Brother Cadfael 09: Dead Man's Ransom

the morning, though he was awake in good time; he was as good at interpreting a nudge in the ribs as the next man. He heard the horsemen when they came, and the voice of the portress and other voices, Welsh and English both, and among them, surely, the voice of John Miller. But he did not rise and go out to speed them on their way.
    When he came forth for Prime, the travellers, he reckoned, must be two hours gone on their way into Wales, armed with Hugh's safe-conduct to cover the near end of the journey, well mounted and provided. The portress had conducted them to the cell where their charge, Elis ap Cynan, would be found in the nearer bed, and John Miller had carried him out in his arms, warmly swathed, and bestowed him in the litter sent to bear him home. Mother Mariana herself had risen to witness and bless their going.
    After Prime Cadfael went to tend his remaining patient. As well to continue just as in the previous days. Two clear hours should be ample start, and someone had to be the first to go in, no, not the first, for certainly Melicent was there before him, but the first of the others, the potential enemy, the uninitiated.
    He opened the door of the cell, and halted just within the threshold. In the dim light two roused, pale faces confronted him, almost cheek to cheek. Melicent sat on the edge of the bed, supporting the occupant in her arm, for he had raised himself to sit upright, with a cloak draped round his naked shoulders, to meet this moment erect. The bandage swathing his cracked rib heaved to a quickened and apprehensive heartbeat, and the eyes that fixed steadily upon Cadfael were not greenish hazel, but almost as dark as the tangle of black curls.
    'Will you let the lord Beringar know,' said Elis ap Cynan, 'that I have sent away my foster brother out of his hands, and am here to answer for all that may be held against him. He put his neck in a noose for me, so do I now for him. Whatever the law wills can be done to me in his place.' It was said. He drew a deep breath, and winced at the stab it cost him, but the sharp expectancy of his face eased and warmed now the first step was taken, and there was no more need of any concealment.
    'I am sorry I had to deceive Mother Mariana,' he said. 'Say I entreat her forgiveness, but there was no other way in fairness to all here. I would not have any other blamed for what I have done.' And he added with sudden impulsive simplicity: 'I'm glad it was you who came. Send to the town quickly, I shall be glad to have this over. And Eliud will be safe now.'
    'I'll do your errand,' said Cadfael gravely, 'both your errands. And ask no questions.' Not even whether Eliud had been in the plot, for he already knew the answer. From all those who had found it necessary to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear, Eliud stood apart in his despairing innocence and lamentable guilt. Someone among those bearers of his on the road to Wales might have a frantically distressed invalid on his hands when the long, deep sleep drew to a close. But at the end of the enforced flight, whatever measures Owam Gwynedd took in the matter, there was Cristina waiting.
    'I have provided as well as I could,' said Elis earnestly. 'They'll send word ahead, she'll come to meet him. It will be a hard enough furrow, but it will be life.' A deal of growing up seemed to have been done since Elis ap Cynan first came raiding to Godric's Ford. This was not the boy who had avenged his nervous fears in captivity by tossing Welsh insults at his captors with an innocent face, nor the girl who had cherished dreamy notions of taking the veil before ever she knew what marriage or vocation meant.
    'The affair seems to have been well managed,' said Cadfael judicially. 'Very well, I'll go and make it known, here and in Shrewsbury.' He had the door half, closed behind him when Elis called: 'And then will you come and help me do on my clothes? I would like to meet Hugh Beringar decent and on my feet.'
    And that was what he did, when Hugh came in the afternoon, grimfaced and blackbrowed, to probe the loss of his felon. In Mother Mariana's tiny parlour, dark, timbered and bare, Elis and Melicent stood side by side to face him. Cadfael had got the boy into his hose and shirt and coat, and Melicent had combed out the tangles from his hair, since he could not do it himself without pain. Sister Magdalen, after one measuring glance as he took his first unsteady steps, had provided him a staff to reinforce his treacherous