Chapter Thirteen

« ^ »

N icholas was approaching Shrewsbury when the skybegan to darken ominously, and he quickened his pace in the hope ofreaching shelter in the town before the storm broke. But the firstheavy drops fell as he reached the Foregate, and before his eyesthe street was emptied of life, all its inhabitants going to groundwithin their houses, and closing doors and shutters against therage to come. By the time he rode past the gatehouse of the abbey,abandoning the thought of waiting out the storm there, since he wasnow so close, the sky had opened, in a downpour so opaque andblinding that he found himself veering from side to side as hecrossed the bridge, unable to steer a straight course. It seemed hewas the only man left in a depopulated town in an empty world, forthere was not another soul stirring.

Under the arch of the town gate he halted to draw breath andclear his eyes, shaking off the weight of the rain. The whole widthof Shrewsbury lay between him and the castle, but Hugh’shouse by Saint Mary’s was no great distance, only up thecurve of the Wyle and the level street beyond. Hugh was as likelyto be there as at the castle. At least he could call in and ask, onhis way through to the High Cross, and the descent to the castlegatehouse. He could hardly get wetter than he already was. He setoff up the hill. Saner folk peered out through the chinks in theirshuttered windows, and watched him scurrying head-down through thedeluge. Overhead the thunder rolled and rattled round a sky dark asmidnight, and lightnings flickered, drawing the peals ever closerafter them. The horse was unhappy but well-trained, and pressed onobedient but quivering with fear.

The gates of Hugh’s courtyard stood open, there was adegree of shelter under the lee of the house, and as soon as hooveswere heard on the cobbles the hall door opened, and a groom cameharing across from the stables to take the horse to cover. Alinestood peering anxiously out into the murky gloom, and beckoned thetraveller in.

“Before you drown, sir,” she said, all concern, asNicholas plunged into the shelter of the doorway and let fall hisstreaming cloak, to avoid bringing it within. They stood lookingearnestly at each other, for the light was too dim for instantrecognition. Then she tilted her head, recaptured a memory, andsmiled. “You are Nicholas Harnage! You came here with Hugh,when first you came to Shrewsbury. I remember now. Forgive such aslow welcome back, but I am not used to midnight in the afternoon.Come within, and let me find you some dry clothes—though Ifear Hugh’s will be a tight fit for you.”

He was warmed by her candour and kindness, but it could notdivert him from the black intensity of his purpose here. He lookedbeyond her, where Constance hovered, clutching her tyrant Gilesfirmly by the hand, for fear he should mistake the deluge for a newamusement, and dart out into it.

“The lord sheriff is not here? I must see him as soon asmay be. I bring grim news.”

“Hugh is at the castle, but he’ll come by evening.Can it not wait? At least until this storm blows by. It cannot lastlong.”

No, he could not wait. He would go on the rest of the way, fairor foul. He thanked her, almost ungraciously in his preoccupation,swung the wet cloak about him again, took back his horse from thegroom, and was off again at a trot towards the High Cross. Alinesighed, shrugged, and went in, closing the door on the chaoswithout. Grim news! What could that mean? Something to do with KingStephen and Robert of Gloucester? Had the attempts at an exchangefoundered? Or was it something to do with that young man’spersonal quest? Aline knew the bare bones of the story, and felt amild, rueful interest—a girl set free by her affiancedhusband, a favoured squire sent to tell her so, and too modest ortoo sensitive to pursue at once the attraction he felt towards heron his own account. Was the girl alive or dead? Better to know,once for all, than to go on tormented by uncertainty. But surely‘grim news’ could only mean the worst.

Nicholas reached the High Cross, spectral through the streamingrain, and turned down the slight slope towards the castle, and thebroad ramp to the gatehouse. Water lay ankle-deep in the outerward, draining off far too slowly to keep pace with the flood. Asergeant leaned out from the guard-room, and called the strangerwithin.

