The Devil's Novice bc-8 Read online

  They drew together and halted by consent. The elder son, close to, loomed even taller than his sire, and improbably good to look upon, in a world of imperfection. With a large but shapely hand raised to the mule’s bridle, he looked up at Cadfael with clear brown eyes rounded in concern, and gave short greeting in his haste.

  ‘From Shrewsbury, brother? Pardon if I dare question, but you have been to my father’s house? There’s news? My brother-he has not…’ He checked himself there to make belated reverence, and account for himself. ‘Forgive such a rough greeting, when you do not even know me, but I am Nigel Aspley, Meriet’s brother. Has something happened to him? He has not done-any foolishness?’ What should be said to that? Cadfael was by no means sure whether he considered Meriet’s conscious actions to be foolish or not. But at least there seemed to be one person who cared what became of him, and by the anxiety and concern in his face suffered fears for him which were not yet justified.

  ‘There’s no call for alarm on his account,’ said Cadfael soothingly. ‘He’s well enough and has come to no harm, you need not fear.’ ‘And he is still set-He has not changed his mind?’ ‘He has not. He is as intent as ever on taking vows.’ ‘But you’ve been with my father! What could there be to discuss with him? You are sure that Meriet…’ He fell silent, doubtfully studying Cadfael’s face. The girl had drawn near at her leisure, and stood a little apart, watching them both with serene composure, and in a posture of such natural grace that Cadfael’s eyes could not forbear straying to enjoy her.

  ‘I left your brother in stout heart,’ he said, carefully truthful, ‘and of the same mind as when he came to us. I was sent by my abbot only to speak with your father about certain doubts which have arisen rather in the lord abbot’s mind than in Brother Meriet’s. He is still very young to take such a step in haste, and his zeal seems to older minds excessive. You are nearer to him in years than either your sire or our officers,’ said Cadfael persuasively. ‘Can you not tell me why he may have taken this step? For what reason, sound and sufficient to him, should he choose to leave the world so early?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Nigel lamely, and shook his head over his failure. ‘Why do they do so? I never understood.’ As why should he, with all the reasons he had for remaining in and of this world? ‘He said he wanted it,’ said Nigel.

  ‘He says so still. At every turn he insists on it.’ ‘You’ll stand by him? You’ll help him to have his will? If that is truly what he wishes?’ ‘We’re all resolved,’ said Cadfael sententiously, ‘on helping him to his desire. Not all young men pursue the same destiny, as you must know.’ His eyes were on the girl; she was aware of it, and he was aware of her awareness. Another coil of red-gold hair had escaped from the band that held it; it lay against her smooth cheek, casting a deep gold shadow.

  ‘Will you carry him my dear remembrances, brother? Say he has my prayers, and my love always.’ Nigel withdrew his hand from the bridle, and stood back to let the rider proceed.

  ‘And assure him of my-love, also,’ said the girl in a voice of honey, heavy and sweet. Her blue eyes lifted to Cadfael’s face. ‘We have been playfellows many years, all of us here,’ she said, certainly with truth. ‘I may speak in terms of love, for I shall soon be his sister.’ ‘Roswitha and I are to be married at the abbey in December,’ said Nigel, and again took her by the hand.

  ‘I’ll bear your messages gladly,’ said Cadfael, ‘and wish you both all possible blessing against the day.’ The mule moved resignedly, answering the slight shake of the bridle. Cadfael passed them with his eyes still fixed on the girl Roswitha, whose infinite blue gaze opened on him like a summer sky. The slightest of smiles touched her lips as he passed, and a small, contented brightness flashed in her eyes. She knew that he could not but admire her, and even the admiration of an elderly monk was satisfaction to her. Surely the very motions she had made in his presence, so slight and so conscious, had been made in the knowledge that he was well aware of them, cobweb threads to entrammel one more unlikely fly.

  He was careful not to look back, for it had dawned on him that she would confidently expect him to.

