was shavenclean, but had acquired some of the clothing and adornments of hisDublin hosts during his stay with them, so that it would not havebeen immediately discernible that here was the Welsh prince who hadbrought this entire expedition across the sea to his owncountry’s hurt. He had the reputation of being hasty, rash,wildly generous to friends, irreconcilably bitter against enemies.His face bore out everything that was said of him.

Nor was it hard to imagine how Owain could still love histroublesome brother, after many offences and repeatedreconciliations.

“A fine figure of a man,” said Cadfael,contemplating this perilous presence warily.

“If he did as handsomely,” said Heledd.

The chieftains had withdrawn eastward towards the strait, thecircle of their captains surrounding them. Cadfael turned hissteps, instead, still southward, to get a view of the land approachby which Owain must come if he intended to shut the invaders intotheir sandy beachhead. Heledd fell in beside him, not, he judged,because she was in need of the comfort of his or any other company,but because she, too, was curious about the circumstances of theircaptivity, and felt that two minds might make more sense of themthan one alone.

“How have you fared?” asked Cadfael, eyeing herclosely as she walked beside him, and finding her composed,self-contained and resolute of lip and eye. “Have they usedyou well, here where there are no women?”

She curled a tolerant lip and smiled. “I needed none. Ifthere’s cause I can fend for myself, but as yet there’sno cause. I have a tent to shelter me, the boy brings me food, andwhat else I want they let me go abroad and get for myself. Only ifI go too near the eastern shore they turn me back. I have tried. Ithink they know I can swim.”

“You made no attempt when we were no more than a hundredyards offshore,” said Cadfael, with no implication ofapproval or disapproval.

“No,” she agreed, with a small, dark smile, andadded not a word more.

“And even if we could steal back our horses,” hereflected philosophically, “we could not get out of thisarmed ring with them.”

“And mine is lame,” she agreed again, smiling herprivate smile.

He had had no opportunity, until now, to ask her how she hadcome by that horse in the first place, somehow stealing him awayout of the prince’s stables while the feast was at itsheight, and before any word was brought from Bangor to alert Owainto the threat from Ireland. He asked her now. “How came itthat you ever came into possession of this horse you call yours sobriskly?”

“I found him,” said Heledd simply. “Saddled,bridled, tethered among the trees not far from the gatehouse.Better than ever I expected, I took it for a good omen and wasthankful I had not to go wandering through the night afoot. But Iwould have done it. I had no thought of it when I went out torefill the pitcher, but out in the courtyard I thought, why goback? There was nothing left in Llanelwy I could keep, and nothingin Bangor or Anglesey that I wanted. But there must be somethingfor me, somewhere in the world. Why should I not go and find it, ifno one else would get it for me? And while I was standing there inshadow by the wall, the guards on the gate were not marking me, andI slipped out behind their backs. I had nothing, I took nothing, Iwould have walked away so, and never complained. It was my choice.But in the trees I found this horse, saddled and bridled and readyfor me, a gift from God that I could not refuse. If I have lost himnow,” she said very solemnly, “it may be he has broughtme where I was meant to be.”

“A stage on your journey, it may be,” said Cadfael,concerned, “but surely not the end. For here are you and I,hostages in a very questionable situation, and you I take to be alass who values her freedom highly. We have yet to get ourselvesout of captivity, or wait here for Owain to do it for us.” Hewas revolving in some wonder what she had told him, and harkingback to all that had happened in Aber. “So there was thisbeast, made ready for riding and hidden away outside the enclave.And if heaven meant him for you, there was someone else whointended a very different outcome when he saddled him and led himout into the woods. Now it seems to me that Bledri ap Rhys didindeed mean to escape to his lord with word of all theprince’s muster and strength. The means of flight was readyoutside the gate for him. And yet he was found naked in hisbedchamber, no way prepared for riding. You have set us a riddle.Did he go to his bed to wait until the llys was well asleep? Andwas killed before the favorable hour? And how did he purpose toleave the maenol, when every gate was guarded?”

