Brother Cadfael 12: The Raven in the Foregate

honour?"
    Sweyn was a thickset, grizzled man of middle age, with a ragged brown beard and a twinkling glance. Whatever warm clothing he put on against the winter he must have put on underneath, for he had but the one stout pair of cloth hose, and Ninian had never yet seen him in any coat but the much-mended drab brown, but evidently he possessed another, for this morning he had on a green coat, unpatched, and a dark brown capuchon protecting head and shoulders.
    "I've been into Shrewsbury," he said shortly, "fetching a pair of shoes my wife left to be clouted at Provost Corviser's. I was here at first light and let out the horses, they've been penned long enough, and then I went back to fettle myself for the town, and I've had no time to put on my working gear again. There's word going round the town, master, that the sheriff means to attend the Foregate priest's funeral, and fetch a murderer away with him. I thought I'd best bring you word as fast as I could. For it may be true."
    Ninian stood gaping at him aghast for a moment in stricken silence. "No! He's going to take her? Is that the word? Oh, God, not Diota! And she there to be seized, all unsuspecting. And I not there!" He clutched earnestly at Sweyn's arm. "Is this certain?"
    "It's the common talk about the town. Folks are all agog, there'll be a stream of them making haste over the bridge to see it done. They don't say who - leastways, they guess at it, two or three ways, but they all agree it's coming, be the poor wretch who he may."
    Ninian flung away the apple he had still been holding, and beat his fists together in frantic thought. "I must go! The parish Mass won't be until ten, there's still time ..."
    "You can't go. The young mistress said -"
    "I know what she said, but this is my business now. I must and will get Diota out of it. Who else can it be the sheriff means to accuse? But he shan't have her! I won't suffer it!"
    "You'll be known! It may not be your woman he has in mind, how then? He may have the rights of it, and know well what he's doing. And you'll have thrown yourself away for nothing," urged the herdsman reasonably.
    "No, I needn't be known. One in a crowd - and only the people of the abbey and a few in the Foregate know me well by sight. In any case," said Ninian grimly, "let anyone lay a hand on her and I will be known, and with a vengeance, too. But I can be lost among a crowd, why not? Lend me that coat and capuchon, Sweyn, who's to know me under a hood? And they've never seen me but in this gear, yours is far too fine for the Benet they've seen about the place ..."
    "Take the horse," said Sweyn, stripping off his capuchon without protest, and hoisting the loose cotte over his head.
    Ninian did cast one glance out into the field where the two horses kicked up their heels, happy to be at large. "No, no time! I can do it as fast afoot. And I'd be more noticeable, mounted. How many horsemen will there be about Ailnoth's funeral?" He thrust his way into the over-ample garment already warmed for him, and emerged ruffled and flushed. "I daren't show a sword. But the dagger I can hide about me." He was up into the loft to fetch it, and fasten it safely out of sight under his coat, secure in the belt of his hose.
    At the doorway, poised to run, he was stricken with another qualm, and turned to clutch again at the herdsman's arm. "Sweyn, if I'm taken - Sanan will see you shan't be the loser. Your good clothes - I've no right ..."
    "Ah, go on with you!" said Sweyn, half-affronted, and gave him a shove out into the field and towards the trees. "I can go in sacking if needs must. You bring yourself back safe, or the young mistress will have my head for it. And put up your hood, fool boy, before you come near the road!"
    Ninian ran, across the meadow and into the slope of trees, heading for the track that would bring him, within a mile or so, to the Meole Brook, and across it into the Foregate, close by the bridge into the town.
    Word of the fat rumour that was running round Shrewsbury reached Ralph Giffard some time later, none of his household having been abroad in the town before nine o'clock, when a maidservant went out to fetch a pitcher of milk, and was a long time about it by reason of the juicy gossip she learned on her errand. Even when she returned to the house the news took some time to be carried from the kitchen to the clerk, who had come to see what all the chatter was about, and thence to Giffard himself, who was at that moment