“She will be eighteen very shortly, I do not know the precise day. Darkerthan her brother, almost black of hair and eye, tall, vigorous… They report herquick of mind and wit, and of strong will.”
It was hardly a detailed description of her physical person, yet itestablished her with surprising clarity. All the more whenBrother Herward ended almost absently, as if to himself: “She would be reckonedvery beautiful.
Brother Cadfael heard about it from Hugh Beringar, after the couriers hadridden out to the castles and manors, and carried the word to the towns, to becried publicly. What Prescote had promised, that he performed to the letterbefore he took himself off to the peace of his own manor to keep Christmas withhis family. The very announcement of the sheriff’s interest in the missingsiblings should cast a protecting shadow over them if anyone in this shire didencounter them. Herward had set off back to Worcester with a guarded party bythen, his errand only partially successful.
“Very beautiful!” repeated Hugh, and smiled. But it was a concerned andrueful smile. Such a creature, wilful, handsome, daring, let loose in acountryside waiting for winter and menaced by discord, might all too easilycome to grief.
“Even sub-priors,” said Cadfael mildly, stirring the bubbling cough linctushe was simmering over his brazier in the workshop, “have eyes. But with heryouth, she would be vulnerable even if she were ugly. Well, for all we knowthey may be snug and safe in shelter this moment. A great pity this uncle oftheirs is of the other persuasion, and cannot get countenance to do his ownhunting.”