"My lord came down here from the town when he heard of these outlaws pa.s.sing this way, but never a glimpse of them have we encountered since. They'll be well out of reach before this. He'll welcome diversion, if you have so curious a tale to tell. He left his countess behind in Leicester."

"And the reliquary is here?" demanded Prior Robert, anxious to have his best hopes confirmed.

"If that is what it is, Father, yes, it's here."

"And has suffered no damage?"

"I think not," said the boy, willing to please. "But I have not seen it close. I know the earl admired the silverwork."

He left them in a panelled solar beyond the hall, and went to inform his master that he had unexpected guests; and no more than five minutes later the door of the room opened upon the lord of half Leicestershire, a good slice of Warwickshire and Northampton, and a large honour in Normandy brought to him by his marriage with the heiress of Breteuil.

It was the first time Hugh had seen him, and he came to the encounter with sharp and wary interest. Robert Beaumont, earl of Leicester like his father before him, was a man barely a year past forty, squarely built and no more than medium tall, dark of hair and darker of eyes, rich but sombre in his attire, and carrying the habit of command very lightly, not overstressed, for there was no need. He was cleanshaven, in the Norman manner, leaving open to view a face broad at brow and well provided with strong and shapely bone, a lean jaw, and a full, firm mouth, long-lipped and mobile, and quirking upward at the corners to match a certain incalculable spark in his eye. The symmetry of his body and the smoothness of his movements were thrown out of balance by the slight bulge that heaved one shoulder out of line with its fellow. Not a great flaw, but insistently it troubled the eyes of guests coming new to his acquaintance.

"My lord sheriff, reverend gentlemen," said the earl, "you come very aptly, if Robin has reported your errand rightly, for I confess I've been tempted to lift the lid on whatever it is they've brought me from Ullesthorpe. It would have been a pity to break those very handsome seals, I'm glad I held my hand."

And so am I, thought Hugh fervently, and so will Cadfael be. The earl's voice was low-pitched and full, pleasing to the ear, and the news he had communicated even more pleasing. Prior Robert melted and became at once gracious and voluble. In the presence of a Norman magnate of such power and dignity this other Norman Robert, monastic though he was by choice, harked back to his own heredity, and blossomed as if preening before a mirror.

"My lord, if I may speak for Shrewsbury, both abbey and town, I must tell you how grateful we are that Saint Winifred fell into such n.o.ble hands as yours. Almost one might feel that she has herself directed matters in miraculous fashion, protecting herself and her devotees even among such perils."

"Almost one might, indeed!" said Earl Robert, and the eloquent and sensitive lips curved into a gradual and thoughtful smile. "If the saints can secure at will whatever their own wishes may be, it would seem the lady saw fit to turn to me. I am honoured beyond my deserts. Come, now, and see how I have lodged her, and that no harm or insult has been offered her. I'll show you the way. You must lodge here tonight at least, and as long as you may wish. Over supper you shall tell me the whole story, and we shall see what must be done now, to please her."

His table was lavish, his welcome open and generous, they could hardly have fallen into richer pastures after all these vexations; and yet Hugh continued throughout the meal curiously alert, as though he expected something unforeseen to happen at any moment, and divert events into some wild course at a tangent, just when Prior Robert, at least, was beginning to believe his troubles over. It was not so much a feeling of disquiet as of expectation, almost pleasurable antic.i.p.ation. Tempting to speculate what could possibly complicate their mission now?

The earl had only a small household with him at Huncote, but even so they were ten at the high table, and all male, since the countess and her women were left behind in Leicester. Earl Robert kept the two monastic dignitaries one on either side of him, with Hugh at Herluin's other side. Nicol had betaken himself to his due place among the servants, and Tutilo, silent and self-effacing among such distinguished company, was down at the end among the clerks and chaplains, and wary of opening his mouth even there. There are times when it is better to be a listener, and a very attentive one, at that.

