Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

draggled and soiled state. And instead of either scolding or embracing him, she took both him and the girl by the hand and drew them inside together, and went about seating, feeding, tending them, with only few words, and those practical and concerned. Tomorrow Philip might be brought to tell the whole story. Tonight it was Cadfael who told the merest skeleton of it, as he cleansed and dressed Emma's hand, and the superficial burns on Philip's brow and arm. Better not make too much of what the boy had done. Emma would take care of that, later; his mother would value it most of all from her.
    Emma herself said almost nothing, islanded in her exhaustion and bliss, but her eyes seldom left Philip, and when they did, it was to take in with deep content the solid, dark furnishings and warm panelling of this burgess house, so familiar to her that being accepted here was like coming home. Her rapt, secret smile was eloquent; mothers are quick to notice such looks. Emma had already conquered, even before she was led gently away to the bed prepared for her, and settled there by Mistress Corviser with all the clucking solicitude of a hen with one chick, with a posset laced with Brother Cadfael's poppy syrup to make sure that she slept, and forgot her pain.
    "As pretty a thing as ever I saw," said Mistress Corviser, coming back softly into the room, and closing the door between. She cast a fond look at her son, and found him asleep in his chair. "And to think that's what he was about, while I was thinking all manner of bad things about him, who should have known him better!"
    "He knows himself a deal better than he did a few days ago," said Cadfael, repacking his scrip. "I'll leave you these pastes and ointments, you know how to use them. But I'll come and take a look at her later tomorrow. Now I'll take my leave, I confess I'm more than ready for my own bed. I doubt if I shall hear the bell for Prime tomorrow."
    In the yard Geoffrey Corviser was himself stabling the horse from Stanton Cobbold with his own. Cadfael gave him the abbot's message. The provost raised sceptical eyebrows. "Now what can the lord abbot want with me? The last time I came cap in hand to chapter, I got a dusty answer."
    "All the same," advised Cadfael, scrubbing thoughtfully at his blunt brown nose, "in your shoes I think I'd be curious enough to come and see. Who knows but the dust may have settled elsewhere by this time!"
    It was no wonder if Brother Cadfael, though he did manage to rise for Prime, took advantage of his carefully chosen place behind a pillar to doze his way through chapter. He was so sound asleep, indeed, that for once he was in danger of snoring, and at the first melodious horn-call Brother Mark took fright, and nudged him awake.
    The provost had obeyed the abbot's invitation to the latter, and arrived only at the very end of chapter. The steward of the grange court had just announced that he was in attendance when Cadfael opened his eyes.
    "What can the provost be here for?" whispered Mark.
    "He was asked to come. Do I know why? Hush!"
    Geoffrey Corviser came in in his best, and made his reverence respectfully but coolly. He had no solid cohort at his back this time, and to tell the truth, though he may have felt some curiosity, he was attaching very little importance to this encounter. His mind was on other things. True, the problems of the town remained, and at any other time would have taken foremost place in his concern, but today he was proof against public cares by reason of private elation in a son vindicated and praised, a son to be proud of.
    "You sent for me, Father Abbot. I am here."
    "I thank you for your courtesy in attending," said the abbot mildly. "Some days ago, Master Provost, before the fair, you came with a request to me which I could not meet."
    The provost said not a word; there was none due, and he felt no need to speak at a loss.
    "The fair is now over," said the abbot equably. "All the rents, tolls and taxes have been collected, and all have been delivered into the abbey treasury, as is due by charter. Do you endorse that?"
    "It is the law," said Corviser, "to the letter."
    "Good! We are agreed. Right has therefore been done, and the privilege of this house is maintained. That I could not infringe by any prior concession. Abbots who follow me would have blamed me, and with good reason. Their rights are sacrosanct. But now they have been met in full. And as abbot of this house, it is for me to determine what