  Just within the fringe of the copse, at the end of the fields, there was a stone-built sheepfold, close beside the ride, and someone was sitting on the rough wall, dangling crossed ankles and small bare feet, and nursing in her lap a handful of late hazelnuts, which she cracked in her teeth, dropping the fragments of shell into the long grass. From a distance Cadfael had been uncertain whether this was boy or girl, for her gown was kilted to the knee, and her hair cropped just short enough to swing clear of her shoulders, and her dress was the common brown homespun of the countryside. But as he drew nearer it became clear that this was certainly a girl, and moreover, busy about the enterprise of becoming a woman. There were high, firm breasts under the close-fitting bodice, and for all her slenderness she had the swelling hips that would some day make childbirth natural and easy for her. Sixteen, he thought, might be her age. Most curiously of all, it appeared that she was both expecting and waiting for him, for as he rode towards her she turned on her perch to look towards him with a slow, confident smile of recognition and welcome, and when he was close she slid from the wall, brushing off the last nutshells, and shook down her skirts with the brisk movements of one making ready for action. ‘Sir, I must talk to you,’ she said with firmness, and put up a slim brown hand to the mule’s neck. ‘Will you light down and sit with me?’ She had still her child’s face, but the woman was beginning to show through, paring away the puppy-flesh to outline the elegant lines of her cheekbones and chin. She was brown almost as her nutshells, with a warm rose-colour mantling beneath the tanned, smooth skin, and a mouth rose-red, and curled like the petals of a half-open rose. The short, thick mane of curling hair was richly russet-brown, and her eyes one shade darker, and black-lashed. No cottar’s girl, if she did choose to go plain and scorning finery. She knew she was an heiress, and to be reckoned with.

  ‘I will, with pleasure,’ said Cadfael promptly, and did so. She took a step back, her head on one side, scarcely having expected such an accommodating reception, without explanation asked or given; and when he stood on level terms with her, and barely half a head taller, she suddenly made up her mind, and smiled at him radiantly.

  ‘I do believe we two can talk together properly. You don’t question, and yet you don’t even know me.’ ‘I think I do,’ said Cadfael, hitching the mule’s bridle to a staple in the stone wall. ‘You can hardly be anyone else but Isouda Foriet. For all the rest I’ve already seen, and I was told already that you must be the youngest of the tribe.’ ‘He told you of me?’ she demanded at once, with sharp interest, but no noticeable anxiety.

  ‘He mentioned you to others, but it came to my ears.’ ‘How did he speak of me?’ she asked bluntly, jutting a firm chin. ‘Did that also come to your ears?’ ‘I did gather that you were a kind of young sister.’ For some reason, not only did he not feel it possible to lie to this young person, it had no value even to soften the truth for her.

  She smiled consideringly, like a confident commander weighing up the odds in a threatened field. ‘As if he did not much regard me. Never mind! He will.’ ‘If I had the ruling of him,’ said Cadfael with respect, ‘I would advise it now. Well, Isouda, here you have me, as you wished. Come and sit, and tell me what you wanted of me.’ ‘You brothers are not supposed to have to do with women,’ said Isouda, and grinned at him warmly as she hoisted herself back on to the wall. ‘That makes him safe from her, at least, but it must not go too far with this folly of his. May I know your name, since you know mine?’ ‘My name is Cadfael, A Welshman from Trefriw.’ ‘My first nurse was Welsh,’ she said, leaning down to pluck a frail green thread of grass from the fading stems below her, and set it between strong white teeth. ‘I don’t believe you have always been a monk, Cadfael, you know too much.’ ‘I have known monks, children of the cloister from eight years old,’ said Cadfael seriously, ‘who knew more than I shall ever know, though only God knows how, w
ho made it possible. But no, I have lived forty years in the world before I came to it. My knowledge is limited. But what I know you may ask of me. You want, I think, to hear of Meriet.’ ‘Not “Brother Meriet”?’ she said, pouncing, light as a cat, and glad.

  ‘Not yet. Not for some time yet.’ ‘Never!’ she said firmly and confidently. ‘It will not come to that. It must not.’ She turned her head and looked him in the face with a high, imperious stare. ‘He is mine,’ she said simply. ‘Meriet is mine, whether he knows it yet or no. And no one else will have him.’

  CHAPTER SIX.

  ‘Ask me whatever you wish,’ said Cadfael, shifting to find the least spiky position on the stones of the wall. ‘And then there are things I have to ask of you.’ ‘And you’ll tell me honestly what I need to know? Every part of it?’ she challenged. Her voice had a child’s directness and high, clear pitch, but a lord’s authority.

  ‘I will.’ For she was equal to it, even prepared for it. Who knew this vexing Meriet better?

  ‘How far has he got towards taking vows? What enemies has he made? What sort of fool has he made of himself, with his martyr’s wish? Tell me everything that has happened to him since he went from me.’ “From me” was what she said, not “from us”.

  Cadfael told her. If he chose his words carefully, yet he made them tell her the truth. She listened with so contained and armed a silence, nodding her head occasionally where she recognised necessity, shaking it where she deprecated folly, smiling suddenly and briefly where she understood, as Cadfael could not yet fully understand, the proceedings of her chosen man. He ended telling her bluntly of the penalty Meriet had brought upon himself, and even, which was a greater temptation to discretion, about the burned tress that was the occasion of his fall. It did not surprise or greatly dismay her, he noted. She thought about it no more than a moment.

