Brother Cadfael 14: The Hermit of Eyton Forest

through Cadfael's eyes to see again the bare stony chapel in the forest. 'I laid by my sword, seeing he had none. His dagger he'd kept.'
    'And used,' said Cadfael, 'on the man who had seen him in his own shape at Thame, and might have called his vocation in question. As the son did, after Cuthred was dead, and never knew he was looking at his father's murderer.'
    'Ah, so that was it! I wondered.'
    'And did you find what you came for?'
    'I came for him,' said Rafe grimly. 'But, yes, I understand you. Yes, I found it, in the reliquary on the altar. Not all in coin. Gems go into a small compass, and are easily carried. Her own jewels, that she valued. And valued even more the man to whom she sent them.'
    'They said that there was also a letter.'
    'There is a letter. I have it. You saw the breviary?'
    'I saw it. A prince's book.'
    'An empress's. There is a secret fold in the binding, where a fine, small leaf can be hidden. When they were apart, the breviary went back and forth between them by trusted messenger. God he knows what she may not have written to him now, at the lowest ebb of fortune, separated from him by a few miles that might as well be the width of the world, and with the king's army gripping her and her few to strangulation. In the extreme of despair, who regards wisdom, who puts a guard on tongue or pen? I have not sought to know. He shall have it and read it for whose heart's consolation it was meant. One other has read it, and might have made use of it,' said Rafe harshly, 'but he is of no account now.'
    His voice had gathered a great tide of passion that yet could not disrupt its steely control, though it caused his disciplined body to quiver like an arrow in flight, vibrating to the force of his devoted love and implacable hate. The letter he carried, with its broken seal as testimony to a cold and loathsome treachery, he would never unfold, the matter within was sacred as the confessional, between the woman who had written and the man to whom it was written. Cuthred had trespassed even into this holy ground, but Cuthred was dead. It did not seem to Cadfael that the penalty was too great for the wrong committed.
    'Tell me, Brother,' said Rafe de Genville, the wave of passion subsiding into his customary calm, 'was this sin?'
    'What do you need from me?' said Cadfael. 'Ask your confessor when you come safely to Wallingford. All I know is, time has been when I would have done as you have done.'
    Whether de Genville's secret would be preserved inviolate was a question never asked, the answer being already clearly understood between them. 'This is better than by morning,' said Rafe, rising. 'Your order of hours tomorrow need not be broken, and I can be away early, and leave my place cleansed and furbished and ready for another guest, and travel the lighter because I do not go without a fair witness. I'll say my farewell here. God be with you, Brother!'
    'And go with you,' said Cadfael.
    He was gone, out into the gathering darkness, his step firm and even on the gravel path, silent when he reached the grass beyond. And sharp upon the last slight sound of his going, the bell rang distantly for Compline.
    Cadfael went down into the stables before Prime, in a morning dry and sunny but chill, a good day for riding. The bright chestnut with the white brow was gone from his stall. It seemed empty and quiet there, but for the cheerful chirpings of chatter and laughter from the last stall, where Richard had come down early to pet and make much of his pony for carrying him so bravely, with Edwin, happily restored to grace and to the company of his playmate, in loyal attendance. They were making a merry noise like a brood of young swallows, until they heard Cadfael come, and then they fell to a very prim and seemly quietness until they peeped out and saw that he was neither Brother Jerome nor Prior Robert. By way of apology they favoured him with broad and bountiful smiles, and went back to the pony's stall to caress and admire him.
    Cadfael could not but wonder if Dame Dionisia had already visited her grandson, and gone as far as such a matriarch could be expected to go to re-establish her standing with him. There would certainly be no self-abasement. Something of a self-justifying homily, rather: 'Richard, I have been considering your future with the abbot, and I have consented to leave you in his care for the present. I was grossly deceived in Cuthred, he was not a priest, as he pretended. That episode is over,