Read Online A Morbid Taste for Bones by Ellis Peters - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellis Peters
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willing to pass the time of day in his own language with a visiting monk, she was concerned about having betrayed her accomplishment to a Welsh-speaking stranger, who might innocently blurt it abroad locally. She'd hardly want to let slip how often she's been meeting Engelard in secret, if she's biding her time, and keeping father and lover from each other's throat till she can get her own way with them. And who's to say which of the three will give way first, where all look immovable?
"It seems you've your own troubles here in Gwytherin, let alone what we've brought with us." he said, when he parted from Cai.
"God resolves all given time," said Cai philosophically and trudged away into darkness. And Cadfael returned along the path with the uncomfortable feeling that God, nevertheless, required a little help from men, and what he mostly got was hindrance.
All the free men of Gwytherin came to the meeting next day, and their womenfolk and all the villein community came to the Mass beforehand. Father Huw named the chief among them softly to Brother Cadfael as they made their appearance. He had seldom had such a congregation.
"Here is Rhisiart, with his daughter and his steward, and the girl's waiting-woman."
Rhisiart was a big, bluff, hearty-looking man of about fifty, high-coloured and dark-haired, with a short, grizzled beard, and bold features that could be merry or choleric, fierce or jovial, but were far too expressive ever to be secretive or mean. His stride was long and impetuous, and his smile quick in response when he was greeted. His dress hardly distinguished him from any of the other free landholders who came thronging into the church, being plain as any, but of good homespun cloth. To judge from his bright face, he came without prejudice, willing to listen, and for all his thwarted family plans, he looked an expansively happy man, proud and fond of his daughter.
As for the girl, she followed at his heels modestly, with poised head and serene eyes. She had shoes on for this occasion, and her hair was brushed and braided into a burnished dark coil on her neck, and covered with a linen coif, but there was no mistaking her. This was the urchin of the oak tree, and the greatest heiress and most desirable prize in marriage in all this countryside.
The steward was an older man, grey-headed and balding, with a soft, good-humoured face. "He is Rhisiart's kinsman by marriage," whispered Huw, "his wife's elder brother."
"And the other girl is Sioned's tirewoman?" No need to name her, he already knew her name. Dimpled and smiling, Annest followed her friend with demure little steps into the church, and the sun stroked all the bright, silvery grain in the sheaf of her pale hair. "She is the smith's niece," said Father Huw helpfully. "A good girl, she visits him often since he buried his wife, and bakes for him."
"Bened's niece?" Brother John pricked his ears, and looked after the shapely waist and glowing hair with fascinated eyes, no doubt hoping there would be a baking day before they had to leave Gwytherin. The lodging arrangements had certainly been inspired, though whether by an angel or an imp remained to be seen.
"Lower your eyes, brother," said Jerome chidingly. "It is not seemly to look so straightly upon women."
"And how did he know there were women passing," whispered Brother John rebelliously, "if his own eyes were so dutifully lowered?"
Brother Columbanus, at least, was standing as prescribed in the presence of females, with pale hands prayerfully folded, and lofty eyelids lowered, his gaze upon the grass.
"And here comes Cadwallon now," said Father Huw. "These good brothers already know him, of course. And his lady. And his son Peredur."
So this young man, loping after his parents with the long, springy gait of a yearling roebuck, was the chosen husband for Sioned, the lad she liked well enough, and had known familiarly all her life, but was in no way inclined to marry. It occurred to Cadfael that he
"It seems you've your own troubles here in Gwytherin, let alone what we've brought with us." he said, when he parted from Cai.
"God resolves all given time," said Cai philosophically and trudged away into darkness. And Cadfael returned along the path with the uncomfortable feeling that God, nevertheless, required a little help from men, and what he mostly got was hindrance.
All the free men of Gwytherin came to the meeting next day, and their womenfolk and all the villein community came to the Mass beforehand. Father Huw named the chief among them softly to Brother Cadfael as they made their appearance. He had seldom had such a congregation.
"Here is Rhisiart, with his daughter and his steward, and the girl's waiting-woman."
Rhisiart was a big, bluff, hearty-looking man of about fifty, high-coloured and dark-haired, with a short, grizzled beard, and bold features that could be merry or choleric, fierce or jovial, but were far too expressive ever to be secretive or mean. His stride was long and impetuous, and his smile quick in response when he was greeted. His dress hardly distinguished him from any of the other free landholders who came thronging into the church, being plain as any, but of good homespun cloth. To judge from his bright face, he came without prejudice, willing to listen, and for all his thwarted family plans, he looked an expansively happy man, proud and fond of his daughter.
As for the girl, she followed at his heels modestly, with poised head and serene eyes. She had shoes on for this occasion, and her hair was brushed and braided into a burnished dark coil on her neck, and covered with a linen coif, but there was no mistaking her. This was the urchin of the oak tree, and the greatest heiress and most desirable prize in marriage in all this countryside.
The steward was an older man, grey-headed and balding, with a soft, good-humoured face. "He is Rhisiart's kinsman by marriage," whispered Huw, "his wife's elder brother."
"And the other girl is Sioned's tirewoman?" No need to name her, he already knew her name. Dimpled and smiling, Annest followed her friend with demure little steps into the church, and the sun stroked all the bright, silvery grain in the sheaf of her pale hair. "She is the smith's niece," said Father Huw helpfully. "A good girl, she visits him often since he buried his wife, and bakes for him."
"Bened's niece?" Brother John pricked his ears, and looked after the shapely waist and glowing hair with fascinated eyes, no doubt hoping there would be a baking day before they had to leave Gwytherin. The lodging arrangements had certainly been inspired, though whether by an angel or an imp remained to be seen.
"Lower your eyes, brother," said Jerome chidingly. "It is not seemly to look so straightly upon women."
"And how did he know there were women passing," whispered Brother John rebelliously, "if his own eyes were so dutifully lowered?"
Brother Columbanus, at least, was standing as prescribed in the presence of females, with pale hands prayerfully folded, and lofty eyelids lowered, his gaze upon the grass.
"And here comes Cadwallon now," said Father Huw. "These good brothers already know him, of course. And his lady. And his son Peredur."
So this young man, loping after his parents with the long, springy gait of a yearling roebuck, was the chosen husband for Sioned, the lad she liked well enough, and had known familiarly all her life, but was in no way inclined to marry. It occurred to Cadfael that he
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