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determine whether they are friend or foe.” I thought of the dream, and a nagging sense of uncertainty made the hair on my arms bristle. Perhaps it was more than just memories.
    He rubbed the week-old stubble on his chin. “Unfortunate.”
    I pushed the sense of unease from my mind and tipped my cup in his direction. “How did you arrive in Wales?”
    He settled back, leaning against the wall. “Sixth son to a Northumbrian earl, I had little recourse but to find my path paved to the church. I could have stayed in England, but my soul was restless. I met a bishop of the Church of St. David and followed him to Wales.” He shrugged. “I’ve been the only priest in Milford Haven for the last few years.”
    “What happened to your predecessor?”
    “Father Llewelyn left—a rather nasty altercation with the house of Hyffaid. Fortunately, I am on much better terms with the gentry. Despite my devotion to this thriving community, my service is coming to an end. In fact, I am set to leave my bees and the care of the parish church to a young cleric in a few days’ time. A group of brethren from the Mother Church of St. David are embarking on a pilgrimage to Rome. The journey starts on a circuitous route, as we collect travelers from across southern Wales. We will then set sail from St. Dogmael’s bound for Francia. From there it is a simple matter of crossing the treacherous passes of the Alps and marching onward to the Holy City.”
    “Sounds positively uneventful.”
    He laughed. “Well, if it helps to portray a dashing image of me, I hope to encounter a band of Saracens. Perhaps I will battle a Bulgar or two. But what of you? Where will your journey take you?”
    How I wished to unburden my soul and reveal my secrets, but I couldn’t let anyone know who I was or where I headed. If Osric or Demas were to find out, I would never again feel safe when I closed my eyes. “I am also bound overseas.”
    “Do you wish to elaborate?”
    “No.”
    His eyebrows furrowed. “Indeed.”
    We sat in silence for some time. First Marared and her family; now Eadfrith. The more I interacted with people, the more opportunity I gave Demas to find me. If he was still alive. Based on Bertram’s assessment of his ailing health, it was possible, even probable, that Demas would die of his injuries—if he hadn’t succumbed already. Yet no matter how much I tried to convince myself of the possibility, anxiety reared its menacing talons. The points pressed into the flesh of my neck. I rubbed at the spot and set my cup on the bench and rose. “It was wonderful to meet you, Eadfrith. I wish you a safe and thrilling voyage.”
    He trotted to the door beside me. “Perhaps I can join you for a stroll.”
    “What of the nave?” I looked around at the worn and moldy rushes underfoot.
    He waved his hand. “I can lay fresh rushes anytime. We don’t often get travelers from England. It’s a joy to speak my native tongue, and the opportunity to do so in the company of such a lovely lady is hard to dismiss.” He swept my hand to his lips and bowed in a courtly flourish.
    I blushed. Judging by the little lines fanning from the corners of his eyes, he may have been ten years my senior, but the dimples, strong jaw, and cheekbones held up his youth admirably. “How can I refuse an offer such as that?”
    He locked the door behind us, and we strolled into town.
    We rounded a bend in the trail and Sigy’s cottage came into view. The chickens pecked and flounced in the toft. Milford Haven faced southeast to the sea. To the north, the village looked inland to fields ready for the spring planting of wheat, flax, barley, and corn. To the east, far off in the distance, forests, dense and dark, snaked away from the coast. The undulating green rose to the uplands, where summer pastures lay for cattle, sheep, and goats. Despite Eadfrith’s warm and friendly company, under Wales’s stunning visage, the country remained alien and hostile.
    “What news of my