Brother Cadfael 15: The Confession of Brother Haluin

we shall see if all is being done for the best!"
    "Then you had not seen Edgytha? She never reached you?"
    "How could she if she was lying dead a mile or more from Elford?" demanded Roscelin impatiently.
    "It was after the snow began that she died. She had been some hours gone, long enough to have reached Elford and been on her way back. Somewhere she had been, from somewhere she was certainly returning. Where else could it have been?"
    "So you thought she had indeed reached Elford," said Roscelin slowly. "I never heard but that she was dead. I thought it was on her way. On her way to me! Is that what you had in mind? To warn me of what was being done here in my absence?"
    Cenred's silence and Emma's unhappy face were answer enough.
    "No," he said slowly, "I never saw hide or hair of her. Nor did anyone in Audemar's household as far as I know. If she ever was there at all, I don't know to whom she came. Certainly not to me."
    "Yet it could have been so," said Cenred.
    "It was not so. She did not come. Nevertheless," said Roscelin relentlessly, "here am I as if she had, having heard it from another mouth. God knows I am grieved for Edgytha, but what is there now to be done for her but bury her with reverence, and after, if we can, find and bury her murderer? But it is not too late to reconsider what was intended here for tomorrow, it is not too late to change it."
    "I marvel," said Cenred harshly, "that you do not charge me outright with this death."
    Roscelin was brought up short against an idea so monstrous, and stood open-mouthed with shock, his unclenched hands dangling childishly. Plainly such a notion had never entered his ingenuous head. He stammered a furious, half-inarticulate disclaimer, and abandoned it halfway to turn again upon de Perronet.
    "But you - you had cause enough to want her stopped, if you knew she was on her way to warn me. You had good cause to want her silenced, so that no voice should be raised against your marriage, as now I raise mine. Was it you who did her to death on the way?"
    "This is foolery," said de Perronet with disdain. "Everyone here knows that I have been here in plain view all the evening."
    "So you may have been, but you have men who may be used to do your work for you."
    "Every man of whom can be vouched for by your father's household. Also, you have been told already it was not on the outward way this woman was killed, but returning. What purpose would that have served for me? And now may I ask of you, father and son both," he demanded sharply, "what interest has this boy in his close kinswoman's marriage, that he dares to challenge either her brother's rights or her husband's?"
    Now, thought Cadfael, it is all as good as out, though no one will say it plainly. For de Perronet has wits sharp enough to have grasped already what particular and forbidden passion really drives this unhappy boy. And now it depends on Roscelin whether a decent face is kept on the affair or not. Which is asking a lot of a young man torn as he is, and outraged by what he feels as a betrayal. Now we shall see his mettle.
    Roscelin had blanched into a fixed and steely whiteness, his fine bones of cheek and jaw outlined starkly in the torchlight. Before Cenred could draw breath to assert his dominance, his son had done it for him.
    "My interest is that of a kinsman close as a brother lifelong, and desiring Helisende's happiness beyond anything else in the world. My father's right I never have disputed, nor do I doubt he wishes her well as truly as I do. But when I hear of a marriage planned in haste and in my absence, how can I be easy in mind? I will not stand by and see her hustled into a marriage that may not be to her liking. I will not have her forced or persuaded against her will."
    "This is no such matter," protested Cenred hotly. "She is not being forced, she has consented willingly."
    "Then why was I to be kept in ignorance? Until the thing was done? How can I believe what your own proceedings deny?" He swung round upon de Perronet, his blanched face arduously controlled. "Sir, against you I have no malice. I did not even know who was to be her husband. But you must see how hard it is to believe that all has been done fairly, when it has not been done openly."
    "It is in the open now," said de Perronet shortly. "What hinders but you should hear it from the lady's own lips? Will that content you?"
    Roscelin's white face tightened yet more painfully, and for a moment he struggled visibly