Ellis Peters - The Confession of Brother Haluin

“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.