back in your own country and a free man.'
Elis agreed that he would, since it was obviously expected of him, but it was a very lukewarm agreement. 'But it's not yet certain, is it, that your sheriff is there to be redeemed? And even if he is, it may take some time to find him and get him out of Cadwaladr's hands.'
'In that case,' said Cadfael, 'you will have to possess your soul in patience and in captivity a while longer.'
'If I must, I can,' agreed Elis, all too cheerfully and continently for one surely not hitherto accomplished at possessing his soul in patience. 'But I do trust you may go and return safe,' he said dutifully.
'Behave yourself, while I'm about your affairs,' Cadfael advised resignedly and turned to leave him. 'I'll bear your greetings to your foster brother Eliud, if I should encounter him, and leave him word you've come to no harm.'
Elis embraced that offer gladly enough, but crassly failed to add another name that might fittingly have been linked with the same message. And Cadfael refrained from mentioning it in his turn. He was at the door when Elis suddenly called after him: 'Brother Cadfael...'
'Yes?' said Cadfael, turning.
'That lady... the one we saw yesterday, the sheriff's daughter...'
'What of her?'
'Is she spoken for?'
Ah well, thought Cadfael, mounting with his mission well rehearsed in his head, and his knot of light-armed men about him, soon on, soon off, no doubt, and she has never spoken word to him and most likely never will. Once home, he'll soon forget her. If she had not been so silver fair, so different from the trim, dark Welsh girls, he would never have noticed her.
Cadfael had answered the enquiry with careful indifference, saying he had no notion what plans the sheriff had for his daughter, and forbore from adding the blunt warning that was on the tip of his tongue. With such a springy lad as this one, to put him off would only put him on the more resolutely. With no great obstacles in the way, he might lose interest. But the girl certainly had an airy beauty, all the more appealing for being touched with innocent gravity and sadness on her father's account. Only let this mission succeed, and the sooner the better!
They left Shrewsbury by the Welsh bridge, and made good speed over the near reaches of their way, north, west towards Oswestry.
Sybilla, Lady Prestcote, was twenty years younger than her husband, a pretty, ordinary woman of good intentions towards all, and notable chiefly for one thing, that she had done what the sheriff's first wife could not do, and borne him a son. Young Gilbert was seven years old, the apple of his father's eye and the core of his mother's heart. Melicent found herself indulged but neglected, but in affection to a very pretty little brother she felt no resentment. An heir is an heir; an heiress is a much less achievement.
The apartments in the castle tower, when the best had been done to make them comfortable, remained stony, draughty and cold, no place to bring a young family, and it was exceptional indeed for Sybilla and her son to come to Shrewsbury, when they had six far more pleasant manors at their disposal. Hugh would have offered the hospitality of his own town house on this anxious occasion, but the lady had too many servants to find accommodation there, and preferred the austerity of her bleak but spacious dwelling in the tower. Her husband was accustomed to occupying it alone, when his duties compelled him to remain with the garrison. Wanting him and fretting over him, she was content to be in the place which was his by right, however Spartan its appointments.
Melicent loved her little brother, and found no fault with the system which would endow him with all their father's possessions, and provide her with only a modest dowry. Indeed, she had had serious thoughts of taking the veil, and leaving the Prestcote inheritance as good as whole, having an inclination towards altars, relics and devotional candles, though she had just