Read Online The Summer of the Danes by Ellis Peters - Free Book Online

him, he could speed his departing guests, thus
augmented by one, and console himself that he had done all a man could do to
bring about reconciliation. What followed, whatever it might be, was no
responsibility of his.
    The
mead went round amicably, and the prince’s harper sang the greatness and
virtues of Owain’s line and the beauty of Gwynedd. And after him, to Cadfael’s
respectful surprise, Hywel ab Owain rose and took the harp, and improvised
mellifluously on the women of the north. Poet and bard as well as warrior, this
was undoubtedly an admirable shoot from that admirable stem. He knew what he
was doing with his music. All the tensions of the evening dissolved into amity
and song. Or if they survived, at least the bishop, comforted and relaxed, lost
all awareness of them.
     
    In
the privacy of their own lodging, with the night still drowsily astir outside
the half-open door, Brother Mark sat mute and thoughtful on the edge of his bed
for some moments, pondering all that had passed, until at last he said, with
the conviction of one who has reviewed all circumstances and come to a firm
conclusion: “He meant nothing but good. He is a good man.”
    “But
not a wise one,” said Cadfael from the doorway. The night without was dark,
without a moon, but the stars filled it with a distant, blue glimmer that
showed where occasional shadows crossed from building to building, making for
their rest. The babel of the day was now an almost-silence, now and then
quivering to the murmur of low voices tranquilly exchanging goodnights. Rather
a tremor on the air than an audible sound. There was no wind. Even the softest
of movements vibrated along the cords of the senses, making silence eloquent.
    “He
trusts too easily,” Mark agreed with a sigh. “Integrity expects integrity.”
    “And
you find it missing in Bledri ap Rhys?” Cadfael asked respectfully. Brother
Mark could still surprise him now and then.
    “I
doubt him. He comes too brazenly, knowing once received he is safe from any
harm or affront. And he feels secure enough in Welsh hospitality to threaten.”
    “So
he did,” said Cadfael thoughtfully. “And passed it off as a reminder of
heaven’s displeasure. And what did you make of that?”
    “He
drew in his horns,” said Mark positively, “knowing he had gone a step too far.
But there was more in that than a pastoral warning. And truly I wonder where
this Cadwaladr is now, and what he is up to. For I think that was a plain
threat of trouble here and now if Owain refused his brother’s demands.
Something is in the planning, and this Bledri knows of it.”
    “I
fancy,” said Cadfael placidly, “that the prince is of your opinion also, or at
least has the possibility well in mind. You heard him. He has given due notice
to all his men that Bledri ap Rhys is to remain in the royal retinue here, in
Aber, and on the road between. If there’s mischief planned, Bledri, if he can’t
be made to betray it, can be prevented from playing any part in it, or letting
his master know the prince has taken the warning, and is on his guard. Now I
wonder did Bledri read as much into it, and whether he’ll go to the trouble to
put it to the test?”
    “He
did not seem to me to be put out of his stride,” said Mark doubtfully. “If he
did understand it so, it did not disquiet him. Can he have provoked it
purposely?”
    “Who
knows? It may suit him to go along with us to Aber, and keep his eyes and ears
open along the way and within the llys, if he’s spying out the prince’s
dispositions for his master. Or for himself!” Cadfael conceded thoughtfully,
“Though what’s the advantage to him, unless it’s to put him safely out of the
struggle, I confess I don’t see.” For a prisoner who enjoys officially the
status of a guest can come to no harm, whatever the issue. If his own lord
wins, he is delivered without reproach, and if his captor is the victor he is