Brother Cadfael 17: The Potter's Field

It was not altogether Cadfael's besetting sin of curiosity that made him abandon his immediate intent and cross the great court to the gatehouse. It was almost time to get ready for Mass, and because of the rain everyone who must venture out did so as briefly and quickly as possible and scurried back to shelter, so that there was no one else visible at this moment to volunteer to bear messages or escort petitioners. But it must be admitted that curiosity also had its part. He approached the pair at the gate with a bright eye and a ready tongue. 'You need a messenger, Brother? Can I serve?' 'Our brother here says he's instructed,' said the porter, 'to report himself first to the lord abbot, in accordance with his own abbot's orders. He has matter to report, before he can take any rest.'

'Abbot Radulfus is still in his lodging,' said Cadfael, 'for I left him there only a short while since. Shall I be your herald? He was alone. If it's so grave he'll surely see you at once.'

The young man put back the wet cowl from his head, and shook the drops that had slowly penetrated it from a tonsure growing somewhat long for conformity, and a crown covered with a strange fuzz of new growth, curly and of a dark, brownish gold. Yes, he had certainly been a long time on the way, pressing forward doggedly on foot from that distant cloister of his, wherever it might be. His face was oval, tapering slightly from a wide brow and wide-set eyes to a stubborn, probing jaw, covered at this moment by a fine golden down to match his unshaven crown. Weary and footsore he might be, but his long walk seemed to have done him no harm otherwise, for his cheeks had a healthy flush, and his eyes were of clear, light blue, and confronted Cadfael with a bright, unwavering gaze.

'I shall be glad if he will,' he said, 'for I do need to get rid of the dirt of travel, but I'm charged to unburden to him first, and must do as I'm bid. And yes, it's grave enough for the Order-and for me, though that's of small account,' he added, shrugging off with the moisture of his cowl and scapular the present consideration of his own problems.

'He may not think it so,' said Cadfael. 'But come, and we'll put it to the test.' And he led the way briskly down the great court towards the abbot's lodging, leaving the porter to retire into the comfort of his own lodge, out of the clinging rain.

'How long have you been on the road?' asked Cadfael of the young man limping at his elbow.

'Seven days.' His voice was low-pitched and clear, and matched every other evidence of his youth. Cadfael judged he could not yet be past twenty, perhaps not even so much.

'Sent out alone on so long an errand?' said Cadfael, marvelling.

'Brother, we are all sent out, scattered. Pardon me if I keep what I have to say, to deliver first to the lord abbot. I would as soon tell it only once, and leave all things in his hands.'

'That you may do with confidence,' Cadfael assured him, and asked nothing further. The implication of crisis was there in the words, and the first note of desperation, quietly constrained, in the young voice. At the door of the abbot's lodging Cadfael let them both in without ceremony into the ante-room, and knocked at the half-open parlour door. The abbot's voice, preoccupied and absent, bade him enter. Radulfus had a folder of documents before him, and a long forefinger keeping his place, and looked up only briefly to see who entered.

'Father, there is here a young brother, from a distant house of our Order, come with orders from his own abbot to report himself to you, and with what seems to be grave news. He is here at the door. May I admit him?'

Radulfus looked up with a lingering frown, abandoning whatever had been occupying him, and gave his full attention to this unexpected delivery.

'From what distant house?'

'I have not asked,' said Cadfael, 'and he has not said. His instructions are to deliver all to you. But he has been on the road seven days to reach us.'

'Bring him in,' said the abbot, and pushed his parchments aside on the desk.

The young man came in, made a deep reverence to authority, and as though some seal on his mind and tongue had been broken, drew a great breath and suddenly poured out words, crowding and tumbling like a gush of blood.

'Father, I am the bearer of very ill news from the abbey of Ramsey.