Brother Cadfael 12: The Raven in the Foregate

as Ninian, and better, to wish Ailnoth dead?"
    "I don't forget it. Far too many others," agreed Hugh ruefully. "And all you tell me of this boy - not that I'm dull enough, mind, to suppose you've told me all you could! - shows him as one who might very well hit out boldly in his own defence, but scarcely from behind. Yet he might, in the heat of conflict. Who knows what any of us might do, in extremes? And by what I hear of the priest, he would lash out with all his might and whatever weapon came to hand. It's the lad's vanishing now that suggests the worst."
    "He had good reason to vanish," pointed out Cadfael, "if he heard that Giffard was on his way to the castle to betray him. You'd have had to clap him into prison, guilty or innocent of the priest's death. Your hand's forced. Of course he'd run."
    "If someone warned him," agreed Hugh with a wry smile. "You, for instance?"
    "No, not I," said Cadfael virtuously. "I knew nothing about Giffard's errand, or I might have dropped a word in the boy's ear. But no, certainly not I. I do know that Benet - Ninian we must call him now, I suppose! - was in the church some time before midnight on Christmas Eve. If he went to the mill at all, he went early for the meeting, and left early, also."
    "So you told me, and I believe it. But so, by your own account, did Ailnoth go early to the meeting place, perhaps to hide himself and spring out on Bachiler by surprise. There was still time for them to clash and one to die."
    "The boy had not the marks of any agitation or dismay upon him in the church. A little excitement, perhaps, but pleasurable, I would say. And how much have you managed to worm out of the parish folk about this business? There are a number who had justifiable grudges against Ailnoth, what have they to say for themselves?"
    "In general, as you'd expect, as little as possible. One or two make no secret of their gratitude that the man's gone, none at all. Eadwin, the one whose boundary stone he moved, he's neither forgotten nor forgiven, even if the stone was replaced afterwards. His wife and children swear he never left the house that night - but so do they all, and so, of course, they would. Jordan Achard, the baker, now there's a man who might kill in a rage. He has a real grievance. His bread is his pride, and there was never any amends made for that insult. It hurt far more than if the priest had denounced him for a notorious lecher, which would at least have had the merit of being true. There are some give him the credit for being the father of that poor girl's baby, the lass who drowned herself, but from all I hear it could as well have been half the other men in the parish, for she couldn't say no to any of them. Our Jordan says he was home and sober every moment of Christmas Eve, and his wife bears him out, but she's a poor, subdued creature who wouldn't dare cross him. But from all accounts it's few nights he does spend in his own bed, and to judge by his wife's sidelong looks and wary answers he may well have been sleeping abroad that night. But we shall never get her to say so. She's both afraid of him and loyal to him."
    "The rest of his women may be less so," said Cadfael. "But I hardly see Jordan as a man of violence."
    "Perhaps not. But I do see Father Ailnoth as a man of violence, whether bodily or spiritual. And consider, Cadfael, how he might behave if he happened on one of his flock sneaking into the wrong bed. If not a violent man, Jordan is a big and strong one, and by no means meek enough to suffer assault tamely. He might end the fight another man began, without ever meaning to. But Jordan is one among many, and not the most likely."
    "Your men have been diligent," said Cadfael with a sigh.
    "They have. Alan was on his mettle, and determined to deserve his place. There's a decent poor soul called Centwin, who lives along the Foregate towards the horse-fair ground. You'll have heard his story. It was new to me until I heard it from Alan. The babe that died un-christened because Ailnoth could not interrupt his prayers. That sticks in the craw of every man in the parish, worse than all."
    "You cannot have found out anything black against Centwin?" protested Cadfael. "As quiet a creature as breathes, never a trouble to any."
    "Never with occasion until now. But this goes deep. And Centwin, quiet as he may be, is also deep. He keeps his own counsel, and broods over his own grievances. I've spoken with him. We questioned the watch on the town gate,