Brother Cadfael 16: The Heretic's Apprentice

which Hugh had seen for himself, and would not lightly discard in favour of the easy answer. No, Aldwin was the more urgent priority.
    After dinner, in the half hour or so allowed for rest, Cadfael went into the church, into the grateful stony coolness, and stood for some minutes silent before Saint Winifred's altar. Of late, if he felt the need to speak to her in actual words at all, he found himself addressing her in Welsh, but usually he relied on her to know all the preoccupations of his mind without words. Doubtful, in any case, if the young and beautiful Welsh girl of her first brief life had known any English or Latin, or even been able to read and write her own language, though the stately prioress of her second life, pilgrim to Rome and head of a community of holy women, must have had time to learn and study to her heart's content. But it was as the girl that Cadfael always imagined her. A girl whose beauty was legendary, and caused her to be coveted by princes.
    Before he left her, though he was not conscious of having expressed any need or request, he felt the quietude and certainty the thought of her always gave him. He circled the parish altar into the nave, and there was Father Boniface just filling the little altar lamp and straightening the candles in their holders. Cadfael stopped to pass the time of day.
    "You'll have had Father Elias from Saint Alkmund's after you this morning, I daresay? He came to us at chapter on the same errand. A sad business, this of Aldwin's death."
    Father Boniface nodded his solemn dark head, and wiped oily fingers, boylike, in the skirt of his gown. He was thin but wiry, and almost as taciturn as his verger, but that deferent shyness was gradually easing as he worked his way into the confidence of his flock.
    "Yes, he came to me after Prime. I never knew this Aldwin, living. I wish I could have helped him, dead, but to my knowledge I never saw him until the wool merchant's funeral, the day before the festival. Certainly he never came to me for confession."
    "Nor to any of those within here," said Cadfael. "Nor in the town, for Elias asked there first. And your parish is a wide one. Poor Father Elias would have to walk a few miles to find the next priest. And if Aldwin never knocked on the door of any of his own neighbours, I doubt if he made a long journey to seek his penance elsewhere."
    "True, I have occasion to walk a few miles myself in the way of duty," agreed Boniface, with pride rather than regret in the breadth of his cure. "Not that I grudge it, God knows! Night or day, it's a joy to know that from the farthest hamlet they can call me when they need me, and know that I'll come. Sometimes I question my fortune, knowing it so little deserved. Only two days ago I was called away to Betton, and missed all but the morning Mass. I was sorry it should be that day, but no choice, there was a man dying, or he and all his kin thought he was dying. It was worth the journey, for he took the turn for life, and I stayed until we were sure. It was getting dusk when I got back -" He broke off suddenly, open-mouthed and round-eyed. "So it was!" he said slowly. "And I never thought to say!"
    "What is it?" asked Cadfael curiously. It had been a long and confiding speech for this quiet, reticent young man, and this sudden halt was almost startling. "What have you thought of now?"
    "Why, that there was one more priest here then who is not here now. Father Elias will not know. I had a visitor came for the day of her translation, one who was my fellow-student, and ordained only a month ago. He came on the eve of the festival, early in the afternoon, and stayed through the next day, and when I was called away that morning after Mass I left him here to take part in all the offices in my place. I knew that would please him. He stayed until I came back, but that was when it was growing dark, and he was in haste then to be on his way home. It's only a short while, from past noon one day to nightfall the next, but how if he did have a penitent come asking?"
    "He said no word of any such before he went?" asked Cadfael.
    "He was in haste to be off, he had a walk of four miles. I never asked him. He was very proud to take my place, he said Compline for me. It could be!" said Boniface. "Thin it may be, but it is a chance. Should we not make sure?"
    "So we can," said Cadfael heartily, "if he's still within reach. But where should we look for him now? Four miles, you said? That's no great