Heledd was studying him intently along her shoulder, browsknitted together, only partially understanding, but hazarding veryalert and intelligent guesses at what was still obscure to her.“Do you tell me Bledri ap Rhys is dead? Killed, you said.That same night? The night I left the llys?”

“You did not know? It was after you were gone, so was thenews that came from Bangor. No one has told you since?”

“I heard of the coming of the Danes, yes, that news waseverywhere from the next morning. But I heard nothing of any death,never a word.”

No, it would not be news of crucial importance, like theinvasion from Ireland, tref would not spread it to tref and maenolto maenol as Owain’s couriers had spread word of the musterto Carnarvon. Heledd was frowning over the belated news, saddenedby any man’s death, especially one she had known briefly,even made use of, in her own fashion, to plague a father whowronged her affection.

“I am sorry,” she said. “He had such life inhim. A waste! Killed, you think, to prevent his going? One morewarrior for Cadwaladr, and with knowledge of the prince’splans to make him even more welcome? Then who? Who couldhave found out, and made such dreadful shift to stophim?”

“That there’s no knowing, nor will I hazard guesseswhere they serve no purpose. But soon or late, the prince will findhim out. The man was in a sense his guest, he will not let thedeath go unavenged.”

“You foretell another death,” said Heledd, withforceful bitterness. “What does that amend?”

And to that there was no answer that would not raise yet furtherquestions, probing all the obscure corners of right and wrong. Theywalked on together, to a higher point near the southern rim of thearmed camp, unhindered, though they were observed with brief,curious interest by many of the Danish warriors through whose linesthey passed. On the hillock, clear of the sparse trees, they haltedto survey the ground all about them.

Otir had chosen to make his landfall not on the sands to thenorth of the strait, where the coast of Anglesey extended into abroad expanse of dune and warren, none too safe in high tides, andterminating in a long bar of shifting sand and shingle, but to thesouth, where the enclosing peninsula of land stood higher anddryer, sheltered a deeper anchorage, and afforded a more defensiblecampsite, as well as more rapid access to the open sea in case ofneed. That it fronted more directly the strong base of Carnarvon,where Owain’s forces were mustered in strength, had notdeterred the invader. The shores of his chosen encampment were wellmanned, the landward approach compact enough to afford a formidabledefence under assault, and a broad bay of tidal water separated itfrom the town. Several rivers drained into this bight, Cadfaelrecalled, but at low tide they would be mere meandering streaks ofsilver in a treacherous waste of sand, not lightly to be braved byan army. Owain would have to bring his forces far round to thesouth to approach his enemy on safe ground. With some six or sevenmiles of marching between himself and Owain, and with a secureground base already gained, no doubt Cadwaladr felt himself almostinvulnerable.

Except that the six or seven miles seemed to have shrunk to asingle mile during the night. For when Cadfael topped the ridge ofbushes, and emerged with a clear view well beyond the rim of thecamp to southward, the open sea just glimmering with morning lighton his right hand, the pallid shallow waters and naked sands of thebay to his left, he caught in the distance, spaced across theexpanse of dune and field and scrubland, an unmistakable shimmer ofarms and faint sparkle of colored tents, a wall ensconcedovernight. The early light picked out traces of movement like thequiver of a passing wind rippling a cornfield, as men passedpurposefully to and fro about their unhurried business offortifying their chosen position. Out of range of lance or bow,Owain had brought up his army under cover of darkness to seal offthe top of this peninsula, and pen the Danish force within it.There was to be no time wasted. Thus forehead to forehead, like tworival rams measuring each other, one party or the other must openthe business in hand without delay.

It was Owain who opened dealings, and before themorning was out, while the Danish chiefs were still debating theappearance of his host so close to their boundaries, and whataction he might have in mind now that he was there. It was unlikelythat they had any qualms about their own security, having swiftaccess to the open sea at need, and ships the Welsh could notmatch, and doubtless, thought Cadfael, discreetly, drawn back fromthe knot of armed men gathered now on the knoll, they were alsospeculating as to how strong a garrison he had left to holdCarnarvon, and whether it would be worth staging a raid by waterupon the town if the prince attempted any direct assault here. Asyet they were not persuaded that he would risk any such costlyaction. They stood watching the distant lines narrowly, and waited.Let him speak first. If he was already minded to receive hisbrother into favor again, as he had done several times before, whymake any move to frustrate so desirable a resolution?

