A Gift of Sanctuary Read Online Free PDF Page A

appear, perhaps you should go straight to Cydweli with half our company.’
    Geoffrey paused on the steps, turned, held the light up to Owen. ‘And you?’
    ‘Our pilgrims still need an escort to St David’s.’
    ‘We might find one for them in Cydweli.’
    ‘Sir Robert is already unwell. I cannot in good conscience prolong his journey. And I should wish to see him safely settled.’
    For a moment, the wail of the wind through the tower and the hiss of the torch were the only sounds. Then Geoffrey nodded. ‘You are right. We shall continue as we planned. Reine knew our itinerary. He would not expect us to go straight to Cydweli.’
    Owen put a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder, made him turn. ‘You do not trust me.’
    Geoffrey laughed. ‘You have had too much ale.’ His eyes were not merry.
    ‘And too little sleep, aye.’
    They climbed the stairs, parted at the landing in silence.
    Tired as he was, Owen found it difficult to sleep. Geoffrey had placed a finger squarely on a tender spot, already rubbed raw by Owen’s own surprise at his feelings since he crossed the Severn. He should never have come.

Two
    TO ST DAVID’S
    D afydd ap Gwilym and his men had ridden hard for two days to reach the bard’s home overlooking Cardigan Bay. A difficult journey for the injured pilgrim, and for Dafydd and his men, after a lazy fortnight in the hall of one of the bard’s generous patrons. But haste seemed wise. If the four from Cydweli were in pursuit, Dafydd preferred to defend the pilgrim on familiar ground. It was also most convenient that a skilled herbalist from Strata Florida Abbey was assisting him in enlarging his garden. The pilgrim had need of Brother Samson.
    Dafydd glanced up from his harp as a servant showed Samson’s travelling companion into the room. Dafydd’s great, rough-coated hounds rose and padded over to sniff the monk’s robe. A pity that Dafydd’s moment of pleasure must be disturbed, but the monk was merely answering his summons. Dafydd needed a spy in St David’s and a Cistercian would blend in well. Better still, Dyfrig owed him a favour.
    ‘ Benedicte , Master Dafydd,’ the monk bowed, hands up the sleeves of his white robe.
    Did they train the monks to that attitude as novices, Dafydd wondered.
    ‘You have need of me?’ the monk asked.
    ‘ Benedicte , Brother Dyfrig. God has granted us sunshine to lift our hearts. It seems we find favour with Him today.’ The monk’s eyes flickered uneasily towards the tall, shaggy dogs. Dafydd chuckled. ‘Be at ease. You should know by now that Nest and Cadwy are gentle creatures to all but the wolves and the deer. They are merely curious about you. You have seen the wounded pilgrim?’
    ‘A pilgrim, is he?’
    The monk was bold enough. His doubt did not ring out, but it certainly whispered. ‘Why else does one journey to St David’s?’ Dafydd asked.
    ‘St David’s has some commerce, also, Master Dafydd. Both on land and sea.’ The ghost of a smile.
    ‘A pilgrim, Brother Dyfrig.’
    Another bow. ‘You wish me to escort him back?’
    ‘Do you make a joke? Does the man look as if he might ride?’
    Another uneasy flicker of the eyes, though the hounds had lost interest and returned to Dafydd. ‘No.’
    ‘You will go there with your ears pricked. Discover whether any other gifts from the sea have been found on Whitesands.’
    ‘Whitesands,’ the monk repeated. ‘You seek the one who severed the pilgrim’s ear? I thought that there were four in pursuit.’
    ‘None of them injured. My pilgrim had a blood-soaked sleeve – possibly his own blood, but I think not. His own would not have spattered so.’
    The monk crossed himself. ‘Yet you call him a pilgrim.’
    ‘The holiest of men may defend themselves when attacked.’
    ‘The four. What if they learn of my mission?’
    ‘Are you such a fool as to announce it? I seek rumours or news, not the man. I doubt the man is of any use to me. Or to anyone in this world. You need not reveal