Brother Cadfael 16: The Heretic's Apprentice

defiant calm, but she ended with contained and muted passion, her voice still level and low, her hands clenched together in her lap, her face very pale and fierce. Elave's hand shook as he closed it tightly over hers, pushing the box aside on his bed. After a long pause, not of hesitation, rather of an unbending resolution that had difficulty in finding the clearest but least hurtful words in which to express himself, he said quietly: "No! I cannot take it, or let you make such use of it for my sake. You know why. I have not changed, I shall not change. If I ran away from this charge I should be opening the door to devils, ready to bay after other honest men. If this fight is not fought out to the end now, heresy can be cried against anyone who offends his neighbour, so easy it is to accuse when there are those willing to condemn for a doubt, for a question, for a word out of place. And I will not give way. I will not budge until they come to me and tell me they find no blame in me, and ask me civilly to come forth and go my way."
    She had known all along, in spite of her persistence, that he would say no. She withdrew her hand from his very slowly, and rose to her feet, but could not for a moment bring herself to turn away from him, even when Girard took her gently by the arm.
    "But then," said Elave deliberately, his eyes holding hers, "then I will take your gift - if I can also have the bride who comes with it."
    Chapter Eleven
    I have a request to make of you, fortunata," said Cadfael, as he crossed the great court between the silent visitors, the girl disconsolate, her foster father almost certainly relieved at Elave's dogged insistence on remaining where he was and relying on justice. Girard undoubtedly believed in justice. "Will you allow me to show this box to Brother Anselm? He's well versed in all the crafts, and may be able to say where it came from, and how old it is. I should be interested to see for what purpose he thinks it was made. You certainly can't lose by it, Anselm carries weight as an obedientiary, and he's well disposed to Elave already. Have you time now to come to the scriptorium with me? You may like to know more about your box. It surely has a value in itself."
    She gave her assent almost absently, her thoughts still left behind with Elave.
    "The lad needs all the friends he can get," said Girard ruefully. "I had hoped that now the worse charge has fallen to the ground, those who blamed him for all might feel some shame, and soften even on the other charge. But here's this great prelate from Canterbury claiming that overbold thinking about belief is worse than murder. What sort of values are those? I don't know but I'd help the boy to a horse myself if he'd agree, but I'd rather my girl had no part in it."
    "He will not let me have any part," said Fortunata bitterly.
    "And I think the more of him for it! And what I can do within the law to haul him safely out of this coil, that I'll do, at whatever cost. If he's the man you want, as it seems he wants you, then neither of you shall want in vain," said Girard roundly.
    Brother Anselm had his workshop in a corner carrel of the north walk of the cloister, where he kept the manuscripts of his music in neat and loving store. He was busy mending the bellows of his little portative organ when they walked in upon him, but he set it aside willingly enough when he saw the box Girard laid before him. He took it up and turned it about in the best light, to admire the delicacy of the carving, and the depth of colour time had given to the wood.
    "This is a beautiful thing! He was a true craftsman who made it. See the handling of the ivory, the great round brow, as if the carver had first drawn a circle to guide him, and then drawn in the lines of age and thought. I wonder what saint is pictured here? An elder, certainly. It could be Saint John Chrysostom." He followed the whorls and tendrils of the vine leaves with a thin, appreciative fingertip. "Where did he pick up such a thing, I wonder?"
    "Elave told me," said Cadfael, "that William bought it in a market in Tripoli, from some fugitive monks driven out of their monasteries, somewhere beyond Edessa, by raiders from Mosul. You think it was made there, in the east?"
    "The ivory may well have been," said Anselm judicially. "Somewhere in the eastern empire, certainly. The full-faced gaze, the great, fixed eyes... Of the carving of the box I am not so sure. I fancy it came from nearer home. Not an English