It was mid-morning, and a pale sun high, when two horsemen wereseen emerging from a slight dip in the sandy levels between the twohosts. Mere moving specks as yet, sometimes lost in hollows, thenbreasting the next rise, making steadily for the Danish lines.There were barely half a dozen dwellings in all that stretch ofdune and warren, since there was little usable pasture and no goodploughland, and doubtless those few settlements had been evacuatedin the night. Those two solitary figures were the sole inhabitantsof a no-man’s-land between armies, and as it appeared,charged with opening negotiations to prevent a pointless and costlycollision. Otir waited for their nearer approach with a face warybut content, Cadwaladr with braced body and tense countenance, butforeseeing a victory. It was in the arrogant spread of his feetbestriding Welsh ground, and the lofty lift of his head andnarrowing of his eyes to view the prince’s envoys.

Still at the limit of the range of lance or arrow, the secondrider halted and waited, screened by a thin belt of trees. Theother rode forward to within hailing distance, and there sat hishorse, looking up at the watchful group on the hillock abovehim.

“My lords,” the hail came up to them clearly,“Owain Gwynedd sends his envoy to deal with you on hisbehalf. A man of peace, unarmed, accredited by the prince. Will youreceive him?”

“Let him come in,” said Otir. “He shall behonourably received.”

The herald withdrew to a respectful distance. The second riderspurred forward towards the rim of the camp. As he drew near itbecame apparent that he was a small man, slender and young, androde with more purpose than grace, as if he had dealt rather withfarm horses than elegant mounts for princes and their ambassadors.Nearer still, and Cadfael, watching as ardently as any from thecrest of the dunes, drew deep breath and let it out again in agreat sigh. The rider wore the rusty black habit of theBenedictines, and showed the composed and intent young face ofBrother Mark. A man of peace indeed, messenger of bishops and nowof princes. No doubt in the world but he had begged this office forhimself, none that he had urged upon the prince the practicality ofmaking use of one whose motives could hardly be suspected, who hadnothing to gain or lose but his own freedom, life and peace ofmind, no axe to grind, no profit to make, no lord to placate inthis world, Welsh, Danish, Irish or any other. A man whose humilitycould move like a charmed barrier between the excesses of othermen’s pride.

Brother Mark reached the edge of the camp, and the guards stoodaside to let him pass. It was the young man Turcaill, twiceMark’s modest size, who stepped forward hospitably to takehis bridle, as he lighted down and set out briskly to climb theslight slope to where Otir and Cadwaladr waited to greet him.

In Otir’s tent, crammed to the entrance withthe chief among his forces, and every other man who could get atoehold close to the threshold, Brother Mark delivered himself ofwhat he had come to say, partly on his own behalf, partly on behalfof Owain Gwynedd. Aware by instinct of the common assumption amongthese freebooters that they had rights in the counsels of theirleaders, he let his voice ring out to reach the listeners crowdingclose outside the tent. Cadfael had made it his business to securea foothold near enough to hear what passed, and no one had raisedany objection to his presence. He was a hostage here, concernedafter his own fashion as they were after theirs. Every man with astake in the venture exercised his free right to guard hisposition.

“My lords,” said Brother Mark, taking his time tofind the right words and give them their due emphasis, “Ihave asked to undertake this embassage because I am not involvedupon any part in this quarrel which brings you into Wales. I bearno arms, and I have nothing to gain, but you and I and every manhere have much, all too much, to lose if this dispute ends inneedless bloodshed. If I have heard many words of blame upon eitherside, here I use none. I say only that I deplore enmity and hatredbetween brothers as between peoples, and hold that all disputesshould be resolved without the shedding of blood. And for theprince of Gwynedd, Owain ap Griffith ap Cynan, I say what he hasinstructed me to say. This quarrel holds good between two men only,and all others should hold back from a cause which is not theirs.Owain Gwynedd bids me say that if Cadwaladr his brother has agrievance, let him come and discuss it face to face, in guaranteedsafety to come and to return.”