“The lord sheriff? He’s in the hall. If you bearround into the inner ward close to the wall you’ll escape theworst. I’ll have your horse stabled. Or wait a while here inthe dry, if you choose, for this can’t last forever…”

But no, he could not wait. The ring burned in his pouch, and theacid bitterness in his mind. He must get his tale at once to theears of authority, and his teeth into the throat of Adam Heriet. Hedared not stop hating, or the remaining grief became more than hecould stand. He bore down on Hugh in the huge dark hall with thebriefest of greetings and the most abrupt of challenges, an unkemptapparition, his wet brown hair plastered to forehead and temples,and water streaking his face.

“My lord, I’m back from Winchester, with plain proofJulian is dead and her goods made away with long ago. And we mustleave all else and turn every man you have here and I can raise inthe south, to hunt down Adam Heriet. It was his doing—Herietand his hired murderer, some footpad paid for his work with theprice of Julian’s jewellery. Once we lay hands on him, hewon’t be able to deny it. I have proof, I have witnesses thathe said himself she was dead!”

“Come, now!” said Hugh, his eyes rounding.“That’s a large enough claim. You’ve been a busyman in the south, I see, but so have we here. Come, sit, andlet’s have the full story. But first, let’s have thosewet clothes off you, and find you a man who matches, before youcatch your death.” He shouted for the servants, and sent themrunning for towels and coats and hose.

“No matter for me,” protested Nicholas feverishly,catching at his arm. “What matters is the proof I have, thatfits only one man, to my mind, and he going free, and God knowswhere…”

“Ah, but Nicholas, if it’s Adam Heriet you’reafter, then you need fret no longer. Adam Heriet is safe behind alocked door here in the castle, and has been for a matter ofdays.”

“You have him? You found Heriet? He’s taken?”Nicholas drew deep and vengeful breath, and heaved a greatsigh.

“We have him, and he’ll keep. He has a sistermarried to a craftsman in Brigge, and was visiting his kin like anyhonest man. Now he’s the sheriff’s guest, and stays sountil we have the rights of it, so no more sweat forhim.”

“And have you got any part of it out of him? What has hesaid?”

“Nothing to the purpose. Nothing an honest man might nothave said in his place.”

“That shall change,” said Nicholas grimly, andallowed himself to notice his own sodden condition for the firsttime, and to accept the use of the small chamber provided him, andthe clothes put at his disposal. But he was half into his talebefore he had dried his face and his tousled hair and shrugged hisway into dry garments.

“… never a trace anywhere of the church ornaments,which should be the most notable if ever they were marketed. And Iwas in two minds whether it was worth enquiring further, when theman’s wife came in, and I knew the ring she was wearing forJulian’s. No, that’s to press it too far, Iknow—say rather I saw that it fitted only too well thedescription we had of Julian’s. You remember? Enamelled allround with flowers in yellow and blue…”

“I have the whole register by heart,” said Hughdrily.

“Then you’ll see why I was so sure. I asked whereshe got it, and she said it was brought into the shop for salealong with two other pieces of jewellery, by a man about fiftyyears old. Three years back, on the twentieth day of August, forthat was the day of her birth, and she asked the ring as a present,and got it from her husband. And the other two pieces, both soldsince, they described to me as a necklace of polished stones and asilver bracelet engraved with sprays of vetch or pease. Three such,and all together! They could only be Julian’s.”

Hugh nodded emphatic agreement to that. “And theman?”

“The description the woman gave me fits what little I havebeen told of Adam Heriet, for till now I have not seen him. Fiftyyears old, tanned from living outdoor like forester orhuntsman… You have seen him, you know more. Brown-beardedshe said and balding, a face of oak… Is that intune?”

“To the letter and the note.”

“And the ring I have. Here, see! I asked it of the womanfor this need, and she trusted me with it, though she valued it andwould not sell, and I must give it back—when its work isdone! Could this be mistaken?”

“It could not. Cruce and all his household will confirmit, but truth, we hardly need them. Is there more?”

“There is! For the jeweller questioned the ownership,seeing these were all a woman’s things, and asked if the ladywho owned them had no further use for them. And the man said, asfor the lady who had owned them, no, she had no further use forthem, seeing she was dead!”

“He said so? Thus baldly?”

