Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood

your abbey., But when Hugh Beringar came back empty-handed from his follies down the river, and heard you'd been asking for him, he went down to the abbey after you, only to find you were gone north to Rhyd y croesau. I bethought me then how close Bonel's manor was, and took it upon me to bring a party up here to enquire what you were up to. The steward at the manor never questioned it when an officer from Shrewsbury came asking for Brother Cadfael. Why should he? Or his servants, either? They told us you'd been asking directions to a couple of houses this side the hills, and here at the second we've overtaken you. Where the one casts up, I said, the other won't be far."
    So no one had wittingly informed on the fugitive; that would be some compensatory good news for Ifor ap Morgan, who would have felt himself shamed and dishonoured for ever if one of his kin had betrayed the guest in his house. It was news of no less vital importance to Cadfael.
    "Then Hugh Beringar did not send you on this quest? 'I took it upon me,' you said. What's he about, while you're doing his work for him?"
    "He's off on some more tomfoolery down the river. Madog of the Dead-boat sent up to him early this morning to come down to Atcham, and off he went as hopeful as ever, though nothing will come of it. So I took the chance of following my own notions, and a fine surprise he'll get by this evening, when he comes back with nothing to show for his day, and finds I've brought him his prisoner."
    That was reassuring, since he was clearly looking forward to the presentation of his prize, and pleased with his own success, therefore the less likely to find satisfaction in rough-handling the boy.
    "Edwin," said Cadfael, "will you be guided now by me?"
    "I will," said Edwin steadily.
    "Then go with them peaceably, and make no trouble. You know you have done no wrong, therefore you cannot be proven guilty, and on that you must take your stand. When you are delivered into the hand of Hugh Beringar, answer freely whatever he may ask of you, and tell him all the truth. 1 promise you, you will not be long in prison." And God stand by me, he thought, and help me make that good! "If the boy gives you his pledge to go with you of his own will, sergeant, and attempt no escape, you surely need not bind him. It's a long ride, and you'll be pressing before the dark comes."
    "He may have the use of his hands, and welcome," said Warden indifferently, "seeing the two men I have outside are archers, and masters of their craft. If he tried to evade us he would not get many yards."
    "I shall not try," said Edwin firmly. "I give you my word. I'm ready!" He went to Ifor ap Morgan, and bent the knee to him reverently. "Grandfather, thank you for all your goodness. I know I'm not truly of your kinship - I wish I were! - but will you give me your kiss?"
    The old man took him by the shoulders, and stooped to kiss his cheek. "Go with God! And come again free!"
    Edwin took up his saddle and bridle from the corner where they were stowed, and marched out with his head up and his chin jutting, his attendants closing in on either side. In a few minutes the two left behind, gazing through the open door, saw the little cort� form and move off, the sergeant ahead, the boy between two men-at-arms riding close, the archers behind. The day was already chilling, though the light had not yet dimmed. They would not reach Shrewsbury until after dark; a drear journey, and a stony cell in Shrewsbury castle at the end of it. But please God, not for long. Two or three days, if all went well. But well for whom?
    "What am I to tell my grandson Meurig," said the old man sadly, "when he returns, and finds I have let his guest be taken?"
    Cadfael closed the door upon the last glimpse of Edwin's brown head and slight figure; well grown as he was, he looked very small and young between his brawny guards.
    "Tell Meurig," he said after heavy thought, "that he need have no fears for Edwin, for in the end truth will out, and the truth will deliver him."
    He had one day of inactivity left to live through now, and since there was nothing he could do of use to Edwin's cause in that time, it behoved him at least to try to turn the waiting time into a day of grace by some other means. Brother Barnabas, heartily convalescent, could at least be persuaded to forbear from the heavier work and keep the warmth of the house for a little longer. Brother Simon could take his own day of rest, all the more since on the