Ellis Peters - One Corpse Too Many

“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.