"A truly strange story," said the earl, having listened with flattering concentration to Prior Robert's eloquent exposition of the whole history of Shrewsbury's tenure of Saint Winifred, from her triumphant translation from Gwytherin to an altar in the abbey, and her inexplicable disappearance during the flood. "For it seems that she was removed from her own altar without human agency, or at least you have found none. And she has already been known, you tell me, to work miracles. Is it possible," wondered the earl, appealing deferentially to Prior Robert's more profound instruction in things holy, "that for some beneficent purpose of her own she may have transferred herself miraculously from the place where she was laid? Can she have seen fit to pursue some errand of blessing elsewhere? Or felt some disaffection to the place where she was?" He had the prior stiffly erect and somewhat pale in the face by this time, though the manner of the questioning was altogether reverent and grave, even deprecating. "If I tread too presumptuously into sacred places, reprove me," entreated the earl, with the submissive sweetness of a brandnew novice.

Precious little chance of that happening, thought Hugh, listening and observing with a pleasure that recalled to mind some of his earliest and most tentative exchanges with Brother Cadfael, dealing trick for trick and dart for dart, and feeling their way over small battlefields to a lasting friendship. The prior might possibly suspect that he was being teased, for he was no fool, but he would certainly not challenge or provoke a magnate of Robert Beaumont's stature. And in any case, the other austere Benedictine had taken the bait. Herluin's lean countenance had quickened into calculating if cautious eagerness.

"My lord," he said, restraining what could easily have blossomed into a glow of triumph, "even a layman may be inspired to speak prophecy. My brother prior has himself testified to her powers of grace, and says plainly that no man has been found to own that he carried the reliquary. Is it too much to suppose that Saint Winifred herself moved her relics to the wagon that was bound for Ramsey? Ramsey, so shamefully plundered and denuded by impious villains? Where could she be more needed and honoured? Where do more wonders for a house grossly misused? For it is now certain that she left Shrewsbury on the cart that was returning with gifts from the devout to our needy and afflicted abbey. If her intent was to come there with blessing, dare we contest her wishes?"

Oh, he had them locked antler to antler now, two proud stags with lowered heads and rolling eyes, gathering their sinews for the thrust that should send one of them backing out of the contest. But the earl insinuated a restraining hand, though without any indication that he had seen the impending clash.

"I do not presume to make any claim, who am I to read such riddles? For Shrewsbury certainly brought the lady from Wales, and in Shrewsbury she has done wonders, never renouncing their devotion to her. I seek guidance, never dare I offer it in such matters. I mentioned a possibility. If men had any hand in her movements, what I said falls to the ground, for then all is plain. But until we know..."

"We have every reason to believe," said Prior Robert, awesome in his silvery indignation, "that the saint has made her home with us. We have never failed in devotion. Her day has been celebrated most reverently every year, and the day of her translation has been particularly blessed. Our most dutiful and saintly brother was himself healed of his lameness by her, and has been ever since her particular squire and servant. I do not believe she would ever leave us of her own will."

"Oh, never with any heart to deprive you," protested Herluin, "but in compa.s.sion for a monastic house brought to ruin might she not feel bound to exert herself to deliver? Trusting to your generosity to respect the need, and add to your alms already given the power and grace she could bestow? For certain it is that she did leave your enclave with my men, and with them took the road to Ramsey. Why so, if she had no wish to depart from you, and none to come and abide with us?"

"It is not yet proven," declared Prior Robert, falling back upon the mere material facts of the case, "that men, and sinful men, for if it happened so this was sacrilegious theft!, had no part in her removal from our care. In Shrewsbury our lord abbot has given orders to seek out all those who came to help us when the river rose into the church. We do not know what has been uncovered, what testimony given. There the truth may by now be known. Here it certainly is not."

The earl had sat well back from between the bristling champions, absolving himself from all responsibility here except to keep the peace and harmony of his hall. His countenance was bland, sympathetic to both parties, concerned that both should have justice done to them, and be satisfied.

"Reverend Fathers," he said mildly, "as I hear, you intend in any case returning together to Shrewsbury. What hinders that you should put off all dispute until you are there, and hear all that has been discovered in your absence? Then all may be made plain. And if that fails, and there is still no hand of man apparent in the removal, then it will be time to consider a rational judgement. Not now! Not yet!"

With guarded relief but without enthusiasm they accepted that, at least as a means of postponing hostilities.

True!" said Prior Robert, though still rather coldly. "We cannot antic.i.p.ate. They will have done all that can be done to unearth the truth. Let us wait until we know."

