Ellis Peters - The Sanctuary Sparrow

“Stand back!” Iestyn’s voice rang loud and hard. “Or answer to God for a life, you also! Well away from those doors, and don’t venture back, for I see you clearly. And I’ll speak no more with you, underling, but only with your master. Tell him I have a girl here between my hands, and a knife at my belt, and so sure as axe strikes at these timbers, my knife slits her throat. Now bring me here someone with whom I can parley.”

There was a sharp command without and then silence. Rannilt drew herself back as far as she dared into the remaining store of hay, towards the faint pattern of stars. Between here and the head of the ladder by which she had climbed there was a silent, motionless presence which she knew for Susanna, on guard over her lover’s only weapon.

“What did I ever do to you?” said Rannilt, without rancour or hope.

“You fell foul,” said Susanna, with unblaming bitterness. “Your misfortune and ours.”

“And will you truly kill me?” She asked it in pure wonder, even her terror momentarily forgotten.

“If we must.”

“But dead,” said Rannilt, in a moment of desperately clear vision putting her finger on the one disastrous weakness in the holding of hostages, “I am of no more use to you. It’s only living that I can get you what you want. If you kill me you’ve lost everything. And you don’t want to kill me, what pleasure would that be to you? Why, I’m no use to you at all !”

“If I must pull the roof down upon myself,” said Susanna with cold ferocity, “I’ll pull it down also upon as many of the innocent as I can contrive to crush with me and not go alone into the ark.”

Chapter Thirteen

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Friday night to Saturday morning

Hugh had halted his men instantly at Iestyn’s challenge, drawn back those who had reached the stable doors, and enjoined silence, which is more unnerving than violent assault or loud outcry. Moving men could be detected, stillness made them only dubiously visible. The rising ground to the headland bore several small clumps of trees and a hedge of bushes, cover enough for men to make their way halfway round the stable, and the rest of the circle they closed at a greater distance, completing a ring all round the building. The sergeant came back from his survey, shadowy from tree to tree down the slope to the meadow, to report the stable surrounded.

“There’s no other way out, unless he has the means to hew a way through a wall, and small good that would do him. And if he boasts of a knife, I take it he has no other weapon. What would a common workman carry but his knife for all purposes?”

“And we have archers,” mused Hugh, “if they have no light to show them a target as yet. Wait—nothing in haste! If we have them securely, it’s we who can afford to wait, not they. No need to drive them to madness.”

“But they have Rannilt in there—they’re threatening her life,” whispered Liliwin, quivering at Brother Cadfael’s shoulder.

“They’re offering to spend her for their own ends,” said Hugh, “therefore all the more they’ll keep her safe to bargain with, short of the last despair, and I’ll take good care not to drive them over the edge. Keep still a while, and let’s see if we can tire them out or talk them out. But you, Alcher, find yourself the best place in cover to command that hatch above the doors, and keep it in your eye and a shaft always ready, in case of the worst. I’ll try to hold the fellow there in the frame for you.” The loading door where Iestyn kneeled to watch them was no more than a faint shape darker still in the dark timber wall and the deep-blue light, but like the doors it faced due east, and the first predawn light, however many hours away yet, would find it early. “No shooting unless I bid. Let’s see what patience can do.”

He went forward alone, fixing the square of darkness with intent eyes, and stood some twenty paces distant from the stable. Behind him in the bushes Liliwin held his breath, and Brother Cadfael felt the boy’s slight body quivering and taut, like a leashed hound, and laid a cautioning hand on his arm in case he slipped his leash and went baying after his quarry. But he need not have feared. Liliwin turned a white face and nodded him stiff reassurance. “I know. I trust him, I must. He knows his business.”

At their backs, unable to be still, Walter Aurifaber sidled and writhed about the tree that sheltered him, biting his nails and agonising over his losses, and saying never a word to any but himself, and that in a soft, whining undertone that was half malediction and half prayer. At least all was not yet lost. The malefactors had not escaped, and could not and must not break loose now and run for it westward.

“Iestyn!” called Hugh, gazing steadily upward. “Here am I, Hugh Beringar, the sheriff’s deputy. You know me, you know why I am here, you best know I am about what it is my duty to do. My men are all round you, you have no way of escape. Be wise, come down from there and give yourself—yourselves—into my hands, without more damage and worse offence, and look for what mercy such good sense can buy you. It’s your best course. You must know it and take heed.”

“No!” said Iestyn’s voice harshly. “We have not come so far to go tamely to judgement now. I tell you, we have the girl, Rannilt, here within. If any man of yours comes too near these doors, I swear I will kill her. Bid them keep back. That’s my first word.”

“Do you see any man but myself moving within fifty paces of your doors?” Hugh’s voice was calm, equable and clear. “You have, then, a girl at your mercy. What then? With her you have no quarrel. What can you gain by harming her but a hotter place in hell? If you could reach my throat, I grant you it might possibly avail you, but it can neither help you nor give you satisfaction to slit hers. Nor does it suit with what has been known of you heretofore. You have no blood-guilt on your hands thus far, why soil them now?”

“You may talk sweet reason from where you stand,” cried Iestyn bitterly, “but we have all to lose, and see no let to making use of what weapons we have. And I tell you, if you press me, I will kill her, and if then you break in here after me by force, I will kill and kill as many as I can before the end. But if you mean such soft, wise talk, yes, you may have the girl, safe and sound—at a price!”

“Name your price,” said Hugh.

“A life for a life is fair. Rannilt’s life for my woman’s. Let my woman go free from here, with her horse and goods and gear and all that is hers, unpursued, and I will send out the girl to you unharmed.”

“And you would take my word there should be no pursuit?” Hugh pressed, angling after at least a small advantage.

“You’re known for a man of your word.”

Two voices had let out sharp gasps at the mention of such terms, and two voices cried out: “No!” in the same breath. Walter, frantic for his gold and silver, darted out a few steps towards where Hugh stood, until Cadfael caught him by the arm and plucked him back. He wriggled and babbled indignantly: “No, no such infamous bargain! Her goods and gear? Mine, not hers, stolen from me. You cannot strike such a bargain. Is the slut to make off into Wales with her ill-gotten gains? Never! I won’t have it!”

There was a shadowy flurry of movement in the hatch above, and Susanna’s voice pealed sharply: “What, have you my loving father there? He wants his money, and my neck wrung, like that of any other who dared lay hands on his money. Poor judgement in you, if you expected him to be willing to pay out a penny to save a servant-girl’s life, or a daughter’s either. Never fear, my fond father, I say no just as loudly as you. I will not accept such a bargain. Even in peril of death I would not go one step away from my man here. You hear that? My man, my lover, the father of my child! But on terms I’ll part from him, yes! Let Iestyn take the horse, and go back unmolested into his own country, and I’ll go freely, to my death or my wretched life, whichever falls on me. I am the one you want. Not he. I have killed, I tell you so open…”