Ellis Peters - Virgin in the Ice

“I was none too sure there would not be another departure in the night,” said Hugh. “He is Dinan’s tenant. We have taken confession from him, but I would rather have him safe under lock and key in Shrewsbury castle.”

“Will he hang, do you think?”

“I doubt it. Let those judge whose work is judging. My work is to hold the ways safe for travellers, as far as man can, and apprehend murderers. And let honest men, women and children go their ways freely, with my goodwill.”

They were more than halfway to Shrewsbury and the light still good, and Hugh’s pace began to quicken, and his gaze to prick eagerly ahead, hungry for the first sight of the hill-top towers within the wall. Aline would be waiting for him, proud and fond, and deep in happy preparations for the Christmas feast.

“My son will be grown out of knowledge during these days I’ve been away. All must be very well with them both, or Constance would have been sending after me. And you have not even seen my son yet, Cadfael!”

But you have seen mine, thought Cadfael, rapt and silent beside him, though you do not know it.

“Long-boned and strong - he’ll be taller than his father by a head …”

He is taller by a head, Cadfael exulted. Taller by a head and something to spare. And what paragons of beauty and gallantry may not spring from his union with that imperial girl!

“Wait until you see him! A son to be proud of!”

Cadfael road mute and content, still full of the wonder and astonishment, all elation and all humility. Eleven more days to the Christmas feast, and no shadow hanging over it now, only a great light. A time of births, of triumphant begettings, and this year how richly celebrated - the son of the young woman from Worcester, the son of Aline and Hugh, the son of Mariam, the Son of Man …

A son to be proud of! Yes, amen!