“He did. Wait, there’s more! The woman was a littlecurious about him, and followed him out of the shop when he left.And she saw him meet with a young fellow who was lurking by thewall outside, and give something over to him—a part of themoney or the whole, or so she thought. And when they were aware ofher watching, they slipped away round the corner out of sight, veryquickly.”

“All this she will testify to?”

“I am sure she will. And a good witness, careful andclear.”

“So it seems,” said Hugh, and shut his fingersdecisively over the ring. “Nicholas, you must take some foodand wine now, while this downpour continues—for why shouldyou drown a second time when we have our quarry already in safehold? But as soon as it stops, you and I will go and confrontMaster Heriet with this pretty thing, and see if we cannot prisemore out of him this time than a child’s tale of gaping atthe wonders of Winchester.”

Ever since dinner Brother Cadfael had beendividing his time between the mill and the gatehouse, forewarned ofpossible trouble by the massing of the clouds long before the rainbegan. When the storm broke he took refuge in the mill, from whichvantage-point he could keep an eye on both the pond and its outletto the brook, and the road from the town, in case Madog should havefound it advisable to land his charges for shelter in Frankwell,rather than completing the long circuit of the town, in which casehe would come afoot to report as much.

The mill’s busy season was over, it was quiet and dimwithin, no sound but the monotonous dull drumming of the rain. Itwas there that Madog found him, a drowned rat of a Madog, alone. Hehad come by the path outside the abbey enclave, by which the towncustomers approached with their grain to be milled, rather thanenter at the gatehouse. He loomed shadowy against the open doorway,and stood mute, dangling long, helpless arms. No man’sstrength could fight off the powers of weather and storm andthunder. Even his long endurance had its limits.

“Well?” said Cadfael, chilled with foreboding.

“Not well, but very ill.” Madog came slowly within,and what light there was showed the dour set of his face.“Anything to astonish me, you said! I have had my fill ofastonishment, and I bring it straight to you, as you wished. Godknows,” he said, wringing out beard and hair, and shakingrivulets of rain from his shoulders, “I’m at a loss toknow what to do about it. If you had foreknowledge, you may be ableto see a way forward—I’m blind!” He drew deepbreath, and told it all in words blunt and brief. “The rainalone would not have troubled us. The lightning struck a tree,heaved it at us as we passed, and split us asunder. Theboat’s gone piecemeal down the river, where the shreds willfetch up there’s no guessing. And those two brothers ofyours…”

“Drowned? ” said Cadfael in a stunnedwhisper.

“The older one, Marescot, yes… Dead, at any rate. Igot him out, the young one helping, though him I had to loose, Icould not grapple with both. But I could get no breath back intoMarescot. There was barely time for him to drown, the shock morelikely stopped his heart, frail as he was—the cold, even thenoise of the thunder. However it was, he’s dead.There’s an end. As for the other—what is there I couldtell you of the other, that you do not know?”

He was searching Cadfael’s face with close and wonderingattention. “No, there’s no astonishment in it for you,is there? You knew it all before. Now what do we do?”

Cadfael stirred out of his stillness, gnawed a cautious lip, andstared out into the rain. The worst had passed, the sky was growinglighter. Far along the river valley the diminishing rolls ofthunder followed the foul brown flood-water downstream.

“Where have you left them?”

“On the far side of Frankwell, not a mile from the bridge,there’s a hut on the bank, the fishermen use it. We fetchedup close by, and I got them into cover there. We’ll need alitter to bring Marescot home, but what of the other?”

“Nothing of the other! The other’s gone, drowned,the Severn has taken him. And no alarm, no litter, not yet. Bearwith me, Madog, for this is a desperate business, but if we treadcarefully now we may come through it unscathed. Go back to them,and wait for me there. I’m coming with you as far as thetown, then you go on to the hut, and I’ll come to you thereas soon as I can. And never a word of this, never to any, for thesake of us all.”

The rain had stopped by the time Cadfael turned inat the gate of Hugh’s house. Every roof glistened, everygutter streamed, as the grey remnants of cloud cleared from a sunnow bright and benevolent, all its coppery malignancy gonedown-river with the storm.

