It’s great pity he is not here - ”
“It sounds admirable,” said Aline, wide-eyed with pleasure, “and I’m sure Hugh would feel completely happy in trusting Emma to your care. Had we not better ask Emma herself what she has to say?”
Emma’s flushed face and dazzled smile were speaking for her. “I think it would be the best possible answer, for me,” she said slowly, “and I’m most grateful for so kind a thought. But I must really go as soon as possible, and your sister - you said, you wanted her to have time to be sure …”
Ivo laughed, a little ruefully. “I’ve already reached the point of giving up the hope of persuading her to stay in the world. Never fear that you may be forcing Isabel’s hand, ever since she was accepted she has been trying to force mine.
And if it’s what she wants, who am I to prevent? She has everything ready, it will give her only pleasure if I come home to say that we can start tomorrow. If you’re willing to trust yourself to me alone for the few miles to Stanton Cobbold, and sleep under our roof tonight, we can be on our way in the morning.
We can provide you horse and saddle, if you care to ride, or a litter for the pair of you, as you please.”
“Oh, I can ride,” she said, glowing. “It would be a delight.”
“We would try and make it so. If,” said Ivo, turning his grazed smile almost diffidently upon Aline, “if I may have your approval, and my lord Beringar’s. I would not presume without that. But since this is a journey I must make, sooner or later, and Isabel insists the sooner the better, why not take advantage of it to serve Emma’s need, too?”
“It would certainly solve everything very happily,” agreed Aline. And there could be no doubt, thought Emma, bolstering her own dear wish with the persuasion of virtue, that Aline would be relieved and happy if Hugh could be spared a journey, and she several days deprived of his company. “Emma knows,” said Aline, “that she may choose as she thinks best, for both you and we, it seems, are equally at her service. As for approval, why, of course I approve, and so, I’m sure, would Hugh.”
“I wish he would put in an appearance,” said Ivo, “I should be the happier with his blessing. But if we are to go, I think we should set out at once. I know I said all’s ready with Isabel, but for all that we may need to make the most of this day.”
Emma wavered between her desire and her regret at leaving without making her due and grateful farewell to Hugh. But it was gain for him, great gain, to be rid of the responsibility he had assumed, and so securely as this promised. “Aline, you have been the soul of kindness to me, and I leave you with regret, but it is better to spare an extra journey, in such times, and then, Hugh has been kept so busy on my account already, and you’ve seen so little of him these days … I should like to go with Ivo, if you’ll give me your blessing. Yet I hate to go without thanking him properly …”
“Don’t fret about Hugh, he will surely think you wise to take advantage of so kind and fortunate an offer. I will give him all the pretty messages you’re thinking of. Once I lose sight of him, now, I never know when he’ll return, and I’m afraid Ivo is right, you may yet need every moment of the day, or certainly Isabel may. It’s a great step she’s taking.”
“So I’ve told her,” he said, “but my sister has the boldness of mind to take great steps. You won’t mind, Emma, riding pillion behind me, the few miles we have to go today? At home we’ll find you saddle and horse and all.”
“Really,” said Aline, eyeing the pair of them with a small and private smile, “I begin to be envious!”
He sent the young groom to fetch out her saddlebags. Their light weight was added to the bales of Corbière’s purchases on the spare pony, her cloak, which she certainly would not need on so fine a day, folded and stowed away with the bags. It was like setting out into a new world, sunlit and inviting, but frighteningly wide. True, she had solemn duties waiting for her in Bristol, not least the confession of a failure, but for all that, she felt as if she had almost shed the past, and could be glad of the riddance, and was stepping into this unknown world unburdened and unguarded, truly her own mistress.
Aline kissed her affectionately, and wished them both a happy journey. Emma cast frequent glances towards the gatehouse until the last moment, in case Hugh should appear, but he did not; she had still to leave her messages to Aline fordelivery. Ivo mounted first, since the bay, as he said, was in a skittish mood and inclined to play tricks, and then turned to give her a steady, sustaining hand as Turstan Fowler hoisted her easily to the pillion.
“Even with two of us up,” said Ivo over his shoulder, smiling, “this creature can be mettlesome when he’s fresh out. For safety hold me fast about the waist, and close your hands on my belt - so, that’s well!” He saluted Aline very gracefully and courteously. “I’ll see she reaches Bristol safely, I promise!”
He rode out at the gatehouse in shirt-sleeves, just as he had ridden in, his men, now two only, at his heels, and the pack-pony trotting contentedly under his light load. Emma’s arms easily spanned Ivo’s slenderness, and the feel of his spare, strong body was warm and muscular and vital through the fine linen.
As they threaded the Foregate, now emptying fast, he laid his own left hand over her clasped ones, pressing them firmly against his flat middle, and though she knew he was simply assuring himself that her hold was secure, she could not help feeling that it was also a caress.
She had laughed and shaken her head over Aline’s romantic fantasies, refusing to believe in any union between landed nobility and trade, except for mutual profit. Now she was not so sure that wisdom was all with the sceptics.
The hollow where the big, heavy body had lain still showed at least the approximate bulk of Master Thomas’s person, and round about it the grass was trodden, as though someone, or perhaps more than one, had circled all round him as he lay dead. And so they surely had, for here he must have been stripped and searched, the first of those fruitless searches Brother Cadfael had deduced from the events following. Out of the hollow, down to the raised bank of the river, went the track by which he had been dragged, the grass, growing longer as it emerged from shade, all brushed in one direction. Nor was there any doubt about the traces of blood, meagre though they were. The sliver of birch bark under the tree showed a thin crust, dried black. Careful search found one or two more spots, and a thin smear drawn downhill, where it seemed the dead man had been turned on his back to be hauled the more easily down to the water.
“It’s deep here,” said Hugh, standing on the green hillock above the river, “and undercuts the bank, it would take him well out into the current. I fancy the clothes went after him at once, we may find the rest yet. One man could have done it. Had they been two, they would have carried him.”
“Would you say,” wondered Cadfael, “that this is a reasonable way he might take to get back to his barge? He’d know his boat lay somewhat downriver from the bridge, I suppose he might try a chance cut through from the Foregate, and overcast by a little way. You see the end of the jetty, where the barge tied up, is only a small way upstream from us. Would you say he was alone, and unsuspecting, when he was struck down?”
Hugh surveyed the ground narrowly. It was not the scene of a struggle, there was the flattened area of the body’s fall, and the trampling of feet all round its stillness. The brushings of the grass this way and that were ordered, not the marks of a fight.