Brother Cadfael 11: An Excellent Mystery

from his colloquy with Radulfus in the abbot's parlour with half an hour still before High Mass and, choosing to stay for the celebration since he was here, he did what he habitually did with time to spare within the precinct of the abbey and went looking for Brother Cadfael in his workshop in the herb-garden.
    Cadfael had been up since long before Prime, inspected such wines and distillations as he had working, and done a little watering while the soil was in shade and cooled from the night. At this time of year, with the harvest in, there was little work to be done among the herbs, and he had no need as yet to ask for an assistant in place of Brother Oswin.
    When Hugh came to look for Cadfael he found him sitting at ease on the bench under the north wall, which at this time of day was pleasantly warm without being too hot, contemplating between admiration and regret the roses that bloomed with such extravagant splendour and wilted so soon. Hugh sat down beside him, rightly interpreting placid silence as welcome.
    'Aline says it's high time you came to see how your godson has grown.'
    'I know well enough how much he will have grown,' said Giles Beringar's godfather, between complacency and awe of his formidable responsibility. 'Not two years old until Christmas, and too heavy already for an old man.'
    Hugh made a derisive noise. When Cadfael claimed to be an old man he must either be up to something, or inclined to be idle, and giving fair warning.
    'Every time he sees me he climbs me like a tree,' said Cadfael dreamily. 'You he daren't treat so, you are but a sapling. Give him fifteen more years, and he'll make two of you.'
    'So he will,' agreed the fond father, and stretched his lithe, light body pleasurably in the strengthening sun. 'A long lad from birth - do you remember? That was a Christmas indeed, what with my son - and yours…I wonder where Olivier is now? Do you know?'
    'How should I know? With d'Angers in Gloucester, I hope. She can't have drawn them all into Winchester with her, she must leave force enough in the west to hold her on to her base there. Why, what made you think of him just now?'
    'It did enter my head that he might have been among the empress's chosen at Wherwell.' He had recoiled into grim recollection, and did not at first notice how Cadfael stiffened and turned to stare. 'I pray you're right, and he's well out of it.'
    'At Wherwell? Why, what of Wherwell?'
    'I forgot,' said Hugh, startled, 'you don't yet know the latest news, for I've only just brought it within here, and I got it only last night. Did I not say they'd have to try to break out - the empress's men? They have tried it, Cadfael, disastrously for them. They sent a picked force to try to seize Wherwell, no doubt hoping to straddle the road and the river there, and open a way to bring in supplies. William of Ypres cut them to pieces outside the town, and the remnant fled into the nunnery and shut themselves into the church. The place burned down over them…God forgive them for ever violating it, but they were Maud's men who first did it, not ours. The nuns, God help them, had taken refuge there when the fight began…'
    Cadfael sat frozen even in the sunlight. 'Do you tell me Wherwell has gone the way of Hyde?'
    'Burned to the ground. The church at least. As for the rest…But in so hot and dry a season…'
    Cadfael, who had gripped him hard and suddenly by the arm, as abruptly loosed him, leaped from the bench, and began to run, veritably to run, as he had not done since hurtling to get out of range from the rogue castle on Titterstone Clee, two years earlier. He had still a very respectable turn of speed when roused, but his gait was wonderful, legless under the habit, like a black ball rolling, with a slight oscillation from side to side, a seaman's walk become a headlong run. And Hugh, who loved him, and rose to pursue him with a very sharp sense of the urgency behind this flight, nevertheless could not help laughing as he ran. Viewed from behind, a Benedictine in a hurry, and a Benedictine of more than sixty years and built like a barrel, at that, may be formidably impressive to one who knows him, but must be comic.
    Cadfael's purposeful flight checked in relief as he emerged into the great court; for they were there still, in no haste with their farewells, though the horse stood by with a groom at his bridle, and Brother Fidelis tightening the straps that held Nicholas Harnage's bundle and rolled cloak behind the