“And I am to take his word for that, withoutsecurity?” Cadwaladr demanded. But by the guarded gleam inhis eyes he was not displeased with this approach.

“As you know very well that you can,” said Marksimply.

Yes, he knew it. Every man there knew it. Ireland had haddealings with Owain Gwynedd many times before this, and not alwaysby way of contention. He had kin over there who knew his value aswell as it was known in Wales. Cadwaladr’s face had a glossylook of contained pleasure, as though he found this first exchangemore than encouraging. Owain had taken warning, seeing the strengthof the invading force, and was preparing to be conciliatory.

“My brother is known for a man of his word,” heconceded graciously. “He must not think that I am afraid tomeet him face to face. Certainly I will go.”

“Wait a little, wait a little!” Otir shifted hisformidable bulk on the bench where he sat listening. “Not sofast! This issue may well have arisen between two men, but thereare more of us in it now, invited in upon terms to which I hold,and to which I will hold you, my friend. If you are content to letgo your assets on any man’s word, without security, I am notwilling to let go mine. If you leave here to enter Owain’scamp and submit yourself to Owain’s persuasion orOwain’s compulsion, then I require a hostage for your safereturn, not a hollow promise.”

“Keep me,” said Brother Mark simply. “I amwilling to remain as surety that Cadwaladr shall go and comewithout hindrance.”

“Were you so charged?” Otir demanded, with somesuspicion of the efficacy of such an exchange.

“No. But I offer it. It is your right, if you feartreachery. The prince would not deny you.”

Otir eyed the slight figure before him with a cautious degree ofapproval, but remained skeptical. “And does the prince placeon you, Brother, an equal value with his own kinsman and enemy? Ithink I might be tempted to secure the one bird in hand, and letthe other fly or founder.”

“I am in some sort Owain’s guest,” said Marksteadily, “and in some sort his courier. The value he sets onme is the value of his writ and his honor. I shall never be worthmore than I am as you see me here.”

Otir let loose a great bellow of laughter, and struck his palmstogether. “As good an answer as I need. Stay, then, Brother,and be welcome! You have a brother here already. Be free of mycamp, as he is, but I warn you, never venture too near the rim. Myguards have their orders. What I have taken I keep, until it isfairly redeemed. When the lord Cadwaladr returns, you have dueleave to go back to Owain, and give him such answer as we two heresee fit.”

It was, Cadfael thought, a deliberate warning to Cadwaladr, aswell as to Mark. There was no great trust between these two. IfOtir required a surety that Cadwaladr would come back unmolested,it was certainly not simply out of concern for Cadwaladr’ssafety, but rather taking care of Otir’s own bargain. The manwas his investment, to be guarded with care, but never, never, tobe wholly trusted. Once out of sight, who knew what use so rash aprinceling would make of whatever advantage circumstances offeredhim?

Cadwaladr rose and stretched his admirable body with sleek,pleasurable assurance. Whatever reservations others might have, hehad interpreted his brother’s approach as wholly encouraging.The threat to the peace of Gwynedd had been shrewdly assessed, andOwain was ready to give ground, by mere inches it might be, butsufficient to buy off chaos. And now all he, Cadwaladr, had to dowas go to the meeting, behave himself seemly before other eyes, ashe knew well how to do with grace, and in private surrender not onewhit of his demands, and he would regain all, every yardland thathad been taken from him, every man of his former following. Therecould be no other ending, when Owain spoke so softly and reasonablyat 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 wellas mine.”

