Ellis Peters - Dead Man's Ransom

“Owain will speak his own mind,” said Einon, “when I have told him what has happened. But without his word I must leave Elis ap Cynan unredeemed, and take Eliud back with me. The price due for Elis has not been paid, not to my satisfaction. He stays here.”

“I am afraid,” said Cadfael, turning abruptly from the bed, “Elis will not be the only one constrained to remain here.” And as they fixed him with two blank and questioning stares: “There is more here than you know. Hugh said well, there was no mortal harm to him, all he needed was time, rest and peace of mind, and he would have come back to himself. An older self before his time, perhaps, but he would have come. This man did not simply drown in his own weakness and weariness. There was a hand that held him under.”

“You are saying,” said Hugh, after a bleak silence of dismay and doubt, “that this was murder?”

“I am saying so. There are the signs on him clear.”

“Show us,” said Hugh.

He showed them, one intent face stooped on either side to follow the tracing of his finger. “It would not take much pressure, there would not be anything to be called a struggle. But see what signs there are. These marks round nose and mouth, faint though they are, are bruises he had not when we bedded him. His lips are plainly bruised, and if you look closely you will see the shaping of his teeth in the marks on the upper lip. A hand was clamped over his face to cut off breath. I doubt if he awoke, in his deep sleep and low state it would not take long.” Einon looked at the furnishings of the bed, and asked, low, voiced: “What was used to muffle nose and mouth, then? These covers?”

“There’s no knowing yet. I need better light and time enough. But as sure as God sees us, the man was murdered.” Neither of them raised a word to question further. Einon had experience of many kinds of dying, and Hugh had implicit trust by now in Brother Cadfael’s judgement. They looked wordlessly at each other for a long, thinking while.

“The brother here is right,” said Einon then. “I cannot take away any of my men who may by the very furthest cast have any part in this killing. Not until truth is shown openly can they return home.”

“Of all your party,” said Hugh, “you, my lord, and your two captains are absolutely clear of any slur. You never entered the infirmary until now, they have not entered it at all, and all three have been in my company and in the abbot’s company every minute of this visit, besides the witness of the women. There is no one can keep you, and it is well you should return to Owain Gwynedd, and let him know what has happened here. In the hope that truth may out very soon, and set all the guiltless free.”

“I will so return, and they with me. But for the rest…” They were both considering that, recalling how the party had separated to its several destinations, the abbot’s guests with him to his lodging, the rest to the stables to tend their horses, and after that to wander where they would and talk to whom they would until they were called to the refectory for their dinner. And that half-hour before the meal saw the court almost empty.

“There is not one other among us,” said Einon, “who could not have entered here. Six men of my own, and Eliud. Unless some of them were in company with men of this household, or within sight of such, throughout. That I doubt, but it can be examined.”

“There are also all within here to be considered. Of all of us, surely your Welshmen had the least cause to wish him dead, having carried and cared for him all this way. It is madness to think it. Here are the brothers, such wayfarers as they have within the precinct, the lay servants, myself, though I have been with you the whole while, my men who brought Elis from the castle… Elis himself…”

“He was taken straight to the refectory,” said Einon. “However, he above all stays here. We had best be about sifting out any of mine who can be vouched for throughout, and if there are such I will have them away with me, for the sooner Owain Gwynedd knows of this, the better.”

“And I,” said Hugh ruefully, “must go break the news to his widow and daughter, and make report to the lord abbot, and a sorry errand that will be. Murder in his own enclave!”

Abbot Radulfus came, grimly composed, looked long and grievously at the dead face, heard what Cadfael had to tell, and covered the stark visage with a linen cloth. Prior Robert came, jolted out of his aristocratic calm, shaking his silver head over the iniquity of the world and the defilement of holy premises. There would have to be ceremonies of reconsecration to make all pure again, and that could not be done until truth was out and justice vindicated. Brother Edmund came, distressed beyond all measure at such a happening in his province and under his devoted and careful rule, as though the guilt of it fouled his own hands and set a great black stain against his soul. It was hard to comfort him. Over and over he lamented that he had not placed a constant watch by the sheriff’s bed, but how could any man have known that there would be need? Twice he had looked in, and found all quiet and still, and left it so. Quietness and stillness, time and rest, these were what the sick man most required. The door had been left ajar, any brother passing by could have heard if the sleeper had awakened and wanted for any small service.

“Hush you, now!” said Cadfael sighing. “Take to yourself no more than your due, and that’s small enough. There’s no man takes better care of his fellows, as well you know. Keep your balance, for you and I will have to question all those within here, if they heard or saw anything amiss.” Einon ab Ithel was gone by then, with only his two captains to bear him company, his hill ponies on a leading rein, back to Montford for the night, and then as fast as might be to wherever Owain Gwynedd now kept his border watch in the north. There was not one of his men could fill up every moment of his time within here, and bring witnesses to prove it. Here or in the closer ward of the castle they must stay, until Prestcote’s murderer was found and named.

Hugh, wisely enough, had gone first to the abbot, and only after speeding the departing Welsh did he go to perform the worst errand of all.

Edmund and Cadfael withdrew from the bedside when the two women came in haste and tears from the to-do, Sybilla stumbling blindly on Hugh’s arm. The little boy they had managed to leave in happy ignorance with Sybilla’s maid. There would be a better time than this to tell him he was fatherless.

Behind him, as he drew the door quietly to, Cadfael heard the widow break into hard and painful weeping, as quickly muffled in the coverings of her husband’s bed. From the girl not a sound. She had walked into the room stiffly, with blanched, icy face and eyes fallen empty with shock.

In the great court the little knot of Welshmen hung uneasily together, with Hugh’s guards unobtrusive but watchful on all sides, and in particular between them and the closed wicket in the gate. Elis and Eliud, struck silent and helpless in this disaster, stood a little apart, not touching, not looking at each other. Now for the first time Cadfael could see a family resemblance in them, so tenuous that in normal times it would never be noticed, while the one went solemn and thoughtful, and the other as blithe and untroubled as a bird. Now they both wore the same shocked visage, the one as lost as the other, and they could almost have been twin brothers.

They were still standing there waiting to be disposed of, and shifting miserably from foot to foot in silence, when Hugh came back across the court with the two women. Sybilla had regained a bleak but practical control over her tears, and showed more stiffening in her backbone than Cadfael, for one, had expected. Most likely she had already turned a part of her mind and energy to the consideration of her new situation, and what it meant for her son, who was now the lord of six valuable manors, but all of them in this vulnerable border region. He would need either a very able steward or a strong and well, disposed step-father. Her lord was dead, his overlord the king a prisoner; there was no one to force her into an unwelcome match. She was many years younger than her lost husband, and had a dower of her own, and good enough looks to make her a fair bargain. She would live, and do well enough.