Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood

"Brother Cadfael, it was a terrible thing - about Meurig. Hard to understand ..."
    Yes, for the young very hard, and almost impossible to forgive. But where there had been liking and trust there still remained a residue of unquenchable warmth, incompatible with the revulsion and horror he felt for a poisoner.
    "I wouldn't have let him have Mallilie without a fight," said Edwin, dourly intent on absolute honesty. "But if he'd won, I don't think I'd have grudged it to him. And if I'd won ... I don't know! He would never have shared it, would he? But I'm glad he got away! If that's wicked, I can't help it. I am glad!"
    If it was wicked, he had company in his fault, but Cadfael said nothing of that.
    "Brother Cadfael ... As soon as we're home again in Mallilie, I mean to go and visit Ifor ap Morgan. He did give me the kiss when I asked him. I can be a kind of grandson."
    Thank God I didn't make the mistake of suggesting it to him, thought Cadfael devoutly. There's nothing the young hate and resent so much as to be urged to a good act, when they've already made the virtuous resolve on their own account.
    "That's very well thought of," he said warmly. "He'll be glad of you. If you take Edwy with you to his house, better teach him how to tell you apart, his eyes may not be quite so sharp as mine."
    They both grinned at that. Edwy said: "He still owes me for the buffeting I got on his account, and the night I spent in prison here. I mean to have a foot in the door of Mallilie as often as I please on the strength of that."
    "I had two nights of it," objected Edwin smartly, "and in a much worse place."
    "You? Never a bruise on you, and in clover there with Hugh Beringar looking after you!"
    And thereupon Edwin jabbed Edwy smartly in the middle with a stiff forefinger, and Edwy hooked a knee under Edwin's, and spilled him to the floor, both laughing. Cadfael looked on tolerantly for a while, and then grasped two separate handfuls of thick, curling hair, and plucked them apart. They rolled clear and came obligingly to their feet, grinning broadly, and looking much less immaculate than before.
    "You are a pestilential pair, and I wish Ifor ap Morgan joy of you," said Cadfael, but very complacently. "You're the lord of a manor now, young Edwin, or will be when you're of age. Then you'd better be studying your responsibilities. Is that the kind of example uncle should set before nephew?"
    Edwin stopped shaking and dusting himself into order with abrupt gravity, and stood erect, large-eyed. "I have been thinking of my duties, truly. There's much I don't yet know, and have to learn, but I told the lord abbot ... I don't like it, I never liked it, that my stepfather entered suit against Aelfric, and made him villein, when he thought himself born free, as his fathers had been before him. I asked him if I could free a man, or if I had to wait until I was of age, and got seisin myself. And he said certainly it could be done at will, and he would be sponsor for me. I am going to see Aelfric a free man. And I think ... that is, he and Aldith ..."
    "I told him," said Edwy, giving himself a brief shake, like a dog, and settling back at ease on the bench, "that Aldith likes Aelfric, and once he's free they will certainly marry, and Aelfric is lettered, and knows Mallilie, and will make a splendid steward, when the abbey hands over the manor."
    "You told me! I knew very well she liked him, only he wouldn't say how much he liked her. And what do you know about manors and stewards, you prentice carpenter?"
    "More than you'll ever know about wood, and carving, and craftsmanship, you prentice baron!"
    They were at it again, locked in a bear's hug, propped in the corner of the bench, Edwy with a grip on Edwin's russet thatch, Edwin with fingers braced into Edwy's ribs, tickling him into convulsions of laughter. Cadfael hoisted the pair of them in his arms, and heaved them towards the door.
    "Out! Take your cantrips off these premises, where they hardly belong. There, go and find a bear-pit!" Even to himself he sounded foolishly proud and proprietary.
    At the door they fell apart with bewildering ease and neatness, and both turned to beam at him. Edwin remembered to plead, in penitent haste: "Brother Cadfael, will you please come and see my mother before we leave? She begs you!"
    "I will," said Cadfael, helpless to say otherwise, "I will, surely!"
    He watched them go, out towards the great court and the gatehouse, again wrangling amiably, arms round