Brother Mark sat with Cadfael in a hollow of thesand dunes overlooking the open sea, in the clear, almostshadowless light of afternoon. Before them the swathes of saud,sculptured by sea winds, went rolling down in waves of barren goldand coarse, tenacious grass to the water’s edge. At a safedepth offshore seven of Otir’s ships rode at anchor, four ofthem cargo hulls, squat and sturdy, capacious enough to accommodatea wealth of plunder if it came to wresting their price out ofGwynedd by force, the other three the largest of his longships. Thesmaller and faster vessels all lay within the mouth of the bay,where there was safe anchorage at need, and comfortable beachinginshore. Beyond the ships to westward the open, silvery waterextended, mirroring a pallid, featureless blue sky, but dappled inseveral places by the veiled gold of shoals.

“I knew,” said Mark, “that I should find youhere. But I would have come, even without that inducement. I was onmy way back to the meeting-place when they passed by. I saw youprisoners, you and the girl. The best I could do was make forCarnarvon, and carry that tale to Owain. He has your case well inmind. But what else he has in his mind, with this meeting he hassought, I do not know. It seems you have not fared so badly withthese Danes. I find you in very good heart. I confess I feared forHeledd.”

“There was no need,” Cadfael said. “It wasplain we had our value for the prince, and he would not suffer usto go unransomed, one way or another. They do not waste theirhostages. They have a reward promised, they are bent on earning itas cheaply as possible, they’ll do nothing to bring out thewhole of Gwynedd angry and in arms, not unless the whole ventureturns sour on them. Heledd has been offered no affront.”

“And has she told you what possessed her to run from us atAber, and how she contrived to leave the llys? And the horse sherode—for I saw it led along with the raiders, and that wasgood harness and gear from the prince’s stable—how didshe come by her horse?”

“She found it,” said Cadfael simply, “saddledand bridled and tethered among the trees outside the walls, whenshe slipped out at the gate behind the backs of the guards. Shesays she would have fled afoot, if need had been, but there was thebeast ready and waiting for her. And what do you make of that? ForI am sure she speaks truth.”

Mark gave his mind to the question very gravely for someminutes. “Bledri ap Rhys?” he hazarded dubiously.“Did he indeed intend flight, and make certain of a mountwhile the gates were open, during the day? And some other,suspicious of his stubborn adherence to his lord, prevented thedeparture? But there was nothing to show that he ever thought ofleaving. It seemed to me that the man was well content to beOwain’s guest, and have Owain’s hand cover him fromharm.”

“There is but one man who knows the truth,” saidCadfael, “and he has good reason to keep his mouth shut. Butfor all that, truth will out, or the prince will never let it rest.So I said to Heledd, and the girl says in reply: ‘Youforetell another death. How does that amend anything?’”

“She says well,” agreed Mark somberly. “Shehas better sense than most princes and many priests. I have not yetseen 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 rightthere, where the spit of sand juts out into the shallowsyonder.”

Brother Mark turned his head obediently to follow where Cadfaelpointed. The tongue of sand, tipped with a ridge of coarse blondgrass to show that it was not quite submerged even at a normal hightide, thrust out into the shallows on their right like a thin wristand hand, straining towards the longer arm that reached southwardfrom the shores of Anglesey. There was soil enough on its highestpoint to support a few scrub bushes, and there a minute outcrop ofrock stood up through the soft sand. Heledd was walking withouthaste along the stretched wrist towards this stony knuckle, at onepoint plashing ankle-deep through shallow water to reach it; andthere she sat down on the rock, gazing out to sea, towards theinvisible and unknown coast of Ireland. At this distance sheappeared very fragile, very vulnerable, a small, slender, solitaryfigure. It might have been thought that she was withdrawing herselfas far as possible from her captors, in a hapless defense against afate 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 hermind sought a kind of freedom. Brother Cadfael found the picturedeceptively appealing. Heledd was shrewdly aware of the strength,as well as the weakness, of her situation, and knew very well thatshe had little to fear, even had she been inclined to fear, whichdecidedly she was not. She knew, also, how far she could go inasserting her freedom of movement. She could not have approachedthe shores of the enclosed bay without being intercepted longbefore this. They knew she could swim. But this outer beach offeredher no possibility of escape. Here she could wade through theshallows, and no one would lift a finger to prevent. She was hardlylikely to strike out for Ireland, even if there had not been aflotilla of Danish ships offshore. She sat very still, her barearms wreathed about her knees, gazing westward, but with head soalertly erect that even at this distance she seemed to be listeningintently. Gulls wheeled and cried above her. The sea lay placid,sunlit, for the moment complacent as a cat. And Heledd waited andlistened.

