One Corpse Too Many bc-2 Read online

  “And he was here that very afternoon?” pressed Cadfael, concerned. “Yes, yes, I’ll take good care to keep her away from him, I’ve seen that danger. But there could not have been any mention when he came here, could there, of Faintree’s mission? Nothing to make him prick his ears? He’s very quick, and very private! No — no, I ask your pardon, I know you’d never let out word. Ah, well, my thanks for your help, and you shall know if I make progress.”

  He was at the door when Petronilla said grievingly at his shoulder: “And he seemed such a fine young lad, this Torold Blund! How can a body tell what lies behind the decent, ordinary face?”

  “Torold Blund!” said Godith, testing the name slow syllable by syllable. “That’s a Saxon name. There are plenty of them up there in the northern manors, good blood and old. But I don’t know him. I think I can never have seen him. And Nicholas was on good, close terms with him? Nicholas was easy, but not stupid, and they sound much of an age, he must have known him well. And yet …”

  “Yes,” said Cadfael, “I know! And yet! Girl dear, I am too tired to think any more. I’m going to Compline, and then to my bed, and so should you. And tomorrow …”

  “Tomorrow,” she said, rising to the touch of his hand, “we shall bury Nicholas. We! He was in some measure my friend, and I shall be there.”

  “So you shall, my heart,” said Cadfael, yawning, and led her away in his arm to celebrate, with gratitude and grief and hope, the ending of the day.

  Chapter Five

  Nicholas Faintree was laid, with due honours, under a stone in the transept of the abbey church, an exceptional privilege. He was but one, after so many, and his singleness was matter for celebration, besides the fact that there was room within rather than without, and the labour involved was less. Abbot Heribert was increasingly disillusioned and depressed with all the affairs of this world, and welcomed a solitary guest who was not a symbol of civil war, but the victim of personal malice and ferocity. Against all the probabilities, in due course Nicholas might find himself a saint. He was mysterious, feloniously slain, young, to all appearances clean of heart and life, innocent of evil, the stuff of which martyrs are made.

  Aline Seward was present at the funeral service, and had brought with her, intentionally or otherwise, Hugh Beringar. That young man made Cadfael increasingly uneasy. True, he was making no inimical move, nor showing any great diligence in his search for his affianced bride, if, indeed, he was in search of her at all. But there was something daunting in the very ease and impudence of his carriage, the small, sardonic turn of his lip, and the guileless clarity of the black eyes when they happened to encounter Cadfael’s. No doubt about it, thought Cadfael, I shall be happier when I’ve got the girl safely away from here, but in the meantime at least I can move her away from anywhere he’s likely to be.

  The main orchards and vegetable gardens of the abbey were not within the precinct, but across the main road, stretched along the rich level beside the river, called the Gaye; and at the far end of this fertile reach there was a slightly higher field of corn. It lay almost opposite the castle, and no great distance from the king’s siege camp, and had suffered some damage during the siege; and though what remained had been ripe for cutting for almost a week, it had been too dangerous to attempt to get it in. Now that all was quiet, they were in haste to salvage a crop that could not be spared, and all hands possible were mustered to do the work in one day. The second of the abbey’s mills was at the end of the field, and because of the same dangers had been abandoned for the season, just when it was beginning to be needed, and had suffered damage which would keep it out of use until repairs could be undertaken.

  “You go with the reapers,” said Cadfael to Godith. “My thumbs prick, and rightly or wrongly, I’d rather have you out of the enclave, if only for a day.”

  “Without you?” said Godith, surprised.

  “I must stay here and keep an eye on things. If anything threatens, I’ll be with you as fast as legs can go. But you’ll be well enough, no one is going to have leisure to look hard at you until that corn is in the barns. But stay by Brother Athanasius, he’s as blind as a mole, he wouldn’t know a stag from a hind. And take care how you swing a sickle, and don’t come back short of a foot!”

