Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood

or cried in the streets, and murder, most often, means the quick blow with steel in anger. He had accepted that probability without question.
    "Very well! Now tell me your own story of what happened there today, and be sure I'm listening."
    The boy licked his lips and began. What he had to tell agreed with the account Richildis had given; he had gone with Meurig, at his well-intentioned urging, to make his peace with Bonel for his mother's sake. Yes, he had felt very bitter and angry about being cheated out of his promised heritage, for he loved Mallilie and had good friends there, and would have done his best to run it well and fairly when it came to him; but also he was doing well enough at learning his craft, and pride would not let him covet what he could not have, or give satisfaction to the man who had taken back what he had pledged. But he did care about his mother. So he went with Meurig.
    "And went with him first to the infirmary," Cadfael mentioned helpfully, "to see his old kinsman Rhys."
    The boy was brought up short in surprise and uncertainty. It was then that Cadfael got up, very gently and casually, from his seat by the brazier, and began to prowl the workshop. The door, just ajar, did not noticeably draw him, but he was well aware of the sliver of darkness and cold lancing in there.
    "Yes ... I ..."
    "And you had been there with him, had you not, once before, when you helped Meurig bring down the lectern for our Lady Chapel."
    He brightened, but his brow remained anxiously knotted. "Yes, the - yes, we did bring that down together. But what has that ..."
    Cadfael in his prowling had reached the door, and laid a hand to the latch, hunching his shoulders, as though to close and fasten it, but as sharply plucked it wide open on the night, and reached his free hand through, to fasten on a fistful of thick, springy hair. A muted squeal of indignant outrage rewarded him, and the creature without, abruptly scorning the flight shock had suggested to him, reared upright and followed the fist into the workshop. It was, in its way, a magnificent entrance, erect, with jutted jaw and blazing eyes, superbly ignoring Cadfael's clenched hold on his curls, which must have been painful.
    A slender, athletic, affronted young person the image of the first, only, perhaps, somewhat darker and fiercer, because more frightened, and more outraged by his fear.
    "Master Edwin Gurney?" enquired Cadfael gently, and released the topknot of rich brown hair with a gesture almost caressing. "I've been expecting you." He closed the door, thoroughly this time; there was no one now left outside there to listen, and take warning by what he heard, like a small, hunted animal crouching in the night where the hunters stirred. "Well, now that you're here, sit down with your twin - is it uncle or nephew? I shall never get used to sorting you! - and put yourself at ease. It's warmer here than outside, and you are two, and I have just been reminded gently that I am not as young as once I was. I don't propose to send for help to deal with you, and you have no need of help to deal with me. Why should we not put together our versions of the truth, and see what we have?"
    The second boy was cloakless like the first, and shivering lightly with cold. He came to the bench by the brazier gladly, rubbing numbed hands, and sat down submissively beside his fellow. Thus cheek to cheek they were seen to share a very strong family likeness, in which Cadfael could trace subtle recollections of the young Richildis, but they were not so like as to give rise to any confusion when seen together. To encounter one alone might present a problem of identification, however.
    "So, as I thought," observed Cadfael, "Edwy has been playing Edwin for my benefit, so that Edwin could stay out of the trap, if trap it turned out to be, and not reveal himself until he was certain I had no intention of making him prisoner and handing him over to the sheriff. And Edwy was well primed, too ..."
    "And still made a hash of it," commented Edwin, with candid and tolerant scorn.
    "I did not!" retorted Edwy heatedly. "You never told me more than half a tale. What was I supposed to answer when Brother Cadfael asked me about going to the infirmary this morning? Never a word you said about that."
    "Why should I? I never gave it a thought, what difference could it make? And you did make a hash of it. I heard you start to say grandmother instead of mother - yes, and they instead of we. And so