Brother Cadfael 11: An Excellent Mystery

already?' He shook the speculation away from him. 'Well, that makes my business all the more urgent. Girl dear, it's you I want! Had Hugh been here, I would have begged the loan of you of your lord in a proper civil fashion, but as things are…I need you for an hour or two. Will you ride with me in a good cause? We'll need horses - one for you to go and return, and one for me to go further still - one of Hugh's big fellows that can carry two at a pinch. Will you be my advocate, and see me back into good odour if I borrow such a horse? Trust me, the need is urgent.'
    'Hugh's stables have always been open to you,' said Aline, 'since ever we got to know you. And I'll lend myself for any enterprise you tell me is urgent. How far have we to go?'
    'Not far. Over the western bridge and across Frankwell. I must ask the loan of some of your possessions, too,' said Cadfael.
    'Tell me what you want, and then you go and saddle the horses - Jehan is there, tell him you have my leave. And you can tell me what all this means and what I'm needed for on the way.'
    Adam Heriet looked up sharply and alertly when the door of his prison was opened at an unexpected hour of the early evening. He drew himself together with composure and caution when he saw who entered. He was practised and prepared in all the questions with which he had so far had to contend, but this promised or threatened something new. The bold oaken face the jeweller's wife had so shrewdly observed served him well. He rose civilly in the presence of his betters, but with a formal stiffness and a blank countenance which suggested that he did not feel himself to be in any way inferior. The door closed behind them, though the key was not turned. There was no need, there would be a guard outside.
    'Sit, Adam! We have been showing some interest in your movements in Winchester, at the time you know of,' said Hugh mildly. 'Would you care to add anything to what you've already told us? Or to change anything?'
    'No, my lord. I have told you what I did and where I went. There is no more to tell.'
    'Your memory may be faulty. All men are fallible. Can we not remind you, for instance, of a silversmith's shop in the High Street? Where you sold three small things of value - not your property?'
    Adam's face remained stonily stoical, but his eyes flickered briefly from one face to the other. 'I never sold anything in Winchester. If anyone says so, they have mistaken me for some other man.'
    'You lie!' said Nicholas, flaring. 'Who else would be carrying these very three things? A necklace of polished stones, an engraved silver bracelet - and this!'
    The ring lay in his open palm, thrust close under Adam's nose, its enamels shining with a delicate lustre, a small work of art so singular that there could not be a second like it. And he had known the girl from infancy, and must have been familiar with her trinkets long before that journey south. If he denied this, he proclaimed himself a liar, for there were plenty of others who could swear to it.
    He did not deny it. He even stared at it with a well-assumed wonder and surprise, and said at once: 'That is Julian's! Where did you get it?'
    'From the silversmith's wife. She kept it for her own, and she remembered very well the man who brought it, and painted as good a picture of him as the law will need to put your name to him. Yes, this is Julian's!' said Nicholas, hoarse with passion. 'That is what you did with her goods. What did you do with her?'
    'I've told you! I parted from her a mile or more from Wherwell, at her orders, and I never saw her again.'
    'You lie in your teeth! You destroyed her.'
    Hugh laid a hand on the young man's arm, which started and quivered at the touch, like a pointing hound distracted from his aim.
    'Adam, you waste your lying, which is worse. Here is a ring you acknowledge for your mistress's property, sold, according to two good witnesses, on the twentieth of August three years ago, in a Winchester shop, by a man whose description fits you better than your own clothes…'
    'Then it could fit many a man of my age,' protested Adam stoutly. 'What is there singular about me? The woman has not pointed the finger at me, she has not seen me…'
    'She will, Adam, she will. We can bring her, and her husband, too, to accuse you to your face. As I accuse you,' said Hugh firmly. 'This is too much to be passed off as a children's tale, or a curious chance. We need no better case against you than this ring and those two