Brother Cadfael 07: The Sanctuary Sparrow

less than a quarter full. Juliana with her keys had been before him, and left what she found there, intending, as always, to manage the fortunes of her own clan with no interference from any other. She had known, and she had held her peace when she could have spoken. And that stark girl, her nearest kin, all desperation and all iron calm, had tended her scrupulously, and waited to learn her fate without fear or complaint. The one as strong as the other, for good or for evil, neither giving nor asking quarter.
    Cadfael replaced the lid, went out and relocked the door. In the hall they were fluttering and bleating, anxious to insist on their own innocence and respectability at all costs, distracted at the thought that a kinswoman should be suspect of such an enormity as robbing her own family. Walter stammered out his answers, aghast at such treachery, almost incoherent with grief for his lost money, lost to his own child. Hugh turned rather to Daniel.
    'If she intended a long journey tonight, to take her out of our writ, or at least out of our hold, where would she run? They would need horses. Have you horses they may have taken?'
    'Not here in the town,' said Daniel, pale-faced and tousled from bed, his comeliness looking almost idiot at this pass, 'but over the river we have a pasture and a stable. Father keeps two horses there.'
    'Which way? In Frankwell?'
    'Through Frankwell and along the westward road.'
    'And the westward road may well be our road,' said Cadfael, coming in from the store, 'for there's a Welshman missing from under here, and what little he had gone with him, and once well into Wales he can thumb his nose at the sheriff of Shropshire. Whatever he may have taken with him.'
    He had barely got it out, to indignant and disbelieving protests from Walter, outraged at the mere suggestion of such a depraved alliance, when Liliwin came bursting in from the rear quarters, his small person stiff and quivering with alarm.
    'I've been to the kitchen - Rannilt is not there. Her bed's cold, she's left her things just as they are, nothing taken.' How little she must have to take, but he knew the value, to one with virtually nothing, of the poor possessions she had left behind. 'They've taken her with them - they're afraid of what she knows and may tell. That woman has taken her,' he cried, challenging the household, the law and all; 'and she has killed and will kill again if she sees need. Where will they have gone? For I am going after them!'
    'So are we all,' said Hugh, and turned on Walter Aurifaber. Let the father sweat for his own, as the lover did for his love. For his own by blood or by greed. 'You, sir, come with us. You say she had but an hour's start of us and on foot. Come, then, let's be after them mounted. I sent for horses from the castle, they'll be in the lane by now. You best know the way to your own stable, bring us there fast.'
    The night was dark, clear and still young, so that light lingered in unexpected places, won from a smooth plane of the river, a house-front of pale stone, a flowering bush, or scattered stars of windflowers under the trees. The two women had passed through the Welsh gate and over the bridge without question. Owain Gwynedd, the formidable lord of much of Wales, withheld his hand courteously from interfering in England's fratricidal war, and very cannily looked after his own interests, host to whoever fled his enemy, friend to whoever brought him useful information. The borders of Shrewsbury he did not threaten. He had far more to gain by holding aloof. But his own firm border he maintained with every severity. It was a good night, and a good time of night, for fugitives to ride to the west, if their tribal references were good.
    Through the dark streets of the suburb of Frankwell they passed like shadows, and Susanna turned westward, keeping the river still in view, along a path between fields. The smaller bundle, but the heavier, Susanna carried. The large and unwieldy one that held all her good clothes they carried between them. It would have been too clumsy for one to manage alone. 'If I had not your help,' she had said, 'I must have left half my belongings behind, and I shall have need of them.'
    'Shall you get far tonight?' wondered Rannilt, hesitant but anxious for assurance.
    'Out of this land, I hope. Iestyn, who is nobody here, has a kinship of his own, and a place of his own, in his own country. There we shall be safe enough together. After tonight, if we make