A Gift of Sanctuary by Candace Robb Page B

road than well-armed men.’
    Sam growled, but said no more.
    Iolo’s level-headedness reassured Owen that he had chosen the right man to watch Edern.
    But this morning, as Edern opened the door to the underground passage through which they would ascend from the vale, even Iolo crossed himself against the yawning darkness.
    ‘What of our horses?’ Owen asked.
    ‘They await us on Clegyr Boia, along with the cart.’
    ‘Why should we trust this man, Captain?’ Sam asked.
    ‘Because Bishop Houghton trusts him. And what would you have us do? Walk out the gate in plain sight?’
    ‘We have no enemies here.’
    ‘Perhaps not. But the man carried before us may have thought much the same.’
    ‘What is this place to which we climb beneath the ground?’ Tom asked.
    ‘The outcrop upon which the Irish chief Boia was converted by St David,’ Owen said. There was much more to the legend than that, but all of it far less likely to calm Tom – for it involved human sacrifice and spells that felled cattle and men. He was grateful that Iolo and Edern said nothing. ‘Now let us proceed before all the household is awake.’

Six
    A GRIM JOURNEY
    O wen’s company rose from the dark, echoing tunnel to be enveloped in a fog that clouded the vale. He thought of St David’s ritual fire by which the saint announced his presence to the Irish chieftain and druid, Boia. David had lit a huge fire, letting the smoke collect in the vale and spread to the surrounding lands, declaring his ascendancy over all that it touched. Enraged as he looked down from his fortress on the mound, Boia had sent his warriors against David. The saint had responded with a spell that caused Boia’s men and his cattle to fall down as if dead. In awe of David’s power, Boia was converted. But his wife continued to war against David’s holy men – eventually sacrificing her stepdaughter in the valley. Before that she had warred in subtler ways, sending her women to bathe naked in the river, hoping to tempt the monks from their vows. Owen smiled, imagining them in the River Alun.
    ‘The sun cheers you,’ said Geoffrey.
    Owen looked round in confusion. Indeed, as they climbed up on to Clegyr Boia they were rising out of the fog that shrouded the vale. ‘What is left of Boia’s fortress?’ Owen asked Iolo.
    ‘Crumbling walls is all.’
    Owen was disappointed, but as the magic of his daydream faded he was pleased to find two of the bishop’s retainers waiting at the top of the mound, with several grooms, the cart bearing the coffin, and the men’s horses.
    By the end of the first day, Owen witnessed nothing to criticise in Edern’s behaviour. In fact, Edern had made the journey more comfortable than Owen had expected. His knowledge of the countryside was thorough. He had guided them to the pilgrim road, skirting the city to the north and east along farmers’ tracks. He knew where to turn off the road to find streams with fresh water, even a farmhouse at which they were offered cider for a good tale at midday. The scowls receded from his men’s faces, though young Tom’s eyes still anxiously flitted from shadow to shadow.
    In the late afternoon sun Owen studied Edern while he asked a passing tinker the conditions of the rivers they must cross in the next few days. The vicar was a nondescript man, pale hair neither red nor blond, grey eyes, freckled complexion, no scars or ticks; the most notable element of his face was his mouth, narrow yet with uncommonly full lips. He was slender, seemingly unmuscular, but he had ridden and walked with undiminished energy throughout the day’s journey, and kept his temper, answering all questions patiently and completely enough that no one found cause to complain. Iolo, who tried to stay as close to him as he might, was looking tired.
    Or perhaps it was the odour of the corpse affecting Iolo’s mood. As the afternoon sun beat down on the pine box, lined though it was, and covered with a heavy canvas cloth, it warmed