In the midst of the train rode a
quiet looking priest, who sang softly to himself as his mule ambled
easily along, and he turned to give us his blessing as Owen
unhelmed when he passed abreast of us. Then his hand stayed as he
raised it, and I saw his face lighten suddenly, and he pulled up
the mule in haste, crying to Owen by name, and in the Welsh tongue.
And I saw the face of my foster-father flush red, and he leapt from
his horse and went to the side of the priest, setting his finger on
his lip for a moment as he did so.
Then the priest signed that his people should go on, and at once
they left him with us, and Owen bade me do reverence to Aldhelm,
the abbot of Malmesbury, before whom we stood. And after that they
talked long in Welsh, and that I could not follow, though indeed I
knew a fair smattering of it by this time, seeing that Owen would
have me learn from him, and we had used it a good deal in these few
days as we rode.
It seemed to me that Aldhelm was overjoyed to see Owen, and I know
now that those two were old friends of the closest at one time,
when they met in Owen's own land.
So from that meeting it came to pass that we found a home with the
good abbot at Malmesbury for a time, and there I learned much, as
one may suppose, while Owen trained me in arms, and the monks
taught me book learning, which I liked not at all, and only
suffered for love of Owen, who wished me to know all I might.
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