The Confession of Brother Haluin Read online

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  Cenred drew his cloak close about his face against the wind, and set out from the gate of the manor on a path that was strange to Cadfael. With Haluin he had turned in from the distant highway, straight towards the gleam of light from the manor torches, but this way slanted back to strike the road much nearer to Elford, and would probably cut off at least half a mile of the distance. The night had its own lambent light, partly from the stars, partly from the thin covering of snow, so that they were able to go quickly, spread out in a line centered upon the path. The country here was open, at first bare of trees, then threading a belt of woods and scrubland. They heard nothing but their own footsteps and breath, and the soft whining of the wind among the bushes. Twice Cenred halted them to have silence, and called aloud to the night, but got no answer.

  For one who knew this path well, Cadfael calculated, the distance to Elford would be roughly two miles. Edgytha could have been back in Vivers long ago, and by what she had said to the maid Madlyn she had intended to return in ample time to be at her mistress’s disposal after supper. Nor could she have strayed from a known way on so bright a night, and in barely more than a sprinkling of snow. It began to seem clear to him that something had happened to prevent either her errand or her safe return from it. Not the rigors of nature nor the caprice of chance, but the hand of man. And on such a night those outcast creatures who preyed upon travelers, even if any such existed here in this open country, were unlikely to be out and about their dark business, since their prey would hardly be eager to venture out in such a frost. No, if any man had intervened to prevent Edgytha from reaching her goal, it was with deliberate intent. There was, perhaps, one better possibility, that if she had reached Roscelin with her news, he had persuaded her not to return, but to remain at Elford in safety and leave the rest to him. But Cadfael was not sure that he believed in that. If it had happened so, Roscelin would already have been striding indignantly into the hall at Vivers before ever Edgytha had been missed from her place.

  Cadfael had drawn close alongside Cenred, pressing forward in haste in the center of his line of hunters, and one dark, sidelong glance saluted and recognised him, without great surprise. “There was no need, Brother,” said Cenred shortly. “We are enough for the work.”

  “One more will do no harm,” said Cadfael.

  No harm, but possibly none too welcome. As well if this matter could be kept strictly private to the Vivers household. Yet it seemed that Cenred was not greatly troubled by the presence of a chance Benedictine monk among his search party. He was intent on finding Edgytha, and preferably before she reached Elford, or failing that, in time to negate whatever mischief she had set afoot. Perhaps he expected to meet his son somewhere along the way, coming in haste to prevent that marriage that would destroy his last vain hopes. But they had gone somewhat more than a mile, and the night remained empty about them.

  They were moving through thin, open woodland, over tufted, uneven grass, where the frozen snow lay too lightly to flatten the blades to earth, and they might have passed by the slight hummock beside the path on the right hand but for the dark ground that showed through the covering of white lace, darker than the bleached brown of the wintry turf. Cenred had passed it by, but checked sharply when Cadfael halted, and stared down as he was staring.

  “Quickly, bring the torch here close!”

  The yellow light outlined clearly the shape of a human body lying sprawled, head away from the path, whitened over with a crust of snow. Cadfael stooped and brushed away the crystalline veil from an upturned face, open-eyed and contorted in astonished fright, and head of grey hair from which the hood had fallen back as she fell. She lay on her back but inclined towards her right side, her arms flung up and wide as if to ward off a blow. Her black cloak showed darkly through the filigree of white. Over her breast a small patch marred the veil, where her blood, in a meager flow, had thawed the flakes as they fell. There was no telling immediately, from the way she lay, whether she had been on her way outward or homeward when she was struck down, but it seemed to Cadfael that at the last moment she had heard someone stealing close behind her, and whirled about with hands flung up to protect her head. The dagger her attacker had meant to slip between her ribs from behind had missed its stroke, and been plunged into her breast instead. She was dead and cold, the frost confounding all conjecture as to when she must have died.

  “God’s pity!” said Cenred on a whispering breath. “This I never thought to see! Whatever she intended, why this?”

