Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes

is for her safety, for once his own advancement is forgotten. If only for a moment!
    "Half the width of Wales from here," said Owain stoutly, "and I'll see to it they come no nearer. She heard the messenger, she knows better than to ride into their arms. This girl you bred is no fool."
    "But headstrong!" Meirion lamented, his voice recovered and loud with anguish. "Who knows what risk she might not venture? And if she has fled me now, she will still hide from me. This I never foresaw, that she could feel so driven and so beset."
    "I say again," said Owain firmly, "use my garrison, my stables, my men as you will, send out after news of her, for surely she cannot be far. As for the ways to westward, we will watch for her as we go. But go we must. You well know the need."
    Meirion drew himself back a little, erect at his tallest, and shook his broad shoulders.
    "Go with God, my lord, you can do no other. My girl's life is but one, and many depend upon you. She shall be my care. I dread I have not served her turn lately as well as I have served my own, or she would never have left me so."
    And he turned, with a hasty reverence, and strode away towards the hall, so precipitately that Cadfael could see him clambering fiercely into his boots and marching down to the stable to saddle his horse, and away to question everyone in the village outside the walls, in search of the dark daughter he had gone to some pains to despatch into distance, and now was all afire to recover. And after him, still silent, stonily expressionless, potentially disapproving, went Canon Morgant, a black recording angel.
    They were more than a mile along the coastal track towards Bangor before Brother Mark broke his deep and thoughtful silence. They had parted from the prince's force on leaving Aber, Owain bearing south-west to take the most direct road to Carnarvon, while Cadfael and Mark kept to the shore, with the shining, pallid plain of the shallows over Lavan Sands reflecting the morning light on their right hand, and the peaks of Fryri soaring one above another on their left, beyond the narrow green lowlands of the coast. Over the deep channel beyond the sands, the shores of Anglesey were bright in sunlight.
    "Did he know," Mark wondered aloud suddenly, "that the man was dead?"
    "He? Meirion? Who can tell? He was there among the rest of us when the groom cried out that a horse was missing, and Bledri was held to have taken him and made off to his master. So much he knew. He was not with us when we looked for and found the man dead, nor present in the prince's counsel. If the pair of them were safe in their beds they cannot have heard the news until this morning. Does it signify? Dead or fled, the man was out of Meirion's way, and could scandalise Morgant no longer. Small wonder he took it so calmly."
    "That is not what I meant," said Mark. "Did he know of his own knowledge? Before ever another soul knew it?" And as Cadfael was silent, he pursued hesitantly: "You had not considered it?"
    "It had crossed my mind," Cadfael admitted. "You think him capable of killing?"
    "Not in cool blood, not by stealth. But his blood is not cool, but all too readily heated. There are some who bluster and bellow, and rid their bile that way. Not he! He contains it, and it boils within him. It is likelier far to burst forth in action than in noise. Yes, I think him capable of killing. And if he did confront Bledri ap Rhys, he would meet only with provocation and disdain there. Enough to make for a violent end."
    "And could he go from that ending straight to his bed, in such unnerving company, and keep his countenance? Even sleep?"
    "Who says that he slept? He had only to be still and quiet. There was nothing to keep Canon Morgant wakeful."
    "I return you another question," said Cadfael. "Would Cuhelyn lie? He was not ashamed of his purpose. Why, then, should he lie about it when it came to light?"
    "The prince believes him," said Mark, thoughtfully frowning.
    "And you?"
    "Any man may lie, not even for very grave reason. Even Cuhelyn may. But I do not think he would lie to Owain. Or to Hywel. He has given his second fealty, as absolute as the first. But there is another question to be asked concerning Cuhelyn. No, there are two. Had he told anyone what he knew about Bledri ap Rhys? And if he would not lie to Hywel, who had salved him and brought him to an honourable service, would he lie for him? For if he did tell anyone that he recognised Bledri as one among his