Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

worst is yet to come. Which man, do you suppose, did the work that day?"
    "I doubt if they ever involved the young one. Two were enough to do the business. The groom Ewald, I think. Those two were the hands that did all. But they were not the mind."
    "That same night, then, they broke into the booth, and made their search there, and still without success. The next night came the attack that killed Euan of Shotwick." Hugh said no word of the violation of Master Thomas's coffin. "And, as I remember you argued, once more in vain. So far, possible enough. But come to yesterday's thorny business. For God's sake, how can sense be made of that affair? I was there watching the man, I saw him change colour, I swear it! Shock and anger and affronted honour, he showed them all. He would not send for the groom, for fear a fellow-servant might warn him, he would fetch him himself. He placed himself between his man and the gate, he risked maiming or worse, trying to halt his flight ..."
    "All that," agreed Cadfael heavily, "and yet there is sense in it all, though a more abominable sense even than you or I dreamed of. Ewald was in the stables, there was no escape for him unless he could break out of our walls. Corbiere came at the sheriff's bidding, and was told all. His man was detected past denying, and driven into a corner, he would pour out everything he knew, lay the load on his lord. Consider the order in which everything happened from that moment. Fowler had been at the butts, and had his arbalest with him. Corbiere set off to summon Ewald from the stables, Turstan made to follow him, yes, and some words were exchanged that sent him back. But what words? They were too distant to be heard. Nor could we guess what was said in the stable-yard. We waited - you'll agree? - several minutes before they came. Long enough for Corbiere to tell the groom how things stood, bid him keep his head, promise him escape. Bring the horse, I will ensure that only I stand between you and the gate, pick your moment, mount and away. Lie up in hiding - doubtless at his manor - and you shan't be the loser. But make it clear that I have no part in this - attack me, make it good for your part, I will make it good for mine. And so he did - the finest player of a part that ever I saw. He set himself between Ewald and the gate, and between them they used the lively horse to edge us all that way. He made a gallant grab at the rein, and took a heavy fall, and the groom was clear."
    They were both gazing at him in mute fascination, wide-eyed.
    "Except that his lord had one more trick to play," said Cadfael. "He had never intended to let him go. Escape was too great a risk, he might yet be taken, and open his mouth. 'Fetch him down!' said Corbiere, and Turstan Fowler did it. Without compunction, like master, like man. A dangerous mouth - dangerous to both of them - closed at no cost."
    There was a long moment of appalled silence. Even Beringar, whose breadth of mind could conceive, though with detestation, prodigies of evil and treachery, was shocked out of words. Philip stared aghast, huge of eye, and came slowly to his feet. His experience was narrow, local and decent, it was hard to grasp that men could be monsters.
    "You mean it! You believe it! But this man - he visits her, he pays court to her! And you say there was something he wanted from her uncle, and has missed getting - not on his body, not in his barge, not in his booth - Where is there left, but with Emma? And we delay here!"
    "Emma is with my wife," said Hugh reasonably, "in the abbey guest-hall, what harm can come to her there?"
    "What harm?" cried Philip passionately. "When you tell me we are dealing not with men, but with devils?" And he whirled on the heel of a trodden shoe and ran, out of the tavern and arrow-straight along the road towards the Foregate, long legs flashing.
    Cadfael and Hugh were left regarding each other mutely across the table, but for no more than a moment. "By God," said Hugh then, "we learn of the innocents! Come on, we'd best make haste after. The lad's shaken me!"
    Philip came to the guest-hall out of breath. With chest heaving from his running he asked for Aline, and she came out, smiling but alone.
    "Why, Philip, what's the matter?" Then she thought she knew, and was sorry for a lovesick boy who came too late even to take a dignified farewell, and receive what comfort a few kind words, costing nothing, could provide him. "Oh, Philip, I am sorry you've missed