Brother Cadfael 09: Dead Man's Ransom

grace if you send her father back to her. And as I know, you're just as eager to get home yourself,' he said with emphasis.
    Elis removed his gaze with an effort from the corner where Melicent Prestcote had disappeared and blinked uncomprehendingly, as though he had just been startled out of a deep sleep. 'Yes,' he said uncertainly, and walked on still in a daze.
    In the middle of the afternoon, while Cadfael was busy about replenishing his stock of winter cordials in his workshop in the herb garden, Hugh came in bringing a chilly draught with him before he could close the door against the east wind. He warmed his hands over the brazier, helped himself uninvited to a beaker from Cadfael's wine, flask, and sat down on the broad bench against the wall. He was at home in this dim, timber, scented, herb, rustling miniature world where Cadfael spent so much of his time, and did his best thinking.
    'I've just come from the abbot,' said Hugh, 'and borrowed you from him for a few days.'
    'And he was willing to lend me?' asked Cadfael with interest, busy stoppering a still, warm jar.
    'In a good cause and for a sound reason, yes. In the matter of finding and recovering Gilbert he's as earnest as I am. And the sooner we know whether such an exchange is possible, the better for all.'
    Cadfael could not but agree with that. He was thinking, uneasily but not too anxiously as yet, about the morning's visitation. A vision so far from everything Welsh and familiar might well dazzle young, impressionable eyes. There was a prior pledge involved, the niceties of Welsh honour, and the more bitter consideration that Gilbert Prestcote had an old and flourishing hatred against the Welsh, which certain of that race heartily reciprocated.
    'I have a border to keep and a garrison to conserve,' said Hugh, nursing his beaker in both hands to warm it, 'and neighbours across the border drunk on their own prowess, and all too likely to be running wild in search of more conquests. Getting word through to Owain Gwynedd is a risky business and we all know it. I would be dubious of letting a captain loose on that mission who lacks Welsh, for I might never see hide nor hair of him again. Even a well armed party of five or six could vanish. You're Welsh, and have your habit for a coat of mail, and once across the border you have kin everywhere. I reckon you a far better hazard than any battle party. With a small escort, in case of masterless men, and your Welsh tongue and net of kindred to tackle any regular company that crosses you. What do you say?'
    'I should be ashamed, as a Welshman,' said Cadfael comfortably, 'if I could not recite my pedigree back sixteen degrees, and some of my kin are here across the border of this shire, a fair enough start towards Gwynedd.'
    'Ah, but there's word that Owain may not be so far distant as the wilds of Gwynedd. With Ranulf of Chester so set up in his gains, and greedy for more, the prince has come east to keep an eye on his own. So the rumours say. There's even a whisper he may be our side of the Berwyns, in Cynllaith or Glyn Ceiriog, keeping a close watch on Chester and Wrexham.'
    'It would be like him,' agreed Cadfael. 'He thinks large and forwardly. What is the commission? Let me hear it.'
    'To ask of Owain Gwynedd whether he has, or can take from his brother, the person of my sheriff, taken at Lincoln. And if he has him, or can find and possess him, whether he will exchange him for this young kinsman of his, Elis ap Cynan. You know, and can report best of any, that the boy is whole and well. Owain may have whatever safeguards he requires, since all men know that he's a man of his word, but regarding me he may not be certain of the same. He may not so much as know my name. Though he shall know me better, if he will have dealings over this. Will you go?'
    'How soon?' asked Cadfael, putting his jar aside to cool, and sitting down beside his friend.
    'Tomorrow, if you can delegate all here.'
    'Mortal man should be able and willing to delegate at any moment,' said Cadfael soberly, 'since mortal he is. Oswin is grown wonderfully deft and exact among the herbs, more than I ever hoped for when first he came to me. And Brother Edmund is master of his own realm, and well able to do without me. If Father Abbot frees me, I'm yours. What I can, I'll do.'
    'Then come up to the castle in the morning, after Prime, and you shall have a good horse under you.' He knew that would be a lure and a delight, and smiled at seeing it