Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes

not please her that the canon should have so little confidence in her judgement as to suppose she would need help in dealing with a passing piece of impudence from this questionably welcome visitor. And Bledri was quite sufficiently accomplished in the study of women to catch the drift of her mild malice, and play the accomplice, for her gratification as readily as for his own amusement.
    "Sir," said Meirion with weighty and forbidding dignity, curbing his rage, "my daughter is affianced, and shortly to be married. Here in his lordship's court you will treat her and all other women with respect." And to Heledd he said brusquely, and with a sharp gesture of his hand towards their lodging under the far wall of the enclave: "Go in, girl! The hour is late already, you should be withindoors."
    Heledd, without haste or discomposure, gave them a slight, curt inclination of her head to share between them, and turned and walked away. The rear view of her as she went was expressive, and disdainful of men in general.
    "And a very fine girl, too," said Bledri approvingly, watching her departure. "You may be proud of your getting, Father. I hope you are marrying her to a man who'll appreciate beauty. The small courtesy of hefting the lass down the steps to level ground can hardly have blemished his bargain." His clear, incisive voice had dwelt fondly on the word 'Father', well aware of the dual sting. "Well, what the eye has not seen, the heart need not grieve, and I hear the bridegroom is well away in Anglesey. And no doubt you can keep a still tongue where this match is concerned." The plain implication was there, very sweetly insinuated. No, Canon Meirion was exceedingly unlikely to make any move that could jeopardise his cleansed and celibate and promising future. Bledri ap Rhys was very quick on the uptake, and well informed about the bishop's clerical reforms. He had even sensed Heledd's resentment at being so ruthlessly disposed of, and her impulse to take her revenge before departing.
    "Sir, you are a guest of prince and bishop, and as such are expected to observe the standards due to their hospitality." Meirion was stiff as a lance, and his voice thinned and steely as a sword-blade. Within his well-schooled person there was a ferocious Welsh temper under arduous control. "If you do not, you will rue it. Whatever my own situation, I will see to that. Do not approach my daughter, or attempt to have any further ado with her. Your courtesies are unwelcome."
    "Not, I think, to the lady," said Bledri, with the most complacent of smiles implicit in the very tone of his voice. "She has a tongue, and a palm, and I fancy would have been ready enough to use both if I had caused her any displeasure. I like a lass of spirit. If she grants me occasion, I shall tell her so. Why should she not enjoy the admiration she is entitled to, these few hours on the road to her marriage?"
    The brief silence fell like a stone between them; Cadfael felt the air quiver with the tension of their stillness. Then Canon Meirion said, through gritted teeth and from a throat constricted with the effort to contain his rage: "My lord, do not think this cloth I wear will prove any protection to you if you affront my honour, or my daughter's good name. Be warned, and keep away from her, or you shall have excellent cause to regret it. Though perhaps," he ended, even lower and more malevolently, "too brief time!"
    "Time enough," said Bledri, not noticeably disturbed by the palpable threat, "for all the regretting I'm likely to do. It's something I've had small practice in. Goodnight to your reverence!" And he passed by Meirion so close their sleeves brushed, perhaps intentionally, and began to climb the steps to the hall door. And the canon, wrenching himself out of his paralysis of rage with an effort, composed his dignity about him as best he could, and stalked away towards his own door.
    Cadfael returned to his own quarters very thoughtfully, and recounted the whole of this small incident to Brother Mark, who was lying wakeful and wide-eyed after his prayers, by some private and peculiar sensitivity of his own already aware of turbulent cross-currents trembling on the night air. He listened, unsurprised.
    "How much, would you say, Cadfael, is his concern only for his own advancement, how much truly for his daughter? For he does feel guilt towards her. Guilt that he resents her as a burden to his prospects, guilt at loving her less than she loves him. A guilt