Brother Cadfael 02: One Corpse Too Many

peaceful that no one could suspect them of harmful intent. The wary citizens went back to bed reassured. Over the high, enclosing wail the great church loomed on their left hand, and the narrow opening of the wicket showed in the dark bulk of the gate. The porter was a lay brother, a little surprised at being roused to let in two horsemen at such an hour, but satisfied, on recognising both of them, that they must have been employed on some legitimate errand, no great marvel in such troublous times. He was incurious and sleepy, and did not wait to see them cross to the stables, where they tended their horses first, as good grooms should, before repairing to the garden hut with their load.
    Beringar grimaced when he hoisted it. 'You carried this on your back all that way?' he demanded with raised brows.
    'I did,' said Cadfael truthfully, 'and you witnessed it.'
    'Then I call that a noble effort. You would not care to shoulder it again these few paces?'
    'I could not presume,' said Cadfael. 'It's in your charge now.'
    'I was afraid of that!' But he was in high good humour, having fulfilled his idea of himself, made his justification in Godith's eyes, and won the prize he wanted; and he had more sinew in his slenderness than anyone would have thought, for he lifted and carried the weight lightly enough the short way to the herbarium.
    'I have flint and tinder here somewhere,' said Cadfael, going first into the hut. 'Wait till I make you a light, there are breakables all round us here.' He found his box, and struck sparks into the coil of charred cloth, and lit the floating wick in his little dish of oil. The flame caught and steadied, and drew tall and still, shedding a gentle light on all the strange shapes of mortars and flasks and bottles, and the bunches of drying herbs that made the air aromatic.
    'You are an alchemist,' said Beringar, impressed and charmed. 'I am not sure you are not a wizard.' He set down his load in the middle of the floor, and looked about him with interest. 'This is where she spent her nights?' He had observed the bed, still rumpled from Torold's spasmodic and unquiet sleep. 'You did this for her. You must have found her out the very first day.'
    'So I did. It was not so difficult. I was a long time in the world. Will you taste my wine? It's made from pears, when the crop's good.'
    'Gladly! And drink to your better success - against all opponents but Hugh Beringar.'
    He was on his knees by then, unknotting the rope that bound his prize. One sack disgorged another, the second a third. It could not be said that he was feverish in his eagerness, or showed any particular greed, only a certain excited curiosity. Out of the third sack rolled a tight bundle of cloth, dark-coloured, that fell apart as it was freed from constriction, and shed two unmistakable sleeves across the earth floor. The white of a shirt showed among the tangle of dark colours, and uncurled to reveal three large, smooth stones, a coiled leather belt, a short dagger in a leather sheath. Last of all, out of the centre something hard and small and bright rolled and lay still, shedding yellow flashes as it moved, burning sullenly gold and silver when it lay still at Beringar's feet.
    And that was all.
    On his knees, he stared and stared, in mute incomprehension, his black brows almost elevated into his hair, his dark eyes round with astonishment and consternation. There was nothing more to be read, in a countenance for once speaking volubly, no recoil, no alarm, no guilt. He leaned forward, and with a sweep of his hand parted all those mysterious garments, spread them abroad, gaped at them, and fastened on the stones. His eyebrows danced, and came down to their normal level, his eyes blazing understanding; he cast one glittering glance at Cadfael, and then he began to laugh, a huge, genuine laughter that shook him where he kneeled, and made the bunches of herbs bob and quiver over his head. A good, open, exuberant sound it was; it made Cadfael, even at this moment, shake and laugh with him.
    'And I have been commiserating with you,' gasped Beringar, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, like a child, 'all this time, while you had this in store for me! What a fool I was, to think I could out-trick you, when I almost had your measure even then.'
    'Here, drink this down,' urged Cadfael, offering the beaker he had filled. 'To your own better success - with all opponents but Cadfael!'
    Beringar took it, and drank heartily.