One Corpse Too Many (18 page)

“Good lad!” said Cadfael contentedly. “Now, from here we bear round to the east somewhat, and this path we’re on will join the more direct one I used before. For we must approach the grange from the right direction. It would never do for any curious person to suppose we’d been a mile nearer Wales.”

Unburdened now, they drew together and went after him hand in hand, trusting as children. And now that they were drawing nearer to the actual possibility of flight, they had nothing at all to say, but clung to each other and believed that things would go right.

Their path joined the direct one only some minutes’ walk from the small clearing where the stockade of the grange rose. The sky paled as the trees fell back. There was a small rush-light burning somewhere within the house, a tiny, broken gleam showed through the pales. All round them the night hung silent and placid.

Brother Anselm opened to them, so readily that surely some aggrieved traveller from Shrewsbury must have brought word even here of the day’s upheaval, and alerted him to the possibility that anyone running from worse penalties might well take warning, and get out at once. He drew them within thankfully and in haste, and peered curiously at the two young fellows at Cadfael’s back, as he closed the gate.

“I thought it! My thumbs pricked. I felt it must be tonight. Things grow very rough your way, so we’ve heard.”

“Rough enough,” admitted Cadfael, sighing. “I’d wish any friend well out of it. And most of all these two. Children, these good brothers have cared for your trust, and have it here safe for you. Anselm, this is Adeney’s daughter, and this FitzAlan’s squire. Where is Louis?”

“Saddling up,” said Brother Anselm, “the moment he saw who came. We had it in mind the whole day that you’d have to hurry things. I’ve put food together, in case you came. Here’s the scrip. It’s ill to ride too far empty. And a flask of wine here within.”

“Good! And these few things I brought,” said Cadfael, emptying his own pouch. “They’re medicines. Godith knows how to use them.”

Godith and Torold listened and marvelled. The boy said, almost tongue-tied with wondering gratitude: “I’ll go and help with the saddling.” He drew his hand from Godith’s and made for the stables, across the small untended court. This forest assart, unmanageable in such troubled times, would soon be forest again, these timber buildings, always modest enough, would moulder into the lush growth of successive summers. The Long Forest would swallow it without trace in three years, or four.

“Brother Anselm,” said Godith, running an awed glance from head to foot of the giant, “I do thank you with all my heart, for both of us, for what you have done for us two—though I think it was really for Brother Cadfael here. He has been my master eight days now, and I understand. This and more I would do for him, if ever I might. I promise you Torold and I will never forget, and never debase what you’ve done for us.”

“God love you, child,” said Brother Anselm, charmed and amused, “you talk like a holy book. What should a decent man do, when a young woman’s threatened, but see her safe out of her trouble? And her young man with her!”

Brother Louis came from the stables leading the roan Beringar had ridden when first these two horses of his were brought here by night. Torold followed with the black. They shone active and ready in the faint light, excellently groomed and fed, and well rested.

“And the baggage,” said Brother Anselm significantly. “That we have safe. For my own part I would have parted it into two, to balance it better on a beast, but I thought I had no right to open it, so it stays as you left it, in one. I should hoist it to the crupper with the lighter weight as rider, but as you think fit.”

They were away, the pair of them, to haul out the sackbound bundle Cadfael had carried here some nights ago. It seemed there were some things they had not been told, just as there were things Torold and Godith had accepted without understanding. Anselm brought the burden from the house on his huge shoulders, and dumped it beside the saddled horses. “I brought thongs to buckle it to the saddle.” They had indeed given some thought to this, they had fitted loops of cord to the rope bindings, and were threading their thongs into these when a blade sliced down through the plaited cords that held the latch of the gate behind them, and a clear, assured voice ordered sharply:

“Halt as you stand! Let no man move! Turn hither, all, and slowly, and keep your hands visible. For the lady’s sake!”

Like men in a dream they turned as the voice commanded, staring with huge, wary eyes. The gate in the stockade stood wide open, lifted aside to the pales. In the open gateway stood Hugh Beringar, sword in hand; and over either shoulder leaned a bended long-bow, with a braced and competent eye and hand behind it; and both of them were aimed at Godith. The light was faint but steady. Those used to it here were well able to use it to shoot home.

