One Corpse Too Many bc-2 Read online

  “Praise God!” said Brother Cadfael, rising from the bench to haul him briskly within. “I thought you’d aim for

  here, I’ve been keeping an eye open for you every half-hour or so, and at last I have you. Here, sit down and ease your heart, we’ve come through well enough!”

  Urgent and low, Torold asked the one thing that mattered:

  “Where is Godith?”

  Chapter Nine

  Godith, if he had but known it, was at that moment viewing her own reflection in Aline’s glass, which Constance was holding well away from her to capture more of the total image. Washed and combed and arrayed in one of Aline’s gowns, brocaded in brown and gold thread, with a thin gold bandeau of Aline’s round her curls, she turned this way and that to admire herself with delight at being female again, and her face was no longer that of an urchin, but of an austere young gentlewoman aware of her advantages. The soft candlelight only made her more mysterious and strange in her own eyes.

  “I wish he could see me like this,” she said wistfully, forgetting that so far she had not mentioned any he except Brother Cadfael, and could not now, even to Aline, reveal anything concerning Torold’s person and errand beyond his name. Concerning herself she had told almost everything, but that was the acknowledgement of a debt.

  “There is a he?” asked Aline, sparking with sympathetic curiosity. “And he will escort you? Wherever you are going? No, I mustn’t ask you anything, it would be unfair. But why shouldn’t you wear the dress for him? Once away, you can as well travel as yourself as you can in boy’s clothes.”

  “I doubt it,” said Godith ruefully. “Not the way we shall be travelling.”

  “Then take it with you. You could put it in that great bundle of yours. I have plenty, and if you are going with nothing, then you’ll need a gown for when you reach safety.”

  “Oh, if you knew how you-tempt me! You are kind! But I couldn’t take it. And we shall have weight enough to carry, the first miles. But I do thank you, and I shall never forget.”

  She had tried on, for pure pleasure, Constance assisting with relish, every dress Aline had with her, and in every one she had imagined herself confronting Torold, without warning, and studying his astonished and respectful face. And somehow, in spite of not knowing where he was or how he was faring, she had spent a blissful afternoon, unshaken by doubts. Certainly he would see her in her splendour, if not in this in other fine gowns, in jewels, with her hair, grown long again, plaited and coiled upon her head in a gold circlet like this one. Then she recalled how she had sat beside him, the two of them companionably eating plums and committing the stones to the Severn through the floorboards of the mill, and she laughed. What use would it ever be, putting on airs with Torold?

  She was in the act of lifting the circlet from her head when they all heard the sudden but circumspect knocking on the outer door, and for a moment froze into wary stillness, looking at one another aghast.

  “Do they mean to search here, after all?” wondered Godith in a shocked whisper. “Have I brought you into danger?”

  “No! Adam assured me I should not be disturbed, this morning, when they came.” AIine rose resolutely. “You stay here with Constance, and bolt the door. I’ll go. Can it be Brother Cadfael come for you already?”

  “No, surely not yet, they’ll still be on the watch.”

  It had sounded the most deferential of knocks, but all the same, Godith sat very still behind the bolted door, and listened with strained attention to the snatches of voices that reached her from without. Aline had brought her visitor into the room. The voice that alternated with hers was a man’s, low-pitched and ardently courteous.

  “Adam Courcelle!” Constance mouthed silently, and smiled her knowing smile. “So deep in love, he can’t keep away!”

  “And she — Aline?” whispered Godith curiously.

  “Who knows! Not she — notyet!”

  Godith had heard the same voice that morning, addressing the porter and the lay servants at the gate in a very different tone. But such duties can surely give no pleasure, and may well make even a decent man ill-humoured and overbearing. This devout and considerate soul enquiring tenderly after Aline’s peace of mind might be his proper self.

  “I hope you have not been too much put out by all this stir,” he was saying. “There’ll be no more disturbances, you may rest now.”

  “I haven’t been molested at all,” Aline assured him serenely. “I have no complaint, you have been considerate indeed. But I’m sorry for those who have had goods distrained. Is the same thing happening in the town?”

