Brother Cadfael 10: The Pilgrim of Hate

profile close, and a pleasure to his eyes. "Tell me," he said, "about Ermina," and was sure of the answer even before Olivier turned on him his sudden blinding smile.
    "If I had known my travels would bring me to you, I should have had so many messages to bring you, from both of them. From Yves, and from my wife!"
    "Aaaah!" breathed Cadfael, on a deep, delighted sigh. "So, as I thought, as I hoped! You have made good, then, what you told me, that they would acknowledge your worth and give her to you." Two, there, who had indeed known their own minds, and been invincibly agreed! "When was this match made?"
    "This Christmas past, in Gloucester. She is there now, so is the boy. He is Laurence's heir, just fifteen now. He wanted to come to Winchester with us, but Laurence wouldn't let him be put in peril. They are safe, I thank God. If ever this chaos is ended," said Olivier very solemnly, "I will bring her to you, or you to her. She does not forget you."
    "Nor I her, nor I her! Nor the boy. He rode with me twice, asleep in my arms, I still recall the warmth and the shape and the weight of him. A good boy as ever stepped!"
    "He'd be a load for you now," said Olivier, laughing. This year past, he's shot up like a weed, he'll be taller than you."
    "Ah, well, I'm beginning to shrink like a spent weed. And you are happy?" asked Cadfael, thirsting for more blessedness even than he already had. "You and she both?"
    "Beyond what I know how to express," said Olivier no less gravely. "How glad I am to have seen you again, and been able to tell you so! Do you remember the last time? When I waited with you in Bromfield to take Ermina and Yves home? And you drew me maps on the floor to show me the ways?"
    There is a point at which joy is only just bearable. Cadfael got up to refill the wine-cups, and turn his face away for a moment from a brightness almost too bright. "Ah, now, if this is to be a contest in "do-you-remembers" we shall be at it until Vespers, for not one detail of that time have I forgotten. So let's have this flask here within reach, and settle down to it in comfort."
    But there was an hour and more left before Vespers when Hugh put an abrupt end to remembering. He came in haste, with a face blazingly alert, and full of news. Even so he was slow to speak, not wishing to exult openly in what must be only shock and dismay to Olivier.
    "There's news. A courier rode in from Warwick just now, they're passing the word north by stages as fast as horse can go." They were both on their feet by then, intent upon his face, and waiting for good or evil, for he contained it well. A good face for keeping secrets, and under strong control now out of courteous consideration. "I fear," he said, "it will not come as gratefully to you, Olivier, as I own it does to me."
    "From the south..." said Olivier, braced and still. "From London? The empress?"
    "Yes, from London. All is overturned in a day. There'll be no coronation. Yesterday as they sat at dinner in Westminster, the Londoners suddenly rang the tocsin, all the city bells. The entire town came out in arms, and marched on Westminster. They're fled, Olivier, she and all her court, fled in the clothes they wore and with very little else, and the city men have plundered the palace and driven out even the last hangers-on. She never made move to win them, nothing but threats and reproaches and demands for money ever since she entered. She's let the crown slip through her fingers for want of a few soft words and a queen's courtesy. For your part," said Hugh, with real compunction, "I'm sorry! For mine, I find it a great deliverance."
    "With that I find no fault," said Olivier simply. "Why should you not be glad? But she... she's safe? They have not taken her?"
    "No, according to the messenger she's safely away, with Robert of Gloucester and a few others as loyal, but the rest, it seems, scattered and made off for their own lands, where they'd feel safe. That's the word as he brought it, barely a day old. The city of London was being pressed hard from the south," said Hugh, somewhat softening the load of folly that lay upon the empress's own shoulders, "with King Stephen's queen harrying their borders. To get relief their only way was to drive the empress out and let the queen in, and their hearts were on her side, no question, of the two they'd liefer have her."
    "I knew," said Olivier, "she was not wise, the Empress Maud. I knew she could not forget grudges, no matter how sorely she