“Hugh is still at the castle,” said Aline, surprisedand pleased as she rose to meet him. “He has a visitor withhim there—Nicholas Harnage is come back, he says with grimnews, but he did not stay to confide it to me.”

“He? He’s back?” Cadfael was momentarilydistracted, even alarmed. “What can he have found, I wonder?And how wide will he have spread it already?” He shook thespeculation away from him. “Well, that makes my business allthe more urgent. Girl dear, it’s you I want! Had Hugh beenhere, I would have begged the loan of you of your lord in a propercivil fashion, but as things are… I need you for an hour ortwo. Will you ride with me in a good cause? We’ll needhorses—one for you to go and return, and one for me to gofurther still—one of Hugh’s big fellows that can carrytwo at a pinch. Will you be my advocate, and see me back into goododour if I borrow such a horse? Trust me, the need isurgent.”

“Hugh’s stables have always been open to you,”said Aline, “since ever we got to know you. And I’lllend myself for any enterprise you tell me is urgent. How far havewe to go?”

“Not far. Over the western bridge and across Frankwell. Imust ask the loan of some of your possessions, too,” saidCadfael.

“Tell me what you want, and then you go and saddle thehorses—Jehan is there, tell him you have my leave. And youcan tell me what all this means and what I’m needed for onthe way.”

Adam Heriet looked up sharply and alertly when thedoor of his prison was opened at an unexpected hour of the earlyevening. He drew himself together with composure and caution whenhe saw who entered. He was practised and prepared in all thequestions with which he had so far had to contend, but thispromised or threatened something new. The bold oaken face thejeweller’s wife had so shrewdly observed served him well. Herose civilly in the presence of his betters, but with a formalstiffness and a blank countenance which suggested that he did notfeel himself to be in any way inferior. The door closed behindthem, though the key was not turned. There was no need, there wouldbe a guard outside.

“Sit, Adam! We have been showing some interest in yourmovements in Winchester, at the time you know of,” said Hughmildly. “Would you care to add anything to what you’vealready told us? Or to change anything?”

“No, my lord. I have told you what I did and where I went.There is no more to tell.”

“Your memory may be faulty. All men are fallible. Can wenot remind you, for instance, of a silversmith’s shop in theHigh Street? Where you sold three small things of value—notyour property?”

Adam’s face remained stonily stoical, but his eyesflickered briefly from one face to the other. “I never soldanything in Winchester. If anyone says so, they have mistaken mefor some other man.”

“You lie!” said Nicholas, flaring. “Who elsewould be carrying these very three things? A necklace of polishedstones, an engraved silver bracelet—andthis !”

The ring lay in his open palm, thrust close under Adam’snose, its enamels shining with a delicate lustre, a small work ofart so singular that there could not be a second like it. And hehad known the girl from infancy, and must have been familiar withher trinkets long before that journey south. If he denied this, heproclaimed himself a liar, for there were plenty of others whocould swear to it.

He did not deny it. He even stared at it with a well-assumedwonder and surprise, and said at once: “That isJulian’s! Where did you get it?”

“From the silversmith’s wife. She kept it for herown, and she remembered very well the man who brought it, andpainted as good a picture of him as the law will need to put yourname to him. Yes, this is Julian’s!” said Nicholas,hoarse with passion. “That is what you did with her goods.What did you do with her? ”

“I’ve told you! I parted from her a mile or morefrom Wherwell, at her orders, and I never saw her again.”

“You lie in your teeth! You destroyed her.”

Hugh laid a hand on the young man’s arm, which started andquivered at the touch, like a pointing hound distracted from hisaim.

“Adam, you waste your lying, which is worse. Here is aring you acknowledge for your mistress’s property, sold,according to two good witnesses, on the twentieth of August threeyears ago, in a Winchester shop, by a man whose description fitsyou better than your own clothes…”

“Then it could fit many a man of my age,” protestedAdam stoutly. “What is there singular about me? The woman hasnot pointed the finger at me , she has not seenme…”

“She will, Adam, she will. We can bring her, and herhusband, too, to accuse you to your face. As I accuse you,”said Hugh firmly. “This is too much to be passed off as achildren’s tale, or a curious chance. We need no better caseagainst you than this ring and those two witnessesprovide—for robbery, if not for murder. Yes, murder! How elsedid you get possession of her jewellery? And if you did not conniveat her death, then where is she now? She never reached Wherwell,nor was she expected there, it was quite safe to put her out of theworld, her kin here believing her safe in a nunnery, the nunneryundisturbed by her never arriving, for she had given noforewarning. So where is she, Adam? On the earth or underit?”

