Brother Cadfael 13: The Rose Rent

houses of the Castle Foregate. But even so - by night, and a dark night until late..."
    "And even so, how did he come by two blows on the head and end in the river? A man might go too near on a shelving bank, and miss his footing in the dark," said Hugh, shaking his head, "but of a native Shrewsbury lad I doubt it. They know their river. We must find out if he was a swimmer, but the most of them learn early. Cadfael, we know where he was cast up. Is it possible he went into the water on the other side? If he tried to swim across, half-stunned after he got these injuries, might he fetch up about where you found him?"
    "That we should ask of Madog," said Cadfael. "He'll know. The currents are certainly very strong and contrary in places, it would be possible." He straightened the wet hair almost absently on the dead man's forehead, and drew up the linen over his face. "There's nothing more he can tell us. It remains to tell his kin. At least they may be able to say when last they saw him, and whether he owned to having any plans for the night."
    "I've sent for Miles Coliar, but said nothing to him yet of the reason. Better he should break it to the mother, it will come easier for her there, in her own home - for I'm told she belongs there, in the kitchen. And Coliar will need to have the body taken back there to make ready for burial, if you see no need to keep it longer."
    "None," said Cadfael, turning away from the bier with a sigh. "At your discretion, both! I have done." But at the door, last to leave the chapel, he cast one long glance back at the still white shape on the slab of stone. One more young man dead untimely, sad waste of the stuff of life. "Poor lad!" said Cadfael, and closed the door gently after him.
    Miles Coliar came from the town in haste and alone, uninformed of the occasion for the summons, but certainly aware that there must be a grave reason, and by the look of his face speculating anxiously and fearfully as to what that might be. They awaited him in the ante-room of the gatehouse. Miles made his reverence to abbot and sheriff, and raised a worried countenance to look rapidly from face to face, questioning their solemnity.
    "My lord, is there news? My cousin...? Have you got word of her, that you sent for me here?" His pallor blanched still more, and his face stiffened into a mask of dread, misreading, it seemed, their mute and sombre looks. "Oh, God, no! Not... no, she cannot be... You have not found her...?" His voice foundered on the word 'dead', but his lips shaped it.
    "No, no!" said Hugh in haste. "Not that! No, there's nothing new, no word of her yet, no need to think the worst. This is quite another matter, though grim enough. The hunt for your cousin goes on, and will go on until we find her."
    Miles said: "Thank God!" just audibly, and drew deep breath, the tense lines of his face relaxing. "Pardon if I am slow to think and speak and understand, and too hasty to fear extremes. These few days I have hardly slept or rested at all."
    "I am sorry to add more to your troubles," said Hugh, "but needs must. It's not Mistress Perle we're concerned with here. Have you missed any man from your looms today?"
    Miles stared, and scratched his bushy brown head, at once relieved and puzzled. "None of the weavers are working today, the looms have been neglected since yesterday morning, we've all or most been out on the hunt. I've kept the women spinning, it's no work for them to go stravaging about with the sergeants and the men of the garrison. Why do you ask, my lord?"
    "Then have you seen your man Bertred at all since last night? He lives in your household, I'm told."
    "He does," agreed Miles, frowning. "No, I've not seen him today, with the looms quiet there's no reason I should. He eats in the kitchen. I suppose he's out again on the hunt, though God knows we've knocked on every door and probed round every yard in the town, and not a housewife or goodman who hasn't been alerted to watch for any sign and listen for any word that could lead us to her. Yet what can we do but search and ask all over again? They're out on all the roads and asking at the hamlets for a mile round, now, as you best know, my lord. Bertred will be out raking the countryside with them, no question. He's been tireless for her, that I grant him."
    "And his mother - she's in no anxiety about him? Nothing has been said of things he may have had on his mind? She has not spoken of him to you?"
    "No!" Miles was again looking