Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes

disappointed him. Cuhelyn would remain here in Gwynedd, and in time surely be glad that he had not had to do murder with his own hands to see Anarawd avenged, at least upon Bledri ap Rhys. Princes, who can depute other hands to do their less savoury work for them, commonly escape all temporary judgements, but not the last.
    And Ieuan ab Ifor would simply have to resign himself to losing a delusory image of a submissive wife, a creature Heledd could never become. He had barely seen or spoken with her, his heart could scarcely be broken at losing her, however his dignity might be bruised. There were pleasant women in Anglesey who could console him, if he did but look about him here at home.
    And she... she had what she wanted, and she was where she wanted to be, and not where others had found it convenient to place her. Owain had laughed when he heard of it, though considerately he had kept a grave face in Ieuan's presence. And there was one more waiting in Aber who would have the last word in the story of Heledd.
    The last word, when Canon Meirion had heard and digested the tale of his daughter's choice, came after a deep-drawn breath of relief for her safety at least, or was it for his own deliverance?
    "Well, well!" said Meirion, knotting and unknotting his long hands. "There is a sea between." True, and there was relief for both of them in that. But then he continued: "I shall never see her again!" and there was as much of grief in it as of satisfaction. Cadfael was always to be in two minds about Canon Meirion.
    They came to the border of the shire in the early evening of the second day, and on the principle that it was as well to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, turned aside to pass the night with Hugh at Maesbury. The horses would be grateful for the rest, and Hugh would be glad to hear at first hand what had passed in Gwynedd, and how the Norman bishop was rubbing along with his Welsh flock. There was also the pleasure of spending a few placid hours with Aline and Giles, in a domesticity all the more delightful to contemplate because they had forsworn it for themselves, along with the world outside the Order. Some such unguarded remark Cadfael made, sitting contentedly by Hugh's hearth with Giles on his knees. And Hugh laughed at him.
    "You, forswear the world? And you just back from gallivanting to the farthest western edge of Wales? If they manage to keep you within the pale for more than a month or two, even after this jaunt, it will be a marvel. I've known you restless after a week of strict observance. Now and again I've wondered if some day you wouldn't set out for Saint Giles, and end up in Jerusalem."
    "Oh, no, not that!" said Cadfael, with serene certainty. "It's true, now and again my feet itch for the road." He was looking deep into himself, where old memories survived, and remained, after their fashion, warming and satisfying, but of the past, never to be repeated, no longer desirable. "But when it comes down to it," said Cadfael, with profound content, "as roads go, the road home is as good as any."