“I know no more than I’ve told you,” saidAdam, setting his teeth.

“Ah, but you do! You know how much you got from thesilversmith—and how much of it you paid over to your hiredassassin, outside the shop. Who was he, Adam?” demanded Hughsoftly. “The woman saw you meet him, pay him, slither awayround the corner with him when you saw her standing at the door.Who was he?”

“I know nothing of any such man. It was not I who wentthere, I tell you.” His voice was still firm, but a shadehurried now, and had risen a tone, and he was beginning tosweat.

“The woman has described him, too. A young fellow abouttwenty, slender, and kept his capuchon over his head. Give him aname, Adam, and it may somewhat lighten your load. If you know aname for him? Where did you find him? In the market? Or was hebespoken well before for the work?”

“I never entered such a shop. If all this happened, ithappened to other men, not to me. I was not there.”

“But Julian’s possessions were, Adam! That’scertain. And brought by someone who much resembled you. When thewoman sees you in the flesh, then I may say, brought byyou . Better to tell us, Adam. Spare yourself a longuncovering, make your confession of your own will, and be done.Spare the silversmith’s wife a long journey. For shewill point the finger, Adam. This, she will say when shesets eyes on you, this is the man.”

“I have nothing to confess. I’ve done nowrong.”

“Why did you choose that particular shop, Adam?”

“I was never in the shop. I had nothing to sell. I was notthere…”

“But this ring was, Adam. How did it get there? And withneckless and bracelet, too? Chance? How far can chancestretch?”

“I left her a mile from Wherwell…”

“Dead, Adam?”

“I parted from her living, I swear it!”

“Yet you told the silversmith that the lady who had ownedthese gems was dead. Why did you so?”

“I told you, it was not I, I was never in theshop.”

“Some other man, was it? A stranger, and yet he had thoseornaments, all three, and he resembled you, and he knew and saidthat the lady was dead. Here are so many miraculous chances, Adam,how do you account for them?”

The prisoner let his head fall back against the wall. His facewas grey. “I never laid hand on her. I loved her!”

“And this is not her ring?”

“It is her ring. Anyone at Lai will tell youso.”

“Yes, they will, Adam, they will! They will tell the courtso, when your time comes. But only you can tell us how it came intoyour possession, unless by murder. Who was the man youpaid?”

“There was none. I was not there. It was notI…”

The pace had steadily increased, the questions coming thick asarrows and as deadly. Round and round, over and over the sameground, and the man was tiring at last. If he was breakable at all,he must break soon.

They were so intent, and strung so taut, like overtunedinstruments, that they all three started violently when there was aknock at the door of the cell, and a sergeant put his head in,visibly agape with sensational news. “My lord, pardon, butthey thought you should know at once… There’s word intown that a boat sank today in the storm. Two brothers from theabbey drowned in Severn, they’re saying, and Madog’sboat smashed to flinders by a tree the lightning fetched down.They’re searching downstream for one of thepair…”

Hugh was on his feet, aghast. “Madog’s boat? That must be the hiring Cadfael told me of… Drowned?Are they sure of their tale? Madog never lost man nor cargo tillnow.”

“My lord, who can argue with lightning? The tree crashedfull on them. Someone in Frankwell saw the bolt fall. The lordabbot may not even know of it yet, but they’re all in thesame story in the town.”

“I’ll come!” said Hugh, and swung hurriedly onNicholas. “God knows I’m sorry, Nick, if this is true.Brother Humilis—your Godfrid—had a longing to see hisbirthplace at Salton again, and set out with Madog this morning, orso he intended—he and Fidelis. Come with me! We’d bestgo find out the truth of it. Pray God they’ve made much oflittle, as usual, and they’ve come by nothing worse than aducking… Madog can outswim most fish. But let’s go andmake sure.”

