Ellis Peters - A Morbid Taste For Bones

“No, pardon me, I know this is a grief to you, as well as to her. She said so. ‘He was a favourite with him,’ she said, ‘and fond of him — ’”

The boy gave a sharp gasp, and turning with blundering haste, walked away rapid walked away rapidly through the trees, deeper into the wood, and left Brother Cadfael to return very thoughtfully to his companions, with the feel of that unbearably tender spot still wincing under his probing finger.

“You and I,” said Bened, when Cadfael walked down to the smithy after Compline, “must do our drinking alone tonight, my friend. Huw has not yet come down from Rhisiart’s hall, and Padrig will be busy singing the dead man till the small hours. Well that he was there at this time. A man’s all the better for being sung to his grave by a fine poet and harpist, and it’s a great thing for his children to remember. And Cai — Cai we shan’t be seeing down here much for a while, not until the bailiff comes to take his prisoner off his hands.”

“You mean Brother John has Cai for his gaoler?” asked Cadfael, enlightened.

“He volunteered for the job. I fancy that girl of mine ran and prompted him, but he wouldn’t need much prodding. Between them, Brother John will be lying snug enough for a day or two. You need not worry about him.”

“Nothing was further from my mind,” said Cadfael. “And it’s Cai who keeps the key on him?”

“You may be sure. And what with Prince Owain being away in the south, as I hear he is, I doubt if sheriff or bailiff will have much time to spare for a small matter of insubordination in Gwytherin.” Bened sighed heavily over his horn, filled this time with coarse red wine. “It grieves me now that ever I spoke up and called attention to the blue on the feathers, at least in front of the lass. But someone would have said it. And it’s truth that now, with only her Uncle Meurice as guardian, she could have got her own way. She twists him round her finger, he wouldn’t have stood in her road. But now I misdoubt me, no man would be such a fool as to leave his private mark on a dead man for all to see. Not unless he was disturbed and had to take to his heels. All it needed was the corner clipping, how long does that take if you’ve a knife on you? No, it’s hard to understand. And yet it could be so!”

By his deep gloom there was more on Bened’s mind than that. Somewhere within, he was in abysmal doubt whether he had not spoken up in the hope of having a better chance with Sioned himself if his most favoured rival was removed. He shook his head sadly. “I was glad when he broke clear as he did, but I’ll be satisfied if he makes his way back to

Cheshire after this alarm. And yet it’s hard to think of him as a murderer.”

“We might give our minds to that, if you’re willing,” said Cadfael, “for you know the people of these parts better than I do. Let’s own it, the girl’s suspicion, that she spoke out to Prior Robert’s face, will be what many a one here is thinking, whether he says it or not. Here are we come into the place and starting a great contention, chiefly with this one lord — no need to argue who’s in the right — and there he stands as the one obstacle to what we’ve come for, and suddenly he’s dead, murdered. What’s more natural than to point the finger at us, all of us?”

“It’s blasphemy even to consider such a charge against such reverend brothers,” said Bened, shocked.

“Kings and abbots are also men, and can fall to temptation. So how do we all stand in regard to this day’s doings? All six of us were together or close within sight of one another until after Mass. Then Prior Robert, Brother Richard and I were with Father Huw, first in the orchard, and when it rained, half an hour before noon, in the house. None of the four of us could have gone into the forest. Brother John, too, was about the house and holding, Marared can vouch for him as well as we. The only one who left, before we all came forth for Vespers and set off to search for Rhisiart, was Brother Richard, who offered to go and see if he could meet with him or get word of him, and was gone perhaps an hour and a half, and came back empty-handed. From an hour after noon he was gone, and into the forest, too, for what it’s worth, and makes no claim to have spoken with anyone until he enquired at Cadwallon’s gate on his way back, which would be nearing half past two. I must speak with the gate-keeper, and see if he bears that out. Two of us are left, but not unaccounted for. Brother Jerome and Brother Columbanus were sent off to keep vigil together at Saint Winifred’s chapel, to pray for a peaceful agreement. We all saw them set off together, and they’d be in the chapel and on their knees long before ever Rhisiart came down towards the path. And there they stayed until Father Huw’s messenger went to fetch them to join us. Each of them is warranty for the other.”

“I said so,” said Bened, reassured. “Holy men do not murder.”

“Man,” said Cadfael earnestly, “there are as holy persons outside orders as ever there are in, and not to trifle with truth, as good men out of the Christian church as most I’ve met within it. In the Holy Land I’ve known Saracens I’d trust before the common run of the crusaders, men honourable, generous and courteous, who would have scorned to haggle and jostle for place and trade as some of our allies did. Meet every man as you find him, for we’re all made the same under habit or robe or rags. Some better made than others, and some better cared for, but on the same pattern all. But there it is. As far as I can see, only one of us, Brother Richard, had any chance at all to be in the neighbourhood when Rhisiart was killed, and of all of us he makes the least likely murderer. So we’re forced to look if the ground is not wide open for others, and Saint Winifred only an opportunity and an excuse. Had Rhisiart any enemies around Gwytherin? Some who might never have moved against him if we had not blown up this storm and put the temptation in their way?”

Bened considered gravely, nursing his wine. “I wouldn’t say there’s a man anywhere who has not someone to wish him ill, but it’s a far cry from that to murder. Time was when Father Huw himself came up against Rhisiart over a patch of land both claimed, and tempers ran high, but they settled it the proper way, by witness from the neighbours, and there’s been no malice after. And there have been lawsuits — did you ever hear of a Welsh landholder without one or two lawsuits in hand? One with Rhys ap Cynan over a disputed boundary, one over some beasts that strayed. Nothing to make lasting bad blood. We thrive on suits at law. One thing’s true, with the interest you’ve roused here, every soul for miles around knew that Rhisiart was due at Father Huw’s parsonage at noon. No limit at all, there, on who might have decided to waylay him on the road.”

That was as far as they could get. The field was wide, wide enough still to include Engelard, however persuaded Cadfael might be that he was incapable of such an act. Wide enough to enfold even neighbours like Cadwallon, villeins from the village, servants of the household.

But not, surely, thought Brother Cadfael, making his way back to Huw’s loft in the green and fragrant dark, not that strange young man who had been a favourite of Rhisiart, and fond of him, and in and out of his house like a son from childhood? The young man who had said of Engelard, and of himself, that a man might step far aside even from his own nature, for love, and then, presumably for love, had opened a way for Engelard to escape, as Cadfael had seen for himself. And who was now avoiding Sioned’s gratitude and affection, either because it was not love, and love was the only thing he wanted from her, or for some darker reason. When he flung away in silence into the forest he had had the look of one pursued by a demon. But surely not that demon? So far from furthering his chances, Rhisiart’s death robbed him of his most staunch ally, who had waited patiently and urged constantly, to bring his daughter to the desired match in the end. No, whichever way a man looked at him, Peredur remained mysterious and disturbing.