expectation. The ordinary business of the day goes on through births, marriages, deaths, and festivals. When he looked back from the doorway the girl Helisende was stooping to fill the bitch’s bowl, the heavy braid of her brown hair swinging among the scrambling litter. She did not look up, but for all that, he had the feeling that she was deeply and vulnerably aware of him until he turned and walked softly away.
“You’ll miss your nurseling,” said Cadfael when Edgytha came at noon to serve food and drink for them. “Or will you be going south with her when she’s married?”
The old woman lingered, taciturn by nature but visibly in need of unburdening a heart by no means reconciled to losing her darling. Within the stiff folds of her wimple her withered cheek trembled.
“What should I do at my age, in a strange place? I am too old to be of much value now, I shall stay here. At least I know the way of things here, and everyone knows me. What respect should I have in a strange household? But she’ll go, I know that! She’ll go, I suppose, as go she must. And the young man’s well enough?if my lamb had not another in her eye and in her heart.”
“And one placed so far out of reach,” Haluin reminded her gently, but his face was pale, and when she turned and looked at him in silence for a long moment he averted his eyes and turned away his head.
Her eyes were the pale, washed blue of fading harebells. Once, shadowed by lashes now grown thin and meager, they might have resembled more the color of periwinkles. “So my lord will have told you,” she said. “So they all say. And if there’s no help, she might do much worse. I know! I came here in attendance on her mother, all those years ago, and that was no lovers’ match, her so young, and him nigh on three times her age. A decent, kind man he was, but old, old! She had good need, poor lady, of someone from home, someone she knew well and could trust. At least they’re marrying my girl to somebody young.”
Cadfael asked what had been preoccupying his mind for some little while, since no word had been said on the matter: “Is Helisende’s mother dead?”
“No, not dead. But she took the veil at Polesworth, it must be eight years ago now, after the old lord died. She’s within your own order, a Benedictine nun. She had always a leaning towards it, and when her husband died, and she began to be talked about and bargained about as widow ladies are, and urged to marry again, rather than that she left the world. It’s one way of escape,” said Edgytha, and set her lips grimly.
“And left her daughter motherless?” said Haluin, with more reproof in his voice than he had intended.
“She left her daughter very well mothered! She left her to the lady Emma and to me!” Edgytha smoldered for a moment, and subdued the brief fire within lowered eyelids. “Three mothers that child has had, and all fond. My lady Emma could never be harsh to any young thing. Too soft, indeed, the pair of them could always get their will of her. But my own lady was given to solitude and melancholy, and when it came to a new marriage, no, she would not, she took the veil gladly rather than marry again.”
“Helisende has never considered that refuge?” asked Cadfael.
“Not she, God forbid she ever should! My girl was never of that mind. For those who take to it kindly it may be bliss, but for those who are pressed into it, it must be a hell on earth! If you’ll pardon my tongue, Brothers! You know your own vocation best, and no doubt you took the cowl for the best of reasons, but Helisende
No, I would not want that for her. Better by far this Perronet lad, if there has to be a second-best,” She had begun to gather up the platters and dishes they had emptied, and took up the pitcher to refill their cups. “I did hear say that you’ve been at Elford, and seen Roscelin there. Is that true?”
“Yes,” said Cadfael, “we left Elford only yesterday. We did, by chance, have some brief talk with the young man, but never knew until this morning that he came from this neighboring manor of Vivers.”
“And how did he look?” she asked longingly. “Is he well? Was he down in spirits? I have not seen him for a month or more, and I know how ill he took it that he should be sent away like some offending page from his own home, when he had done no wrong, nor thought none. As good a lad as ever stepped! What had he to say?”
“Why, he was in excellent health at any rate,” said Cadfael cautiously, “and very fair spirits, considering all. It’s true he did complain of being banished, and was very ill-content where he is. Naturally he said little about the circumstances, seeing we were chance comers and unknown to him, and I daresay he would have said no more to anyone else who had as little business in the matter. But he did say he had given his word to abide by his father’s orders, and wait for leave before he’d venture home.”
“But he does not know,” she said, between anger and helplessness, “what’s being planned here. Oh, he’ll get leave to come home fast enough as soon as Helisende is out of the house, and far away south on her way to that young man’s manor. And what a homecoming that will be for the poor lad! Shame to deal so behind his back!”
“They think it for the best,” said Haiuin, pale and moved. “Even for his best interests, they believe. And this matter is hard even for them. If they are mistaken in hiding this marriage from him until it is over, surely they may be forgiven.”
“There are those,” said Edgytha darkly, “who never will be.” She picked up her wooden tray, and the keys at her girdle chimed faintly as she moved towards the door. “I wish this had been honestly done. I wish he had been told. Whether he could ever have her or not, he had a right to know, and to give his blessing or his ban. How was it you were brought in touch with him there, to know the half of his name but not the whole?”
“It was the lady mentioned his name,” said Cadfael, “when de Clary came in from riding, and the young man was with him. Roscelin, she called him. It was later we spoke with him. He saw my friend here stiff from a night on his knees, and came to lend him an arm to lean on.”
“So he would!” she said, warming. “To any one he saw in need. The lady, you say? Audemar’s lady?”
“No, our errand was not to him, we never saw his wife and children. No, this was his mother, Adelais de Clary.”
The dishes jangled momentarily on Edgytha’s tray. With care she balanced it on one hand, and reached to the latch of the door. “She is there? There at Elford?”
“She is. Or she was when we left, yesterday, and with the snow coming so shortly after, she is surely there still.”
“She visits very rarely,” said Edgytha, shrugging. “They say there’s small love lost between her and her son’s wife. That’s no uncommon thing, either, I suppose, so they’re just as well apart.” She nudged the door open expertly with an elbow, and swung the large tray through the doorway edgewise. “Do you hear the horses, outside there? That will be Jean de Perronet’s party riding in.”
There was nothing clandestine or secretive, certainly, about Jean de Perronet’s arrival, though nothing
