“This time,” said Beringar, “we’ll ride in at the gate house like orderly members of the household, even if the time is a little unusual. And if you have no objection, we may as well take this straight to your hut in the garden, and sit out the rest of the night, and see what we have here. I should like to see how Godith has been living in your care, and what skills she’s been acquiring. I wonder how far they’ll be by now?”
“Halfway to Pool, or beyond. Most of the way it’s a good road. Yes, come and see for yourself. You went enquiring for her in the town, did you not? At Edric Flesher’s. Petronilla had the worst opinion of your motives.”
“She would,” agreed Beringar, laughing. “No one would ever have been good enough for her chick, she hated me from the start. Ah, well, you’ll be able to put her mind at rest now.”
They had reached the silent Abbey Foregate, and rode between the darkened houses, the ring of hooves eerie in the stillness. A few uneasy inhabitants opened their shutters a crack to look out as they passed, but their appearance -was so leisured and peaceful that no one could suspect them of harmful intent. The wary citizens went back to bed reassured. Over the high, enclosing wail the great church loomed on their left hand, and the narrow opening of the wicket showed in the dark bulk of the gate. The porter was a lay brother, a little surprised at being roused to let in two horsemen at such an hour, but satisfied, on recognising both of them, that they must have been employed on some legitimate errand, no great marvel in such troublous times. He was incurious and sleepy, and did not wait to see them cross to the stables, where they tended their horses first, as good grooms should, before repairing to the garden hut with their load.
Beringar grimaced when he hoisted it. “You carried this on your back all that way?” he demanded with raised brows.
“I did,” said Cadfael truthfully, “and you witnessed it.”
“Then I call that a noble effort. You would not care to shoulder it again these few paces?”
“I could not presume,” said Cadfael. “It’s in your charge now.”
“I was afraid of that!” But he was in high good humour, having fulfilled his idea of himself, made his justification in Godith’s eyes, and won the prize he wanted; and he had more sinew in his slenderness than anyone would have thought, for he lifted and carried the weight lightly enough the short way to the herbarium.
“I have flint and tinder here somewhere,” said Cadfael, going first into the hut. “Wait till I make you a light, there are breakables all round us here.” He found his box, and struck sparks into the coil of charred cloth, and lit the floating wick in his little dish of oil. The flame caught and steadied, and drew tall and still, shedding a gentle light on all the strange shapes of mortars and flasks and bottles, and the bunches of drying herbs that made the air aromatic.
“You are an alchemist,” said Beringar, impressed and charmed. “I am not sure you are not a wizard.” He set down his load in the middle of the floor, and looked about him with interest. “This is where she spent her nights?” He had observed the bed, still rumpled from Torold’s spasmodic and unquiet sleep. “You did this for her. You must have found her out the very first day.”
“So I did. It was not so difficult. I was a long time in the world. Will you taste my wine? It’s made from pears, when the crop’s good.”
“Gladly! And drink to your better success — against all opponents but Hugh Beringar.”
He was on his knees by then, unknotting the rope that bound his prize. One sack disgorged another, the second a third. It could not be said that he was feverish in his eagerness, or showed any particular greed, only a certain excited curiosity. Out of the third sack rolled a tight bundle of cloth, dark-coloured, that fell apart as it was freed from constriction, and shed two unmistakable sleeves across the earth floor. The white of a shirt showed among the tangle of dark colours, and uncurled to reveal three large, smooth stones, a coiled leather belt, a short dagger in a leather sheath. Last of all, out of the centre something hard and small and bright rolled and lay still, shedding yellow flashes as it moved, burning sullenly gold and silver when it lay still at Beringar’s feet.
And that was all.
On his knees, he stared and stared, in mute incomprehension, his black brows almost elevated into his hair, his dark eyes round with astonishment and consternation. There was nothing more to be read, in a countenance for once speaking volubly, no recoil, no alarm, no guilt. He leaned forward, and with a sweep of his hand parted all those mysterious garments, spread them abroad, gaped at them, and fastened on the stones. His eyebrows danced, and came down to their normal level, his eyes blazing understanding; he cast one glittering glance at Cadfael, and then he began to laugh, a huge, genuine laughter that shook him where he kneeled, and made the bunches of herbs bob and quiver over his head. A good, open, exuberant sound it was; it made Cadfael, even at this moment, shake and laugh with him.
“And I have been commiserating with you,” gasped Beringar, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, like a child, “all this time, while you had this in store for me! What a fool I was, to think I could out-trick you, when I almost had your measure even then.”
“Here, drink this down,” urged Cadfael, offering the beaker he had filled. “To your own better success — with all opponents but Cadfael!”
Beringar took it, and drank heartily. “Well, you deserve that. You have the last laugh, but at least you lent it to me a while, and I shall never enjoy a better. What was it you did? How was it done? I swear I never took my eyes from you. You did draw up what that young man of yours had drowned there, I heard it rise, I heard the water run from it on the stone.”
“So I did, and let it down again, but very softly. This one I had ready in the boat. The other Godith and her squire drew up as soon as you and I were well on our way.”
“And have it with them now?” asked Beringar, momentarily serious.
“They have. By now, I hope, in Wales, where Owain Gwynedd’s hand will be over them.”
“So all the while you knew that I was watching and following you?”
“I knew you must, if you wanted to find your treasure. No one else could lead you to it. If you cannot shake off surveillance,” said Brother Cadfael sensibly, “the only thing to do is make use of it.”
‘“you certainly did. My treasure!” echoed Beringar, and looked it over and laughed afresh. “Well, now I understand Godith better. In a fair win and a fair defeat, she said, there should be no heartburning! And there shall be none!” He looked again, more soberly, at the things spread before him on the earth floor, and after some frowning thought looked up just as intently at Cadfael. “The stones and the sacks, anything to make like for like,” he said slowly, “that I understand. But why these? What are these things to do with me?”
“You recognise none of them — I know. They are nothing to do with you, happily for you and for me. These,” said Cadfael, stooping to pick up and shake out shirt and hose and cotte, “are the clothes Nicholas Faintree was wearing when he was strangled by night, in a hut in the woods above Frankwell, and thrown among the executed under the castle wall, to cover up the deed.”
“Your one man too many,” said Beringar, low-voiced.
“The same. Torold Blund rode with him, but they were separated when this befell. The murderer was waiting also for him, but with the second one he failed. Torold won away with his charge.”
“That part I know,” said Beringar. “The last he said to you, and you to him, that evening in the mill, that I heard, but no more.”