  “It is,” he said ruefully, “and will go on tomorrow, but the abbey may be at peace now. We have finished here.”

  “And you did not find her? The girl you had orders to search for?”

  “No, we have not found her.”

  “What would you say,” asked AIine deliberately, “if I said that I was glad?”

  “I should say that I would expect nothing else from you, and I honour you for it. I know you could not wish danger or pain or captivity to any creature, much less a blameless girl. I’ve learned so much of you, Aline.” The brief silence was charged, and when he resumed: “Aline — ” his voice sank so low that Godith could not distinguish the words. She did not want to, the tone was too intimate and urgent. But in a few moments she heard Aline say gently:

  “You must not ask me to be very receptive tonight, this has been a harrowing day for so many. I can’t help but feel almost as weary as they must be. And as you! Leave me to sleep long tonight, there will be a better time for talking of these matters.”

  “True!” he said, resuming the soldier on duty as though he squared his shoulders to a load again. “Forgive me, this was not the time. Most of my men are out of the gates by now, I’ll follow them, and let you rest. You may hear marching and the carts rolling for a quarter of an hour or so, after that it will be quiet.”

  The voices receded, towards the outer door. Godith heard it opened, and after a few exchanged and inaudible words, closed again. She heard the bolt shot, and in a few moments more Aline tapped at the bedroom door. “You can safely open, he’s gone.”

  She stood in the doorway, flushed and frowning, rather in private perplexity than displeasure. “It seems,” she said, and smiled in a way Adam Courcelle would have rejoiced to see, “that in sheltering you I’ve done him no wrong. I think he’s relieved at not finding you. They’re all going. It’s over. Now we have only to wait for Brother Cadfael and full darkness.”

  In the hut in the herbarium Brother Cadfael fed, reassured and doctored his patient. Torold, once the first question had been answered so satisfactorily, lay down submissively on Godith’s bed, and let his shoulder be dressed again, and the gash in his thigh, already healed, nevertheless be well bandaged and padded. “For if you’re to ride into Wales this night,” said Cadfael, “we don’t want any damage or delays, you could all too easily break that open again.”

  “Tonight?” said Torold eagerly. “Is it to be tonight? She and I together?”

  “It is, it must, and high time, too. I don’t think I could stand this sort of thing much longer,” said Cadfael, though he sounded almost complacent about it. “Not that I’ve had too much of the pair of you, you understand, but all the same, I’ll be relieved when you’re well away towards Owain Gwynedd’s country, and what’s more, I’ll give you a token from myself to the first Welsh you encounter. Though you already have FitzAlan’s commendation to Owain, and Owain keeps his word.”

  “Once mounted and started,” vowed Torold heartily, “I’ll take good care of Godith.”

  “And so will she of you. I’ll see she has a pot of this salve I’ve been using on you, and a few things she may need.”

  “And she took boat and load and all with her!” mused Torold, fond and proud. “How many girls could have kept their heads and done as well? And this other girl took her in! And brought you word of it, and so wisely! I tell you, Brother Cadfael, we breed fine
women here in Salop.” He was silent for a moment, and grew thoughtful. “Now how are we to get her out? They may have left a guard. And anyhow, I can hardly be seen to walk out at the gate house, seeing the porter will know I never walked in that way. And the boat is there, not here.”

  “Hush a while,” said Cadfael, finishing off his bandage neatly, “while I think. What about your own day? You’ve done well, it seems to me, and come out of it none the worse. And you must have left all open and innocent, for there’s been no whisper about the old mill. You caught the wind of them soon, it seems.”