"I did pray the saint's help for our plight," Herluin persisted, "while I was there with you. It is surely conceivable that she heard and had pity on us... But you are right, patience is required of us until we hear further on the matter."

A little mischief in it, Hugh judged, content to be an onlooker and have the best view of the game, but no malice. He's amusing himself at a dull time of year, and being here without his womenfolk, but he's as adroit at calming the storm as he is at raising it. Now what more can he do to pa.s.s the evening pleasantly, and entertain his guests? One of them, at any rate, he admitted a shade guiltily, and reminded himself that he had still to get these two ambitious clerics back to Shrewsbury without bloodshed.

"There is yet a small matter that has escaped notice," said the earl almost apologetically. "I should be loth to create more difficulties, but I cannot help following a line of thought to its logical end. If Saint Winifred did indeed conceive and decree her departure with the wagon for Ramsey, and if a saint's plans cannot be disrupted by man, then surely she must also have willed all that happened after... the ambush by outlaws, the theft of the cart and team, the abandonment of the load, and with it, her reliquary, to be found by my tenants, and brought to me here. All accomplished, does it not seem plain?, to bring her finally where she now rests. Had she meant to go to Ramsey, there would have been no ambush, there she would have gone without hindrance. But she came here to my care. Impossible to say of the first move, it was her will, and not to extend that to what followed, or reason is gone mad."

Both his neighbours at table were staring at him in shocked alarm, knocked clean out of words, and that in itself was an achievement. The earl looked from one to the other with a disarming smile.

"You see my position. If the brothers in Shrewsbury have found the rogues or the fools who mislaid the saint in the first place, then there is no contention between any of us. But if they have not traced any such, then I have a logical claim. Gentlemen, I would not for the world be judge in a cause in which I am one party among three. I submit gladly to some more disinterested tribunal. If you are setting out for Shrewsbury tomorrow, so must Saint Winifred. And I will bear my part in escorting her, and ride with you."

Chapter Five.

BROTHER CADFAEL HAD MADE ONE JOURNEY to the hamlet of Preston in search of the young man Aldhelm, only to find that he was away in the riverside fields of the manor of Upton, busy with the lambing, for the season had been complicated by having to retrieve some of the ewes in haste from the rising water, and the shepherds were working all the hours of the day. On his second attempt, Cadfael made straight for Upton to enquire where their younger shepherd was to be found, and set out stoutly to tramp the further mile to a fold high and dry above the water-meadows.

Aldhelm got up from the turf on which a new and unsteady lamb was also trying to get to its feet, nuzzled by the quivering ewe. The shepherd was a loose-limbed fellow all elbows and knees, but quick and deft in movement for all that. He had a blunt, goodnatured face and a thick head of reddish hair. Haled in to help salvage the church's treaures, he had set to and done whatever was asked of him without curiosity, but there was nothing amiss with his sharp and a.s.sured memory, once he understood what was being asked of him.

"Yes, Brother, I was there. I went down to give Gregory and Lambert a hand with the timber, and Brother Richard called us in to help shift things within. There was another fellow running about there like us, someone from the guesthall, hefting things around off the altars. He seemed to know his way round, and what was needed. I just did what they asked of me."

"And did any ask of you, towards the end of the evening, to help him hoist a long bundle on to the wagon with the wood?" asked Cadfael, directly but without much expectation, and shook to the simple answer.

"Yes, so he did. He said it was to go with the wagon to Ramsey, and we put it in among the logs, well wedged in. It was padded safely enough, it wouldn't come to any harm."

It had come to harm enough, but he was not to know that. "The two lads from Longner never noticed it," said Cadfael. "How could that be?"

"Why, it was well dark then, and raining, and they were busy shifting the logs in the Longner cart down to the tail, to be easy to heft out and carry across. They might well have missed noticing. I never thought to mention it again, it was what the brother wanted, just one more thing to move. I took it he knew what he was about, and it was no business of ours to be curious about the abbey's affairs."

It was certainly true that the brother in question had known all too well what he was about, and there was small doubt left as to who he must be, but he could not be accused without witness.

"What was he like, this brother? Had you spoken with him before, in the church?"

"No. He came running out and took me by the sleeve in the darkness. It was raining, his cowl was drawn up close. A Benedictine brother for certain, is all I know. Not very tall, less than me. By his voice a young fellow. What else can I tell you? I could point him out to you, though, if I see him," he said positively.

