Brother Cadfael 15: The Confession of Brother Haluin

more of what happened long ago. You say you have a life spared. Use it as best you can, and so will I mine."
    It was a dismissal, and as such Haluin accepted it. He made her a deep reverence, and turned carefully upon his crutches, and Cadfael reached a hand to steady him in the movement. She had not so much as bidden them be seated, perhaps too shaken by so sudden and startling a visit, but as they reached the doorway she called after them suddenly:
    "Stay if you will, take rest and meat in my house. My servants will provide you everything you need."
    "I thank you," said Haluin, "but our leave of absence enjoins a return as soon as my pilgrimage here is done."
    "God hasten your way home, then," said Adelais de Clary, and with a steady hand took up her needle again.
    The church lay a short distance from the manor, where two tracks crossed, and the huddle of village house plots gathered close about the churchyard wall.
    "The tomb is within," said Haluin, as they entered at the gate. "It was never opened when I was here, but Bertrand's father is buried here, and surely it must have been opened for Bertrade. She died here. I am sorry, Cadfael, that I refused hospitality also for you. I had not thought in time. I shall need no bed tonight."
    "You said no word of that to the lady," Cadfael observed.
    "No. I hardly know why, When I saw her again my heart misgave me that I did ill to bring before her again that old pain, that the very sight of me was an offense to her. Yet she did forgive. I am the better for that, and she surely none the worse. But you could have slept easy tonight. No need for two to watch."
    "I'm better fitted for a night on my knees than you," said Cadfael. "And I am not sure the welcome there would have been very warm. She wished us gone. No, it's very well as it is. Most likely she thinks we're on the homeward way already, off her land and out of her life."
    Haluin halted for a second with his hand on the heavy iron ring latch of the church door, his face in shadow. The door swung open, creaking, and he gripped his crutches to ease himself down the two wide, shallow steps into the nave. It was dim and stonily chilly within. Cadfael waited a moment on the steps till his eyes grew accustomed to the changed light, but Haluin set off at once up the nave towards the altar. Nothing here was greatly changed in eighteen years, and nothing had been forgotten. Even the rough edges of the floor tiles were known to him. He turned aside towards the right-hand wall, his crutches ringing hollowly, and Cadfael, following, found him standing beside a stone table-tomb fitted between the pillars. The carved image recumbent there was in crude chain mail, and had one leg crossed over the other, and a hand on his sword hilt. Another Crusader, surely the father of Bertrand, who in his turn had followed him to the Holy Land. This one, Cadfael calculated, might well have been with Robert of Normandy's army in my time, at the taking of Jerusalem. Clearly the de Clary men were proud of their warfare in the east.
    A man came through from the sacristy, and seeing two unmistakable Benedictine habits, turned amicably to come towards them. A man of middle age, in a rusty black cassock, advancing upon them with a mildly inquiring expression and a welcoming smile, Haluin heard his steps, soft as they were, and swung about gladly to greet a remembered neighbour, only to recoil on the instant at seeing a stranger.
    "Good day, Brothers! God be with you!" said the priest of Hales. "To travelers of your cloth my house is always open, like this house of God. Have you come far?"
    "From Shrewsbury," said Haluin, strongly recovering himself. "Forgive me, Father, if I was taken aback. I had expected to see Father Wulfnoth. Foolish of me, indeed, for I have not been here for many years, and he was growing grey when I knew him, but to me in youth it seemed he would be here forever. Now I dare hardly ask!"
    "Father Wulfnoth is gone to his rest," said the priest, "seven years ago now it must be. Ten years back I came here, after he was brought to his bed by a seizure, and three years I looked after him until he died. I was newly priest then, I learned much from Wulfnoth, his mind was clear and bright if the flesh had failed him." His good-natured round face offered sympathetic curiosity. "You know this church and this manor, then? Were you born in Hales?"
    "No, not that, But for some years I served with the lady Adelais at the manor. Church and