Nicholas had risen with him, startled and slow to take it in.“My lord? And he so sick? Oh, God, he could not live throughsuch a shock. Yes, I’ll come… I must know!”

And they were away, abandoning their prisoner. The door closedbriskly between, and the key turned in the lock. No one had givenanother look or thought to Adam Heriet, who sank back slowly on hishard bed, and bowed himself into his cupped hands, a demoralisedhulk of a man, worn out and emptied at heart. Gradually slow tearsbegan to seep between his braced fingers and fall upon his pillow,but there was no one there to see and wonder, and no one tointerpret.

They took horse in haste through the town, throughstreets astonishingly drying out already in the gentle warmth afterthe deluge. It was still broad day and late sunlight, and the roofsand walls and roads steamed, so that the horses waded a shallow,frail sea of vapour. They passed by Hugh’s house withouthalting. As well, for they would have found no Aline there to greetthem.

People were emerging into the streets again wherever theypassed, gathering in twos and threes, heads together and chinsearnestly wagging. The word of tragedy had gone round rapidly, onceit was whispered. Nor was it any false alarm this time. Out throughthe eastern gate and crossing the bridge towards the abbey, Hughand Nicholas drew rein at sight of a small, melancholy processioncrossing ahead of them. Four men carried an improvised litter, anouthouse door taken from its hinges in some Frankwellhouseholder’s yard, and draped decently with rugs to carrythe corpse of one victim, at least, of the storm. One only, for itwas a narrow door, and the four bearers handled it as if the weightwas light, though the swathed body lay long and large-boned on itsbier.

They fell in reverently behind, as many of the townsfolk afootwere also doing, swelling the solemn progress like a funeralcortege. Nicholas stared and strained ahead, measuring the mute andmotionless body. So long and yet so light, fallen away into agebefore age was due, this could be no other but Godfrid Marescot,the maimed and dwindling flesh at last shed by its immaculatespirit. He stared through a mist, trying impatiently to clear hiseyes.

“That is this Madog, that man who leads them?”

Hugh nodded silently, yes. No doubt but Madog had recruitedfriends from the suburb, part Welsh, as he was wholly Welsh, tohelp him bring the dead man home. He commanded his helpersdecorously, dolorously, with great dignity.

“The other one—Fidelis?” wondered Nicholas,recalling the retiring anonymous figure forever shrinking intoshadow, yet instant in service. He felt a pang of self-reproachthat he grieved so much for Godfrid, and so little for the youngman who had made himself a willing slave to Godfrid’snobility.

Hugh shook his head. There was but one here.

They were across the bridge and moving along the approach to theForegate, between the Gaye on the left hand and the mill andmill-pool on the right, and so to the gatehouse of the abbey. Therethe bearers turned in to the right with their burden, under thearch, into the great court, where a silent, solemn assembly hadmassed to wait for them, and there they set down their charge, andstood in silent attendance.

The news had reached the abbey as the brothers came fromVespers. They gathered in a stunned circle, abbot, prior,obedientiaries, monks and novices, brought thus abruptly to thecontemplation of mortality. The townspeople who had followed theprocession to its destination hovered within the gate, somewhatapart, and gazed in awed silence.

Madog approached the abbot with the Welshman’s unservilereadiness to accept all men as equals, and told his story simply.Radulfus acknowledged the will of God and the helplessness of manwith an absolving motion of his hand, and stood looking down at theswathed body a long moment, before he stooped and drew back thecovering from the face.

Humilis in dying had shed all but his proper years. Death couldnot restore the lost and fallen flesh, but it had relaxed thesharp, gaunt lines, and smoothed away the engraved hollows of pain.Hugh and Nicholas, standing aloof at the corner of the cloister,caught a brief glimpse of Humilis translated, removed intosuperhuman serenity and repose, before Radulfus lowered the clothagain, blessed the bier and the bearers, and motioned to hisobedientiaries to take up the body and carry it into the mortuarychapel.