  Torold told him about the whole long, dangerous and yet inexpressibly tedious day of starting and stopping, running and hiding, loitering and hurrying. “I saw the company that combed the river bank and the mill, six armed men on foot, and an officer riding. But I’d made sure there was no sign of me left there. The officer went in first, alone, and then turned his men into it. I saw the same fellow again,” he recalled, suddenly alert to the coincidence, “this evening, when I crossed the ford and dived into the stack. He was riding the far bank up and down, between river and millrace, alone. I knew him by his seat in the saddle, and the horse he was riding. I’d made the crossing behind his back, and when he rode back downstream he halted right opposite, and sat and gazed straight at where I was hiding. I could have sworn he’d seen me. He seemed to be staring directly at me. And smiling! I was sure I was found out. But then he rode on. He can’t have seen me, after all.”

  Cadfael put away his medicines very thoughtfully. He asked mildly: “And you knew him by his horse again? What was so notable about it?”

  “The size and colour. A great, gaunt, striding beast, not beautiful but strong, and dappled clean through from creamy belly to a back and quarters all but black.”

  Cadfael scrubbed at his blunt brown nose, and scratched his even browner tonsure. “And the man?”

  “A young fellow hardly older than I. Black-avised, and a light build to him. All I saw of him this morning was the clothes he wore and the way he rode, very easy on what I should guess might be a hard-mouthed brute. But I saw his face tonight. Not much flesh, and bold bones, and black eyes and brows. He whistles to himself,” said Torold, surprised at remembering this. “Very sweetly!”

  So he did! Cadfael also remembered. The horse, too, he recalled, left behind in the abbey stables when two better and less noticeable had been withdrawn. Two, their owner had said, he might be willing to sacrifice, but not all four, and not the pick of the four. Yet the cull had been made, and still he rode one of the remaining two, and doubtless the other, also, was still at his disposal. So he had lied. His position with the king was already assured, he had even been on duty in today’s raiding. Very selective duty? And if so, who had selected it?

  “And you thought he had seen you cross?”

  “When I was safe hidden I looked, and he’d turned my way. I thought he’d seen me moving, from the corner of his eye.”

  That one, thought Cadfael, has eyes all round his head, and what he misses is not worth marking. But all he said to Torold was: “And he halted and stared across at you, and then rode on?”

  “I even thought he lifted his bridle-hand a thought to me,” owned Torold, grinning at his own credulity. “By that time I doubt I was seeing visions at every turn, I was so wild to get to Godith. But then he just turned and rode on, easy as ever. So he can’t have seen me, after all.”

  Cadfael pondered the implications of all this in wonder and admiration. Light was dawning as dusk fell into night. Not complete darkness yet, simply the departure of the sun, afterglow and all, leaving a faint greenish radiance along the west; not complete dawn, but a promising confirmation of the first elusive beams.

  “He can’t have, can he?” demanded Torold, fearful that he might have drawn danger after him all too near to Godith.

  “Never a fear of it,” said Cadfael confidently. “All’s well, child, don’t fret, I see my way. And now it’s time for me to go to Compline. You may drop the bolt after me, and lie down here on Godith’s bed and get an hour or so of sleep, for by dawn you’ll be needing it. I’ll come back to you as soon as service is over.”

  He did, however, spare the few minutes necessary to amble through the stables, and was not surprised to note that neither the dapple-grey nor its companion, the broad-backed brown cob, was in its stall. An innocent visit to the guest hall after Compline further confirmed that Hugh Beringar was not there in the apartments for gentlefolk, nor were his three men-at-arms present among the commonalty. The porter recalled that the three retainers had gone forth soon after Beringar had ridden in from his day’s duties at the end of the hunt, about the time that Vespers ended, and Beringar himself had followed, in no apparent haste, an hour or so later.

  So that’s how things stand, is it? thought Cadfael. He’s staked his hand that’s it’s to be tonight, and is willing to stand or fall on his wager. Well, since he’s so bold and so shrewd to read my mind, let’s see how good I am at reading his, and I’ll stake just as boldly.

  Well, then: Beringar knew from the first that his service with the king was accepted and his horses safe enough, therefore he wanted them removed for some other purpose of his own. And made a fellow-conspirator of me! Why? He could have found a refuge for himself if he’d really needed one. No, he wanted me to know just where the horses were, available and inviting. He knew I had two people to deliver out of this town and out of the king’s hold, and would jump at his offer for my own ends. He offered me the bait of two horses so that I should transfer the treasury to the same place, ready for flight. And finally, he had no need to hunt for his fugitives, he had only to sit back and leave it to me to bring them to the grange as soon as I could, and then he had everything in one spot, ready to be gathered in.

