Brother Cadfael 07: The Sanctuary Sparrow

The great dark eyes that dwelt unwaveringly on Cadfael's face dilated even more. 'Is it true?' she asked, low and urgently. 'He's safe, there in the church? And you'll protect him? You won't let them fetch him away?'
    'He's with us, and safe enough,' said Cadfael. 'No one dare touch him now.'
    'And they haven't hurt him?' she questioned earnestly.
    'No worse than will mend now, in peace. No need to fret for a while. He has forty days grace. I think,' he said, studying the thin face, the delicate, staring cheekbones under the wide-set eyes, 'you like this young man.'
    'He made such lovely music,' said the child wistfully. 'And he spoke me gently, and was glad of being with me in the kitchen. It was the best hour I ever spent. And now I'm frightened for him. What will happen to him when the forty days are up?'
    'Why, if it goes so far - for forty days is time enough to change many things - but even if it goes so far, and he must come forth, it will be into the hands of the law, not into the hands of his accusers. Law is grim enough, but tries to be fair. And by then those who accuse him will have forgotten their zeal, but even if they have not, they cannot touch him. If you want to help him, keep eyes and ears open, and if you learn of anything to the purpose, then speak out.' Clearly the very thought terrified her. Who ever listened to anything she might say? 'To me you may speak freely,' he said. 'Do you know anything of what went on here last night?'
    She shook her head, casting wary glances over her shoulder. 'Mistress Susanna sent me away to my bed. I sleep in the kitchen, I never even heard ... I was very tired.' The kitchen was set well apart from the house for fear of fire, as was customary with these close-set and timber-framed town houses, she might well sleep through all the alarm after her long hours of labour. 'But I do know this,' she said, and lifted her chin gallantly, and he saw that for all her youth and frailty it was a good chin, with a set to it that he approved. 'I know Liliwin never harmed anyone, not my master nor any other man. What they say of him is not true.'
    'Nor ever stole?' asked Cadfael gently.
    She was no way put down, she held him steadily in her great lamps of eyes. 'To eat, yes, perhaps, when he was hungry, an egg from under a hen somewhere, a partridge in the woods, even a loaf ... that may be. He has been hungry all his life.' She knew, for much of her life so had she. 'But steal more than that? For money, for gold? What good would that do him? And he is not like that ... never!'
    Cadfael was aware of the head emerging from the hall door before Rannilt was, and warned her softly: 'There, run! Say I kept you with questions, and you knew no answers.'
    She was very quick, she had whirled and was speeding back when Susanna's voice pealed impatiently: 'Rannilt!'
    Cadfael did not wait to see her vanish within on the heels of her mistress, but turned at once to resume his way along the passage to the street.
    Baldwin Peche was sitting with a pot of ale on the steps of his shop. The fact that the street was narrow, and the frontages here faced north-west and were in deep shadow, suggested that he had a reason beyond idleness and ease for being where he was at this hour. No doubt all those townsmen who had been guests at the Aurifaber wedding were up and alert this morning, as soon as they could shake off the effects of their entertainment, roused and restored by the sensational gossip they had to spread, and the possibility of further revelations.
    The locksmith was a man in his fifties; short, sturdy, but beginning to grow a round paunch, a noted fisherman along the Severn, but a weak swimmer, unusually for this river-circled town. He had, truly enough, a long nose that quivered to every breath of scandal, though he was cautious in the use he made of it, as though he enjoyed mischief for its own sake rather than for any personal profit. A cold, inquisitive merriment twinkled in his pale-blue eyes, set in, a round, ruddy and smiling face. Cadfael knew him well enough to pass the time of day, and gave him good morrow as though making the approach himself, whereas he was well apprised Peche had been waiting to make it.
    'Well, Brother Cadfael,' said the locksmith heartily, 'you'll have been tending these unlucky neighbours of mine. I trust you find them bearing up under their griefs? The lad tells me they'll make good recoveries, the both of them.'
    Cadfael said what was required of him,