Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood

have done what they are urging against him?"
    Bellecote's wife came through from the inner room, a candle in her hand. A woman like enough to be known for her mother's daughter, but softer and rounder and fairer in colouring, though with the same honest eyes. She said with indignant conviction: "Rankly impossible! If ever there was a creature in the world who made his feelings known, and did all his deeds in the daylight, that's my brother. From an imp just crawling, if he had a grievance everyone within a mile round knew it, but grudges he never bore. And my lad's just such another."
    Yes, of course, there was the as yet unseen Edwy, to match the elusive Edwin. No sign of either of them here.
    "You must be Sibil," said Cadfael. "I've been lately with your mother. And for my credentials - did ever you hear her speak of one Cadfael, whom she used to know when she was a girl?"
    The light from the candle was reflected pleasingly in eyes suddenly grown round and bright with astonishment and candid curiosity. "You are Cadfael? Yes, many a time she talked of you, and wondered ..." She viewed his black habit and cowl, and her smile faded into a look of delicate sympathy. Of course! She was reflecting, woman-like, that he must have been heartbroken at coming home from the holy wars to find his old love married, or he would never have taken these bleak vows. No use telling her that vocations strike from heaven like random arrows of God, by no means all because of unrequited love. "Oh, it must be comfort to her," said Sibil warmly, "to find you near her again, at this terrible pass. You she would trust!"
    "I hope she does," said Cadfael, gravely enough. "I know she may. I came only to let you know that I am there to be used, as she already knows. The specific that was used to kill was of my making, and that is something that involves me in this matter. Therefore I am friend to any who may fall suspect unjustly. I will do what I can to uncover the guilty. Should you, or anyone, have reason to speak with me, anything to tell me, anything to ask of me, I am usually to be found between offices in the workshop in the herb-gardens, where I shall be tonight until I go to Matins at midnight. Your journeyman Meurig knows the abbey grounds, if he has not been to my hut. He is here?"
    "He is," said Martin. "He sleeps in the loft across the yard. He has told us what passed at the abbey. But I give you my word, neither he nor we have set eyes on the boy since he ran from his mother's house. What we know, past doubt, is that he is no murderer, and never could be."
    "Then sleep easy," said Cadfael, "for God is awake. And now let me out again softly, Alys, and bar the door after me, for I must hurry back for Compline."
    The young girl, great-eyed, drew back the bolt and held the door. The little ones stood with spread feet, sturdily staring him out of the house, but without fear or hostility. The parents said never a word but their still: "Good night!" but he knew, as he hastened down the Wyle, that his message had been heard and understood, and that it was welcome, here in this beleaguered household.
    "Even if you are desperate to have a fresh brew of cough syrup boiled up before tomorrow," said Brother Mark reasonably, coming out from Compline at Cadfael's side, "is there any reason why I should not do it for you? Is there any need for you, after the day you've had, to be stravaging around the gardens all night, into the bargain? Or do you think I've forgotten where we keep mullein, and sweet cicely, and rue, and rosemary, and hedge mustard?" The recital of ingredients was part of the argument. This young man was developing a somewhat possessive sense of responsibility for his elder.
    "You're young," said Brother Cadfael, "and need your sleep."
    "I forbear," said Brother Mark cautiously, "from making the obvious rejoinder."
    "I think you'd better. Very well, then, you have signs of a cold, and should go to your bed."
    "I have not," Brother Mark disagreed firmly. "But if you mean that you have some work on hand that you'd rather I did not know about, very well, I'll go to the warming-room like a sensible fellow, and then to bed."
    "What you know nothing about can't be charged against you," said Brother Cadfael, conciliatory.
    "Well, then, is there anything I can be doing for you in blessed ignorance? I was bidden to be obedient to you, when they sent me to work under you in the garden."
    "Yes," said Cadfael. "You can secure me a habit much