Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes by Ellis Peters Read Free Book Online Page B

said the maimed man. "The stroke, the final stroke, that took his life from him took my arm from me."
    Chapter Three
    "How many," asked Cadfael carefully, after a moment of silence, "were with him then?"
    "Three of us. On a simple journey and a short, thinking no evil. There were eight of them. I am the only one left who rode with Anarawd that day." His voice was low and even. He had forgotten nothing and forgiven nothing, but he was in complete command of voice and face.
    "I marvel," said Cadfael, "that you lived to tell the story. It would not take long to bleed to death from such a wound."
    "And even less time to strike again and finish the work," the young man agreed with a twisted smile. "And so they would have done if some others of our people had not heard the affray and come in haste. Me they left lying when they rode away. I was taken up and tended after his murderers had run. And when Hywel came with his army to avenge the slaying, he brought me back here with him, and Owain has taken me into his own service. A one-armed man is still good for something. And he can still hate."
    "You were close to your prince?"
    "I grew up with him. I loved him." His black eyes rested steadily upon the lively profile of Hywel ab Owain, who surely had taken Anarawd's place in his loyalty, in so far as one man can ever replace another.
    "May I know your name?" asked Cadfael. "And mine is, or in the world it was, Cadfael ap Meilyr ap Dafydd, a man of Gwynedd myself, born at Trefriw. And Benedictine though I may be, I have not forgotten my ancestry."
    "Nor should you, in the world or out of it. And my name is Cuhelyn ab Einion, a younger son of my father, and a man of my prince's guard. In the old days," he said, darkling, "it was disgrace for a man of the guard to return alive from the field on which his lord was slain. But I had and have good reason for living. Those of the murderers whom I knew I have named to Hywel, and they have paid. But some I did not know. I keep the faces in mind, for the day when I see them again and hear the names that go with the faces."
    "There is also one other, the chief, who has paid only a blood-price in lands," said Cadfael. "What of him? Is it certain he gave the orders for this ambush?"
    "Certain! They would never have dared, otherwise. And Owain Gwynedd has no doubts."
    "And where, do you suppose, is this Cadwaladr now? And has he resigned himself to the loss of everything he possessed?"
    The young man shook his head. "Where he is no one seems to know. Nor what mischief he has next in mind. But resigned to his loss? That I doubt! Hywel took hostages from among the lesser chiefs who served under Cadwaladr, and brought them north to ensure there should be no further resistance in Ceredigion. Most of them have been released now, having sworn not to bear arms against Hywel's rule or offer service again to Cadwaladr, unless at some time to come he should pledge reparation and be restored. There's one still left captive in Aber, Gwion. He's given his parole not to attempt escape, but he refuses to forswear his allegiance to Cadwaladr or promise peace to Hywel. A decent enough fellow," said Cuhelyn tolerantly, "but still devoted to his lord. Can I hold that against a man? But such a lord! He deserves better for his worship."
    "You bear no hatred against him?"
    "None, there is no reason. He had no part in the ambush, he is too young and too clean to be taken into such a villainy. After a fashion, I like him as he likes me. We are two of a kind. Could I blame him for holding fast to his allegiance as I hold fast to mine? If he would kill for Cadwaladr's sake, so would I have done, so I did, for Anarawd. But not by stealth, in double force against light-armed men expecting no danger. Honestly, in open field, that's another matter."
    The long meal was almost at its end, only the wine and mead still circling, and the hum of voices had mellowed into a low, contented buzzing like a hive of bees drunken and happy