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to Aber.”
    “In
that case,” said Mark, choosing to be open with a host who was certainly being
open with them, “we can ride on among his company, for I am the bearer of a
letter also to Bishop Meurig of Bangor.”
    The
canon received this with a short pause for reflection, and then nodded
approvingly. He was, after all, a Welshman himself, even if he was doing his
able best to hold on to favour with a Norman superior. “Good! Your bishop is
wise. It puts us on a like footing, and will please the prince. As it chances,
my daughter Heledd and I will also be of the party. She is to be betrothed to a
gentleman in the prince’s service, who holds land in Anglesey, and he will come
to meet us at Bangor. We shall be companions along the way.”
    “Our
pleasure to ride in company,” said Mark.
    “I’ll
come for you as soon as they take their places at table,” the canon promised,
well content, and left them to an hour of rest. Not until he was gone did the
girl come back, bearing a dish of honey cakes and a jar of mead. She served
them in silence, but made no move to go. After a moment of sullen thought she
asked abruptly: “What did he tell you?”
    “That
he and his daughter are bound for Bangor tomorrow, as we two are. It seems,”
said Cadfael equably, and watching her unrevealing face, “that we shall have a
prince’s escort as far as Aber.”
    “So
he does still own he is my father,” she said with a curling lip.
    “He
does, and why should he not profess it proudly? If you look in your mirror,”
said Cadfael candidly, “you will see very good reason why he should boast of
it.” That coaxed a reluctant smile out of her. He pursued the small success:
“What is it between you two? Is it some threat from the new bishop? If he’s
bent on ridding himself of all the married priests in his diocese he has an
uphill row to hoe. And your father seems to me an able man, one a new incumbent
can ill afford to lose.”
    “So
he is,” she agreed, warming, “and the bishop wants to keep him. His case would
have been much worse, but my mother was in her last illness when Bishop Gilbert
arrived, and it seemed she could not last long, so they waited! Can you
conceive of it? Waiting for a wife to die, so that he need not part with her
husband, who was useful to him! And die she did, last Christmas, and ever since
then I have kept his house, cooked and cleaned for him, and thought we could go
on so. But no, I am a reminder of a marriage the bishop says was unlawful and
sacrilegious. In his eyes I never should have been born! Even if my father
remains celibate the rest of his life, I am still here, to call to mind what he
wants forgotten. Yes, he, not only the bishop! I stand in the way of his
advancement.”
    “Surely,”
said Mark, shocked, “you do him injustice. I am certain he feels a father’s
affection for you, as I do believe you feel a daughter’s for him.”
    “It
never was tested before,” she said simply. “No one grudged us a proper love.
Oh, he wishes me no ill, neither does the bishop. But very heartily they both
wish that I may go somewhere else to thrive, so far away I shall trouble them
no more.”
    “So
that is why they’ve planned to match you with a man of Anglesey. As far away,”
said Cadfael ruefully, “as a man could get and still be in North Wales. Yes,
that would certainly settle the bishop’s mind. But what of yours? Do you know
the man they intend for you?”
    “No,
that was the prince’s doing, and he meant it kindly, and indeed I take it
kindly. No, the bishop wanted to send me away to a convent in England, and make
a nun of me. Owain Gwynedd said that would be a wicked waste unless it was my
wish, and asked me there in front of everyone in the hall if I had any mind to
it, and very loudly and clearly I said no. So he proposed this match for me.
His man is looking for a wife, and they tell me he’s a fine fellow, not so