But now his back was turned, and no one else moved at the moment in these evening fields. if he rode on far enough, Torold might attempt the crossing. Even if he misjudged in his haste and soaked himself, he could not possibly drown in this stream, and the night would be warm. Go he must, and find his way to Godith’s bed, and somehow get some reassurance.
The king’s officer rode on, oblivious, to the limit of the level ground, never turning his head. And no other creature stirred. Torold picked himself up and ran for it, across the open mead, into the brook, picking his footing by luck and instinct well enough, and out upon the pale, shaven fields on the other side. Like a mole burrowing into earth, he burrowed into the stack of haulms. In the turmoil of this day it was no surprise to find boat and bundle vanished, and he had no time to consider whether the omen was bad or good. He drew the disturbed stems about him, a stiff, creamy lace threaded by sunlight and warmth, and lay quivering, his face turned to peer through the network to where the enemy rode serenely.
And the enemy had also turned, sitting the dappled horse motionless, gazing downstream as though some pricking of his thumbs had warned him. For some minutes he remained still, as easy as before, and yet as alert; then he began the return journey, as softly as he had traced it upstream.
Torold held his breath and watched him come. He made no haste, but rode his beat in idle innocence, having nothing to do, and nothing but this repeated to and fro to pass the time here. But when he drew opposite the peasefields he reined in, and sat gazing across the brook long and steadily, and his eyes homed in upon the loose stack of haulms, and lingered. Torold thought he saw the dark face melt into a secret smile; he even thought the raised bridle-hand made a small movement that could have been a salute. Though that was idiocy, he must have imagined it! For the horseman was moving on downstream on his patrol, gazing towards the outflow from the mill and the confluence with the river beyond. Never a glance behind.
Torold lay down under his weightless covering, burrowed his tired head into his arms, and his hips into the springy turf of the headland, and fell asleep in sheer, exhausted reaction. When he awoke it was more than half dark, and very quiet. He lay for a while listening intently, and then wormed his way out into a pallid solitude above a deserted valley, and crept furtively up the slope into the abbey gardens, moving alone among the myriad sun-warmed scents of Cadfael’s herbs. He found the hut, its door hospitably open to the twilight, and peered almost fearfully into the warm silence and gloom within.
“Praise God!” said Brother Cadfael, rising from the bench to haul him briskly within. “I thought you’d aim for
here, I’ve been keeping an eye open for you every half-hour or so, and at last I have you. Here, sit down and ease your heart, we’ve come through well enough!”
Urgent and low, Torold asked the one thing that mattered:
“Where is Godith?”
Chapter Nine
Godith, if he had but known it, was at that moment viewing her own reflection in Aline’s glass, which Constance was holding well away from her to capture more of the total image. Washed and combed and arrayed in one of Aline’s gowns, brocaded in brown and gold thread, with a thin gold bandeau of Aline’s round her curls, she turned this way and that to admire herself with delight at being female again, and her face was no longer that of an urchin, but of an austere young gentlewoman aware of her advantages. The soft candlelight only made her more mysterious and strange in her own eyes.
“I wish he could see me like this,” she said wistfully, forgetting that so far she had not mentioned any he except Brother Cadfael, and could not now, even to Aline, reveal anything concerning Torold’s person and errand beyond his name. Concerning herself she had told almost everything, but that was the acknowledgement of a debt.
“There is a he?” asked Aline, sparking with sympathetic curiosity. “And he will escort you? Wherever you are going? No, I mustn’t ask you anything, it would be unfair. But why shouldn’t you wear the dress for him? Once away, you can as well travel as yourself as you can in boy’s clothes.”
“I doubt it,” said Godith ruefully. “Not the way we shall be travelling.”
“Then take it with you. You could put it in that great bundle of yours. I have plenty, and if you are going with nothing, then you’ll need a gown for when you reach safety.”
“Oh, if you knew how you-tempt me! You are kind! But I couldn’t take it. And we shall have weight enough to carry, the first miles. But I do thank you, and I shall never forget.”
She had tried on, for pure pleasure, Constance assisting with relish, every dress Aline had with her, and in every one she had imagined herself confronting Torold, without warning, and studying his astonished and respectful face. And somehow, in spite of not knowing where he was or how he was faring, she had spent a blissful afternoon, unshaken by doubts. Certainly he would see her in her splendour, if not in this in other fine gowns, in jewels, with her hair, grown long again, plaited and coiled upon her head in a gold circlet like this one. Then she recalled how she had sat beside him, the two of them companionably eating plums and committing the stones to the Severn through the floorboards of the mill, and she laughed. What use would it ever be, putting on airs with Torold?
She was in the act of lifting the circlet from her head when they all heard the sudden but circumspect knocking on the outer door, and for a moment froze into wary stillness, looking at one another aghast.
“Do they mean to search here, after all?” wondered Godith in a shocked whisper. “Have I brought you into danger?”
“No! Adam assured me I should not be disturbed, this morning, when they came.” Aline rose resolutely. “You stay here with Constance, and bolt the door. I’ll go. Can it be Brother Cadfael come for you already?”
“No, surely not yet, they’ll still be on the watch.”
It had sounded the most deferential of knocks, but all the same, Godith sat very still behind the bolted door, and listened with strained attention to the snatches of voices that reached her from without. Aline had brought her visitor into the room. The voice that alternated with hers was a man’s, low-pitched and ardently courteous.
“Adam Courcelle!” Constance mouthed silently, and smiled her knowing smile. “So deep in love, he can’t keep away!”
“And she — Aline?” whispered Godith curiously.
“Who knows! Not she — not yet!”
Godith had heard the same voice that morning, addressing the porter and the lay servants at the gate in a very different tone. But such duties can surely give no pleasure, and may well make even a decent man ill-humoured and overbearing. This devout and considerate soul enquiring tenderly after Aline’s peace of mind might be his proper self.
“I hope you have not been too much put out by all this stir,” he was saying. “There’ll be no more disturbances, you may rest now.”
“I haven’t been molested at all,” Aline assured him serenely. “I have no complaint, you have been considerate indeed. But I’m sorry for those who have had goods distrained. Is the same thing happening in the town?”
“It is,” he said ruefully, “and will go on tomorrow, but the abbey may be at peace now. We have finished here.”
“And you did not find her? The girl you had orders to search for?”
“No, we have not found her.”