  She went off quite happily among the crowd of reapers in the end, glad of an outing and a change of scene. She was not afraid. Not afraid enough, Cadfael considered censoriously, but then, she had an old fool here to do the fearing for her, just as she’d once had an old nurse, protective as a hen with one chick. He watched them out of the gate house and over the road towards the Gaye, and went back with a relieved sigh to his own labours in the inner gardens. He had not been long on his knees, weeding, when a cool, light voice behind him, almost as quiet as the steps he had not heard in the grass, said: “So this is where you spend your more peaceful hours. A far cry and a pleasant change from harvesting dead men.”

  Brother Cadfael finished the last corner of the bed of mint before he turned to acknowledge the presence of Hugh Beringar. “A pleasant change, right enough. Let’s hope we’ve finished with that kind of crop, here in Shrewsbury.”

  “And you found a name for your stranger in the end. How was that? No one in the town seemed to know him.”

  “All questions get their answers,” said Brother Cadfael sententiously, “if you wait long enough.”

  “And all searchers are bound to find? But of course,” said Beringar, smiling, “you did not say how long is long enough. If a man found at eighty what he was searching for at twenty, he might prove a shade ungrateful.”

  “He might well have stopped wanting it long before that,” said Brother Cadfael drily, “which is in itself an answer to any want. Is there anything you are looking for here in the herbarium, that I can help you to, or are you curious to learn about these simples of mine?”

  “No,” owned Beringar, his smile deepening, “I would hardly say it was any simplicity I came to study.” He pinched off a sprig of mint, crushed it between his fingers, and set it first to his nose and then closed fine white teeth upon its savour. “And what should such as I be looking for here? I may have caused a few ills in my time, I’m no hand at healing them. They tell me, Brother Cadfael, you have had a wide-ranging career before you came into the cloister. Don’t you find it unbearably dull here, after such battles, with no enemy left to fight?”

  “I am not finding it at all dull, these days,” said Cadfael, plucking out willowherb from among the thyme. “And as for enemies, the devil makes his way in everywhere, even into cloister, and church, and herbarium.”

  Beringar threw his head back and laughed aloud, until the short black hair danced on his forehead. “Vainly, if he comes looking for mischief where you are! But he’d hardly expect to blunt his horns against an old crusader here! I take the hint!”

  But all the time, though he scarcely seemed to turn his head or pay much attention to anything round him, his black eyes were missing nothing, and his ears were at stretch while he laughed and jested. By this time he knew that the well-spoken and well-favoured boy of whom Aline had innocently spoken was not going to make his appearance, and more, that Brother Cadfael did not care if he poked his nose into every corner of the garden, sniffed at every drying herb and peered at every potion in the hut, for they would tell him nothing. The benchbed was stripped of its blanket, and laden with a large mortar and a gently bubbling jar of wine. There was no trace of Godith anywhere to be found. The boy was simply a boy like the rest, and no doubt slept in the dortoir with the rest.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your cleansing labours,” said Beringar, “and stop hampering your meditations with my prattle. Or have you work for me to do?”

  “The king has none?” said Cadfael solicitously.

  Another ungrudging laugh acknowledged the thrust. “Not yet, not yet, but that will come. Such talent he cannot afford to hold off suspiciously for ever. Though to be sure, he did lay one testing task upon me, and I seem to be making
very little progress in that.” He plucked another tip of mint, and bruised and bit it with pleasure. “Brother Cadfael, it seems to me that you are the most practical man of hand and brain here. Supposing I should have need of your help, you would not refuse it without due thought — would you?”

  Brother Cadfael straightened up, with some creaking of back muscles, to give him a long, considering look. “I hope,” he said cautiously, “I never do anything without due thought — even if the thought sometimes has to shift its feet pretty briskly to keep up with the deed.”

  “So I supposed,” said Beringar, sweet-voiced and smiling. “I’ll bear that in mind as a promise.” And he made a small, graceful obeisance, and walked away at leisure to the courtyard.