Only then, when Brother Edmund, reminded of old reticences thosetwo lost brothers had shared, and manifestly deprived of Fidelis,looked round for the one other man who was in the intimate secretsof Humilis’s broken body, and failed to find him—onlythen did Hugh realise that Brother Cadfael was the one man missingfrom this gathering. He, who of all men should have been ready anddutiful in whatever concerned Humilis, to be elsewhere at thismoment! The dereliction stuck fast in Hugh’s mind, until hemade sense of it later. It was, after all, possible that a dead manshould have urgent unfinished business elsewhere, even more dear tohim than the last devotions paid to his body.

They extended their respects and condolences toAbbot Radulfus, with the promise that search should be madedownstream for the body of Brother Fidelis, as long as any hoperemained of finding him, and then they rode back at a walking paceinto the town, host and guest together. The dusk was closing gentlyin, the sky clear, bland, innocent of evil, the air suddenly cooland kind. Aline was waiting with the evening meal ready to beserved, and welcomed two men returning as graciously as one. And ifthere was still a horse missing from the stables, Hugh did notlinger to discover it, but left the horses to the grooms, anddevoted his own attention to Nicholas.

“You must stay with us,” he said over supper,“until his burial. I’ll send word to Cruce, he’llwant to pay the last honours to one who once meant to become hisbrother by law, and he has a right to know how things stand nowwith Heriet.”

That caused Aline to prick up her ears. “And how do thingsstand now with Heriet? So much has happened today, I seem to havemissed at least the half of it. Nicholas did say he brought grimnews, but even the downpour couldn’t delay him long enough tosay more. What has happened?”

They told her, between them, all that had passed, from thedogged search in Winchester to the point where news ofMadog’s disaster had interrupted the questioning of AdamHeriet, and sent them out in consternation to find out the truth ofthe report. Aline listened with a slight, anxious frown.

“He burst in crying that two brothers from the abbey weredead, drowned in the river? Named names, did he? There in the cell,in front of your prisoner?”

“I think it was I who named names,” said Hugh.“It came at the right moment for Heriet, I fancy he wasnearing the end of his tether. Now he can draw breath for the nextbout, though I doubt if it will save him.”

Aline said no more on that score until Nicholas, short of sleepafter his long ride and the shocks of this day, took himself off tohis bed. When he was gone, she laid by the embroidery on which shehad been working, and went and sat down beside Hugh on thecushioned bench beside the empty hearth, and wound a persuasive armabout his neck.

“Hugh, love—there’s something you musthear—and Nicholas must not hear, not yet, not untilall’s over and safe and calm. It might be best if he neverdoes hear it, though perhaps he’ll divine at least half of itfor himself in the end. But you we need now.”

“We? ” said Hugh, not too greatly surprised,and turned to wind an arm comfortably about her waist and draw hercloser to his side.

“Cadfael and I. Who else?”

“So I supposed,” said Hugh, sighing and smiling.“I did wonder at his abandoning the disastrous end of aventure he himself helped to launch.”

“But he did not abandon it, he’s about resolving itthis moment. And if you should hear someone about the stables, alittle later, no need for alarm, it will only be Cadfael bringingback your horse, and you know he can be trusted to see to hishorse’s comfort before he gives a thought to hisown.”

“I foresee a long story,” said Hugh. “It hadbetter be interesting.” Her fair hair was soft and sweetagainst his cheek. He turned to touch his lips to hers, very softlyand briefly.

“It is. As any matter of life and death must be.You’ll see! And since it was blurted out in front of poorAdam Heriet that two brothers have drowned, you ought to pay him avisit as soon as you can, tomorrow, and tell him he need not fret,that things are not always what they seem.”

“Then tell me,” said Hugh, “what they reallyare.”

She settled herself warmly into the circle of his arm, and verygravely told him.

The search for the body of Brother Fidelis was pursueddiligently from both banks of the river, at every spot wherefloating debris commonly came ashore, for more than two days, butall that came to light was one of his sandals, torn from his footby the river and cast up in the sandy shoals near Atcham. Mostbodies that went into the Severn were also put ashore by theSevern, sooner or later. This one never would be. Shrewsbury andthe world had seen the last of Brother Fidelis.