"Seen once in the dark, and cowled? And you could know him again?"

"So I could, no question. I went back in with him to hoist this load, and the altar lamp was still bright. I saw his face close, with the light on it. To picture a man in words, one's much like another," said Aldhelm, "but bring me to see him, I'll pick him out from a thousand."

"I have found him," said Cadfael, reporting the result of his quest in private to Abbot Radulfus, "and he says he will know his man again."

"He is certain?"

"He is certain. And I am persuaded. He is the only one who saw the monk's face, by the altar lamp as they lifted the reliquary. That means close and clear, the light falling directly into the cowl. The others were outside, in the darkness and the rain. Yes, I think he can speak with certainty."

"And he will come?" asked Radulfus.

"He will come, but on his own terms. He has a master, and work to do, and they are still lambing. While one of his ewes is in trouble he will not budge. But when I send for him, by the evening, when his day's work is over, he'll come. It cannot be yet," said Cadfael, "not until they are back from Worcester. But the day I send for him, he will come."

"Good!" said Radulfus, but none too happily. "Since we have no choice but to pursue it." No need to elaborate on why it would be useless to send for the witness yet, it was accepted between them without words. "And, Cadfael, even when the day comes, we will not make it known at chapter. Let no one be forewarned, to go in fear or spread rumours. Let this be done as sensibly as possible, with the least harm to any, even the guilty."

"If she comes back, unharmed, unchanged," said Cadfael, "this may yet pa.s.s without harm or disgrace to any. She is also to be reckoned with, I have no fears for her." And it dawned upon him suddenly how right Hugh had been in saying that he, Cadfael, spoke by instinct of this hollow reliquary, as good as empty, as though it truly contained the wonder whose name it bore. And how sadly he had missed her, lacking the unworthy symbol she had deigned to make worthy.

Granted this authenticity even for the symbol, she came back the next day, n.o.bly escorted.

Brother Cadfael was just emerging from the door of the infirmary in mid-morning, after replenishing Brother Edmund's stores in the medicine cupboard, when they rode in at the gatehouse before his eyes. Not simply Hugh, Prior Robert, and the two emissaries from Ramsey with their lay servant, who indeed seemed to be missing, but a company augmented by the addition of two attendant grooms or squires, whatever their exact status might be, and a compact personage in his prime, who rode un.o.btrusively at Hugh's side, behind the two priors, and yet dominated the procession without any effort or gesture on his part. His riding gear was rich but in dark colours, the horse under him was more ornamented in his harness than the rider in his dress, and a very handsome dark roan. And behind him, on a narrow wheeled carriage drawn by one horse, came Saint Winifred's reliquary, decently nested on embroidered draperies.

It was wonderful to see how the great court filled, as though the word of her return in triumph had been blown in on the wind. Brother Denis came out from the guesthall, Brother Paul from the schoolroom, with two of his boys peering out from behind his skirts, two novices and two grooms from the stable-yard, and half a dozen brothers from various scattered occupations, all appeared on the scene almost before the porter was out of his lodge in haste to greet Prior Robert, the sheriff and the guests.

Tutilo, riding modestly at the rear of the cortege, slipped down from the saddle and ran to hold Herluin's stirrup, like a courtly page, as his superior descended. The model novice, a little too a.s.siduous, perhaps, to be quite easy in his mind. And if what Cadfael suspected was indeed true, he had now good reason to be on his best behaviour. The missing reliquary, it seemed, was back where it belonged, just as a witness had been found who could and would confirm exactly how it had been made to disappear. And though Tutilo did not yet know what lay in store for him, nevertheless he could not be quite sure this apparently joyous return would be the end of it. Hopeful but anxious, plaiting his fingers for luck, he would be wholly virtuous until the last peril was past, and himself still anonymous and invisible. He might even pray earnestly to Saint Winifred to protect him, he had the innocent effrontery for it.

Cadfael could not choose but feel some sympathy for one whose dubious but daring enterprise had come full circle, and now threatened him with disgrace and punishment; all the more as Cadfael himself had just been spared a possibly similar exposure. The lid of the reliquary, with its silver chasing exposed to view, no doubt to be instantly recognizable on entering the court, was still securely sealed down. No one had tampered with it, no one had viewed the body within. Cadfael at least could breathe again.

