Brother Cadfael 09: Dead Man's Ransom

wash off the dust of travel from his feet. This time it was a maidservant who waited upon him, but when he emerged into the court it was to see Cristina advancing upon him in a flurry of blown skirts and flying hair from the kitchens.
    'Brother Cadfael... it is you! They told me,' she said, halting before him breathless and intent, 'there was a brother come from Shrewsbury, I hoped it might be you. You know them, you can tell me the truth... about Elis and Eliud...'
    'What have they already told you?' asked Cadfael. 'Come within, where we can be quiet, and what I can tell you, that I will, for I know you must have been in bitter anxiety.' But for all that, he thought ruefully, as she turned willingly and led the way into the hall, if he made that good, and told all he knew, it would be little to her comfort. Her betrothed, for whom she was contending so fiercely with so powerful a rival, was not only separated from her until proven innocent of murder, but disastrously in love with another girl as he had never been with her. What can you say to such a misused lady? Yet it would be infamous to lie to Cristina, just as surely as it would be cruel to bludgeon her with the blunt truth. Somewhere between the two he must pick his way.
    She drew him with her into a corner of the hall, remote and shadowed at this hour when most of the men were out about their work, and there they sat down together against smoky tapestries, her black hair brushing his shoulder as she poured out what she knew and begged for what she needed to know.
    'The English lord died, that I know, before ever Einon ab Ithel was ready to leave, and they are saying it was no simple death from his wounds, and all those who are not proven blameless must stay there as prisoners and suspect murderers, until the guilt is proven on some one man, English or Welsh, lay or brother, who knows? And here we must wait also. But what is being done to set them free? How are you to find the guilty one? Is all this true? I know Einon came back and spoke with Owain Gwynedd, and I know the prince will not receive his men back until they are cleared of all blame. He says he sent back a dead man, and a dead man cannot buy back one living. And moreover, that your dead man's ransom must be a life, the life of his murderer. Do you believe any man of ours owes that debt?'
    'I dare not say there is any man who might not kill, given some monstrous, driving need,' said Cadfael honestly.
    'Or any woman, either,' she said with a fierce, helpless sigh. 'But you have not fixed on any one man for this deed? No finger has been pointed? Not yet?'
    No, of course she did not know. Einon had left before ever Melicent cried out both her love and her hatred, accusing Elis. No further news had yet reached these parts. Even if Hugh had now spoken of this matter with the prince, no such word had yet found its way back here to Tregeiriog. But surely it would when Owain returned. In the end she would hear how her betrothed had fallen headlong in love with another woman, and been accused by her of her father's murder, murder for love that put an end to love. And where did that leave Cristina? Forgotten, eclipsed, but still in tenuous possession of a bridegroom who did not want her, and could not have the bride he did want! Such a tangled coil enmeshing all these four hapless children!
    'Fingers have been pointed, more than one way,' said Cadfael, 'but there is no proof against one man more than another. No one is yet in danger of his life, and all are in health and well enough treated, even if they must be confined. There is no help for it but to wait and believe in justice.'
    'Believing in justice is not always so easy,' she said tartly.
    'You say they are well? And they are together, Elis and Eliud?'
    'They are. They have that comfort. And within the castle wards they have their liberty. They have given their word not to try to escape, and it has been accepted. They are well enough, you may believe that.'
    'But you can give me no hope, set me no period, when he will come home?' She sat confronting Cadfael with great, steady eyes, and in her lap her fingers were knotted so tightly that the knuckles shone white as naked bone. 'Even if he does come home, living and justified,' she said.
    'That I can tell no more than you,' Cadfael owned wryly. 'But I will do what I can to shorten the time. This waiting is hard upon you, I know it.' But how much harder would the return be, if ever Elis came back