“In my church,” said Huw humbly, “I have never heard thatthe saints desired honour for themselves, but rather to honour God rightly. SoI do not presume to know what Saint Winifred’s will may be in thismatter. That you and your house should desire to honour her rightly,that is another matter, and very proper. But… This blessed virgin livedout her miraculously restored life in this place, and no other. Here she diedfor the second time, and here is buried, and even if my people have neglectedher, being human and faulty, yet they always knew that she was here among them,and at a pinch they could rely on her, and for a Welsh saint I think thatcounts for much. Prince and bishop—both of whom I reverence as Iought—may not altogether understand how my flock will feel, if theirholiest girl is to be dug up out of her grave and taken away into England. Itmay matter little to the crown and the crozier, a saint is a saint wherever herrelics rest. But I tell you plainly, the people of Gwytherin are not going tolike it at all!”

Brother Cadfael, stirred to an atavistic fervour of Welshness by this homelyeloquence, snatched the initiative from Urien at this point, and translatedwith the large declamation of the bards.

In full spate, he turned his eyes away from the distracting faces, to lightupon one even more distracting. The girl with the light-oak sheen on her hairwas again passing the fence, and had been so charmed by what she heard, and thevehemence of its delivery, that for a moment she forgot to keep moving, andstood there at gaze, apple-blossom face radiant and rose-leaf lips laughing.And with the same satisfaction with which she gazed at Cadfael, Brother Johngazed at her. Cadfael observed both, and was dazzled. But the next moment shecaught herself up in a hasty alarm, and blushed beautifully, and swept away outof sight. Brother John was still gaping long after she had vanished.