Prior Robert on his own ground had taken charge of all. The excited brothers raised the reliquary, and bore it away into the church, to its own altar, and Tutilo followed devotedly. The grooms and novices led away the horses, and wheeled away the light carriage into the grange court for housing. Robert, Herluin, Hugh and the stranger departed in the direction of the abbot's lodging, where Radulfus had already come out to greet them.

Stranger this new guest might be, certainly Cadfael had never seen him before, but it was no particular problem to work out who he must be, even if that left his presence here as a mystery. Not far from Leicester the ambush had taken place. Here was clearly a magnate of considerable power and status, why look further afield for his name? And Cadfael had not missed the heave of the misshapen shoulder, visible now in this rear view as a distinct hump, though not grave enough to disfigure an otherwise finely proportioned body. It was well known that the younger Beaumont twin was a marked man. Robert Bossu they called him, Robert the Hunchback, and reputedly he made no objection to the t.i.tle.

So what was Robert Bossu doing here? They had all disappeared into the abbot's hall now, whatever chance had brought him visiting would soon be known. And what Hugh had to say to Abbot Radulfus would soon be talked over again with Brother Cadfael. He had only to wait until this conference of sacred and secular powers was over.

Meantime, he reminded himself, since the entire company was now a.s.sembled, he had better be about sending off Father Boniface's errand-boy to find Aldhelm at Upton among his sheep, and ask him to come down to the abbey when his work for the day was over, and pick out his shadowy Benedictine from among a number now complete.

There was a silence in Cadfael's workshop in the herb garden, once Hugh had told the full story of Saint Winifred's odyssey, and how, and in what mood, Robert Beaumont had entered the contest to possess her.

"Is he in earnest?" asked Cadfael then.

"Halfway. He is playing, pa.s.sing the tedious time while there's virtually no fighting and very little manoeuvring, and while he wants none, but is uneasy being still. Short of employment, barring a difficult business of protecting his brother's interests here, as Waleran is protecting Robert's over in Normandy, as well as he can, this one enjoys putting the fox among the fowls, especially two such spurred and hackled c.o.c.kerels as your prior and Ramsey's Herluin. There's no malice in it," said Hugh tolerantly. "Should I grudge him his sport? I've done the like in my time."

"But he'll hold to it he has a claim?"

"As long as it amuses him, and he has nothing better to do. Good G.o.d, they put the notion into his head themselves! One might almost think, says Robert, our Robert, must I call him?, that she has been directing affairs herself! Almost one might, says the other Robert, and I saw the seed fall on fertile ground, and there he's tended it ever since. But never fret about him, he'll never push it to the length of humiliating either of them, let alone Abbot Radulfus, whom he recognizes as his match."

"It hardly shows," said Cadfael thoughtfully, going off at a surprising tangent.

"What does?"

"The hump. Robert Bossu! I'd heard the name, who has not? Robert and Waleran of Beaumont seem to have parted company these last years, twins or no. The elder has been in Normandy for four years now, Stephen can hardly count him as the staunch supporter he used to be."

"Nor does he," agreed Hugh dryly. "Stephen knows when he's lost a sound man. More than likely he fully understands the reason, and it can hardly be accounted any man's fault. The pair of them have lands both here in England and over in Normandy, and since Geoffrey of Anjou has made himself master of Normandy, on his son's behalf, every man in Stephen's backing fears for his lands over there, and must be tempted to change sides to keep Anjou's favour. The French and Norman lands matter most to Waleran, who can wonder that he's gone over there and made himself at least acceptable to Geoffrey, rather than risk being dispossessed. It's more than the lands. He got the French possessions, the heart of the honour, when their father died, he's count of Meulan, and his line is bound up in the t.i.tle. Without Meulan he'd be nameless. Robert's inheritance was the English lands. Breteuil came only by marriage, this is where he belongs. So Waleran goes where his roots are, to keep them safe from being torn up, even if he must do homage to Anjou for the soil they've been firm in for generations. Where his heart is I am not sure. He owes allegiance to Geoffrey now, but does as little to aid him and as little to harm Stephen as possible, protecting both his own and his brother's interests there, while Robert does as much for him here. They both hold off from what action there is. Small wonder!" said Hugh. "There is also a matter of sheer weariness. This chaos has gone on too long."

