Brother Cadfael 05: Leper of Saint Giles

turned back by one of her uncle's men, civilly but with a faint, furtive grin that made her cheeks burn. And what was the use of going forth only within this closed ground, however pleasant it might have been in other circumstances, when Joscelin was only God knew where, and she had no means of reaching him? Better to sit here and hold her breath, and listen for a wind of freedom, with word of him. The brother who had warded off the lightnings once, and once conjured her back kindly into a bleak world, he was one friend, even if she had not spoken with him of late. And there was also Simon. He was loyal, he did not believe in the charges made against Joscelin. If the chance ever offered, he would help them.
    Iveta stitched away and sat very still, all the more after she had caught the faint sound of voices raised in the next room. Even the inner walls here were solid, and held out sound, she did not think Madlen had noticed anything to arouse her interest. Accordingly Iveta carefully suppressed her own. But it was no mistake. Her uncle was quarrelling with someone. She detected it by the vicious vehemence of his voice rather than by any loudness, indeed it was purposefully quiet, and words quite indistinguishable. The other voice was younger, less cautious, more furiously defensive, surely astonished and aghast, as if this fell on him out of a clear sky. Still no words, only the thread of significant sound, two voices clashing in bitter conflict. And now she thought she caught an intonation in the second voice which provided a name that could only dismay her. What could have happened between her uncle and Simon? For surely that was Simon's voice. Was her uncle growing suspicious of every young man who came near her? She knew only too well that he had a treasure to guard, herself, the great honour she bore like a millstone round her neck, the use that could be made of her, the profit that could accrue from her. Yet only a day or so ago Simon had been welcome, privileged, smiled upon by Aunt Agnes.
    Madlen sat stolidly stitching at a linen coif for herself, and paid no heed. Her ear was older and duller; if she heard the hum of conversation, that was all.
    And even that had ceased. A door closed. Iveta thought she caught a renewed murmur next door, urgent and low. Then the door of her own chamber opened, after a round, confident rap, and Simon entered as of right. Iveta was lost, she could only stare; but he had the right note.
    "Good morrow, Iveta!" he said easily. And to the maid: "Give me leave a little while, Mistress Madlen!"
    Madlen had Agnes's smiles and becks well in mind, he was still privileged to her. She took up her sewing, made her reverence complacently, indulgent as on the last occasion, and left the room.
    The door had barely closed on her when Simon was on his knee beside Iveta, and leaning close. And for all his disciplined calm, he was flushed and breathing hard, his nostrils flaring agitatedly.
    "Listen, Iveta, for they'll not let me in to you again ... if she tells them I'm here with you now, they'll hunt me out ... I've word for you from Joss!" She would have questioned, dismayed and anxious, but he laid silencing fingers on her lips, and rushed on, low and vehemently: "Tonight, after Vespers, he bids you come to the herb-garden. And I'm to have his horse waiting on the other side of the brook. Don't fail him, as I shall not. Have you understood?"
    She nodded, almost speechless with wonder and joy and alarm all mingled. "Oh, yes! Oh, Simon, I would do anything! God bless you for his loyal friend! But you ... What can have happened? Why, why turn against you?"
    "Because I spoke up for Joss. I said he was neither murderer nor thief, and in the end I would see him vindicated, and they'd have to take back all they've said against him. They'll have no more of me, I'm cast off. But here's his message ... look!" She knew the scrawl, and read, quivering. She fondled the slip of vellum as if it had been a holy relic, but closed Simon's hand over it again, though reluctantly.
    "They might find it ... you keep it. I'll do his bidding, and thank you a thousand times for all your goodness. But oh, Simon, I'm sorry that between us we've brought you to grief, too ..."
    "Grief, what grief?" he whispered fiercely. "I care nothing for them, if I have your goodwill."
    "Always, always ... more than goodwill! You have been so good to me, what should I have done without you? If we break free ... if we can ... we'll