“So he did!” Cadfael stared into the young face thatconfronted him so solemnly, but for that betraying gleam in theeyes. “What is it, boy, that you have not told us? Out withit! Who goes with you?”

“But I did tell you,” said Mark, “that I amgoing on to Bangor. Bishop Gilbert is Norman, and speaks bothFrench and English, but Bishop Meurig is Welsh, and he and many ofhis people speak no English, and my Latin would serve me only amongthe clerics. So I am allowed an interpreter. Bishop Roger has nocompetent Welsh speaker close to him or in his confidence. Ioffered a name, one he had not forgotten.” The sparkle hadgrown into a radiance that lit his face, and reflected not onlylight but enlightenment back into Cadfael’s dazzled eyes.“I have been keeping the best till last,” said Mark,glowing. “I got leave to win my man, if Abbot Radulfus wouldsanction his absence. I have as good as promised him the loan willbe for only ten days or so at the most. So how can I possiblymiscarry,” asked Mark reasonably, “if you are comingwith me?”

It was a matter of principle, or perhaps of honor,with Brother Cadfael, when a door opened before him suddenly andunexpectedly, to accept the offer and walk through it. He did sowith even more alacrity if the door opened on a prospect of Wales;it might even be said that he broke into a trot, in case the doorslammed again on that enchanting view. Not merely a brief sallyover the border into Powis, this time, but several days of riding,in the very fellowship he would have chosen, right across thecoastal regions of Gwynedd, from Saint Asaph to Carnarvon, pastAber of the princes, under the tremendous shoulders of Moel Wnion.Time to talk over every day of the time they had been apart, timeto reach the companionable silences when all that needed to be saidwas said. And all this the gift of Brother Mark. Wonderful whatriches a man can bestow who by choice and vocation possessesnothing! The world is full of small, beneficent miracles.