"It is never easy," said Cadfael sententiously, "to serve two masters, even when there are two brothers to share the labour."

"There are others with the same anxieties," said Hugh.

"There will be more now, with one cause in the ascendant here and the other there. But we have a problem of our own here, Hugh, and even if the earl is only diverting himself, be sure Herluin is not. If I'd known," said Cadfael dubiously, "that you were going to bring her back safely, and no great harm done, I might not have been so busy about worrying out how she ever went astray."

"I doubt if you'd have had any choice," said Hugh with sympathy, "and certainly you have none now."

"None! I've sent for the lad from the Upton manor, as I told Radulfus I would, and before Compline he'll be here, and the truth will surely be out. Every man of us knows now how the reliquary was filched and borne away, it wants only this boy's testimony to give the thief a face and a name. A small figure and a young voice, says Aldhelm, who was tricked into helping him, and saw his face close. It hardly needs confirming," admitted Cadfael, "except that justice must be seen to proceed on absolute certainty. Herluin is neither small nor young. And why should any brother of Shrewsbury want to see our best patroness carted away to Ramsey? Once the method was out, as today it is, who could it be but Tutilo?"

"A bold lad!" remarked Hugh, unable to suppress an appreciative grin. "He'll be wasted in a cowl. And do you know, I very much doubt whether Herluin would have raised any objection to a successful theft, but he'll have the youngster's hide now it's proved a failure." He rose to leave, stretching limbs still a little stiff from the long ride. "I'm away home. I'm not needed here until this Aldhelm has played his part and pointed the finger at your Tutilo, as I take it you're certain he will before the night's out. I'd as soon not be here. If there's a part for me, let it be left until tomorrow."

Cadfael went out with him only into the herb garden, for he still had work to do here. Brother Winfrid, big and young and wholesome, was leaning on his spade at the edge of the vegetable patch beyond, and gazing after a diminutive figure that was just scuttling away round the corner of the box hedge towards the great court.

"What was Brother Jerome doing, lurking around your workshop?" asked Brother Winfrid, coming to put away his tools when the light began to fail.

"Was he?" said Cadfael abstractedly, pounding herbs in a mortar for a linctus. "He never showed himself."

"No, nor never intended to," said Winfrid in his usual forthright fashion. "Wanting to know what the sheriff had to say to you, I suppose. He was some minutes there outside the door, until he heard you stirring to come out, then he was off in a hurry. I doubt he heard any good of himself."

"He can have heard nothing of himself at all," said Cadfael contentedly. "And nothing that can do him any good, either."

Remy of Pertuis had as good as made up his mind to leave that day, but the arrival of the earl of Leicester caused him to think again, and countermand his orders to Benezet and Daalny to begin packing. The lame horse was fit and ready for action. But now might it not be wise to wait a few days, and examine the possibilities suggested by this magnate who had appeared so providentially? Remy had no personal knowledge of Ranulf, earl of Chester, and could not be sure what kind of welcome he would get in the north. Whereas rumour led him to believe that Robert Beaumont was a cultivated man, likely to appreciate music. At least he was here, lodged in the same guesthall, dining at the same table. Why abandon an opportunity present and promising, to go after a distant and unproven one?

So Remy set out to explore the situation, and laid himself out to please, and his gifts and graces, when he tried, were considerable. Benezet had been in his service long enough to understand his own part in the operation in hand without having to be told. He made himself agreeable to the earl's squires in the stableyard, and kept his ears open for any revealing mentions of Robert Bossu's tastes, temperament and interests, and what he garnered was encouraging. Such a patron would be a complete protection, a life of comparative luxury, and a very congenial employment. Benezet was sauntering back to the guesthall with his gleanings, when he observed Brother Jerome rounding the box hedge from the garden, head-down and in a hurry. Also, it seemed to Benezet, in some excitement, and in haste to unburden himself to someone about whatever was on his mind. There was only one person to whom Jerome would be reporting with so much fervour; Benezet, naturally curious about anything that might serve his turn or redound to his profit, was not averse to picking up a few crumbs of useful information by the way. He slowed his pace to observe where Jerome went, and followed him without haste into the cloister.