  The reapers came back in time for Vespers, sun-reddened, weary and sweat-stained, but with the corn all cut and stacked for carrying. After supper Godith slipped out of the refectory in haste, and came to pluck at Cadfael’s sleeve.

  “Brother Cadfael, you must come! Something vital!” He felt the quivering excitement of her hand, and the quiet intensity of her whispering voice. “There’s time before Compline — come back to the field with me.”

  “What is it?” he asked as softly, for they were within earshot of a dozen people if they had spoken aloud, and she was not the woman to fuss over nothing. “What has happened to you? What have you left down there that’s so urgent?”

  “A man! A wounded man! He’s been in the river, he was hunted into it upstream and came down with the current. I dared not stay to question, but I knew he’s in need. And hungry! He’s been there a night and a day… .”

  “How did you find him? You alone? No one else knows?”

  “No one else.” She gripped Cadfael’s sleeve more tightly, and her whisper grew gruff with shyness. “It was a long day … I went aside, and had to go far aside, into the bushes near the mill. Nobody saw …”

  “Surely, child! I know!” Please God all the boys, her contemporaries, were kept hard at it, and never noticed such daintiness. Brother Athanasius would not have noticed a thunderclap right behind him. “He was there in the bushes? And is still?”

  “Yes. I gave him the bread and meat I had with me, and told him I’d come back when I could. His clothes have dried on him — there’s blood on his sleeve … But I think he’ll do well, if you take care of him. We could hide him in the mill — no one goes there yet.” She had thought of all the essentials, she was towing him towards his hut in the herb garden, not directly towards the gate house. Medicines, linen, food, they would need all these.

  “Of what age,” asked Cadfael, more easily now they were well away from listeners, “is this wounded man of yours?”

  “A boy,” she said on a soft breath. “Hardly older than I am. And hunted! He thinks I am a boy, of course. I gave him the water from my bottle, and he called me Ganymede… .”

  Well, well, thought Cadfael, bustling before her into the hut, a young man of some learning, it seems! “Then, Ganymede,” he said, bundling a roll of linen, a blanket and a pot of salve into her arms, “stow these about you, while I fill this little vial and put some vittles together. Wait here a few minutes for me, and we’ll be off. And on the way you can tell me everything about this young fellow you’ve discovered, for once across the road no one is going to hear us.”

  And on the way she did indeed pour out in her relief and eagerness what she could not have said so freely by daylight. It was not yet dark, but a fine neutral twilight in which they saw each other clear but without colours.

  “The bushes there are thick. I heard him stir and groan, and I went to look. He looks like a young gentleman of family, someone’s squire. Yes, he talked to me, but — but told me nothing, it was like talking to a wilful child. So weak, and blood on his shoulder and arm, and making little jests … But he trusted me enough to know I wouldn’t betray him.” She skipped beside Cadfael through the tall stubble into which the abbey sheep would soon be turned to graze, and to fertilise the field with their droppings. “I gave him what I had, and told him to lie still, and I would bring help as soon as it grew dusk.”

  “Now we’re near, do you lead the way. You he’ll know.” There was already starlight before the sun was gone, a lovely August light that would still last them, their eyes being accustomed, an hour or more, while veiling them from other eyes. Godith withdrew from Cadfael’s clasp the hand that had clung like a child’s through the stubble, and waded forward into the low, loose thicket of bushes. On their left hand, within a few yards of them, the river ran, dark and still, only the thrusting sound of its current like a low throb shaking the silence, and an occasional gleam of silver showing where its eddies swirled.

  “Hush! It’s me — Ganymede! And a friend to us both!”

  In the sheltered dimness a darker form stirred, and raised into sight a pale oval of face and a tangled head of hair almost as pale. A hand was braced into the grass to thrust the half-seen stranger up from the ground. No broken bones there, thought Cadfael with satisfaction. The hard-drawn breath signalled stiffness and pain, but nothing mortal. A young, muted voice said: “Good lad! Friends I surely need …”

  Cadfael kneeled beside him and lent him a shoulder to lean against. “First, before we move you, where’s the damage? Nothing out of joint-by the look of you, nothing broken.” His hands were busy about the young man’s body and limbs, he grunted cautious content.

