Brother Cadfael 15: The Confession of Brother Haluin

here? And unattended!" It suited him better that a mother of so formidable a character should exile herself to the distant manor of Hales, and keep her own court there. Seeing them thus face-to-face, Cadfael found a strong likeness between the two. Doubtless there was affection between them, but once the son was grown it would be hard for these two to live together in one household. "There was no need," said Audemar, "for you to ride over here, there is nothing you can do that is not already being done."
    Adelais had let Cenred's attentive hand persuade her into the centre of the room, but there she resisted further movement and stood to be seen clearly and alone, with an authoritative gesture freeing her hand.
    "Yes," she said, "there is need," and again cast a long glance round all the watching faces. "And I am not unattended. Brother Cadfael is my escort. He comes from the abbey of Farewell, and will be returning there when he leaves us." She looked from one young man to the other, from the favoured bridegroom to the frustrated lover, both of them eyeing her warily, conscious of impending revelations, but unable to hazard at what might be coming.
    "I am glad," said Adelais, "to find you all assembled thus. I have that to say that I will say only once."
    It could never have been a problem for her, thought Cadfael, watching, to hold the attention of everyone about her, wherever she went. In every room she entered she was at once the focal point, the dominant in every company. Now they were silent every one, waiting on her word.
    "As I have heard, Cenred," she said, "you intended, two days ago, to marry your sister - your half sister, I should say - to this young gentleman. For reason enough, the church and the world would agree, seeing she had become all too dear to your son Roscelin, and he to her, and a marriage that would take her far away removed also the shadow of such an unholy attachment from your house and from your heir. Pardon me if I use too plain words, it's late for any others. No blame to you, knowing only what you knew."
    "What more was there to know?" said Cenred, bewildered. "Plain words will do very well. They are close blood kin, as you know well! Would not you have taken the same measures to ward off such an evil from your grandchild, as I intended from my sister? She is as close a charge to me as my own son, and as dear. She is your grandchild. I well remember my father's second marriage. I recall the day you brought the bride here, and my father's pride in the child she bore him. Since he is long gone, I owe Helisende a father's care no less than a brother's. Certainly I sought to protect both her and my son. I still desire the same. This is but a check on the way. Messire de Perronet has not withdrawn his suit, nor I my sanction."
    Audemar had risen from his place, and stood eyeing his mother with close-drawn brows and an unrevealing face. "What more is there to know?" he said levelly, and for all his voice was equable and low, there was doubt and displeasure in it, and a woman of less implacable will might have found it menacing. She stared back at him eye-to-eye, and was unmoved.
    "This! That you trouble needless. There is no barrier, Cenred, between your son and Helisende but the barrier you have conjured up. There is no peril of incest if they were wedded and bedded this very night. Helisende is not your sister, Cenred, she is not your father's daughter. There is no drop of Vivers blood in her veins."
    "But this is foolishness!" protested Cenred, shaking his head over so incredible a claim. "All this household has known the child from birth. What you say is impossible. Why bring forth such a story when all my people can bear witness she was born to my father's lawful wife, in their marriage bed, here in my house."
    "And conceived in mine," said Adelais. "I can't wonder if none of you thought to count the days, I had lost no time. My daughter was already with child when I brought her here to her marriage."
    Then they were all on their feet, all but Emma, shrinking appalled behind her embroidery frame, shaken by the outcries of anger and disbelief that clashed about her like contrary winds. Cenred was stricken breathless, but de Perronet was clamouring that this was false, and the lady out of her wits, and Roscelin had sprung to confront him, glittering, half incoherent, swinging about from his rival to Adelais, pleading, demanding, that what she said be truth. Until Audemar pounded the