Brother Cadfael 02: One Corpse Too Many

nine of the clock, after Mass. Not here within the wards, but in the open - the meadow outside the town gate, between road and river, will do well. Prestcote, you and Willem marshal the lists. See to it! And we'll have no horses put at risk,' he said practically. 'On foot, and with swords!'
    Hugh Beringar bowed acquiescence. Courcelle said:
    'Agreed!' and smiled, thinking how much longer a reach and stronger a wrist he had for sword-play.
    'A l'outrance!' said the king with a vicious snap, and rose from the table to put an end to a sullied evening's entertainment.
    Chapter Twelve
    On the way back through the streets of the town, dark but not quite silent, somehow uneasily astir as if rats ran in a deserted house, Hugh Beringar on his raw-boned grey drew alongside Brother Cadfael and walked his mount for some few minutes at their foot-pace, ignoring Brother Jerome's close proximity and attentive ears as though they had not existed. In front, Abbot Heribert and Prior Robert conversed in low and harried tones, concerned for one life at stake, but unable to intervene. Two young men at bitter enmity had declared for a death. Once both contestants had accepted the odds, there was no retreating; he who lost had been judged by heaven. If he survived the sword, the gallows waited for him.
    'You may call me every kind of fool,' said Beringar accommodatingly, 'if it will give you any ease.' His voice had still its light, teasing intonation, but Cadfael was not deceived.
    'It is not for me, of all men,' he said, 'to blame, or pity - or even regret what you have done.'
    'As a monk?' asked the mild voice, the smile in it perceptible to an attentive ear.
    'As a man! Devil take you!'
    'Brother Cadfael,' said Hugh heartily, 'I do love you. You know very well you would have done the same in my place.'
    'I would not! Not on the mere guess of an old fool I hardly knew! How if I had been wrong?'
    'Ah, but you were not wrong! He is the man - doubly a murderer, for he delivered her poor coward brother to his death just as vilely as he throttled Faintree. Mind, never a word to Aline about this until all's over - one way or the other.'
    'Never a word, unless she speak the first. Do you think the news is not blown abroad all through this town by now?'
    'I know it is, but I pray she is deep asleep long ago, and will not go forth to hear this or any news until she goes to High Mass at ten. By which time, who knows, we may have the answer to everything.'
    'And you,' said Brother Cadfael acidly, because of the pain he felt, that must have some outlet, 'will you now spend the night on your knees in vigil, and wear yourself out before ever you draw in the field?'
    'I am not such a fool as all that,' said Hugh reprovingly, and shook a finger at his friend. 'For shame, Cadfael! You are a monk, and cannot trust God to see right done? I shall go to bed and sleep well, and rise fresh to the trial. And now I suppose you will insist on being my deputy and advocate to heaven?'
    'No,' said Cadfael grudgingly, 'I shall sleep, and get up only when the bell rings for me. Am I to have less faith than an impudent heathen like you?'
    'That's my Cadfael! Still,' conceded Beringar, 'you may whisper a word or two to God on my behalf at Matins and Lauds, if you'll be so kind. If he turns a deaf ear to you, small use the rest of us wearing out our knee-bones.' And he leaned from his tall horse to lay a light hand for an instant on Cadfael's broad tonsure, like a playful benediction, and then set spurs to his horse and trotted ahead, passing the abbot with a respectful reverence, to vanish into the curving descent of the Wyle.
    Brother Cadfael presented himself before the abbot immediately after Prime. It did not seem that Heribert was much surprised to see him, or to hear the request he put forward.
    'Father Abbot, I stand with this young man Hugh Beringar in this cause. The probing that brought to light the evidence on which his charge rests, that was my doing. And even if he has chosen to take the cause into his own hands, refusing me any perilous part in it, I am not absolved. I pray leave to go and stand trial with him as best I may. Whether I am of help to him or not, I must be there. I cannot turn my back at this pass on my friend who has spoken for me.'
    'I am much exercised in mind, also,' admitted the abbot, sighing. 'In spite of what the king has said, I can only pray that this trial need not be pressed to the death.' And I, thought Cadfael ruefully, dare