“Did ever creature seem more forlorn!” Brother Markwondered, half aloud. “Cadfael, I must speak with her as soonas may be. In Carnarvon I have seen her bridegroom. He came hotfootfrom the island to join Owain, she should know that she is notforsaken. This Ieuan is a decent, stalwart man, and will put up agood fight for his bride. Even if Owain could be tempted to leavethe girl to her fate here—and that is impossible!—Ieuanwould never suffer it. If he had to venture for her with no forcesbut his own small following, I am sure he would never give up.Church and prince have offered her to him, and he is afire forher.”

“I do believe,” Cadfael said, “that they havefound her a good man, with all the advantages but one. A fatallack! He is not of her choosing.”

“She might do very much worse. When she meets him, she maybe wholly glad of him. And in this world,” Mark reflectedruefully, “women, like men, must make the best of what theycan get.”

“With thirty years and more behind her,” saidCadfael, “she might be willing to settle for that. Ateighteen—I doubt it!”

“If he comes in arms to carry her away—at eighteenthat might weigh with her,” Mark observed, but not withentire conviction in his tone.

Cadfael had turned his head and was looking back towards thecrest of the dunes, where a man’s figure had just breastedthe rise and was descending towards the beach. The long, generousstride, the exuberant thrust of the broad shoulders, the joyouscarriage of the flaxen head, bright in the sun, would have givenhim a name even at a greater distance.

“I would not wager on the issue,” said Cadfaelcautiously. “And even so, he comes a little late, for someoneelse 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 viewonly as he drew towards the spit of sand, and scorning to go thewhole way to walk it dryshod, waded cheerfully through the shallowsdirectly to where Heledd sat. Her back remained turned towards him,but doubtless her ears were pricked.

“Who is that?” demanded Mark, stiffening at thesight.

“That is one Turcaill, son of Turcaill, and if you saw usmarched away to his ship, you must have seen that lofty head go by.It can hardly be missed, he tops the rest of us by the length ofit.”

“That is the man who made her prisoner?” Mark wasfrowning down at Heledd’s minute island, where still shemaintained her pretence at being unaware of any intruder into hersolitude.

“It was you said it. He came in arms and carried heraway.”

“What does he want with her now?” Mark wondered,staring.

“No harm. He’s subject to authority here, but evenaside from that, no harm.” The young man had emerged in abrief flurry of spray beside Heledd’s rock, and dropped withlarge, easy grace into the sand at her feet. She gave him noacknowledgement, unless it could be considered an acknowledgementthat she turned a little away from him. Whatever they may have saidto each other could not be heard at such a distance, and it wasstrange that Cadfael should suddenly feel certain that this was notthe first time Heledd had sat there, nor the first time thatTurcaill had coiled his long legs comfortably into the sand besideher.

“They have a small private war going on,” he saidplacidly. “They both take pleasure in it. He loves to makeher spit fire, and she delights in flouting him.”

A children’s game, he thought, a lively battle that passesthe time pleasantly for both of them, all the more pleasantlybecause neither of them need take it seriously. By the same token,neither need we take it seriously.

It occurred to him afterwards that he was breaking his own rule,and wagering on an issue that was still in doubt.

 


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Ïîèñê ïî ñàéòó:



Âñå ìàòåðèàëû ïðåäñòàâëåííûå íà ñàéòå èñêëþ÷èòåëüíî ñ öåëüþ îçíàêîìëåíèÿ ÷èòàòåëÿìè è íå ïðåñëåäóþò êîììåð÷åñêèõ öåëåé èëè íàðóøåíèå àâòîðñêèõ ïðàâ. Ñòóäàëë.Îðã (0.019 ñåê.)