Prior Robert was replacing a book in the aumbry cupboard at the end of the scriptorium. Jerome made for him, heavy and urgent with news. Benezet slipped into a carrel as near as he could approach unnoticed, and made himself invisible in the shadows. A convenient time, with the light fading, for all the brothers who were engaged in copying or reading had abandoned their books for the evening, leaving the prior to ensure that everything was decently replaced exactly where it should be. In the twilit quietness voices carried, and Jerome was excited, and Robert never one to subdue a voice he was fond of hearing. Crumbs of advantage, Benezet had found, may be picked up in the most unexpected places.

"Father Prior," said Brother Jerome, between outrage and satisfaction,"something has come to my notice that you should know. It seems that there is one man who helped to carry Saint Winifred's reliquary to the cart for Ramsey, in all innocence, being asked by a habited brother of the Order. He has said he can recognize the man, and is coming here tonight to make the a.s.say. Father, why has no word been said to us of this matter?"

"I do know of it," said the prior, and closed the door of the aumbry upon the piety and wisdom within. "The lord abbot told me. It was not made public because that would have been to give warning to the culprit."

"But, Father, do you see what this means? It was the wickedness of men that removed her from our care. And I have heard a name given already to the impious thief who dared disturb her. I heard Brother Cadfael name him. The seeming innocent, the novice from Ramsey, Tutilo."

"That was not said to me," reflected Robert with slightly affronted dignity. "No doubt because the abbot would not accuse a man until a witness gives proof positive of the felon's guilt. We have only to wait until tonight, and we shall have that proof."

"But, Father, can one believe such wickedness of any man? What penance can possibly atone? Surely the lightning stroke of heaven should have fallen upon him and destroyed him in the very deed."

"Retribution may be delayed," said Prior Robert, and turned to lead the way out from the scriptorium, his agitated shadow at his heels. "But it will be certain. A few hours only, and the illdoer will get his due penalty."

Brother Jerome's vengeful and unsatisfied mutterings trailed away to the south door, and out into the chill of the evening. Benezet let him go, and sat for some moments considering what he had heard, before he rose at leisure, and walked back thoughtfully to the guesthall. An easy evening awaited him; both he and Daalny were excused all service, for Remy was to dine with the abbot and the earl, the first fruits of his campaign in search of place and status. No servant need attend him, and though there might well be music made before the evening ended, a girl singer could not fittingly be a part of the entertainment in the abbot's lodging. They were both free to do whatever they wished, for once.

"I have a thing to tell you," he said, finding Daalny frowning over the tuning of a rebec under one of the torches in the hall. "There's a hunt afoot tonight that I think your Tutilo would be well advised to avoid." And he told her what was in the wind. "Get the good word to him if you so please," he said amiably, "and let him make himself scarce. It might only postpone the day, but even one day is breathing s.p.a.ce, and I fancy he's sharp enough to make up a plausible story, once he knows the odds, or to persuade this witness to a different tale. Why should I wish the lad any worse harm than he's let himself in for already?"

"He is not my Tutilo," said Daalny. But she laid down the rebec on her knees, and looked up at Benezet with a fiercely thoughtful face. "This is truth you're telling me?"

"What else? You've heard all the to-ing and fro-ing there's been, this is the latter end of it. And here you are free as a bird, for once, provided you come back to your cage in time. You do as you please, but I would let him know what's threatening. And as for me, I'm going to stretch my legs in the town, while I can. I'll say nothing, and know nothing."

"He is not my Tutilo," she repeated, almost absently, still pondering.

"By the way he avoids looking at you, he easily could be, if you wanted him," said Benezet, grinning. "But leave him to stew, if that's your humour."

It was not her humour, and he knew it very well. Tutilo would be warned of what was in store for him by the end of Vespers, if not before.

Sub-Prior Herluin, on his way to dine with Abbot Radulfus and the distinguished company at his lodging, and pleasantly gratified at the invitation, was confronted in mid-court with a meek pet.i.tioner in the shape of Tutilo, all duty and service, asking leave of absence to visit the Lady Donata at Longner.

"Father, the lady asks that I will go and play to her, as I have done before. Have I your permission to go?"