  “Wolves hunt even in frost,” said his steward heavily, “Though what rich traffic there can be for them here heaven knows! And see, there’s nothing taken, not even her cloak. Masterless men would have stripped her.”

  Cenred shook his head. “There are none such in these parts, I swear. No, this is a different matter. I wonder, I wonder which way she was bound when she was struck dead!”

  “When we move her,” said Cadfael, “we may find out. What now? There’s nothing now can be done for her. Whoever used the knife knew his grim business, it needed no second stroke. And whatever footprints he left behind, the ground’s too hard to show, even where the snow has not covered them.”

  “We must carry her home,” said Cenred somberly. “And a sorry matter that will be for my wife and sister. They set great store by the old woman. She was always loyal and trustworthy, all these years since my young stepmother brought her into the household. This must not pass without requital! We’ll send ahead to see if she ever came to Elford, and what’s known of her there, and whether they have any word of chance marauders haunting these ways, perhaps on the run from other regions. Though that’s hard to believe. Audemar keeps a firm hand on his lands.”

  “Shall we send back and fetch a litter, my lord?” asked the steward. “She’s but a light weight, we could make shift to carry her back in her cloak.”

  “No, no need to make another journey. But you, Edred, you take Jehan here with you, and go on to Elford, and find out what’s known of her there, if anyone has met and spoken with her. No, take two men with you. I would not have you in any danger on the road, if there are masterless men abroad.”

  The steward accepted his orders, and took one of the torches to light him the rest of the way. The small, resiny spark dwindled along the pathway towards Elford, and vanished gradually into the night. Those remaining turned to the body, and lifted it aside to unfasten and spread out on the path the cloak she wore. As soon as she was raised one thing at least was made plain.

  “There’s snow under her,” said Cadfael. The shrunken shape of her was dark and moist where contact had been close enough for her body’s lingering warmth to melt the flakes, but all round the rim where the folds of her clothing had lain only lightly, a worn border of lace remained, “It was after the snow began that she fell. She was on her way home.”

  *

  She was light and limp in their hands. The chill of her body was from frost, not rigor. They wound her closely in her cloak, and bound her safely with two or three belts and Cadfael’s rope girdle, to give handholds for the servants who carried her, and so they bore her back the mile or so they had come, to Vivers.

  The household was still awake and aware, unable to rest until they knew what was happening. One of the maids saw the lamentable little procession entering at the gate, and ran wailing to tell Emma. By the time they brought Edgytha’s body up into the hall the whole fluttered dovecote of maids was again assembled, huddled together for comfort. Emma took charge with more resolution than might have been expected from her soft and gentle person, and swept the girls into service with a briskness that kept them from tears, preparing a trestle table in one of the small chambers for a bier, composing the disordered limbs, heating water, bringing scented linen from the chests in the hall to drape and cover the dead. The funereal ceremonies do as much for the living as for the dead, in occupying their hands and minds, and consoling them for things left undone or badly done during life. Very shortly the mu
rmur of subdued voices from the death chamber had softened from distress and dismay into a gentle, almost soothing elegiac crooning.

  Emma came out into the hall, where her husband and his men were warming their chilled feet at the fire, and rubbing the sense back into their numbed hands.

  “Cenred, how is this possible? Who could have done such a thing?”

  No one attempted to answer that, nor had she looked for an answer.

  “Where did you find her?”

  That her husband did answer, scrubbing wearily at his furrowed forehead. “Past the halfway to Elford by the short road, lying beside the path. And she’d been there no long time, for there was snow under her. It was on her way back here that someone struck her down.”

  “You think,” said Emma in a low voice, “she had been to Elford?”

  “Where else by that path? I’ve sent Edred on there, to find out if she came, and who has spoken with her. In an hour or so they should be back, but whether with any news, God alone knows.”