“Admirable!” said Beringar approvingly. “You have understood me very well. Now stay as you are, and let no man move, while my third man closes the gates behind us.”

Chapter Ten

THEY HAD ALL REACTED ACCORDING TO THEIR NATURES. Brother Anselm looked round cautiously for his cudgel, but it was out of reach, Brother Louis kept both hands in sight, as ordered, but the right one very near the slit seam of his gown, beneath which he kept his dagger. Godith, first stunned into incredulous dismay, very quickly revived into furious anger, though only the set whiteness of her face and the glitter of her eyes betrayed it. Brother Cadfael, with what appeared to be shocked resignation, sat down upon the sacking bundle, so that his skirts hid it from sight if it had not already been noted and judged of importance. Torold, resisting the instinct to grip the hilt of Cadfael’s poniard at his belt, displayed empty hands, stared Beringar in the eye defiantly, and took two long, deliberate paces to place himself squarely between Godith and the two archers. Brother Cadfael admired, and smiled inwardly. Probably it had not occurred to the boy, in his devoted state, that there had been ample time for both arrows to find their target before his body intervened, had that been the intention.

“A very touching gesture,” admitted Beringar generously, “but hardly effective. I doubt if the lady is any happier with the situation that way round. And since we’re all sensible beings here, there’s no need for pointless heroics. For that matter, Matthew here could put an arrow clean through the pair of you at this distance, which would benefit nobody, not even me. You may well accept that for the moment I am giving the orders and calling the tune.”

And so he was. However his men had held their hands when they might have taken his order against any movement all too literally, it remained true that none of them had the slightest chance of making an effective attack upon him and changing the reckoning. There were yards of ground between, and no dagger is ever going to outreach an arrow. Torold stretched an arm behind him to draw Godith close, but she would not endure it. She pulled back sharply to free herself, and eluding the hand that would have detained her, strode forward defiantly to confront Hugh Beringar.

“What manner of tune,” she demanded, “for me? If I’m what you want, very well, here I am, what’s your will with me? I suppose I still have lands of my own, worth securing? Do you mean to stand on your rights, and marry me for them? Even if my father is dispossessed, the king might let my lands and me go to one of his new captains! Am I worth that much to you? Or is it just a matter of buying Stephen’s favour, by giving me to him as bait to lure better men back into his power?”

“Neither,” said Beringar placidly. He was eyeing her braced shoulders and roused, contemptuous face with decided appreciation. “I admit, my dear, that I never felt so tempted to marry you before—you’re greatly improved from the fat little girl I remember. But to judge by your face, you’d as soon marry the devil himself, and I have other plans, and so, I fancy, have you. No, provided everyone here acts like a sensible creature, we need not quarrel. And if it needs saying for your own comfort, Godith, I have no intention of setting the hounds on your champion’s trail, either. Why should I bear malice against an honest opponent? Especially now I’m sure he finds favour in your eyes.”

He was laughing at her, and she knew it, and took warning. It was not even malicious laughter, though she found it an offence. It was triumphant, but it was also light, teasing, almost affectionate. She drew back a step; she even cast one appealing glance at Brother Cadfael, but he was sitting slumped and apparently apathetic, his eyes on the ground. She looked up again, and more attentively, at Hugh Beringar, whose black eyes dwelt upon her with dispassionate admiration.

“I do believe,” she said slowly, wondering, “that you mean it.”

“Try me! You came here to find horses for your journey. There they are! You may mount and ride as soon as you please, you and the young squire here. No one will follow you. No one else knows you’re here, only I and my men. But you’ll ride the faster and safer if you lighten your loads of all but the necessaries of life,” said Beringar sweetly. “That bundle Brother Cadfael is so negligently sitting on, as if he thought he’d found a convenient stone—that I’ll keep, by way of a memento of you, my sweet Godith, when you’re gone.”

