“Father,” he said meekly, “I welcome whatever penance may be laid upon me. I want no light absolution. My will is to pay in full for all my sins.”
Of his extreme misery at this moment there could be no doubt. When Rhun in his kindness lent an arm to raise him from his knees, he hung heavily still, clinging to his desperate humility.
“Father, let me go from here. Let me be desolate and hidden from men’s eyes...”
“Solitude you shall have,” said the abbot, “but I forbid despair. It is too soon for counsel or judgement, but never too soon or too late for prayer, if penitence is truly felt.” And to the prior he said, without taking his eyes from the broken creature on the tiles of the floor, like a crushed and crumpled bird: “Take him in charge. See him lodged. And now go, all of you, take comfort and pursue your duties. At all times, in all circumstances, our vows are still binding.”
Prior Robert, still stonily silent and shocked out of his normal studied dignity, led away his shattered clerk to the second of the two penitentiary cells; and it was the first time, as far as Cadfael could recall, that the two had ever been occupied at the same time. Sub-Prior Richard, decent, comfortable, placid man, marshalled the other ranks out to their ordinary labours, and to the refectory shortly afterwards for dinner, and by his own mildly stupid calm had calmed his flock into a perfectly normal appetite by the time they went to wash their hands before the meal.
Herluin had sensibly refrained from playing any part in the affair, once it turned towards the partial restoration of Ramsey’s credit and the grievous embarrassment of Shrewsbury. He would welcome the earl’s promised offering gladly, and withdraw in good order to his own monastery, though what he would visit on Tutilo when he got him safely back there might be dreadful to think of. He was not a man to forget and forgive.
As for the withdrawal from the battlefield of Robert Bossu, that restless, conscientious, subtle and efficient man, it was a model of consideration and tact, as always, with a quiet word to Abbot Radulfus, and a sharp glance at his two squires, who understood him at the lift of an eyebrow or the flash of a smile. He knew when to make use of his status, and when and how to temper its brilliance and make himself unobtrusive among a multitude.
Brother Cadfael waited his opportunity to draw close to the abbot’s shoulder as he left the choir.
“Father, a word! There is more to be added to this story, though not publicly, perhaps, not yet.”
“He has not lied, as well as murdered?” said the abbot, without turning his head. His voice was grim, but pitched no further than Cadfael’s ear.
“Neither the one nor the other, Father, if what I believe is true. He has told all he knows, and all he thinks he knows, and I am sure he has kept nothing back. But there are things he does not know, and the knowledge will somewhat better a case which even so is still black enough. Give me audience alone, and then judge what should be done.”
Radulfus had halted in mid-stride, though still not looking round. He watched the last of the brothers slip away still awed and silent through the cloister, and followed with a glance the swirl of Robert Bossu’s crimson skirts as he crossed the court with his two attendants at his heels.
“You say we have as yet only heard the half, and the worse half of all that is to be told? The young man is coffined decently, his own priest takes him hence today to Upton, for burial among his people. I would not wish to delay his departure.”
There is no need,” said Cadfael. “He has told me all he had to tell. I would not for the world keep him from his rest. But what I have to add, though I had the proofs of it from his body, and from the place where he was found, I have but now understood clearly. All that I saw was seen also by Hugh Beringar, but after what has come to light this morning these details fall into place.”
“In that case,” said Radulfus, after some thought, “before we go further, I think Hugh should join us. I need his counsel, as he may need yours and mine both. The thing happened beyond our walls, and is not within my jurisdiction, though the offender may be. Church and State must respect and assist each other, even in these fractured and sorry times. For if we are two, justice should be one. Cadfael, will you go into the town, and ask Hugh to come into conference here this afternoon? Then we will hear all that you may have to tell.”
“Very willingly I will go,” said Cadfael.
“And how,” demanded Hugh over his midday table, “are we to take this chapter of wonders you’ve been unfolding this morning? Am I to believe in it, that every response should come so neatly, as if you had been through the Gospels and marked all the places to trap each enquirer? Are you sure you did not?”
Cadfael shook his head decisively. “I do not meddle with my saint. I played fair, and so, I swear, did they all, for there was no mark, no leaf notched for a guide, when I handled the book before any other came near. I opened it, and I got my answer, and it set me thinking afresh and seeing clearly where I had formerly been blind. And how to account for it I do not know, unless indeed it was she who spoke.”
“And all the oracles that followed? Ramsey not only rejected but denounced... That came a little hard on Herluin, surely! And with Earl Robert the saint condescended to tease him with a paradox! Well, I won’t say but that was fair enough, a pity he has not the key he needs to read it, it would give him pleasure. And then, to Shrewsbury, ‘Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you.’ I take that as a warning rather than an acknowledgement. She chose you, and she can as well abandon you if she chooses, and you had better be on your guard in future, for she won’t put up with another such turmoil upsetting her established rule. Meant especially for Prior Robert, I should hazard, who indeed thinks he chose her and ranks as her proprietor. I hope he took the allusion?”
“I doubt it,” said Cadfael. “He wore it like a halo.”
“And then finally, Cadfael, for the leaves to turn of themselves, and open again at that same place. Too many miracles for one morning!”
“Miracles,” said Cadfael somewhat sententiously, “may be simply divine manipulation of ordinary circumstances. Why not? For as to the last oracle, the Gospels had been left open, and there was a wind blew through from the south doorway and ruffled the pages over, turning back from John to Matthew. It’s true that no one came in, but I think someone must have lifted the latch and set the door ajar, and then after all drawn back and closed it again, hearing the voices within and not wanting to interrupt. No mistake about the wind, everyone felt it. And then, you see, it halted where it did because there were some petals and fragments from the blackthorn I had been handling fallen into the spine there, shaken out of my sleeve or my hair when I closed the book. Such a slight obstruction was not enough to affect the taking of the sortes, when they were opening the book with ceremony, both hands parting the leaves and a finger pointing the line. But when the wind turned the leaves, the blackthorn flowers were enough to arrest the movement at that place. Yet even so, dare we call that chance? And now that I come to think back,” said Cadfael, shaking his head between doubt and conviction, “that wind that blew in was gone before ever the page settled. I watched the last one turn, slowly, halting before it was smoothed down. The air above the altar was quite still. The candles were stark erect, never a tremor.”
Aline had sat throughout this colloquy listening attentively to every word, but contributing none of her own. There was about her something distant and mysterious, Cadfael thought, as if a part of her being was charmed away into some private and pleasant place, even while her blue eyes dwelt upon her husband and his friend with sharp intelligence, following the argument back and forth with a kind of indulgent and amused affection, appropriate to a matriarch, watching her children.