  They were both of them moving delicately about and about the heart of the matter, avoiding the mention of Roscelin’s name, or any word of the reason why Edgytha should go rushing out alone in a wintry night. True, word had gone round even in the kennels and mews by then, and the entire household of Vivers was gathering uneasily, the indoor servants hovering in an anxious group in the corners of the hall, those from without prowling and peering over their shoulders, unable to withdraw to their own proper business or their normal rest until something should happen within here to scatter them. Few of all these, if any, could be in their lord’s confidence in the matter of Roscelin’s outlawed love, but many of them might have guessed at the undercurrents sweeping Helisende into this hasty marriage. Some reserve in speech would have to be observed in front of all this clan.

  And here, to complicate matters further, came Jean de Perronet from the chamber above, where he had retired out of courtesy, but not to sleep, for he was still in his supper-table finery. And here, too, was Brother Haluin from his bed, anxious and silent. All those under the roof of Vivers that night had been drawn gradually and almost stealthily into the hall.

  No, not quite all. Cadfael looked round the assembly, and missed one face. Where all others forgathered, Helisende absented herself.

  By the look on his face de Perronet had been doing some serious thinking since he bowed to his host’s wish, and let the search party go out into the night without him. He came into the hall with a face composed and grave, revealing nothing of what went on in his mind, took his time about looking all round the mute and dour circle of them, and looked last and longest at Cenred, who stood with his boots steaming in the ashes of the hearth, and his head bent to stare blankly into the embers of the fire.

  “I think,” said de Penonet with deliberation, “this has not ended well. You have found your maidservant?”

  “We have found her,” said Cenred.

  “Misused? Dead? Do you tell me you have found her dead?”

  “And not of cold! Stabbed to death,” said Cenred bluntly, “and left by the wayside. And no sign of another soul have we seen or heard along the road, though this befell no long time ago, after the snow began to fall.”

  “Eighteen years she has been with us,” said Emma, wringing her hands together wretchedly under her breast. “Poor soul, poor soul, to end like this—struck down by some outlaw vagabond to die in the cold. I would not for the world have had this happen!”

  “I am sorry,” said de Perronet, “that such a thing should be, and at such a time as this. Can there be some link between the occasion that brought me here and this woman’s death?”

  “No!” cried husband and wife together, rather resisting the thought already in their minds than lying to deceive the guest.

  “No,” said Cenred more softly, “I pray there is not, I trust there is not. It is of all chances the most unhappy, yet surely no more than chance.”

  “There are such unblessed chances,” admitted de Perronet, but with evident reserve. “And they do not spare to mar festivals, even marriages. You do not wish to put off this one beyond tomorrow?”

  “No, why so? It is our grief, not yours. But it is murder, and I must send to the sheriff, and loose a hunt for the murderer. She has no living kin that I know of, it is for us to bury her. What’s needful we shall do. It need not cast a shadow upon you.”

  “I fear it already has,” said de Perronet, “upon Helisende. The woman, I believe, was her nurse, and dear to her.”

  “The more reason you should take her away from here, to a new home and a new life.” He looked round for her then for the first time, startled not to find her there among the women, but relieved that she was not there to complicate a matter already vexed enough. If she had indeed been able to fall asleep, so much the better, let her sleep on, and know nothing worse until morning. The maidservants were drifting back from the room where they had been busy making Edgytha’s body seemly. There was nothing more they could now do here, and their uneasy presence, mute and fearful in hovering groups, became oppressive. Cenred stirred himself with an effort to be rid of them.

  “Emma, send the women to their beds. There’s no more to be done here, and they need not wait. And you, fellows, be off and get your sleep. All’s done that can be done till Edred gets back from Elford, no need for the whole household to wait up for him.” And to de Perronet he said, “I sent him on with two others of my men to inform my overlord of this death. Murder in these parts is within his writ, this will be his business no less than mine. Come, Jean, with your leave we’ll withdraw to the solar, and leave the hall to the sleepers.”

