Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes

"Another like Hywel."
    "There cannot be many such in this world," said Mark, staring. Beauty in others he observed with a particular, ungrudging delight, having always felt himself to be the plainest and most insignificant of mortals.
    "There is but one such, lad, as you know full well, for there is but one of any man that ever lived, black or fair, And yet," owned Cadfael, reconsidering the uniqueness of the physical envelope if not of the inhabiting soul, "we go close to duplicating this one, there at home in Shrewsbury. The boy's name is Rhun. You might look at our Brother Rhun, since Saint Winifred perfected him, and think one or the other a miraculous echo."
    Even to the name! And surely, thought Mark, recalling with pleasure the youngest of those who had been his brothers in Shrewsbury, this is how the pattern of a prince, the son of a prince, should look, and no less, a saint, the protege of a saint. All radiance and clarity, all openness and serenity in the face. No wonder his father, recognising a prodigy, loves him better than all others.
    "I wonder," said Cadfael half to himself, unwittingly casting a shadow athwart Mark's contemplation of light, "how her two will look upon him, when they're all grown."
    "It is impossible," Mark said firmly, "that they should ever wish him harm, even if land-greed and power-greed have sometimes turned brothers into enemies. This youth no one could hate."
    Close at his shoulder a cool, dry voice observed ruefully: "Brother, I envy your certainty, but I would not for the world share it, the fall is too mortal. There is no one who cannot be hated, against whatever odds. Nor anyone who cannot be loved, against all reason."
    Cuhelyn had approached them unnoticed, threading a way through the stir of men and horses, hounds and servants and children. For all his black intensity, he was a very quiet man, unobtrusive in all his comings and goings. Cadfael turned in response to the unexpected observation, just in time to see the intent glance of the young man's shrewd eyes, presently fastened with a wry, indulgent warmth upon the boy Rhun, sharpen and chill as another figure passed between, and follow the transit with a fixity that suggested to Cadfael, at first, nothing more than detached interest, and in a matter of seconds froze into composed but indubitable hostility. Perhaps even more than hostility, a measure of restrained but implacable suspicion.
    A young man of about Cuhelyn's years, and by no means unlike him in build and colouring, though thinner in feature and somewhat longer in the reach, had been standing a little apart, watching the bustle all round him, his arms folded and his shoulders leaned against the wall of the undercroft, as though this tumultuous arrival concerned him rather less than the rest of the household. From this detached stance he had moved suddenly, crossing between Cuhelyn and the linked pair, father and son, and cutting off the view of Rhun's radiant face. Something to be seen here certainly mattered to this young man, after all, someone had been sighted who meant more to him than clerics from Saint Asaph or the young noblemen of Owain's guard. Cadfael followed his vehement passage through the press, and saw him take one dismounting horseman by the sleeve. The very touch, the very encounter, that had drawn taut all the lines of Cuhelyn's countenance. Bledri ap Rhys swung about, face to face with the youth who accosted him, visibly recognised an acquaintance, and guardedly acknowledged him. No very exuberant welcome, but on both parts there was one momentary flash of warmth and awareness, before Bledri made his visage formally blank, and the boy accepted the suggestion, and began what seemed to be the most current of court civilities. No need, apparently, to pretend they did not know each other well enough, but every need to keep the acquaintance on merely courteous terms.
    Cadfael looked along his shoulder, and briefly, at Cuhelyn's face, and asked simply: "Gwion?"
    "Gwion!"
    "They were close? These two?"
    "No. No closer than two must be who hold by the same lord."
    "That might be close enough for mischief," said Cadfael bluntly. "As you told me, your man has given his word not to attempt escape. He has not pledged himself to give up his allegiance beyond that."
    "Natural enough he should welcome the sight of another liegeman," said Cuhelyn steadily. "His word he will keep. As for Bledri ap Rhys, the terms of his sojourn with us, I will see kept."