Brother Cadfael 14: The Hermit of Eyton Forest

sloughed a skin before his eyes, and emerged as vivid and real as himself, Richard asked almost shyly: 'What do you want? If you could have your way, what would you like to have?'
    'I would like,' said Hiltrude, her brown eyes suddenly burning with anger and loss, 'a young man named Evrard, who keeps my father's manor roll and is his steward at Wroxeter, and who likes me, too, whether you think that likely or not. But he's a younger son and has no land, and where there's no land to marry to his own my father has no interest. There's an uncle who may well leave his manor to Evrard, being fond of him and childless, but land now is what my father wants, not someday and maybe land.' The fire burned down. She turned her head aside. 'Why do I tell you this? You can't understand, and it's not your fault. There's nothing you can do to better it.'
    Richard was beginning to think that there might be something very pertinent he could do for her, if she in her turn would do something for him. Cautiously he asked: 'What are they doing now, your father and my grandmother? She said you'd be going back to Wroxeter after today. What are they planning? And has Father Abbot been looking for me all this time since I left?'
    'You didn't know? Not only the abbot, but the sheriff and all his men are looking for you. They've searched Eaton and Wroxeter, and are beating every bush in the forest. My father was afraid they might reach here by today, but she thought not. They were wondering whether to move you back to Eaton in the night, since it's been searched already, but Dame Dionisia felt sure the officers had several days' work left before they'd reach Leighton, and in any case, she said, if a proper watch was set there'd be ample time to put you over the river with an escort and send you down to shelter at Buildwas. Better, she said, than moving you back towards Shrewsbury yet.'
    'Where are they now?' asked Richard intently. 'My grandmother?'
    'She's ridden back to Eaton to have everything there looking just as it should. Her hermit went back to his cell in the night. It wouldn't do if anyone knew he'd been away.'
    'And your father?'
    'He's out and about among his tenants here, but he'll not be far away. He took his clerk with him. There'll be dues unpaid that he wants collected, I daresay.' She was indifferent to her father's movements, but she did feel some curiosity as to what was going on in this child's head, to sharpen his voice into such hopeful purpose, and brighten his disconsolate eye. 'Why? What is there in that for you? Or for me!' she added bitterly.
    'There might,' said Richard, beginning to glitter, 'be something I can do for you, something good, if you'll do something for me in return. If they're both out of the house, help me to get away while they're gone. My pony's there in the stable, she told me as much. If I could get to him and slip away, you could bolt the door again, and no one would know I was gone until evening.'
    She shook her head decisively. 'And who would get the blame? I wouldn't put it off on to one of the servants, and I've no great appetite for it myself. The troubles I already have are enough for me, I thank you!' But she added warily, seeing that his hopeful fire was by no means quenched: 'But I would be willing to think out the best means, if I thought it would solve anything for me. But how can it? For a fair deliverance I'd venture anything Father could say or do. But what's the use, when we're tied together as we are, and no way out?'
    Richard bounded up from his bed and darted across the room to settle confidingly beside her on the broad sill. Close to her ear he said breathlessly: 'If I tell you a secret, will you swear to keep it until I'm safely away, and help me to get out of here? I promise you, I promise you it will be worth your while.'
    'You are dreaming,' she said tolerantly, turning to look at him thus closely, and seeing his secret brightness undimmed by her disbelief. 'There's no way out of marriage unless you're a prince and have the Pope's ear, and who cares about lesser folk like us? True, we're not bedded, nor will be for years yet, but if you think your old dame and my father would ever let it come to an annulment, you waste your hopes. They've got their way, they'll never let go of their gains.'
    'No, it's nothing like that,' he persisted, 'we need nothing from Pope or law. You must believe me. At least promise not to tell, and when you hear what it is, you'll be willing to help