Cadfael could not choose but feel some sympathy for one whose dubious but daring enterprise had come full circle, and now threatened him with disgrace and punishment; all the more as Cadfael himself had just been spared a possibly similar exposure. The lid of the reliquary, with its silver chasing exposed to view, no doubt to be instantly recognizable on entering the court, was still securely sealed down. No one had tampered with it, no one had viewed the body within. Cadfael at least could breathe again.
Prior Robert on his own ground had taken charge of all. The excited brothers raised the reliquary, and bore it away into the church, to its own altar, and Tutilo followed devotedly. The grooms and novices led away the horses, and wheeled away the light carriage into the grange court for housing. Robert, Herluin, Hugh and the stranger departed in the direction of the abbot’s lodging, where Radulfus had already come out to greet them.
Stranger this new guest might be, certainly Cadfael had never seen him before, but it was no particular problem to work out who he must be, even if that left his presence here as a mystery. Not far from Leicester the ambush had taken place. Here was clearly a magnate of considerable power and status, why look further afield for his name? And Cadfael had not missed the heave of the misshapen shoulder, visible now in this rear view as a distinct hump, though not grave enough to disfigure an otherwise finely proportioned body. It was well known that the younger Beaumont twin was a marked man. Robert Bossu they called him, Robert the Hunchback, and reputedly he made no objection to the title.
So what was Robert Bossu doing here? They had all disappeared into the abbot’s hall now, whatever chance had brought him visiting would soon be known. And what Hugh had to say to Abbot Radulfus would soon be talked over again with Brother Cadfael. He had only to wait until this conference of sacred and secular powers was over.
Meantime, he reminded himself, since the entire company was now assembled, he had better be about sending off Father Boniface’s errand-boy to find Aldhelm at Upton among his sheep, and ask him to come down to the abbey when his work for the day was over, and pick out his shadowy Benedictine from among a number now complete.
There was a silence in Cadfael’s workshop in the herb garden, once Hugh had told the full story of Saint Winifred’s odyssey, and how, and in what mood, Robert Beaumont had entered the contest to possess her.
“Is he in earnest?” asked Cadfael then.
“Halfway. He is playing, passing the tedious time while there’s virtually no fighting and very little manoeuvring, and while he wants none, but is uneasy being still. Short of employment, barring a difficult business of protecting his brother’s interests here, as Waleran is protecting Robert’s over in Normandy, as well as he can, this one enjoys putting the fox among the fowls, especially two such spurred and hackled cockerels as your prior and Ramsey’s Herluin. There’s no malice in it,” said Hugh tolerantly. “Should I grudge him his sport? I’ve done the like in my time.”
“But he’ll hold to it he has a claim?”
“As long as it amuses him, and he has nothing better to do. Good God, they put the notion into his head themselves! One might almost think, says Robert, our Robert, must I call him?, that she has been directing affairs herself! Almost one might, says the other Robert, and I saw the seed fall on fertile ground, and there he’s tended it ever since. But never fret about him, he’ll never push it to the length of humiliating either of them, let alone Abbot Radulfus, whom he recognizes as his match.”
“It hardly shows,” said Cadfael thoughtfully, going off at a surprising tangent.
“What does?”
“The hump. Robert Bossu! I’d heard the name, who has not? Robert and Waleran of Beaumont seem to have parted company these last years, twins or no. The elder has been in Normandy for four years now, Stephen can hardly count him as the staunch supporter he used to be.”
“Nor does he,” agreed Hugh dryly. “Stephen knows when he’s lost a sound man. More than likely he fully understands the reason, and it can hardly be accounted any man’s fault. The pair of them have lands both here in England and over in Normandy, and since Geoffrey of Anjou has made himself master of Normandy, on his son’s behalf, every man in Stephen’s backing fears for his lands over there, and must be tempted to change sides to keep Anjou’s favour. The French and Norman lands matter most to Waleran, who can wonder that he’s gone over there and made himself at least acceptable to Geoffrey, rather than risk being dispossessed. It’s more than the lands. He got the French possessions, the heart of the honour, when their father died, he’s count of Meulan, and his line is bound up in the title. Without Meulan he’d be nameless. Robert’s inheritance was the English lands. Breteuil came only by marriage, this is where he belongs. So Waleran goes where his roots are, to keep them safe from being torn up, even if he must do homage to Anjou for the soil they’ve been firm in for generations. Where his heart is I am not sure. He owes allegiance to Geoffrey now, but does as little to aid him and as little to harm Stephen as possible, protecting both his own and his brother’s interests there, while Robert does as much for him here. They both hold off from what action there is. Small wonder!” said Hugh. “There is also a matter of sheer weariness. This chaos has gone on too long.”
“It is never easy,” said Cadfael sententiously, “to serve two masters, even when there are two brothers to share the labour.”
“There are others with the same anxieties,” said Hugh.
“There will be more now, with one cause in the ascendant here and the other there. But we have a problem of our own here, Hugh, and even if the earl is only diverting himself, be sure Herluin is not. If I’d known,” said Cadfael dubiously, “that you were going to bring her back safely, and no great harm done, I might not have been so busy about worrying out how she ever went astray.”
“I doubt if you’d have had any choice,” said Hugh with sympathy, “and certainly you have none now.”
“None! I’ve sent for the lad from the Upton manor, as I told Radulfus I would, and before Compline he’ll be here, and the truth will surely be out. Every man of us knows now how the reliquary was filched and borne away, it wants only this boy’s testimony to give the thief a face and a name. A small figure and a young voice, says Aldhelm, who was tricked into helping him, and saw his face close. It hardly needs confirming,” admitted Cadfael, “except that justice must be seen to proceed on absolute certainty. Herluin is neither small nor young. And why should any brother of Shrewsbury want to see our best patroness carted away to Ramsey? Once the method was out, as today it is, who could it be but Tutilo?”
“A bold lad!” remarked Hugh, unable to suppress an appreciative grin. “He’ll be wasted in a cowl. And do you know, I very much doubt whether Herluin would have raised any objection to a successful theft, but he’ll have the youngster’s hide now it’s proved a failure.” He rose to leave, stretching limbs still a little stiff from the long ride. “I’m away home. I’m not needed here until this Aldhelm has played his part and pointed the finger at your Tutilo, as I take it you’re certain he will before the night’s out. I’d as soon not be here. If there’s a part for me, let it be left until tomorrow.”