Here the path was clearly better used, horses could travel it without great difficulty. The ford, when they reached it, was wide and smooth. “And here,” said Cadfael, “we leave our loads. One tree among so many trees you might well lose, but one tree beside the only ford along the path, and you can’t lose it.”
“Leave them?” wondered Torold. “Why, are we not going straight to where the horses are? You said yourself we should not be followed tonight.”
“Not followed, no.” When you know where your quarry must come, and are sure of the night, you can be there waiting. “No, waste no more time, trust me and do as I say.” And he let down his own half of the burden, and looked about him, in the dimness to which by now their eyes were accustomed, for the best and safest concealment. In the thicket of bushes close to the ford, on their right, there was a gnarled old tree, one side of it dead, and its lowest branch deep in the cover of the bushes. Cadfael slung his saddlebags over it, and without another word Torold hoisted his own beside them, and drew back to assure himself that only those who had hidden here were likely ever to find. The full leafage covered all.
“Good lad!” said Cadfael contentedly. “Now, from here we bear round to the east somewhat, and this path we’re on will join the more direct one I used before. For we must approach the grange from the right direction. It would never do for any curious person to suppose we’d been a mile nearer Wales.”
Unburdened now, they drew together and went after him hand in hand, trusting as children. And now that they were drawing nearer to the actual possibility of flight, they had nothing at all to say, but clung to each other and believed that things would go right.
Their path joined the direct one only some minutes’ walk from the small clearing where the stockade of the grange rose. The sky paled as the trees fell back. There was a small rush-light burning somewhere within the house, a tiny, broken gleam showed through the pales. All round them the night hung silent and placid.
Brother Anselm opened to them, so readily that surely some aggrieved traveller from Shrewsbury must have brought word even here of the day’s upheaval, and alerted him to the possibility that anyone running from worse penalties might well take warning, and get out at once. He drew them within thankfully and in haste, and peered curiously at the two young fellows at Cadfael’s back, as he closed the gate.
“I thought it! My thumbs pricked. I felt it must be tonight. Things grow very rough your way, so we’ve heard.”
“Rough enough,” admitted Cadfael, sighing. “I’d wish any friend well out of it. And most of all these two. Children, these good brothers have cared for your trust, and have it here safe for you. Anselm, this is Adeney’s daughter, and this FitzAlan’s squire. Where is Louis?”
“Saddling up,” said Brother Anselm, “the moment he saw who came. We had it in mind the whole day that you’d have to hurry things. I’ve put food together, in case you came. Here’s the scrip. It’s ill to ride too far empty. And a flask of wine here within.”
“Good! And these few things I brought,” said Cadfael, emptying his own pouch. “They’re medicines. Godith knows how to use them.”
Godith and Torold listened and marvelled. The boy said, almost tongue-tied with wondering gratitude: “I’ll go and help with the saddling.” He drew his hand from Godith’s and made for the stables, across the small untended court. This forest assart, unmanageable in such troubled times, would soon be forest again, these timber buildings, always modest enough, would moulder into the lush growth of successive summers. The Long Forest would swallow it without trace in three years, or four.
“Brother Anselm,” said Godith, running an awed glance from head to foot of the giant, “I do thank you with all my heart, for both of us, for what you have done for us two — though I think it was really for Brother Cadfael here. He has been my master eight days now, and I understand. This and more I would do for him, if ever I might. I promise you Torold and I will never forget, and never debase what you’ve done for us.”
“God love you, child,” said Brother Anselm, charmed and amused, “you talk like a holy book. What should a decent man do, when a young woman’s threatened, but see her safe out of her trouble? And her young man with her!”
Brother Louis came from the stables leading the roan Beringar had ridden when first these two horses of his were brought here by night. Torold followed with the black. They shone active and ready in the faint light, excellently groomed and fed, and well rested.
“And the baggage,” said Brother Anselm significantly. “That we have safe. For my own part I would have parted it into two, to balance it better on a beast, but I thought I had no right to open it, so it stays as you left it, in one. I should hoist it to the crupper with the lighter weight as rider, but as you think fit.”
They were away, the pair of them, to haul out the sackbound bundle Cadfael had carried here some nights ago. It seemed there were some things they had not been told, just as there were things Torold and Godith had accepted without understanding. Anselm brought the burden from the house on his huge shoulders, and dumped it beside the saddled horses. “I brought thongs to buckle it to the saddle.” They had indeed given some thought to this, they had fitted loops of cord to the rope bindings, and were threading their thongs into these when a blade sliced down through the plaited cords that held the latch of the gate behind them, and a clear, assured voice ordered sharply:
“Halt as you stand! Let no man move! Turn hither, all, and slowly, and keep your hands visible. For the lady’s sake!”
Like men in a dream they turned as the voice commanded, staring with huge, wary eyes. The gate in the stockade stood wide open, lifted aside to the pales. In the open gateway stood Hugh Beringar, sword in hand; and over either shoulder leaned a bended long-bow, with a braced and competent eye and hand behind it; and both of them were aimed at Godith. The light was faint but steady. Those used to it here were well able to use it to shoot home.
“Admirable!” said Beringar approvingly. “You have understood me very well. Now stay as you are, and let no man move, while my third man closes the gates behind us.”
Chapter Ten
They had all reacted according to their natures. Brother Anselm looked round cautiously for his cudgel, but it was out of reach, Brother Louis kept both hands in sight, as ordered, but the right one very near the slit seam of his gown, beneath which he kept his dagger. Godith, first stunned into incredulous dismay, very quickly revived into furious anger, though only the set whiteness of her face and the glitter of her eyes betrayed it. Brother Cadfael, with what appeared to be shocked resignation, sat down upon the sacking bundle, so that his skirts hid it from sight if it had not already been noted and judged of importance. Torold, resisting the instinct to grip the hilt of Cadfael’s poniard at his belt, displayed empty hands, stared Beringar in the eye defiantly, and took two long, deliberate paces to place himself squarely between Godith and the two archers. Brother Cadfael admired, and smiled inwardly. Probably it had not occurred to the boy, in his devoted state, that there had been ample time for both arrows to find their target before his body intervened, had that been the intention.
“A very touching gesture,” admitted Beringar generously, “but hardly effective. I doubt if the lady is any happier with the situation that way round. And since we’re all sensible beings here, there’s no need for pointless heroics. For that matter, Matthew here could put an arrow clean through the pair of you at this distance, which would benefit nobody, not even me. You may well accept that for the moment I am giving the orders and calling the tune.”