one possible murderer, but the second one also. Is that believable?’
‘Such things have been known,’ said Cadfael cautiously, ‘but not often.’
‘Do you believe it?’
‘I believe it has happened. But that it has happened by chance, that has me in two minds. No,’ Cadfael amended emphatically, ‘more than two minds.’
That one supposedly dead woman should come back to life, well and good. But the second also? And are we now to expect a third, if we can find a third to die or rise again? And yet we still have this one poor, offended soul waiting for justice, if not by another’s death, at least by the grace and remembrance of a name. She is dead, and requires an accounting.’
Cadfael had listened with respect and affection to a speech which might as well have come from Abbot Radulfus, but delivered with a youthful and secular passion. Hugh did not often commit himself to indignation, at least not aloud.
‘Hugh, did she tell you how and where she heard of Britric’s being in your prison?’
‘No more than vaguely. Rumoured about in the market, she said. I never thought,’ said Hugh, vexed,’to question more nearly.’
‘And it’s barely three days since you let it be known what he was suspected of, and put out her name. News travels fast, but how far it should have reached in the time may be much to the point. I take it Gunnild has accounted for herself? For the change in fortunes? You have not told me, yet, where she lives and serves now.’
‘Why, it seems that after a fashion Britric did her a favour when he left her penniless, there in Ruald’s croft. It was August then, the end of the fair, no very easy way to pick up a profit, and she barely managed to keep herself through the autumn months, fed but with nothing saved, and you’ll remember?God knows you should!?that the winter came early and hard. She did what the wandering players do, started early looking for a manor where there might be a place for a good minstrel through the worst of the winter. Common practice, but you gamble, and may win or do poorly!’
‘Yes,’ agreed Cadfael, rather to himself than to his friend,’so I told him.’
‘She did well for herself. She happened into the manor of Withington in the December snows. Giles Otmere holds it, a crown tenant these days, since FitzAlan’s lands were seized, and he has a young family who welcome a minstrel over the Christmas feast, so they took her in. But better still, the young daughter is eighteen just turned, and took a liking to her, and according to Gunnild she has a neat hand with dressing hair, and is good with her needle, and the girl has taken her on as tirewoman. You should see the delicate pace of her now, and the maidenly manners. She’s been profitable to her lady, and thinks the world of her. Gunnild will never go back to the roads and the fairgrounds now, she has too much good sense. Truly, Cadfael, you should see her for yourself.’
‘Truly,’ said Cadfael musingly, ‘I think I should. Well, Withington is not far, not much beyond Upton, but unless Mistress Gunnild came into town for yesterday’s market, or someone happened in at Withington with the day’s news, rumour seems to have run through the grasses and across the river of its own accord. Granted it does fly faster than the birds at times, at least in town and Foregate, it takes a day or so to reach the outlying villages. Unless someone sets out in haste to carry it.’
‘Brought home from market or blown on the wind,’ said Hugh, ‘it travelled as far as Withington, it seems. As well for Britric. I am left with no notion which way to look now, but better that than hound an innocent man. But I would be loath to give up, and let the thing go by default.’
‘No need,’ said Cadfael,’to think in such terms yet. Wait but a few more days, and give your mind to the king’s business meantime, and we may have one thread left to us yet.’
Cadfael made his way to the abbot’s lodging before Vespers, and asked for an audience. He was a little deprecating in advancing his request, well aware of the license often granted to him beyond what the Rule would normally countenance, but for once none too certain of what he was about. The reliance the abbot had come to place in him was in itself something of a burden.
‘Father, I think Hugh Beringar will have been with you this afternoon, and told you what has happened concerning the man Britric. The woman who is known to have been in his company a year and more ago did indeed vanish from her usual haunts, but not by death. She has come forward to show that he has not harmed her, and the man is set free.’
‘Yes,’ said Radulfus,’this I know. Hugh was with me an hour since. I cannot but be glad the man is innocent of murder, and can go his ways freely. But our responsibility for the dead continues, and our quest must go on.’
‘Father, I came to ask leave to make a journey tomorrow. A few hours would suffice. There is an aspect of this deliverance that raises certain questions that need to be answered. I did not suggest to Hugh Beringar that he should undertake such an enquiry, partly because he has the king’s business very much on his mind, but also because I may be wrong in what I believe, and if it proves so, no need to trouble him with it. And if it proves there is ground for my doubts,’ said Cadfael very soberly,’then I must lay the matter in his hands, and there leave it.’
‘And am I permitted,’ asked the abbot after a moment’s thought, and with a shadowy and wry smile touching his lips briefly,’to ask what these doubts may be?’
‘I would as lief say nothing,’ said Cadfael frankly, ‘until I have the answers myself, yes or no. For if I am become a mere subtle, suspicious old man, too prone to see devious practices where none are, then I would rather not draw any other man into the same unworthy quagmire, nor levy false charges easier to publish than to suppress. Bear with me until tomorrow.’
‘Then tell me one thing only,’ said Radulfus. ‘There is no cause, I trust, in this course you have in mind, to point again at Brother Ruald?’
‘No, Father. It points away from him.’
‘Good! I cannot believe any ill of the man.’
‘I am sure he has done none,’ said Cadfael firmly.
‘So he at least can be at peace.’
‘That I have not said.’ And at the sharp and penetrating glance the abbot fixed upon him he went on steadily:
