![]() Now that Hywel ruled Ceredigion, the monastery had been restored to the native Welsh Church. In point of fact, that distance was not because the monks feared to hear a crying child but was left over from when Norman monks, who viewed women and children with a certain degree of hostility, had occupied the monastery. Given her hour-long struggle to get her daughter to go to sleep, Gwen had to admit the genius of that decision. The monks’ quarters, church, and college of priests were opposite, as far from the guesthouse as possible while still remaining in the same compound. ![]() The guesthouse lay to one side of the large square, which was fronted on the road by a gatehouse and a long stone wall. She’d swept up her brown hair into a chignon, but sweat clung to the tendrils at the back of her neck. ![]() Heat radiated off the stones, and Gwen moved towards the garden, seeking the breeze coming off the brook. Gwen peered into the courtyard of the monastery before venturing across the hot cobbles into the mid-afternoon sun, which shone out of a rare deep blue sky. ![]()
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