  ‘If you but knew the whippings he has brought on himself before! No one will ever break him that way. And your Brother Jerome has burned her lure-that was well done. He won’t be able to fool himself for long, with no bait left him.’ She caught, Cadfael thought, his momentary suspicion that he had nothing more to deal with here than women’s jealousy. She turned and grinned at him with open amusement. ‘Oh, but I saw you meet them! I was watching, though they didn’t know it, and neither did you. Did you find her handsome? Surely you did, so she is. And did she not make herself graceful and pleasing for you? Oh, it was for you, be sure-why should she fish for Nigel, she has him landed, the only fish she truly wants. But she cannot help casting her line. She gave Meriet that lock of hair, of course! She can never quite let go of any man.’ It was so exactly what Cadfael had suspected, since casting eyes on Roswitha, that he was silenced.

  ‘I’m not afraid of her,’ said Isouda tolerantly. ‘I know her too well. He only began to imagine himself loving her because she belonged to Nigel. He must desire whatever Nigel desires, and he must be jealous of whatever Nigel possesses and he has not. And yet, if you’ll trust me, there is no one he loves as he loves Nigel. No one. Not yet!’ ‘I think,’ said Cadfael, ‘you know far more than I about this boy who troubles my mind and engages my liking. And I wish you would tell me what he does not, everything about this home of his and how he has grown up in it. For he’s in need of your help and mine, and I am willing to be your dealer in this, if you wish him well, for so do I.’ She drew up her knees and wrapped her slender arms around them, and told him. ‘I am the lady of a manor, left young, and left to my father’s neighbour as his ward, my Uncle Leoric, though he is not my uncle. He is a good man.

  I know my manor is as well-run as any in England, and my uncle takes nothing out of it. You must understand, this is a man of the old kind, stark upright. It is not easy to live with him, if you are his and a boy, but I am a girl, and he has been always indulgent and good to me. Madam Avota, who died two years back-well, she was his wife first, and only afterwards Meriet’s mother. You saw Nigel-what more could any man wish for his heir? They never even needed or wished for Meriet. They did all their duty by him when he came, but they could not even see past Nigel to notice the second one. And he was so different.’ She paused to consider the two, and probably had her finger on the very point where they went different ways.

  ‘Do you think,’ she asked doubtfully,’that small children know when they are only second-best? I think Meriet knew it early. He was different even to look at, but that was the least part. I think he always went the opposing way, whatever they wished upon him. If his father said white, Meriet said black; wherever they tried to turn him, he dug in his heels hard and wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t help learning, because he was sharp and curious, so he grew lettered, but when he knew they wanted him a clerk, he went after all manner of low company, and flouted his father every way. He’s always been jealous of Nigel,’ said the girl, musing against her raised knees, ‘but always worshipped him. He flouts his father purposely, because he knows he’s loved less, and that grieves him bitterly, and yet he can’t hate Nigel for being loved more. How can he, when he loves him so much?’ ‘And Nigel repays his affection?’ asked Cadfael, recollecting the elder brother’s troubled face.

