Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood

welcome."
    "Then he might not wish to take such a mood home with him, not until he'd come to terms with it. Hurt things hide until the fright and pain wears off. Tell me all that happened at this dinner. It seems Meurig has been a go-between for you, and tried to bring him to make peace. Some mention was made of a former visit ..."
    "Not to me," said Richildis sadly. "The two of them came to bring down the lectern Martin has been making for the Lady Chapel, and Meurig took my boy with him to see the old brother, his kinsman. He tried to persuade Edwin then to come and see me, but he would not. Meurig is a good fellow, he's done his best. Today he did prevail on Edwin to come, but see what came of it! Gervase was in high glee about it, and monstrously unfair - he taunted my boy with coming like a beggar to plead to be restored, and get his inheritance back, which was never Edwin's intent. He'd die sooner! Tamed at last, are you, says Gervase! Well, if you go down on your knees, he says, and beg pardon for your frowardness who knows, I might relent yet. Crawl, then, he says, and beg for your manor! And so it went, until Edwin blazed out that he was not and never would be tamed by a wicked, tyrannical, vicious old monster - which I grant you," she sighed hopelessly, "Gervase was not, only a stubborn and ill-tempered one. Oh, I can't tell you all they yelled at each other! But I do say this, it took a lot of goading today to get Edwin to blaze, and that's credit to him. For my sake he would have borne it, but it was too much for him. So he said what he had to say, very loudly, and Gervase flung the platter at him, and a beaker, too, and then Aldith and Aelfric and Meurig came rushing in to try and help me calm him down. And Edwin stamped out - and that was all."
    Cadfael was silent for a moment, ruminating on these other members of the household. A hot-tempered, proud, affronted boy seemed to him a possible suspect had Bonel been struck down with fist or even dagger, but a very unlikely poisoner. True, the lad had been twice with Meurig in the infirmary, and probably seen where the medicines were kept, he had a reason for action, he had the opportunity; but the temperament for a poisoner, secret, dark and bitter, surely that was an impossibility to such a youngster, by all his breeding and training open, confident, with a fine conceit of himself. There were, after all, these others, equally present.
    "The girl, Aldith - you've had her long?"
    "She's distant kin to me," said Richildis, almost startled into a smile. "I've known her from a child, and took her when she was left orphan, two years ago. She's like my own girl."
    It was what he had supposed, seeing Aldith so protective while they waited for the law. "And Meurig? I hear he was also of Master Bonel's household once, before he went to work for your son-in-law."
    "Meurig - ah, well, you see, it's this way with Meurig. His mother was a Welsh maidservant at Mallilie, and like so many such, bore her master a by-blow. Yes, he's Gervase's natural son. My lord's first wife must have been barren, for Meurig is the only child he ever fathered, unless there are one or two we don't know of, somewhere about the shire there. He maintained Angharad decently until she died, and he had Meurig taken care of, and gave him employment on the manor. I was not easy about him," she admitted, "when we married. Such a good, willing, sensible young man, and with no claims on any part of what was his father's, it seemed hard. Not that he ever complained! But I asked him if he would not be glad to have a trade of his own, that would last him for life, and he said he would. So I persuaded Gervase to let Martin take him, to teach him all he knew. And I did ask him," said Richildis, with a quaver in her voice, "to keep a watch on Edwin, after he ran from us, and try to bring him to make terms with Gervase. I never expected my son to give way, for he's able, too, and he could make his own road. I just wanted to have him back. There was a time when he blamed me - as having to choose between them, and choosing my husband. But I'd married him ... and I was sorry for him ..." Her voice snapped off short, and she was silent a moment. "I've been glad of Meurig, he has stood friend to us both."
    "He got on well enough with your husband, did he? There was no bad blood between them?"
    "Why, no, none in the world!" She was astonished at the question. "They rubbed along together quietly, and never any