Godith had just enough self-control not to look again at Brother Cadfael when she heard this. She had enough to do keeping command of her own face, not to betray the lightning-stroke of understanding, and triumph, and laughter, and so, she knew, had Torold, a few paces behind her, and equally dazzled and enlightened. So that was why they had slung the saddlebags on the tree by the ford, a mile to the west, a mile on their way into Wales. This prize here they could surrender with joyful hearts, but never a glimmer of joy must show through to threaten the success. And now it lay with her to perfect the coup, and Brother Cadfael was leaving it to her. It was the greatest test she had ever faced, and it was vital to her self-esteem for ever. For this man fronting her was more than she had thought him, and suddenly it seemed that giving him up was almost as generous a gesture as this gesture of his, turning her loose to her happiness with another man and another cause, only distraining the small matter of gold for his pains. For two fine horses, and a free run into Wales! And a kind of blessing, too, secular but valued.

“You mean that,” she said, not questioning, stating. “We may go!”

“And quickly, if I dare advise. The night is not old yet, but it matures fast. And you have some way to go.”

“I have mistaken you,” she said magnanimously. “I never knew you. You had a right to try for this prize. I hope you understand that we had also a right to fight for it. In a fair win and a fair defeat there should be no heart-burning. Agreed?”

“Agreed!” he said delightedly. “You are an opponent after my own heart, and I think your young squire had better take you hence, before I change my mind. As long as you leave the baggage…”

“No help for it, it’s yours,” said Brother Cadfael, rising reluctantly from his seat on guard. “You won it fairly, what else can I say?”

Beringar surveyed without disquiet the mound of sacking presented to view. He knew very well the shape of the hump Cadfael had carried here from Severn, he had no misgivings.

“Go, then, and good speed! You have some hours of darkness yet.” And for the first time he looked at Torold, and took his time about studying him, for Torold had held his peace and let her have her head in circumstances he could not be expected to understand, and with admirable self-restraint. “I ask your pardon, I don’t know your name.”

“My name is Torold Blund, a squire of FitzAlan’s.”

“I’m sorry that we never knew each other. But not sorry that we never had ado in arms, I fear I should have met my overmatch.” But he was very sunny about it, having got his way, and he was not really much in awe of Torold’s longer reach, and greater height. “You take good care of your treasure, Torold, I’ll take care of mine.”

Sobered and still, watching him with great eyes that still questioned, Godith said: “Kiss me and wish me well! As I do you!”

“With all my heart!” said Beringar, and turned her face up between his hands, and kissed her soundly. The kiss lasted long, perhaps to provoke Torold, but Torold watched and was not dismayed. These could have been brother and sister saying a fond but untroubled farewell. “Now mount, and good speed!”

She went first to Brother Cadfael, and asked his kiss also, with a frantic quiver in her voice and her face that no one else saw or heard, and that might have been of threatened tears, or of almost uncontrollable laughter, or of both together. The thanks she said to him and to the lay brothers were necessarily brief, being hampered by the same wild mixture of emotions. She had to escape quickly, before she betrayed herself. Torold went to hold her stirrup, but Brother Anselm hoisted her between his hands and set her lightly in the saddle. The stirrups were a little long for her, he bent to shorten them to her comfort, and then she saw him look up furtively and flash her a grin, and she knew that he, too, had fathomed what was going on, and shared her secret laughter. If he and his comrade had been let into the whole plot from the beginning, they might not have played their parts so convincingly; but they were very quick to pick up all the undercurrents.

Torold mounted Beringar’s roan, and looked down from the saddle at the whole group within the stockade. The archers had unstrung their bows, and stood by looking on with idle interest and some amusement, while the third man opened the gate wide to let the travellers pass.

“Brother Cadfael, everything I owe to you. I shall not forget.”

“If there’s anything owing,” said Cadfael comfortably, “you can repay it to Godith. And see you mind your ways with her until you bring her safe to her father,” he added sternly. “She’s in your care as a sacred charge, beware of taking any advantage.”

Torold’s smile flashed out brilliantly for an instant, and was gone; and the next moment so was Torold himself, and Godith after him, trotting out briskly through the open gate into the luminosity of the clearing, and thence into the shadowy spaces between the trees. They had but a little way to go to the wider path, and the ford of the brook, where the saddle-bags waited. Cadfael stood listening to the soft thudding of hooves in the turf, and the occasional rustling of leafy branches, until all sounds melted into the night’s silence. When he stirred out of his attentive stillness, it was to find that every other soul there had been listening just as intently. They looked at one another, and for a moment had nothing to say.

“If she comes to her father a virgin,” said Beringar then, “I’ll never stake on man or woman again.”

