They were gathered in conference in one of the carrels of thenorth walk, where the spring sunshine still reached slantingfingers of pale gold even in late afternoon, an hour or so beforeVespers. Hugh Beringar had ridden down from his house in the townas soon as word of Brother Mark’s arrival had reached him,not because the sheriff had any official business in this clericalembassage, but for the pleasure of seeing again a young man he heldin affectionate remembrance, and to whom, in this present instance,he might be able to give some help and advice. Hugh’srelations with North Wales were good. He had a friendly agreementwith Owain Gwynedd, since neither of them trusted their mutualneighbour the earl of Chester, and they could accept eachother’s word without question. With Madog ap Meredith ofPowis the sheriff had a more precarious relationship. TheShropshire border was constantly alert against sporadic and almostplayful raids from beyond the dyke, though at this present time allwas comparatively quiet. What the conditions of travel were likelyto be on this ride to Saint Asaph, Hugh was the most likely man toknow.

“I think you are too modest,” he said seriously.“I fancy the bishop knows you well enough by now, ifhe’s had you constantly about him, to have a very goodopinion of your wit, and trusts you to step gently where aweightier ambassador might talk too much and listen too little.Cadfael here will tell you more than I can about Welsh feeling inChurch matters, but I know where politics enter into it. You can besure that Owain Gwynedd has a sharp eye on the doings of ArchbishopTheobald in his domain, and Owain is always to be reckoned with.And only four years ago there was a new bishop consecrated in hisown home diocese of Bangor, which is totally Welsh. There at leastthey did sanction a Welshman, one who at first refused to swearfealty to King Stephen or acknowledge the dominance of Canterbury.