Brother Cadfael 13: The Rose Rent

end here."
    "That is my intent," said Hugh, making a brief formal reverence to Magdalen, who sat magisterial and composed by the window, an admirably silent woman when the occasion demanded. "My business here this morning is rather with Master Coliar. A very simple question, if you can help us." He turned to Miles with the most amiable and inviting of countenances, and asked, on a silken, rapid level that gave no warning: "The boots we found on Bertred, when he was taken out of the river - when did you give them to him?"
    Miles was quick in the wits, but not quick enough. He had caught his breath momentarily, and before he could release it again his mother had spoken up with her usual ready loquacity, and her pride in every detail that touched her son. "It was the day that poor young man from the abbey was found dead. You remember, Miles, you went down to bring Judith home, as soon as we heard. She'd gone to collect her girdle -"
    He had himself in hand by then, but it was never an easy matter to stop Agatha, once launched. "You're mistaken, Mother," he said, and even laughed, with the light note of an indulgent son used to tolerating a woolly-witted parent. "It was weeks ago, when I saw his shoes were worn through into holes. I've given him my cast-offs before," he said turning to confront Hugh's levelled black eyes boldly. "Shoes are costly items."
    "No, my dear," Agatha pursued with impervious certainty, "I recollect very well; after such a day how could I forget? It was that same evening, you remarked that Bertred was going almost barefoot, and it showed very ill for our house to let him run abroad so ill-shod on our errands..."
    She had run on as she always ran on, hardly paying heed to anyone else, but gradually she became aware of the way her son was standing stiff as ice, and his face blanched almost to the burningly cold blue-white of his eyes, that were fixed on her without love, without warmth, with the cold, ferocious burning of death. Her amiable, silly voice faltered away into small, broken sounds, and fell silent. If she had done nothing to help him, she had delivered herself in her blind, self-centred innocence.
    "Perhaps, after all," she faltered, her lips shaking, fumbling for words better calculated to please, and to wipe away that look from his face. "Now I'm not sure - I may be mistaken..."
    It was far too late to undo what she had done. Tears started into her eyes, blinding her to the aquamarine glare of hatred Miles had fixed upon her. Judith stirred out of her puzzled, shocked stillness and went quickly to her aunt's side, folding an arm about her trembling shoulders.
    "My lord, is this of so great importance? What does it mean? I understand nothing of all this. Please be plain!" And indeed it had happened so suddenly that she had not followed what was said, nor grasped its significance, but as soon as she had spoken understanding came, sharp as a stab-wound. She paled and stiffened, looking from Miles, frozen in his bitter, useless silence, to Brother Cadfael standing apart, from Cadfael to Sister Magdalen, from Magdalen to Hugh. Her lips moved, saying silently: "No! No! No..." but she did not utter it aloud.
    They were in her house, and she had her own authority here. She confronted Hugh, unsmiling but calm. "I think, my lord, there is no need for my aunt to distress herself, this is some matter that can be discussed and settled between us quietly. Aunt, you had much better go and help poor Alison in the kitchen. She has everything on her hands, and this is a most unhappy day for her, you should not leave her to carry all alone. I will tell you, later, all that you need to know," she promised, and if the words had a chill of foreboding about them, Agatha did not hear it. She went from the room docilely in Judith's arm, half-reassured, half-daunted, and Judith returned and closed the door at her back.
    "Now we may speak freely. I know now, all too well, what this is about. I know that two people may look back on events no more than a week past, and recall them differently. And I know, for Brother Cadfael told me, that the boots Bertred was wearing when he drowned made the print left behind by Brother Eluric's murderer in the soil under the vine, when he climbed back over the wall. So it matters indeed, it matters bitterly, Miles, who was wearing those boots that night, you or Bertred."
    Miles had begun to sweat profusely, his own body betraying him. On the wax-white, icy forehead great