“It’s my belief,” said Cadfael, drily, “she’ll come to her father a wife, and very proper, too. There are plenty of priests between here and Normandy. She’ll have more trouble persuading Torold he has the right to take her, unapproved, but she’ll have her own ways of convincing him.”

“You know her better than I,” said Beringar. “I hardly knew the girl at all! A pity!” he added thoughtfully.

“Yet I think you recognised her the first time you ever saw her with me in the great court.”

“Oh, by sight, yes—I was not sure then, but within a couple of days I was. She’s not so changed in looks, only fined into such a springy young fellow.” He caught Cadfael’s eye, and smiled. “Yes, I did come looking for her, but not to hand her over to any man’s use. Nor that I wanted her for myself, but she was, as you said, a sacred charge upon me. I owed it to the alliance others made for us to see her into safety.”

“I trust,” said Cadfael, “that you have done so.”

“I, too. And no hard feelings upon either side?”

“None. And no revenges. The game is over.” He sounded, he realised suddenly, appropriately subdued and resigned, but it was only the pleasant weariness of relief.

“Then you’ll ride back with me to the abbey, and keep me company on the way? I have two horses here. And these lads of mine have earned their sleep, and if your good brothers will give them house-room overnight, and feed them, they may make their way back at leisure tomorrow. To sweeten their welcome, there’s two flasks of wine in my saddle-bags, and a pasty. I feared we might have a longer wait, though I was sure you’d come.”

“I had a feeling,” said Brother Louis, rubbing his hands with satisfaction, “for all the sudden alarm, that there was no real mischief in the wind tonight. And for two flasks of wine and a pasty we’ll offer you beds with pleasure, and a game of tables if you’ve a mind for it. We get very little company here.”

One of the archers led in from the night Beringar’s two remaining horses, the tail, rangy dapple-grey and the sturdy brown cob, and placidly lay brothers and men-at-arms together unloaded the food and drink, and at Beringar’s orders made the unwieldy, sacking-wrapped bundle secure on the dapple’s croup, well balanced and fastened with Brother Anselm’s leather straps, provided with quite another end in view. “Not that I wouldn’t trust it with you on the cob,” Beringar assured Cadfael, “but this great brute will never even notice the weight. And his rider needs a hard hand, for he has a hard mouth and a contrary will, and I’m used to him. To tell truth, I love him. I parted with two better worth keeping, but this hellion is my match, and I wouldn’t change him.”

He could not better have expressed what Cadfael was thinking about him. This hellion is my match, and I wouldn’t change him! He did his own spying, he gave away generously two valuable horses to discharge his debt to a bride he never really wanted, and he went to all manner of patient, devious shifts to get the girl safe and well out of his path, and lay hand upon the treasury, which was fair game, as she was not. Well, well, we live and learn in the book of our fellowmen!

They rode together, they two alone, by the same road as once before, and even more companionably than then. They went without haste, unwinding the longer way back, the way fitter for horses, the way they had first approached the grange. The night was warm, still and gentle, defying the stormy and ungentle times with its calm assertion of permanent stability.

“I am afraid,” said Hugh Beringar with compunction, “you have missed Matins and Lauds, and the fault is mine. If I had not delayed everything, you might have been back for midnight. You and I should share whatever penance is due.”

“You and I,” said Cadfael cryptically, “share a penance already. Well, I could not wish for more stimulating company. We many compound my offence by riding at ease. It is not often a man gets such a night ride, and safely, and at peace.”

Then they were silent for some way, and thought their own thoughts, but somewhere the threads tangled, for after a while Beringar said with assurance: “You will miss her.” It was said with brisk but genuine sympathy. He had, after all, been observing and learning for some days.

“Like a fibre gone from my heart,” owned Brother Cadfael without dismay, “but there’ll be others will fill the place. She was a good girl, and a good lad, too, if you’ll grant me the fancy. Quick to study, and a hard worker. I hope she’ll make as good a wife. The young man’s a fair match for her. You saw he favoured one shoulder? One of the king’s archers did his best to slice the round of it off him, but with Godith’s care now he’ll do well enough. They’ll reach France.” And after a moment’s thought he asked, with candid curiosity: “What would you have done if any one of us had challenged your orders and made a fight of it?”