Brother Cadfael 05: Leper of Saint Giles

that fell just short of a swagger. He had eyes like pebbles under a sunlit brook, as hard and clear, and as fluid and elusive in their glance. He was brown and handsome and altogether pleasant to the view, but he was not quite easy in his authority, and not quite friendly in his civility.
    "You are Huon de Domville's steward at this house?" asked Brother Cadfael with wary courtesy.
    "I am," said the young man.
    "Then the mission I have is to you," said Cadfael amiably, "though I think it may be unnecessary. You may have heard already, for I find it's known in the countryside, that your lord is dead, murdered, and is now lying in the abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul of Shrewsbury, from which I come."
    "So we heard yesterday," said the steward, his manner somewhat easing at this reasonable explanation for the visit, though not as much as might have been expected. His face remained wary and his voice reserved. "A cousin of mine brought the word, coming from the town market."
    "But no one has been to you from your lord's household? You've had no orders? I thought Canon Eudo might have sent to let you know. But you'll understand they're all in confusion and consternation yet. No doubt they'll be in touch with you and all his manors when they get round to the proper arrangements."
    "They'll be set first on getting hold of his murderer, no question," said the man, and moistened his lips, elusive pebble-eyes looking slightly sidelong at Cadfael. "I shall hear when his kin see fit. Meantime, I'm still in his service until another either confirms me in my stewardship here, or turns me off. I'll keep his property and stock as I should, and turn them over to his heir in good order. Say so for me, brother, and no man need trouble for this place. Let them put their minds at rest." He veiled his eyes a moment, thinking. "You did say murdered? Is that certain?"
    "Certain," said Cadfael. "It seems he rode out after his supper, and was waylaid on his way back. We found him on a path that leads in this direction. It was in my mind he might have been here, seeing this grange is his."
    "He has not been here," said the steward firmly.
    "Not at all, since he came to Shrewsbury three days ago?"
    "Not at all."
    "Nor any of his squires or servants?"
    "No one."
    "So he did not lodge any guests here for the wedding feast. You keep his lodge alone?"
    "I see to grounds and stock and farm, my mother keeps the house. The few times he ever hunted here, he brought his own body servants and cooks and all. But the last time's a good four years gone."
    Now he was lying as roundly and freely as he breathed. For there were the starry blue flowers that grew here, and could hardly be found anywhere else in the shire. But why so determined to deny that Domville had been here? Any wise man may go to ground when there's a death-hunt up, true, but this young man did not seem the sort to take fright easily. Yet clearly he was determined that no thread should connect this place or anyone in it with the murder of his lord.
    "And they've not so far laid hand on his slayer?" No mistake, he would have been glad to have the quarry snared, the hue and cry over; the malefactor sate in prison, and all enquiry at an end.
    "Not yet. They're out after him in force. Ah, well," said Cadfael, "I'd best be getting back, then, though to tell the truth, I'm in no hurry. It's a fair day, and a good long walk is a pleasure. But would there be a cup of ale and a bench to sit a while, before I set off?"
    He had half-expected reluctance, if not some ingenious refusal, to let him into the house; but the young man almost visibly changed his mind, and decided that it would be his best course to invite this monk freely within. Why? To have him see for himself that there was no one here to account for, and nothing to hide? Whatever the motive, Cadfael accepted with alacrity, and followed his host through the open doorway.
    The hall was dim and silent, the scent of timber rich and heavy. A little, brisk old woman, very neat and plain, came bustling from the room beyond, and halted in surprise, if not downright alarm, at sight of a stranger, until her son, with slightly suspect speed and emphasis, accounted for the guest.
    "Come through, brother, we may as well sit in the best comfort. We very seldom have gentlefolk here to make use of the solar. Mother, will you bring us a stoup? The good brother has a long walk back."
    The solar was light and bright, and furnished with considerable