  “Nothing but gashes,” muttered the boy laboriously, and gasped at a shrewd touch. “I lost enough blood to betray me, but into the river … And half-drowned … they must think wholly …” He relaxed with a great sigh, feeling how confidently he was handled.

  “Food and wine will put the blood back into you, in time. Can you rise and go?”

  “Yes,” said his patient grimly, and all but brought his careful supporters down with him, proving it.

  “No, let be, we can do better for you than that. Hold fast by me, and turn behind me. Now, your arms round my neck… .”

  He was long, but a light weight. Cadfael stooped forward, hooked his thick arms round slim, muscular thighs, and shrugged the weight securely into balance on his solid back. The dank scent of the river water still hung about the. young man’s clothing. “I’m too great a load,” he fretted feebly. “I could have walked …”

  “You’ll do as you’re bid, and no argument. Godric, go before, and see there’s no one in sight.”

  It was only a short way to the shadow of the mill. Its bulk loomed dark against the still lambent sky, the great round of the undershot wheel showing gaps here and there like breaks in a set of teeth. Godith heaved open the leaning door, and felt her way before them into gloom. Through narrow cracks in the floorboards on the left side she caught fleeting, spun gleams of the river water hurrying beneath. Even in this hot, dry season, lower than it had been for some years, the Severn flowed fast and still.

  “There’ll be dry sacks in plenty piled somewhere by the landward wall,” puffed Cadfael at her back. “Feel your way along and find them.” There was also a dusty, rustling layer of last harvest’s chaff under their feet, sending up fine powder to tickle their noses. Godith groped her way to the corner, and spread sacks there in a thick, comfortable mattress, with two folded close for a pillow. “Now take this long-legged heron of yours under the armpits, and help me ease him down… . There, as good a bed as mine in the dortoir! Now close the door, before I make a light to see him by.”

  He had brought a good end of candle with him, and a handful of the dry chaff spread on a millstone made excellent tinder for the spark he struck. When his candle was burning steadily he ground it into place on the flickering chaff, quenching the fire that might have blown and spread, and anchoring his light on a safe candlestick, as the wax first softened and then congealed again. “Now let’s look at you!”

  The young man lay back gratefully and heaved a huge sigh, meekly abandoning the responsibility for himself. Out of a soiled and weary face, eyes irrepressibly lively gazed up at them
, of some light, bright colour not then identifiable. He had a large, generous mouth, drawn with exhaustion but wryly smiling, and the tangle of hair matted and stained from the river would be as fair as corn-stalks when it was clean. “One of them ripped your shoulder for you, I see,” said Cadfael, hands busy unfastening and drawing off the dark cotte encrusted down one sleeve with dried blood. “Now the shirt — you’ll be needing new clothes, my friend, before you leave this hostelry.”

  “I’ll have trouble paying my shot,” said the boy, valiantly grinning, and ended the grin with a sharp indrawn breath as the sleeve was detached painfully from his wound.

  “Our charges are low. For a straight story you can buy such hospitality as we’re offering. Godric, lad, I need water, and river water’s better than none. See if you can find anything in this place to carry it in.”

  She found the sound half of a large pitcher among the debris under the wheel, left by some customer after its handle and lip had got broken, scrubbed it out industriously with the skirt of her cotte, and went obediently to bring water, he hoped safely. The flow of the river here would be fresher than the leat, and occupy her longer on the journey, while Cadfael undid the boy’s belt, and stripped off his shoes and hose, shaking out the blanket to spread over his nakedness. There was a long but not deep gash, he judged from a sword-cut, down the right thigh, a variety of bruises showing bluish on his fair skin, and most strangely, a thin, broken graze on the left side of his neck, and another curiously like it on the outer side of his right wrist. More healed, dark lines, these, older by a day or two than his wounds. “No question,” mused Cadfael aloud, “but you’ve been living an interesting life lately.”