  Doubtless, thought Cadfael, watching the harassed lines of Cenred’s face, he would be happier if de Perronet chose to draw off once again from all involvement, and stand apart, but there’s no chance of that now. And however he hedges round the truth of why his steward has pushed on to Elford, the very name of that place has now assumed a significance there’s no evading. And this is not a man who likes deception, or practices it with pleasure or skill.

  The women had accepted their orders at once, and dispersed, still whispering and fearful, to their quarters. The menservants quenched the torches, leaving only two by the great door to light the way in, and fed and damped down the fire to burn slowly through the night. De Perronet followed his host to the door of the solar, and there Cenred, turning, waved Cadfael to join them within.

  “Brother, you were a witness, you can testify to how we found her. It was you showed how the snow had begun to fall before she was struck down. Will you wait with us, and see what word my steward brings back with him?”

  There was no word said as to whether Brother Haluin should consider this invitation as applying equally to him, but he caught Cadfael’s eye, deprecating rather than recommending such a move, and chose rather to ignore it. Enough had already happened to exercise his mind, if he was to join two people whose imminent marriage was at least suspect of bringing about a death. He needed to know what lay behind these nocturnal wanderings, and followed the company into the solar, his crutches heavy and slow in the rushes, and starting a dull echo as he stepped onto the floorboards within. He took his seat on a bench in the dimmest corner, an unobtrusive listener, as Cenred sat down wearily at the table, and spread his elbows on the board, propping his head between muscular hands.

  “Your men are on foot?” asked de Perronet.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we may have a long wait yet before they can be here again. Had you other parties out on other roads?”

  Cenred said starkly, “No,” and offered no further words by way of explanation or excuse. Not a quarter of an hour ago, thought Cadfael, watching, he would have evaded that, or left it unanswered. Now he is gone beyond caring for discretion. Murder brings out into the open many matters no less painful, while itself still lurking in the dark.

  De Perronet shut his lips and clenched his teeth on any further questioning, and set himself to wait in uncommitte
d patience. The night had closed in on the manor of Vivers in hushed stillness, ominous and oppressive. Doubtful if anyone in the hall slept, but if any of them moved it was furtively, and if any spoke it was in whispers.

  Nevertheless, the wait was not to be as long as de Perronet had prophesied. The silence was abruptly shivered by the thudding of galloping hooves on the hard-frozen earth of the courtyard, a furious young voice yelling peremptorily for service, the frantic running of grooms without, and the hasty stirring of all the wakeful retainers within. Feet ran blindly in the dark, stumbling and rustling in the rushes, flint and steel spat sparks too brief and hasty to catch the tinder, the first torch was plunged into the turfed-down fire, and carried in haste to kindle others. Before the listeners in the solar could burst out into the hall a fist was thumping at the outer door, and an angry voice demanding entry.

  Two or three ran to unbar, knowing the voice, and were sent reeling as the heavy door was flung back to the wall, and into the brightening flurry of torchlight burst the figure of Roscelin, head uncovered, flaxen hair on end from the speed of his ride, blue eyes blazing. The cold of the night blew in with him, and all the torches guttered and smoked, as Cenred, erupting out of the solar, was halted as abruptly on the threshold of the hall by his son’s fiery glare.

  “What is this Edred tells me of you?” demanded Roscelin. “What have you done behind my back?”

  Chapter 9

  FOR ONCE PATERNAL AUTHORITY was caught at a disadvantage, and Cenred was all too aware of it. Nor had he the past reputation of a family tyrant to fall back on, but he did his best to wrest back the lost initiative.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded sternly. “Did I send for you? Did your lord dismiss you? Has either of us released you from your bond?”

  “No,” said Roscelin, glittering. “I have no leave from any man, and have not asked for any. And as for my bond, you loosed me from it when you played me false. It’s not I who have broken faith. And as for the duty I owe to Audemar de Clary, I’ll return to it if I must, and abide whatever his displeasure visits on me, but not until you render me account here openly of what you intended in the dark behind my back. I listened to you, I owned you right, I obeyed you. Did you owe me nothing in return? Not even honesty?”