Brother Cadfael 16: The Heretic's Apprentice

into the infirmary for now, and take care of his injuries there. He'll need no armed guards, the state he's in, but I'll stay with him until we get the lord abbot's orders concerning him."
    "Well, at least," said Cadfael, bathing away blood from Elave's head in the small anteroom in the infirmary, where the medicine cupboard was kept, "you left your mark on a couple of them. And though you'll have a devil of a headache for a while, you've a good hard skull, and there'll be no lasting harm. I don't know but you'd be just as well in a penitential cell till all blows over. The bed's the same as all the other beds, the cell's fine and cool in this weather, there's a little desk for reading - our delinquents are meant to spend their time during imprisonment in improving their minds and repenting their errors. Can you read?"
    "Yes," said Elave, passive under the ministering hands.
    "Then we could ask books from the library for you. The right course with a young fellow who's gone astray after unblessed beliefs is to ply him with the works of the Church fathers, and visit him with good counsel and godly argument. With me to minister to your bruises, and Anselm to discuss this world and the next with you, you'd have some of the best company to be had in this enclave, and with official sanction, mind. And a solitary cell keeps out the bleatings of fools and the zealous idiots who hunt three to a lone man. Keep still now! Does that hurt?"
    "No," said Elave, curiously soothed by this flow of talk which he did not quite know how to take. "You think they will shut me up in a cell?"
    "I think Canon Gerbert will insist. And it's not so easy to refuse the archbishop's envoy over details. For they've come to the conclusion, I hear, that your case cannot be simply dismissed. That's Gerbert's verdict. The abbot's is that if there is to be further probing, it must be by your own bishop, and nothing shall be done until he declares what he wishes in the matter. And little Serlo is off to Coventry tomorrow morning, to report to him all that has happened. So no harm can come to you and no one can question or fret you until Roger de Clinton has had his say. You may as well pass your time as pleasantly as possible. Anselm has built up a very passable library."
    "I think," said Elave with quickening interest, in spite of his aching head, "I should like to read Saint Augustine, and see if he really did write what he's said to have written."
    "About the number of the elect? He did, in a treatise called De Correptione et Gratia, if my memory serves me right. Which," said Cadfael honestly, "I have never read, though I have had it read to me in the frater. Could you manage him in the Latin? I'd be small help to you there, but Anselm would."
    "It's a strange thing," said Elave, pondering with deep solemnity over the course of events which had brought him to this curious pass, "all the years I worked for William, and travelled with him, and listened to him, I never truly gave any thought to these things until now. They never bothered me. They do now, they matter to me now. If no one had meddled with William's memory and tried to deny him a grave, I never should have given thought to them."
    "If it's any help to have company along the way," admitted Cadfael, "I begin to find my case much the same as yours. Where the seed lights the herb grows. And there's nothing like hard usage and drought to drive its roots in deep."
    Jevan came back to the house near Saint Alkmund's when it was already dark, with a bundle of new white skins of vellum, of a silken, creamy texture, and very thin and supple. He was proud of the work he did. The prior of Haughmond would not be disappointed in the wares on offer. Jevan bestowed them carefully in the shop, and locked up there before crossing the yard to the hall, where supper was laid, and Margaret and Fortunata were waiting for him.
    "Is Aldwin not back yet?" he asked, looking round with raised brows as they sat down only three to table.
    Margaret looked up from serving with a somewhat anxious face. "No, no sign of him since. I was getting worried about him. What can possibly have kept him this long?"
    "He'll have fallen foul of the theologians," said Jevan, shrugging, "and serve him right for throwing the other lad to them, like a bone to a pack of dogs. He'll be still at the abbey, and his turn to answer awkward questions. But they'll turn him loose when they've wrung him dry. Whether they'll do as much for Elave