  It follows, therefore, that tonight he’ll be waiting for us, and this time with his armed men at his back.

  There were still details that baffled the mind, If Beringar had indeed turned a blind eye to Torold’s hiding-place this evening, for what purpose? Granted he did not know at this moment where Godith was, and might choose to let one bird fly in order to secure its mate also. But now that Cadfael came to consider all that had passed there was no escaping the possibility, to put it no higher, that throughout, Beringar had been turning a similarly blind and sparkling eye to Godith’s boyish disguise, and had had a very shrewd idea of where his missing bride was to be found. In that case, if he had known Godric was Godith, and that one of FitzAlan’s men was in hiding in the old mill, then as soon as he had satisfied himself that Cadfael had recovered the treasure for him he could simply have gone in force and gathered in all three prizes, and delivered them to a presumably delighted and grateful king. If he had not done so, but chosen this furtive way, it must mean something different. As, for instance, that his intent was to secure Godith and Torold and duly hand them over for his reward, but despatch FitzAlan’s gold, not back to Shrewsbury, but by his own men, or indeed in person, to his own home manor, for his own private use. In which case the horses had been moved not only to fool a simple old monk, but to transfer the treasure direct to Maesbury in complete secrecy, without having to go near Shrewsbury.

  That, of course, was all supposing Beringar was not Nicholas Faintree’s murderer. If he was, the plan differed in one important aspect. He would see to it that though Godith went back to bait the trap for her father, Torold Blund was taken, not alive, but dead. Dead, and therefore silent. A second murder to bury the first.

  Altogether a grim prospect, thought Cadfael, surprisingly undisturbed by it. Except, of course, that it could all mean something very different. Could, and does! or my name is not Cadfael, and I’ll never pick a fight with a clever young man again!

  He went back to the herbarium, settled in his mind and ready for another restless night. Torold was awake and alert, quick to lift the bolt as soon as he was sure who came.

  “Is it time yet? Can we get round to the house on foot?” He was on thorns until he cou
ld actually see and touch her, and know that she was safe and free, and had taken no harm.

  “There are always ways. But it’s neither dark enough nor quiet enough yet, so sit down and rest while you may, for you’ll have a share of the weight on the way, until we get to the horses. I must go to the dortoir with the rest, and to my bed. Oh, never fret, I’ll be back. Once we’re in our own cells, leaving is no great problem. I’m next to the night-stairs, and the prior sleeps at the far end, and sleeps like the dead. And have you forgotten the church has a parish door, on to the Foregate? The only door not within the walls. From there to Mistress Siward’s house is only a short walk, and if it passes the gate house, do you think the porter takes account of every citizen abroad somewhat late?”

  “So this girl Aline could very well have gone to Mass by that door, like the rest of the laity,” Torold realised, marvelling.

  “So she could, but then she would have no chance to speak to me, and besides, she chose to exert her privilege with Courcelle, and show the Flemings she was to be reckoned with, the clever girl. Oh, you have a fine girl of your own, young Torold, and I hope you’ll be good to her, but this Aline is only just stretching her powers to find out what she’s worth, and what she can do, and trust me, she’ll make such another as our Godith yet.”

  Torold smiled in the warm darkness within the hut, sure even in his anxiety that there was but one Godric-Godith. “You said the porter was hardly likely to pay much attention to citizens making for home late,” he reminded, “but he may very well have a sharp eye for any such in a Benedictine habit.”

  “Who said anything about Benedictine habits drifting abroad so late? You, young man, shall go and fetch Godith. The parish door is never closed, and with the gate house so close seldom needs to be. I’ll let you out there when the time comes. Go to the last little house, beside the mill, and bring Godith and the boat down from the pond to where the water flows back into the brook, and I shall be there, waiting.”