  ‘Oh, yes, Nigel’s fond of him, too. He always defended him. He’s stood between him and punishment many a time. And he always would keep him with him, whatever they were about, when they all played together.’ They?’ said Cadfael. ‘Not “we”?’ Isouda spat out her chewed stem of late grass, and turned a surprised and smiling face. I’m the youngest, three years behind even Meriet, I was the infant struggling along behind. For a little while, at any rate. There was not much I did not see. You know the rest of us? Those two boys, with six years between them, and the two Lindes, midway between. And me, come rather late and too young. You’ve seen Roswitha. I don’t know if you’ve seen Janyn?’ ‘I have,’ said Cadfael, ‘on my way here. He directed me.’ ‘They are twins. Had you guessed that? Though I think he got all the wits that were meant for both. She is only clever one way,’ said Isouda judicially, ‘in binding men to her and keeping them bound. She was waiting for you to turn and look after her, and she would have rewarded you with one quick glance. And now you think I am only a silly girl, jealous of one prettier,’ she said disconcertingly, and laughed at seeing him bridle. ‘I would like to be beautiful, why not? But I don’t envy Roswitha. And after our cross-grained fashion we have all been very close here. Very close! All those years must count for something.’ ‘It seems to me,’ said Cadfael,’that you of all people best know this young man. So tell me, if you can, why did he ever take a fancy for the cloistered life? I know as well as any, now, how he clings to that intent, but for my life I do not see why. Are you any wiser?’ She was not. She shook her head vehemently. ‘It goes counter to all I know of him.’ ‘Tell me, then, everything you recall about the time when this resolve was made. And begin,’ said Cadfael, ‘with the visit to Aspley of the bishop’s envoy, this Peter Clemence. You’ll know by now-who does not!-that the man never got to his next night’s lodging, and has not been seen since.’ She turned her head sharply to stare. ‘And his horse is found, so they’re saying now. Found near the Cheshire border. You don’t think Meriet’s whim has anything to do with that? How could it? And yet…’ She had a quick and resolute mind, she was already making disquieting connections. ‘It was the eighth night of September that he slept at Aspley. There was nothing strange, nothing to remark. He came alone, very early in the evening. Uncle Leoric came out to greet him, and I took his cloak indoors and had the maids make ready a bed for him, and Meriet cared for his horse. He always makes easy friends with horses. We made good cheer for the guest. They were keeping it up in hall with music after I went to my bed. And the next morning he broke his fast, and Uncle Leoric and Fremund and two grooms rode with him the first part of his way.’ ‘What like was he, this clerk?’ She smiled, between indulgence and mild scorn. ‘Very fine, and knew it. Only a little older than Nigel, I should guess, but so travelled and sure of himself. Very handsome and courtly and
witty, not like a clerk at all. Too courtly for Nigel’s liking! You’ve seen Roswitha, and what she is like. This young man was just as certain all women must be drawn to him. They were two who matched like hand and glove, and Nigel was not best pleased. But he held his tongue and minded his manners, at least while I was there. Meriet did not like their by-play, either, he took himself off early to the stable, he liked the horse better than the man.’ ‘Did Roswitha bide overnight, too?’ ‘Oh, no, Nigel walked home with her when it was growing dark. I saw them go.’ ‘Then her brother was not with her that night?’ ‘Janyn? No, Janyn has no interest in the company of lovers. He laughs at them. No, he stayed at home.’ ‘And the next day… Nigel did not ride with the guest departing? Nor Meriet? What were they about that morning?’ She frowned over that, thinking back. ‘I think Nigel must have gone quite early back to the Lindes. He is jealous of her, though he sees no wrong in her. I believe he was away most of the day, I don’t think he even came home to supper. And Meriet-I know he was with us when Master Clemence left, but after that I didn’t see him until late in the afternoon. Uncle Leoric had been out with hounds after dinner, with Fremund and the chaplain and his kennelman. I remember Meriet came back with them, though he didn’t ride out with them. He had his bow-he often went off solitary, especially when he was out of sorts with all of us. They went in, all. I don’t know why, it was a very quiet evening, I supposed because the guest was gone, and there was no call for ceremony. I don’t believe Meriet came to supper in hall that day. I didn’t see him again all the evening.’ ‘And after? When was it that you first heard of his wish to enter with us at Shrewsbury?’ ‘It was Fremund who told me, the night following. I hadn’t seen Meriet all that day to speak for himself. But I did the next day. He was about the manor as usual then, he did not look different, not in any particular. He came and helped me with the geese in the back field,’ said Isouda, hugging her knees, ‘and I told him what I had heard, and that I thought he was out of his wits, and asked him why he should covet such a fruitless life…’ She reached a hand to touch Cadfael’s arm, and a smile to assure herself of his understanding, quite unperturbed. ‘You are different, you’ve had one life already, a new one halfway is a fresh blessing for you, but what has he had? But he stared me in the eye, straight as a lance, and said he knew what he was doing, and it was what he wanted to do. And lately he had outgrown me and gone away from me, and there was no possible reason he should pretend with me, or scruple to tell me what I asked. And I have none to doubt what he did tell me. He wanted this. He wants it still. But why? That he never told me.’ ‘That,’ said Brother Cadfael ruefully, ‘he has not told anyone, nor will not if he can evade it. What is to be done, lady, with this young man who wills to destroy himself, shut like a wild bird in a cage?’ ‘Well, he’s not lost yet,’ said Isouda resolutely. ‘And I shall see him again when we come for Nigel’s marriage in December, and after that Roswitha will be out of his reach utterly, for Nigel is taking her north to the manor near Newark, which Uncle Leoric is giving to them to manage. Nigel was up there in midsummer, viewing his lordship and making ready, Janyn kept him company on the visit. Every mile of distance will help. I shall look for you, Brother Cadfael, when we come. I’m not afraid, now I’ve talked to you. Meriet is mine, and in the end I shall have him. It may not be me he dreams of now, but his dreams now are devilish, I would not be in those. I want him well awake. If you love him, you keep him from the tonsure, and I will do the rest!’ If I love him-and if I love you, faun, thought Cadfael, riding very thoughtfully homeward after leaving her. For you may very well be the woman for him. And what you have told me I must sort over with care, for Meriet’s sake, and for yours.