Brother Cadfael 16: The Heretic's Apprentice

"died somewhere in cover by the bridge, and lay hidden under an upturned boat until dark, and was slipped into the water under cover of the arch."
    Jevan stood contemplating that in silence for some minutes. Then he shook his head vigorously, but without complete conviction. "I think it's out of his scope. But agreed, it would certainly account for why he should conceal half the tale, and pretend the last he saw of Aldwin was in our yard, like the rest of us. But no, surely little men with little grievances don't kill for them. Unless," he ended, "it was done in a silly rage, almost by accident, instantly regretted. That they might!"
    "Send and fetch him back here," said Hugh. "Tell him nothing. If you send, he'll come unsuspecting. And if he's wise, he'll tell the truth."
    Girard of Lythwood came home in the middle of the evening, two days later than he had intended, but highly content with his week's work, for the delay was due to his collecting two new clients on his travels, with good clips to sell, and thankful to make contact with an honest middleman and broker, after some less happy dealings in previous years. All the stores of wool he had weighed and bought were safely stowed in his warehouse outside the Castle Foregate before he came home to his own house. His hired pack-ponies, needed only once a year after the annual clip, were restored to the stable, and the two grooms hired with them were paid off and sent to their homes. Girard was a practical man, who dealt with first things first. He paid his bills on time, and expected others to pay what they owed him with as little reluctance or delay. By the end of June or the beginning of July the contract woolman who dealt with the Flemish export trade would come to collect the summer's load. Girard knew his limitations. He was content to spread his net over a quarter of the shire and its Welsh neighbours, and leave the wholesale trade to more ambitious men.
    Girard was half a head shorter than his younger brother, but a good deal broader in the shoulders and thicker in the bone, a portly man in the best of health and spirits, round-faced and cheerful, with a thick thornbush of reddish-brown hair and a close-trimmed beard. His good humour was seldom shaken even by the unexpected, but even he was taken aback at arriving home after a week's absence to find his pilgrim Uncle William dead and buried, William's young companion back safely from all the perils of his travels only to fall headlong into mortal trouble at home, his clerk dead and laid out for burial in one of the outhouses in his yard, the parish priest of Saint Alkmund's probing anxiously into the dead man's spiritual health before he would bury him, and his shepherd sweating and dumbstruck in Jevan's shop with one of the sheriff's men standing over him. It was no help to have three people all attempting to explain at the same time how these chaotic events had come about in his absence.
    But Girard was a man who saw to first things first. If Uncle William was dead, and buried with all propriety, then there was nothing to be done about that, no haste even about coming to terms with the truth of it. If Aldwin, of all improbable people, had come by a violent death, then that, too, though requiring a just resolution, was hardly within his competence to set right. Father Elias's doubts about the poor fellow's spiritual condition was another matter, and would need consideration. If Elave was in a locked cell at the abbey, then at least nothing worse could happen to him at this moment. As for Conan, he was solid enough, it would do him no harm to sweat a little. There would be time to salvage him, if it proved necessary. Meantime, Girard's horse had done a good few miles that day, and needed stabling, and Girard himself was hungry.
    "Come within, lass," he said briskly, flinging a bracing arm about his wife's waist and sweeping her towards the hall, "and, Jevan, see to my beast for me, will you, till I get this tale straight. It's too late for lamentation and too soon for panic. Whatever's gone wrong, there'll be a time for putting it right. The more haste, the less speed! Fortunata, my chick, go and draw me some ale, I'm dry as a lime pit. And set the supper forward, for if I'm to be any use I need my food."
    They did as he bade, every one of them. The pivot of the house, hearty and heartening, was home. Jevan, who had left most of the exclaiming to the women, allowed his brother his position as prop and stay