Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes

people to the gently rising hillside above, "they are entertaining more important guests than us."
    Cadfael followed where Mark was staring, and saw in the shadow of the hills points of colour patterning a high green level above the little town. Bright pavilions and fluttering pennants spread across the green, not the rough and ready tents of a military encampment, but the furnishings of a princely household.
    "Not an army," said Cadfael, "but a court. We've strayed into lofty company. Had we not better go quickly and find out if two more are welcome? For there may be business afoot that concerns more than staunch brotherhood among bishops. Though if the prince's officers are keeping close at Gilbert's elbow, a reminder from Canterbury may not come amiss. However cool the compliment!"
    They moved forward into the precinct and looked about them. The bishop's palace was a new timber building, hall and chambers, and a number of new small dwellings on either side. It was the better part of a year since Gilbert had been consecrated at Lambeth, and clearly there had been hasty preparations to restore some semblance of a cathedral enclave in order to receive him decently. Cadfael and Mark were dismounting in the court when a young man threaded a brisk way to them through the bustle, and beckoned a groom after him to take their horses.
    "Brothers, may I be of service?"
    He was young, surely not more than twenty, and certainly not one of Gilbert's ecclesiastics, rather something of a courtier in his dress, and wore gemstones about a fine, sturdy throat. He moved and spoke with an easy confidence and grace, bright of countenance and fair in colouring, his hair a light, reddish brown. A tall fellow, with something about him that seemed to Cadfael elusively familiar, though he had certainly never seen him before. He had addressed them first in Welsh, but changed easily to English after studying Mark from head to foot in one brilliant glance.
    "Men of your habit are always welcome. Have you ridden far?"
    "From Lichfield," said Mark, "with a brotherly letter and gift for Bishop Gilbert from my bishop of Coventry and Lichfield."
    "He will be heartily glad," said the young man, with surprising candour, "for he may be feeling the need of reinforcements." His flashing grin was mischievous but amiable. "Here, let me get someone to bring your saddle-rolls after us, and I'll bring you where you can rest and take refreshment. It will be a while yet to supper."
    A gesture from him brought servants running to unstrap the pack-rolls and follow hard on the visitors' heels as the young man led them across the court to one of the new cells built out from the hall.
    "I am without rights to command here, being a guest myself, but they have got used to me." It was said with an assured and slightly amused confidence, as if he knew good reason why the bishop's circle should accommodate him, and was forbearing enough not to presume upon it too far. "Will this suffice?"
    The lodging was small but adequate, furnished with beds, bench and table, and full of the scent of seasoned wood freshly tooled. New brychans were piled on the beds, and the smell of good wool mingled with the newness of timber.
    "I'll send someone with water," said their guide, "and find one of the canons. His lordship has been selecting where he can, but his demands come high. He's having trouble in filling up his chapter. Be at home here, Brothers, and someone will come to you."
    And he was gone, with his blithe long strides and springing tread, and they were left to settle and stretch at ease after their day in the saddle.
    "Water?" said Mark, pondering this first and apparently essential courtesy. "Is that by way of taking salt, here in Wales?"
    "No, lad. A people that goes mostly afoot knows the value of feet and the dust and aches of travel. They bring water for us to bathe our feet. It is a graceful way of asking: Are you meaning to bide overnight? If we refuse it, we intend only a brief visit in courtesy. If we accept it, we are guests of the house from that moment."
    "And that young lord? For he's too fine for a servant, and certainly no cleric. A guest, he said. What sort of an assembly have we blundered into, Cadfael?"
    They had left the door wide for the pleasure of the evening light and the animation to be viewed about the court. A girl came threading her way through the purposeful traffic with a long, striding grace in her step, bearing before her a pitcher in a bowl.