Brother Cadfael 14: The Hermit of Eyton Forest

home very seldom. I think his father thought the child was better here with a few fellows near his own age than kept around a sick man's bed.'
    'And under the rule of a strong-willed grandmother, from all I hear. I don't know the lady,' said Hugh thoughtfully, 'except by reputation. I did know the man, though I've seen nothing of him since we got our wounded back from Lincoln. A good fighter and a decent soul, but dour, no talker. What's the boy like?'
    'Sharp venturesome... A very fetching imp, truth to tell, but as often in trouble as out of it. Bright at his letters, but he'd rather be out at play. Paul will have the task of telling him his father's dead, and himself master of a manor. It may trouble Paul more than it does the boy. He hardly knows his sire. I suppose there's no question about his tenure?'
    'None in the world! I'm all for letting well alone, and Ludel earned his immunity. It's a good property, too, fat land, and much of it under the plough. Good grazing, water-meadows and woodland, and it's been well tended, seemingly, for it's valued higher now than ten years since. But I must get to know the steward, and make sure he'll do the boy right.'
    'John of Longwood,' said Cadfael promptly. 'He's a good man and a good husbandman. We know him well, we've had dealings with him, and always found him reasonable and fair. That land falls between the abbey holdings of Eyton-by-Severn on the one side, and Aston-under-Wrekin on the other, and John has always given our forester free access between the two woodlands whenever needed, to save him time and labour. We bring wood out from our part of the Wrekin forest that way. It suits us both very well. Ludel's part of Eyton forest bites into ours there, it would be folly to fall out. Ludel had left everything to John these last two years, you'll have no trouble there.'
    'The abbot tells me,' said Hugh, nodding satisfaction with this good-neighbourliness, 'that Ludel gave the boy as ward into his hands, four years ago, should he himself not live to see his son grown to manhood. It seems he made all possible provision for the future, as if he saw his own death coming towards him.' And he added, somewhat grimly: 'As well most of us have no such clear sight, or there'd be some hundreds in Oxford now hurrying to buy Masses for their souls. By this time the king must hold the town. It would fall into his hands of itself once he was over the ford. But the castle could hold out to the year's end, at a pinch, and there's no cheap way in there, it's a matter of starving them out. And if Robert of Gloucester in Normandy has not had word of all this by now, then his intelligencers are less able than I gave them credit for. If he knows how his sister's pressed, he'll be on his way home in haste. I've known the besiegers become the besieged before now, it could as well happen again.'
    'It will take him some time to get back,' Cadfael pointed out comfortably. 'And by all accounts no better provided than when he went.'
    The empress's half-brother and best soldier had been sent overseas, much against his inclination, to ask help for the lady from her less than loving husband, but Count Geoffrey of Anjou was credibly reported to be much more interested in his own ambitions in Normandy than in his wife's in England, and had been astute enough to inveigle Earl Robert into helping him pick off castle after castle in the duchy, instead of rushing to his wife's side to assist her to the crown of England. As early as June, Robert had sailed from Wareham, against his own best judgement but at his sister's urgent entreaty, and Geoffrey's insistence, if he was to entertain any ambassador from her at all. And here was September ended, Wareham back in King Stephen's hands, and Robert still detained in Geoffrey's thankless service in Normandy. No, it would not be any quick or easy matter for him to come to his sister's rescue. The iron grip of siege tightened steadily round Oxford castle, and for once Stephen showed no sign of abandoning his purpose. Never yet had he come so close to making his cousin and rival his prisoner, and forcing her acceptance of his sovereignty.
    'Does he realise,' wondered Cadfael, closing the lid of a stone jar on his selected seed, 'how near he's come to getting her into his power at last? How would you feel, Hugh, if you were in his shoes, and truly got your hands on her?'
    'Heaven forefend!' said Hugh fervently, and grinned at the very thought. 'For I shouldn't know