Brother Cadfael 08: The Devil's Novice

rest would not mend, though he had turned an ankle and foot under him in falling, and would find it difficult and painful to put any weight upon it for some time. The blow on the head had shaken his wits sadly, and his memory of recent days might be hazy, though he held fast to the one more distant memory which he so desired to declare. The gash crossing his temple would soon heal; the bleeding had already stopped.
    His eyes, in the dim light within the barn, shone darkly green, staring up dilated and intent. His voice was faint but resolute, as he repeated with slow emphasis the confession he had made to Brother Mark. He was bent on convincing, very willing and patient in dredging up details. Listening, Cadfael had to admit to himself, with dismay, that Meriet was indeed utterly convincing. Hugh must also be thinking so.
    He questioned, slowly and evenly: 'You watched the man ride away, with your father in attendance, and made no demur. Then you went out with your bow - mounted or afoot?'
    'Mounted,' said Meriet with fiery readiness; for if he had gone on foot, how could he have circled at speed, and been ahead of the rider after his escort had left him to return home? Cadfael remembered Isouda saying that Meriet had come home late that afternoon with his father's party, though he had not ridden out with them. She had not said whether he was mounted when he returned or walking; that was something worth probing.
    'With murderous intent?' Hugh pursued mildly. 'Or did this thing come on you unawares? For what can you have had against Master Clemence to warrant his death?'
    'He had made far too free with my brother's bride,' said Meriet. 'I did hold it against him - a priest, playing the courtier, and so sure of his height above us. A manorless man, with only his learning and his patron's name for lands and lineage, and looking down upon us, as long rooted as we are. On grievance for my brother ... '
    'Yet your brother made no move to take reparation,' said Hugh.
    'He was gone to the Lindes, to Roswitha ... He had escorted her home the night before, and I am sure he had quarrelled with her. He went out early, he did not even see the guest leave, he went to make good whatever was ill between those two ... He never came home,' said Meriet, clearly and firmly, 'until late in the evening, long after all was over.'
    True, by Isouda's account, thought Cadfael. After all was over, and Meriet brought home a convicted murderer, to reappear only after he had chosen of his own will to ask admittance to the cloister, and was prepared to go forth on his parole, and so declare himself, an oblate to the abbey, fully aware of what he was doing. So he had told his very acute and perceptive playmate, in calm control of himself. He was doing what he wished to do.
    'But you, Meriet, you rode ahead of Master Clemence. With murder in mind?'
    'I had not thought,' said Meriet, hesitating for the first time. 'I went alone ... But I was angry.'
    'You went in haste,' said Hugh, pressing him, 'if you overtook the departing guest, and by a roundabout way, if you passed and intercepted him, as you say.'
    Meriet stretched and stiffened in his bed, large eyes straining on his questioner. He set his jaw. 'I did hasten, though not for any deliberate purpose. I was in thick covert when I was aware of him riding towards me, in no hurry. I drew and loosed upon him. He fell ... ' Sweat broke on the pallid brow beneath his bandages. He closed his eyes.
    'Let be!' said Cadfael, quiet at Hugh's shoulder. 'He has enough.'
    'No,' said Meriet strongly. 'Let me make an end. He was dead when I stooped over him. I had killed him. And my father took me so, red-handed. The hounds - he had hounds with him - they scented me and brought him down upon me. He has covered up for my sake, and for the sake of an honoured name, what I did, but for whatever he may have done that is unlawful, to keep me man alive, I take the blame upon me, for I am the cause of it. But he would not condone. He promised me cover for my forfeit life, if I would accept banishment from the world and take myself off into the cloister. What was done afterwards no one ever told me. I did by my own will and consent accept my penalty. I even hoped ... and I have tried ... But set down all that was done to my account, and let me pay all.' He thought he had done, and heaved a great sigh out of him,
    Hugh also sighed and stirred as if about to rise, but then asked carelessly: 'At what hour was this, Meriet,