Herluin had opened his mouth and drawn breath to ride over his presumptuous novice with a torrent of indignant words, but then held his breath even before the abbot had cautioned him with a peremptory hand. For to revile this troublesome boy at this moment was to damage whatever claim Ramsey had to the stake for which the bold wretch had made so perilous a bid. What could not a miracle-working saint achieve for the future glory of Ramsey? And the issue was still very much alive, for here beside him, listening alertly and with a dry little smile, was the earl of Leicester, who, whether in earnest or in mischief, was urging a plea of his own for the same prize. No, say nothing yet, not until things become clearer. Leave the options open. Bow gracefully to Abbot Radulfus’s gesture of restraint, and keep your mouth shut.
“You do right, at least, in confession,” said Radulfus mildly. “As you yourself informed us last night, and the lord sheriff has since confirmed, to our endless regret, and surely to yours, the young man you so beguiled is now dead, here within our walls, and shall be at our charge for the rites due to him. It would have been better, would it not, if you had spoken earlier, and spared him the journey that was his death?”
Such colour as there was in Tutilo’s weary face slowly drained away to leave him grey and mute. When he could wring the tight cords of his throat into speech he said in a throttled whisper: “Father, it is my shame. But I could not know! Even now I do not understand!”
Cadfael considered, when he came to think it out afterwards, that that was the moment when he became certain that Tutilo had not killed, had not ever imagined that his deceit was putting another soul in danger of death.
“What is done, is done,” said the abbot neutrally. “You speak of defending it. If you think it defensible, go on. We will hear you out.”
Tutilo swallowed, and rallied, straightening his shapely shoulders. “Father, what I cannot sufficiently justify I can at least explain. I came here with Father Herluin, grieving for Ramsey’s wrongs, and longing to do something great to benefit the restoration of our house. I heard of the miracles of Saint Winifred, and the many pilgrims and rich gifts she has brought to Shrewsbury, and I dreamed of finding such a patroness to give new life to Ramsey. I prayed that she would intercede for us, and show us her grace, and it came to me that she heard me, and that she willed to do us good. It seemed to me, Father, that she inclined to us, and willed to visit us. And I began to feel it heavy upon me, that I must do her will.”
Colour had come back into his cheeks, burning on the notable bones, a little hectic, a little fevered. Cadfael watched him and was in doubt. Had he convinced himself, or could he produce at will this rapture to convince others? Or, like any fallible human sinner, was he desperately constructing an armour of simplicity about his devious shiftings? Sin detected can contrive all manner of veils to cover its nakedness.
“I planned and did what I have already told you,” said Tutilo, suddenly brief and dry. “I felt that I was doing no wrong. I believed I was instructed, and faithfully I obeyed. But bitterly I regret that I needed another man’s hands to help me, and he in ignorance.”
“In innocence,” said the abbot, “to his peril.”
“I acknowledge it,” said Tutilo, erect and wide-eyed. “I regret it. God forgive me for it!”
“In due time,” said Radulfus with unremitting detachment, “so he may. That is not for us to meddle with. As for us, we have your story, we have a saint who has made her way back to us by strange ways, and we have those who have been friends to her on that journey, and may well believe, as you believe, that the lady has been in control of her own destiny, and choosing her own friends and her own dependants. But before ever we come to that issue, we have here a murdered man. Neither God nor his saints will tolerate murder. This young man Aldhelm cries to us for justice. If there is anything you can tell us that may shed light on his death, speak now.”
“Father,” said Tutilo, burning into startling whiteness, “I pledge you my faith I never did nor never would have done him any harm, nor do I know of any who might need to wish him ill. It is true he could have told you of me what now I have told you. It never was matter for such fear to me that I must have tried to silence him. He helped me! He helped her! I would have said yes to him when he pointed at me. Granted I was a little afraid, I tried to be secret. But there are no secrets now.”
“Yet you are the only man,” insisted the abbot mercilessly, but without pressing the suggestion to an accusation, “who is known to have had reason to fear his coming here with what he could tell. What you yourself have now chosen to tell us can neither undo that truth, nor absolve you from it. Until more is known concerning his death, I judge that you must be held in confinement within my custody. The only charge that can be made against you at this moment is of theft from our house, however that may be read hereafter. That leaves you within my writ. I think the lord sheriff may have somewhat to say to that disposition.”
“I have nothing to object to it,” said Hugh promptly. “I trust him to your charge, Father Abbot.”
Herluin had said not a word for or against. He was nursing in silence the options left to him, and so far they did not appear to him totally unpromising. The silly boy might have made potentially disastrous mistakes, but he had preserved the basis of his claim. The saint had willed it! How does the incumbent house prove otherwise? She did set out, only the wickedness of men frustrated her journey.
“Ask Brother Vitalis to call the porters to take him away,” said the abbot. “And, Brother Cadfael, see him into his cell, and if you will, come back to us.”
Chapter Seven
IT WAS APPARENT TO CADFAEL, when he reentered the abbot’s parlour, that if battle had not actually been joined, war trumpets were certainly being tuned for the onset. Radulfus maintained his judicial calm, and the earl’s broad brow was suave and benign, though there was no guessing what went on in the highly intelligent mind behind it; but Prior Robert and Sub-Prior Herluin sat very erect, stiff in the spine and with long, refined faces sharpened into steel, studiously not looking straight at each other, but maintaining each a bright gaze on distance, and the appearance of considering with magisterial detachment the situation that confronted them.
“Setting aside the issue of murder,” said Herluin, “for which as yet we lack any kind of proof, surely his story is to be believed. This was a holy theft. He was doing what the saint willed.”
“I do not find it easy,” said Abbot Radulfus, with a distinct chill in his voice, “to set aside the issue of murder. It takes precedence of any other matter. Hugh, what can you say of this boy? He has told us now what he might well have feared the dead man could tell us. That leaves him with no cause to kill.”
“No,” said Hugh. “He had cause, by his own admission, and we know of no other who had. It is possible that he did kill, but having killed, took thought to cover what he had done. Possible... I say no more than that. He came straight to us at the castle, and told us how he had found the body, and no question but he was greatly shaken and agitated, as well he might be, guilty or innocent. Today I must say he has behaved wholly in accordance with innocence, moved, pitying, patient in attendance. If all that was put on of design, to disguise guilt, then he is beyond his years bold, sharp-witted and devious. But,” he added wryly, “I have it in mind that so he is, and may very well have had the hardihood to play it so.”