Holy Thief (12 page)

“I
am King Stephen’s sheriff of Shropshire,” said Hugh, “and in pursuit of that
same errant saint. If your lord has her safe and sound, he is entitled to the
prayers of all the brothers of Shrewsbury, and of half Wales into the bargain.”

“No
man’s the worse for an extra prayer or two,” said the steward, visibly thawing.
“Go within, brothers, and welcome. Robin here will show you. We’ll see your
beasts cared for.”

The
boy, perhaps sixteen years old, pert and lively, had waited their pleasure with
stretched ears and eyes bright with curiosity when their errand was mentioned.
Some younger son from among Leicester’s tenants, placed by a dutiful father
where he could readily get advancement. And by his easy manner, Hugh judged,
Leicester was no very hard master for such as met his standards. This lad
bounded up the steps ahead of them, his chin on his shoulder, eyeing them
brightly.

“My
lord came down here from the town when he heard of these outlaws passing 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 noble 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
anticipation. 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 compassion 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 anticipate. 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 pass 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.”