Brother Cadfael 10: The Pilgrim of Hate

along the broad wooden bench against the opposite wall, a huddle of tumbled skirts stirred slowly and reared itself upright, to show him the spilled ripe-corn gold of a girl's hair, and the tear-stained, swollen-lidded countenance of Melangell.
    She said no word, but she did not drop blindly into her sheltering arms again. She was long past that, and past being afraid to show herself so to one secret, quiet creature whom she trusted. She set down her feet in their scuffed leather shoes to the floor, and sat back against the timbers of the wall, bracing slight shoulders to the solid contact. She heaved one enormous, draining sigh that was dragged up from her very heels, and left her weak and docile. When he crossed the beaten earth floor and sat down beside her, she did not flinch away.
    "Now," said Cadfael, settling himself with deliberation, to give her time to compose at least her voice. The soft light would spare her face. "Now, child dear, there is no one here who can either save you or trouble you, and therefore you can speak freely, for everything you say is between us two only. But we two together need to take careful counsel. So what is it you know that I do not know?"
    "Why should we take counsel?" she said in a small, drear voice from below his solid shoulder. "He is gone."
    "What is gone may return. The roads lead always two ways, hither as well as yonder. What are you doing out here alone, when your brother walks erect on two sound feet, and has all he wants in this world, but for your absence?"
    He did not look directly at her, but felt the stir of warmth and softness through her body, which must have been a smile, however flawed. "I came away," she said, very low, "not to spoil his joy. I've borne most of the day. I think no one has noticed half my heart was gone out of me. Unless it was you," she said, without blame, rather in resignation.
    "I saw you when we came from Saint Giles," said Cadfael, "you and Matthew. Your heart was whole then, so was his. If yours is torn in two now, do you suppose his is preserved without wound? No! So what passed, afterwards? What was this sword that shore through your heart and his? You know! You may tell it now. They are gone, there is nothing left to spoil. There may yet be something to save."
    She turned her forehead into his shoulder and wept in silence for a little while. The light within the hut grew rather than dimming, now that his eyes were accustomed. She forgot to hide her forlorn and bloated face, he saw the bruise on her cheek darkening into purple. He laid an arm about her and drew her close for the comfort of the flesh. That of the spirit would need more of time and thought.
    "He struck you?"
    "I held him," she said, quick in his defence. "He could not get free."
    "And he was so frantic? He must go?"
    "Yes, whatever it cost him or me. Oh, Brother Cadfael, why? I thought, I believed he loved me, as I do him. But see how he used me in his anger!"
    "Anger?" said Cadfael sharply, and turned her by the shoulders to study her more intently. "Whatever the compulsion on him to go with his friend, why should he be angry with you? The loss was yours, but surely no blame."
    "He blamed me for not telling him," she said drearily. "But I did only what Ciaran asked of me. For his sake and yours, he said, yes, and for mine, too, let me go, but hold him fast. Don't tell him I have the ring again, he said, and I will go. Forget me, he said, and help him to forget me. He wanted us to remain together and be happy..."
    "Are you telling me," demanded Cadfael sharply, "that they did not go together! That Ciaran made off without him?"
    "It was not like that," sighed Melangell. "He meant well by us, that's why he stole away alone..."
    "When was this? When? When did you have speech with him? When did he go?"
    "I was here at dawn, you'll remember. I met Ciaran by the brook..." She drew a deep, desolate breath and loosed the whole flood of it, every word she could recall of that meeting in the early morning, while Cadfael gazed appalled, and the vague glimpse he had had of enlightenment awoke and stirred again in his mind, far clearer now.
    "Go on! Tell me what followed between you and Matthew. You did as you were bidden, I know, you drew him with you, I doubt he ever gave a thought to Ciaran all those morning hours, believing him still penned withindoors, afraid to stir. When was it he found out?"
    "After dinner it came into his mind that he had not seen him. He was very uneasy.