Brother Cadfael 05: Leper of Saint Giles

mean he set this trap for me, in cold blood? I thought him my one friend, I asked his help ..."
    "How?" asked Cadfael sharply. "How did you get word to him?"
    Joscelin told them the whole of it, though not one word yet of Lazarus or Bran, or any of those who had truly helped him. That he might tell some day, surely to Iveta, perhaps even to Brother Cadfael, but not here, not now.
    "So he knew only that you were somewhere close, but not where. He could not send his trusty foil here to lay hands on you, he could only wait for you to come to the law, and you had set the scene yourself. All he had to do was pass on your message to the lady, and see that your horse was waiting for you as you had asked - or you would not have crossed into the garden here to be seized, would you? - and then say the quiet word to Jehan here. He would not wish to appear in the matter himself, certainly," said Cadfael wryly, "since his pose of loyalty to you was his best commendation with the lady. You once safely taken and hanged," he said, making no bones about it, for the good-natured lad was wrenching hard at belief in such devious treason in one he had trusted, "I doubt if Godfrid Picard would have baulked at matching his niece with a murderer - a successful murderer. It was the peril meantime he could not stomach, in case it reached as far as his own credit, if not his own neck."
    "Speak up, Jehan," ordered the sheriff, grimly smiling. "Did Aguilon again point you the way to commendation and promotion?"
    "This morning," admitted Jehan unwarily, "he put the notion into my head ..."
    "This morning! Before ever we set forth! And you said no word to me or to your officer until we were out of the way of your intended feat of arms. Promotion is hardly likely to come your way, fellow, for a while. Think yourself lucky to escape a whipping!"
    Jehan was indeed thinking himself well out of a perilous corner, to be dismissed so lightly, and made himself scarce without delay.
    "We had best be bringing in this dead man," said the sheriff, turning brusquely back to the task in hand. "Will you guide us, brother? We'll go mounted, and with a spare horse for Picard's last ride."
    They were away, half a dozen mounted men, Cadfael in no way displeased to be astride a fine, sturdy rouncey again instead of a modest little mule. The abbot watched them out of the gates, and then turned to dismiss, with even voice and calm face, the disturbed and wondering brotherhood.
    "Go, compose your minds, wash your hands, and go in to supper. The rule still orders our day. Traffic with the world is laid upon us for chastening, and for the testing of our vocation. The grace of God is not endangered by the follies or the wickedness of men."
    They went obediently. At a glance from Radulfus, Prior Robert inclined his head and followed the flock. The abbot was left confronting, with a faint, contemplative smile, the two young creatures still clinging hand in hand, eyeing him steadfastly but doubtfully. Too much had happened to them too suddenly, they were like children half-awake, not yet clear what, of their recollections and experiences, was real, and what was dream. But surely the dreams had been terrifying, and the reality must needs be better.
    "I think," said the abbot gently, "you need not be in any anxiety, my son, about that other charge your lord made against you. In all the circumstances, no just man would consider it safe to believe in such a theft, and Gilbert Prestcote is a just man. I cannot choose but wonder," he said thoughtfully, "whether it was Aguilon also who hid the necklace in your saddle-bag with the medal of Saint James."
    "I doubt it, Father." Joscelin took thought to be fair, even now, to a comrade who had done him such grievous wrong. "For truly I feel he had not thought of murder until I was cast off and accused, and broke away to freedom as I did. It is as Brother Cadfael said, he was presented with his chance and his scapegoat. My lord Domville most likely did his own meaner work this time. But, Father, it is not my troubles that weigh on me now. It is Iveta."
    He moistened his lips, feeling for the best words, and the abbot stood silent and imperturbable, and gave him no help. Iveta, too, had looked up at him in startled alarm, as though she feared he might too nobly and stupidly let go of her when she thought herself fairly won.
    "Father, this lady has been vilely misused by those who were her guardians. Now her uncle is dead, and her aunt,